Steinn

by Lily Harlem

“I agree.” Eithne glanced past Gladys.

  Gladys turned. Brandr stood there, one hand hooked into his belt, the other holding a horn of mead. He looked over at Gladys, and his expression softened, a smile pulling at his lips.

  As dim as my godforsaken new husband.

  “They are all idiots, ugly idiots,” Gladys said.

  Eithne sighed and dragged her attention back to Gladys. “I don’t want to speak out of turn, Gladys, but maybe for once keep your judgement until you get to know these Vikings. They are doing us a good turn.”

  “A good turn! They are here to satisfy their urges and claim our land.”

  “Ahh…” Feidelm said. “You do not wish to lay with Steinn. Is that your problem?”

  “Of course that’s my problem.” She bit on her bottom lip, not wanting to say he’d already taken what he wanted from her. She hated that he’d had that control over her.

  “But your new husband is a very fine-looking man.” Eithne gestured to the right. “And is a skilled seaman, hunter, and trader.”

  “Not an ugly idiot,” Feidelm added.

  Both women were watching Steinn as he came towards them, his strong legs eating the distance quickly as he carried a wooden box.

  “You have roses in front of your eyes if you think that,” Gladys said. “Can’t you see the stupid headband he wears and his big ears and huge boar nose.”

  “I like that headband,” Feidelm said. “And his ears and nose are of normal size.”

  “You are wearing a blindfold, Gladys, if you cannot see what you have gained today. Thank goodness the eyes of God can bear witness to what you need.” Eithne folded her arms. “The good Lord carries wisdom for us all.”

  “You have no idea what I need.” Glady’s stepped away. “Which is actually just to be left alone.”

  “You can’t get Angus back,” Feidelm called. “Accept what you have now.”

  Gladys turned and walked away from the women and Steinn. Annoyance bloomed inside her. It scratched at her insides the way a feral cat would.

  “Gladys,” Steinn shouted.

  She ignored him.

  “Wife. Wait.”

  There was command in his voice—a note that warned her not to disobey. In the privacy of her home she wouldn’t have cared, but she didn’t trust this imbecile not to embarrass her in front of the entire village.

  She paused.

  “I am excited to show you this.” He stooped before her, plonking down the box and opening the lid. “I have travelled to many lands, raided and conducted trade. These are only some of my treasures which will travel with me to the next life. They will travel with you, too, now you are my wife.” He grinned up at her. “Come. See what is in here.”

  She knelt, drawn to the heap of sparkling treasures. It wasn’t that she prized gold and jewels, it was just all so pretty and interesting.

  “We are rich, ja.”

  “You are.” She studied a golden candlestick dotted with gems, a chain made of shiny silver links, each one holding a cross. There was a small crown embedded with shiny emeralds, and folds of material that appeared shot through with precious metal.

  “No, what is mine is yours.” He delved into the box, scooting the stuff around as though it were a tub of old bones. “Where is it…?” Again he shifted treasures, moving a long clear ornament, more chains, and few small golden plates that could do with a polish, and a book with a lock around it. “Ah, here it is.”

  He withdrew a round brooch. It was golden and had a pin to secure it. The front was decorated with two flowers, each had five petals intricate and skilfully designed. One flower held a blue stone in the centre, and the other red.

  “Here.” He held it out. “This is my gift for you. It is from a land far from here.”

  “You stole it?”

  “I found it.” He held it closer to her. “A sign from the gods that we are meant to be together. I am the blue-stoned flower, you the red. The circle is the symbol of strength and never-ending love which is how it is for us now.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “You will have it.” He frowned.

  “But I—”

  “You will have it and with good grace.” He gripped the neckline of her gown and tugged the material outward.

  She gasped and was dragged a little nearer to him.

  For a moment his attention paused on the rise of her breasts, then he slid his hand downwards, his knuckles gliding over her skin.

  “Steinn,” she gasped.

  “Let me pin it to your beautiful gown.”

