The Caged Viking

by Sandra Hill

  “I am not even going to try to interpret what you just said. Now just lie still and let me do my thing.”

  “You have a thing.”

  “Ah, how quickly they forget!” He looked upward and sighed dramatically. “You told me I have a thing…the same night in the tent.”

  “Oh,” she said.

  As promised, he began to make slow love to his wife now. First the kisses, which started gentle and coaxing, seeking to make the perfect fit. And of course there were tongues involved. Both his and hers. Who knew that lips and teeth and tongue had such carnal spots! And that they were connected somehow to the genital area!

  The ears, too! Holy Thor! He ministered to hers, wetting the whorls with the tip of the tongue, then blowing softly. She moaned and tilted her head to give him better access. When she did the same to him, he about shot off the bed, so intense was the pleasure. He might have moaned then, too.

  Next, he ministered to her breasts, spending a goodly amount of time there once he discovered they were her favorite erotic place. Leastways, he assumed they were her favorite as she arched her back and thrashed from side to side when he suckled her, licking the nipple with his tongue, then nipping it lightly with his teeth. Those blessed tongues again, he thought with an inward grin. Then, she stiffened and reached her first peak.

  Let it be noted, she was not lying there docilely as he played with her body. Her hands caressed his back. Her heels rubbed the back of his thighs. She anointed his belly with her woman dew when she deliberately moved her hips sideways against him, right and left.

  Moving lower, he studied her female area, the blonde nether curls, the pink channels. That rising bud which contained a woman’s most sensitive spot, he’d been told, comparable to the male organ. He could hardly credit that, but he was no fool. He would treat it as such. And he was rewarded with her keening, “Oh. Oh. Oh.”

  At each part of her body that he kissed, or touched, or pinched, he told her what he saw and how beautiful or alluring it was. Mostly she just sighed or moaned or cried out with bliss.

  Whilst teasing her female folds and that little bud, she reached another peaking, this time arching her body up so high she raised his much heavier body as well. If she thought that was the end of it, except for the intercourse to come, she was going to be surprised.

  She was breathing heavily, splayed out on the mattress, while he was still kneeling betwixt her legs. Her eyes were closed, but she was not sleeping. Not by any means!

  “Did you mention never having been shown your Viking S-spot?” he drawled out.

  Her eyes shot open. “What? Not now! It’s too much.”

  “Nay, sweetling. Now! And it is never too much.”

  She groaned again. He took that as her acceptance.

  And so he showed her with fingers and tongue the famous Viking S-spot that only a few Norseman knew about. And she peaked yet again.

  He gave her time to rest then. In truth, he needed a respite, too. His cock was bigger than it had ever been with a tiny drop of his male seed escaping the tip. He would need to complete the act soon or explode.

  Once his heart stopped thundering, and Kirstin’s did, as well, she opened her eyes, which were misty blue with her arousal. Her lips were kiss-swollen. There might be a sucking mark on her neck. And surely that was a sex flush coloring her face down to her chest.

  “Do…it…now!” she demanded, locking her ankles over his buttocks and pulling his face down to, not kiss him as he expected, but nip his jaw with her teeth.

  He laughed and entered her, then stopped laughing. The spasms of her inner channels were so strong he could not withdraw if he wanted to. But finally she settled down, and he was able to perform the age-old pattern of sex. The tightness! The friction! The slick heat! It did not last long before he reared his head back and roared his triumph.

  He dropped down onto her, even though his weight was probably crushing her. Their two hearts seemed to beat together. He felt a completeness beyond anything he’d ever experienced in his life.

  Raising his head, he looked down at her. Her eyes were open.

  She cupped his face with her hands and said, “I love you, Hauk.”

  And he admitted what he’d known but refused to accept so far, “I love you, too, heartling. Gods help me, but I have fallen in love with you.”

  Chapter 19

  Home Sweet Home…

  Kirstin awakened late the next morning, alone, Hauk having left before dawn on his hunting trip. She stretched widely, noted the ache in her girl parts, and smiled. Good thing she’d have a chance to recuperate while Hauk was gone. She wondered idly if he was feeling a similar ache. She’d have to ask him when he returned.

  The night before flashed through her mind, but she decided to wait until later to ponder everything that had been said and done. Deliciously, she added with another smile.

  Quickly dressing, she went out and found work in the hall going on as usual and in the kitchen Frida was stirring something that smelled like stew over the open fire. Pointing to the food laid out on the table, the cook told her, “Eat, m’lady,” then chuckled and added, “Looks like ye could use some sustenance.”

  Finding herself ravenous, Kirstin grabbed a slice of manchet break and a hunk of hard cheese. Munching on them, she asked, “Has everyone gone?”

  “The master is long gone, and Bjorn is up the fjord fishing. Egil is about to leave, I believe. They were still loading the longship when I went out to the dairy a few moments ago.”

  Finishing the food, she told the cook, “I’ll be back soon to help you. Maybe we can make soap today.”

  “Whatever you say, m’lady,” Frida replied.

  When she emerged from the back door of the keep, Kirstin saw Egil.

  “You’re about to leave?”

  “Yea. I just came back to get some extra rope I need.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  He shrugged. “A few days, no longer than a sennight.”

  “I’ll miss you.” She gave him a hug, which she could tell embarrassed him, but in a nice way.

  He was about to walk away when he turned and said, “I must say, it was generous of you to give Zoya yer amber necklet.”

  “What? I didn’t give her anything.”

  Egil frowned and muttered, “Damn bothersome wench!”

  But then Kirstin thought of something alarming. “Oh, my God!” She turned and began to run back to the keep, yelling over her shoulder to Egil, “Don’t you dare leave until I speak to you.”

  Quickly, she made her way to the bedroom she had been sharing with Hauk where he’d placed his travel chest until he could regain his own bedchamber. She opened the lid and began to toss items here and there, searching for the pouch which had held the necklace, which she’d taken off after going to the bathing hut. She soon discovered that not only was the necklace missing, but her two arm rings, as well.

  Had Hauk hidden them?

  Or Zoya stolen them?

  She could take no chances. She ran though the keep and out into the back courtyard again, then raced toward the fjord where the longship was still, thankfully, docked. When she reached the wharf, panting for breath, she told an astonished Egil, “Help me get on the boat and search Zoya’s belongings. She’s taken some important things from me, not just the necklace.”

  Nodding, with more swear words under his breath, Egil helped her over the wooden gangway to board the ship. A short time later, they’d searched all of Zoya’s belongings, and her body, as well. Not only did Kirstin find her necklace, and the two arm rings, but a number of Hauk’s belongings as well.

  “Thank you,” she said to Egil while two of the sailors held Zoya who would surely attack her. She spoke in a foreign language, possibly Russian, and was clearly hurling curses at Kirstin.

  Kirstin put the necklace and two arm rings on, then picked up a sack of Hauk’s belts and brooches, along with some gold coins and a silver chalice. She let Zoya keep the wrist watch she’d pla
ced in Hauk’s trunk when its battery ran out. With a look of disdain at Zoya for her thieving, Kirstin walked back to shore, listening to Zoya screeching the whole time behind her. Egil was not going to have a pleasant journey. Kirstin watched until the longship was out of sight.

  Walking back to the keep, she felt like she was still floating in the afterglow of her night with Hauk. She’d told him that she loved him, and she did, which filled her with joy. And fear. Because she wasn’t sure what the future held for them.

  She shrugged. It was in God’s hand.

  Just then, she noticed some color off to the left, beyond the beached ships. She really hadn’t explored much outside the longhouse. When she got there, she saw a carpet of moss near a bend in the fjord, surrounded by some hardy wildflowers, surprising for this time of year. She decided to gather a bunch to put in water, which would be a cheery sight. Besides, they would be dead once the first frost hit, which came early this far north. On the other hand, she thought, sniffing the flowers, which still retained some fragrance, maybe she could use them in the soapmaking she planned for that afternoon.