  She swallowed and held still as he stabbed the pin through the material. It caught on his hand, she was sure, but he didn’t wince. In a moment the brooch was secure, and he pulled his fingers from her dress.

  Though he left a lingering heat there.

  “It is beautiful, like you,” he said, smiling. “And I wish you to wear it often. Such beauty does not belong in a box, but for all to see.”

  She pressed her hand over it and studied the contents of the box again. “What is that?” She pointed to the strange opaque object.

  “Ah, this.” He picked it up and held it to the sky. Sunlight fractured through it, flashing onto his face, head, and neck as though he’d been sprinkled in stardust. “Is from Francia.”

  “You have been to Francia?”

  “I told you, wife, I have travelled far and wide.” He spun the French curiosity, sprinkling more diamonds of light over himself. “And this is something I am told is very satisfying for a wife.”

  “Satisfying for a wife?” She stared at it, the long shape, the smooth surface, the domed end. “I don’t understand.”

  He chuckled. “It is a replica cock, for a woman who misses her husband when he is in battle or at sea trading.”

  “It’s a pretend cock?” She was aghast. Who would make such a thing? The French, it seemed. She was glad she’d never been there now.

  “You look shocked.” He lowered it and held it out. “I would not think a woman who is on her second husband would be shocked by a sex replica.”

  “I am shocked as God would expect me to be.”

  “Here take it.”

  “No.”

  “Hold it.”

  She was going to object again, but curiosity got the better of her. Setting her hand flat, he placed it on her palm. It was heavier than she’d expected, cool, too, and when she ran her fingers over it, the smoothness was perfect.

  She turned it over, studied it some more, then wrapped her fist around it and rubbed, seeing if it truly was the same size as a cock.

  Steinn groaned. “Woman, you drive me crazy. I wish for you to hold my manhood like that.”

  “Here.” Quickly, she passed it back. She had no desire to provoke his lust. “Put the disgusting thing away.”

  “You think it disgusting?” He placed it in the box and shut the lid.

  She stood.

  “I do not think that will be the case when we play with it, together.” He grinned. “I will show you how to use it so that you never need seek out another man when I am not with you.”

  “I have no wish to use it.”

  He waggled his eyebrows and stood with the box in his arms. “Haps not, but I do.” He nodded at the feasting crowd. “Now go and put this in the house. I intend to eat and drink to celebrate our marriage.”

  4

  Gladys took the box of treasure from Steinn and marched to the house. It was heavy, but she acted as though it wasn’t. Doing so took all of her strength, but she was determined not to appear weak.

  Once inside, she dumped it in the corner, the contents rattling when she kicked it roughly against the wall. It hurt her toes, and she grimaced.

  Stupid box.

  Stupid Steinn.

  She plucked the brooch off and dropped it in a small basket she kept on the table beside the fireplace, then added a log to the fire even though the day was warm. She’d heat broth and eat that with bread. She was in no mood for a feast that celeb
rated her union to an idiot Viking who owned such crude objects from Francia.

  After bolting the door, she sat in the chair, waiting for the soup to warm. After a few minutes her cat, Cora, jumped through the open window and slinked through the shadows at the side of the room. It was the first Gladys had seen of her since the arrival of the Norsemen.

  “Hey, sweetie,” she said, reaching for a scrap of pork. “Come and have this.”

  Cora meowed, stepped into the light, and looked around.

  “Don’t worry, the monster is not here. He’s drinking mead and eating out there.”

  Cora stepped up and took the meat. While she chewed, Gladys stroked her little black head. “And with a bit of luck he won’t come back until late, or maybe if we are very lucky, he won’t come back at all.”

  Now wouldn’t that be the solution to all of her problems. Get rid of Steinn altogether.

  She’d say an especially long prayer to God that night and hope he heard her plea.

  Gladys ate her broth and finished the last of a batch of bread. Outside the merriment continued, but she had no wish to join in.