  Sitting down on the velvety moss a short time later, her back propped against a rock, she thought this was a rather magical spot, the kind little girls would adopt to play pretend games, or a quiet place for older girls to read or write in journals. Looking more closely at the pile of flowers on her lap—Christmas roses, winter jasmine, and irises—she realized they were really rather pathetic, on their last legs, almost dry, not as vibrant as she’d thought. Still, she was reminded of her father’s Blue Dragon vineyard which had a field of wildflowers which was never mowed and therefore provided lovely blooms during three seasons. Moss was abundant there, too, beside the pond.

  She closed her eyes and imagined that field, picturing herself as a young girl just lying there on a green mossy coverlet in the midst of a floral bed, no doubt pretending she was some fairy princess, like Sleeping Beauty. Suddenly, a shiver rippled over her skin, and she folded her arms over her chest, her fingers inadvertently touching the arm rings.

  With a gasp, she stood, realizing what could happen, but it was too late. Without any warning, she felt dizzy and fainted into the bed of flowers. A short time later, she was home.

  But it wasn’t Haukshire.

  Sometimes, love sucks, even for a Viking…

  The hunting trip lasted longer than Hauk had anticipated, ten days. Not because they hadn’t found a bounty of large game, but more because they had been so successful and wanted to bring these carcasses back to process for preservation. There would be plenty of time for another, even two additional hunting trips. It was always good to have more food on hand in case the winter was harsher than usual.

  The twelve men in his party, divided into six groups, now carried on long poles and a sledge the gutted carcasses and skins of six deer, eight boar, and a moose. Some of them might return for a large bear they’d spotted, but first they would have to skin and cut up this meat and prepare it for drying, salting, smoking, or cold storage in underground pits. Later, they would stretch and dry the skins.

  Still some distance from Haukshire, they were greeted by three whooping youthlings, Gorm and his former tormentors, now comrades-in-mischief, who had no business being so far from home, being not yet weaponed, but he couldn’t dampen their eagerness. They were speaking all at once, elbowing each other, jumping up and down, and Hauk found it impossible to decipher what they were saying. In the end, Hauk realized they were simply excited about the outcome of the other hunting parties…fishing, birding, and small game. Apparently, the cold cellar was now filling with the meat of squirrels, geese, ducks, turkey, and sea birds. All kinds of fish had been dried and salted, including cod, haddock, mackerel, halibut, pike, perch, and flounder, according to the three scamps who tried to outdo each other in reciting the names of the catches. And they said that the younger children had been sent out to gather nuts and late mushrooms under Signe’s guidance, which at the present filled two barrels. What these three urchins had contributed wasn’t clear.

  Hauk was only glad that Gorm had managed to fit in with the others. It could be a lonely existence being an outcast of sorts in one’s own home. He noticed one of his men speaking to the tallest of the boys, a hand on his shoulder. Hauk, who’d assumed they were all orphans, decided this must be the father of at least one of them.

  Haukshire would survive the winter, that soon became clear. Leastways, they would not starve.

  The three boys preened with pride when Hauk told them they could help carry the weapons. Not that they contributed that much, but that was not the point, of course.

  As they walked the last distance to the keep, Hauk wanted to ask about Kirstin, what she was doing, did she appear happy, had she mentioned him, but he feared what he would reveal of his feelings, or, gods forbid, what the bratlings might reveal. No doubt she had been putting them to work, and that was why they’d escaped to come meet the hunting party.

  Despite how busy he’d been these ten days, Hauk hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Kirstin. Their last night together had been nothing less than amazing, and in the end, her declaring her love, his doing likewise…well, what man wouldn’t be anxious to continue the relationship, whatever it was? He couldn’t wait to see her again.

  But first, there was chaos when the hunting party arrived in the back courtyard and began to unload their animals. No time for thinking of anything else. Makeshift tables had already been set up when the small game had been cut up and prepared for preservation earlier that week. So, they laid out the deer first. The men did the cutting under Signe’s supervision. He saw Frida point to a haunch of venison, and one of the housecarls carried it inside for her.