  As darkness spread over the land, she pulled a blanket onto her knees and watched the gently dancing flames of her fire. Steinn hadn’t come searching for her, and she was grateful for that. Perhaps God did understand her plight.

  Cora jumped onto her lap.

  “Hey, girl,” Gladys whispered, for she was beginning to imagine she could be invisible to Steinn. “You sit with me, in the warm. The mice can wait.”

  Cora curled up, her tail beneath her, and purred quietly.

  Gladys stroked her, tipped back her head, and let the sounds of the feast fade into the distance. If only she could turn back time, to when she’d lived alone. Aye, that had its problems. The village had few men and no protection, but at least she didn’t have to ‘do as bid’ by a man who wasn’t a Scot.

  An owl hooted outside. She let out a sigh and allowed her body to sink deeper into the chair. Heat from the cat was reassuring, comforting, and she allowed the day to slip away, her thoughts blurring as sleep claimed her.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  She opened her eyes and jerked forward.

  What in God’s name?

  Cora leaped from her lap.

  “Open this door.”

  “Steinn?”

  “Ja, it is me. Allow me entry.”

  Gladys jumped up. “Leave me be.”

  A slight pause, then another three deafening bangs. “Open this door or I will break it down.”

  It sounded like he already was.

  She gritted her teeth. Anger surged through her. It was mixed with trepidation, and the two emotions warred, creating a sour taste in her mouth, and her vision danced. She believed him. He would break down the door.

  With a quick flick, she released the latch.

  The door opened instantly, banging against the wall again. Cora ran out.

  “Why are you so loud?” she said, retreating to the opposite side of the room.

  “I am not loud. You are quiet.” He shut the door, propped his sword onto the wall, and held out his hands. “And this is our home, our quiet home.” He grinned. “That we should fill with the sounds of a husband and wife having great sex.”

  “I don’t want sex with you.”

  He hesitated then shrugged. “You will.” He removed his headband and lay it on the chair she’d been sitting in. There was a slight indent on his brow where the leather had pressed. Next went his tunic and belt, each item landing on the chair, the dagger and axe rattling against each other. He then pushed off his boots and kicked them to one side.

  Gladys folded her arms and nibbled on her bottom lip. His movements were a little slow—he’d consumed a good quantity of mead. Haps he would roll onto the bed and fall into a dead sleep the way Angus used to after a night of celebrations.

  She backed farther into the shadows, by the window. If he couldn’t see her he might forget she was there and go to sleep alone. Snore until morn.

  He belched, held his stomach, then dipped a wooden mug into a pail of well water and drank deeply. “Ah, that is good water from your land.”

  Gladys didn’t speak.

  He wiped his forearm over his mouth. “Come to bed, woman. Standing in the dark fully clothed will not give us pleasure on this our first night as a wedded couple.”

  “You have consumed too much mead. Go to bed.”

  “Sharing a barrel with my fellow Vikings isn’t too much. A barrel alone, ja, that is too much.” He held out his hand. “Come.”

  “No.”

  “Then I will get you.” He undid his trousers and pushed them down. His cock sprang up, and it was obvious mead did nothing to impede his erection.

  Gladys gasped, and her belly clenched. Her big, hard husband wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

  She pressed up to the wall as he came towards her.

  “Where is your new brooch?” He frowned and studied her gown.

  “I took it off?”

  “Ah, so it wouldn’t get damaged when you wash your bridal gown. That is good thinking. The gods have blessed me with a clever wife.” He cupped her chin. “How lucky I am.”

  Very gently, he pressed his lips to hers.

  The tenderness surprised her, but only for a moment, because then she tasted the mead on his breath and tore her mouth away.

  “I should like you naked this time,” he whispered. “So I can adore you as a husband should.”

  “I do not wish for you to see me naked.”

  He frowned and tipped his head. “You should not be bashful in front of me.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “I wish to see what I own…you.”

  She crossed her hands over her chest, remembering how he’d owned her earlier, over the table.

  “You can see me.” He gestured to his nakedness. “I am yours, Gladys, that is how it is now for us.” He chuckled. “You may do what you wish, play with my cock, suck my cock, take my body and do as you please, for I know you will only give me pleasure.”

  “I have no wish to touch your cock.”

  “Ahh…but my cock wishes to touch you.” He reached for the lace on her bodice and pulled, slowly.

  The slim string edged its way loose, then he continued until it gaped, exposing her breasts.

  His eyelids became a little heavy, and he pushed the material aside.

  Gladys gasped, unused to being observed this way, and a wave of shyness overcame her. Again she went to cross her arms, cover her bare flesh.

  “No.” He caught her wrists. “I wish to see you, all of you. For you are beautiful.”

  Standing stock still, she was helpless as he gripped the bunched material at her waist and slid it over the flare of her hips and down her legs. It pooled at her bare feet.

  “You have much hair here,” he said, cupping her mound. “More than I thought.”

  “No, please.” She pressed harder against the cold wall. It was sharp on her back and buttocks.

  He stilled but kept his hand where it was. “Why are you scared?”

  “I am not scared.” She tilted her chin.

  “Good, because I won’t hurt you. I love you and wish only for your pleasure.”

  “How can you love me, you hardly know me?”

  “I loved you the moment the gods choose you to be my wife. I knew, when I saw you. The sun catching your raven hair, your curves like waves in a brewing storm, and your eyes darting here and there, flashing as you looked at us. I knew then I wanted you.”

  “You liked what you saw?” Had he really seen past her scowl and her hate?

  “Ja, I liked what Thor, Loki, Odin, Freya, all of the gods had planned for me. You.” Suddenly he stooped, slotted the curve of his neck against her belly, and hoisted her onto his shoulder.

  Her world turned upside down. She clutched his back as her arse became the highest point of her body. “Hey.”

  He clasped his hand over her bare but
tocks.

  “Put me down.” She kicked out.

  “No.”

  “Steinn. Put me down.”

  A hard spank landed on her buttocks, covering both cheeks.

  She jerked and yelled.

  “Do not give me orders, wife.”

  She yelped again, in frustration this time.

  Steinn kept his hand over her buttocks and rounded the table and chair to the bed. Once there, he tipped her onto it.

  For a moment she was in the air, then she landed on the straw mattress with a bump. Quickly, she pushed the hair from her face then drew up her knees and scooted away from him.

  “This is better,” he said, “for long mating.” He knelt on the bed. “Ja, this is a good bed.”

  “It’s my bed.”

  “It’s our bed.” He gripped her ankles and in one hard yank he dragged her downwards.

  She ended up flat on her back with him looming over her.

  “Sweet Gladys,” he said, stroking her hair. “Will you ever love me the way I love you?”

  Before she could answer, his lips were over hers and his tongue probing her mouth. It was a firm kiss, his stubbled chin caught on hers, and he closed his eyes.

  She pressed her hands on his shoulders, found his bottom lip, and bit down…hard.

  He yelped and retreated. “What the…?”

  Gladys tasted the metallic tang of coins.

  A drip of blood sat in the centre of Steinn’s bottom lip. “Why did you do that?” He touched the broken skin then examined the blood on the tip of his finger.

  “It’s a Pict tradition,” she said, enjoying seeing his confusion. “To draw blood from a new husband and taste it.”

  “Tradition, you say.”

  “Aye.”

  He nodded then stood from the bed. His eyes were narrow, his movements more precise now.

  Gladys crossed her legs and pulled a blanket over her breasts.

  Steinn walked to his belt. He retrieved his dagger and returned to the bed.

  She gulped. The decorated bone-handle dagger was long and sharp; it held a slight curve, too.

  Biting him had been a mistake. She hadn’t thought it through. It had been a foolish move.

  Steinn crawled onto the bed, then sat back on his knees at her side. With his free hand, he gripped the blanket and yanked it from her, once again exposing her nakedness.