  Hauk was pleased to have missed the processing of the birds. Didn’t matter if they were turkeys or geese or smaller quail, plucking the feathers was a distasteful, tiresome business. There was no worse smell than scalded feathers. To him, leastways. Not that he’d ever done much with fowl, that being women’s work.

  Several dozen people, men and women, worked together efficiently at assigned tasks, including those from the hunting party who wanted nothing more than to bathe and relax in the hall with a mug or five of mead. He saw Bjorn and Thorkel carrying a large sow. “Hear you did well with the fishing,” he said, squeezing his son’s shoulder.

  Bjorn grinned at him. “Yea, and it was fun. I’m thinking of going again tomorrow, up near the entrance to the sea. Someone mentioned seeing a shark.”

  “Mayhap I’ll go with you,” Hauk said.

  The smile Bjorn gave him then made him feel both wonderful and awful, knowing how many years of these kinds of opportunities he’d missed by his own neglect. Oh, well! There was always the future.

  A short time later, Hauk looked around, then looked again more closely, and realized Kirstin was not there. His hands and tunic were grimy from handling the wild game. So, he wiped his hands on his braies, then headed toward the back door of the keep. Kirstin must be inside, helping the cook ready a feast to celebrate the success of all the hunting, trapping, and fishing expeditions. He was a mite offended that she hadn’t come out to greet him, but then he shrugged. Mayhap she wanted their reunion to be a private one. He could appreciate that, he thought with a grin.

  On his way, he noticed several people staring at him oddly. Almost like trepidation. Or was it pity?

  On entering the keep, he glanced around the kitchen and saw only Frida, who was cutting the deer meat into small pieces and tossing them into a cauldron, which he presumed would be some kind of stew. It was too late in the day to roast such a large haunch for the evening meal. “Frida! Where is my wife?”

  “Ye doan hafta yell,” she said.

  “Sorry. Where is she?” He began to walk toward the hall.

  “She’s gone.”

  Hauk stopped in his tracks and turned slowly to stare at the old lady who was wringing her hands nervously. “What do you mean, she’s gone?”

  Frida shrugged.
“A sennight or so ago, when Egil was leavin’ fer Hedeby, she disappeared.”

  “She’s not here, at Haukshire?” he said dumbly.

  “That’s what I jist said, isn’t it?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her tone of voice.

  “Sorry, but I been worried ’bout how to tell you. Everyone has.”

  “Disappeared!” he muttered. “How long ago?”

  “Since the day Egil left, I already tol’ ye that.”

  Hauk groaned. This must be a jest of some kind. He hoped it was. With a grunt of disgust, he turned and stomped into the hall which was mostly empty, then went to all the bedchambers, which were also empty. After that, he did a more thorough check of his bedchamber and the guest one he’d been sharing with Kirstin. The first was a mess of tossed linens and upended chests, thanks to Zoya, he assumed. The other was alarmingly neat and tidy, as if no one had slept here for days.

  He frowned with confusion and went back outside to find Signe, who had been somewhat of a friend to Kirstin. He found her standing with Thorkel who was hunkered down a bit so they were eye level. Laughing, he appeared to be trying to convince her of something to which the wench was shaking her head. “Leave off, Thorkel, and go help Ketil with that moose. Your seduction can wait till later.”

  “You call that seduction?” Signe scoffed at Thorkel. She turned to Hauk then and explained, “He said he dreamed about me this past sennight. In particular, he dreamed of my feet.”

  Thorkel grinned. “In my defense, I dreamed of her feet up in the air whilst I made love to her.”

  “Hmpfh!” Signe said.

  Thorkel winked at her.

  “This is all amusing, Thorkel, but you are needed to split that moose. Heft half onto the table and hang the other half in the smoking shed.”

  Thorkel went off, giving Signe a little wave. “We will discuss this further this evening, my fair Signe.”