by Sandra Hill
His Adam’s apple moved several times as he thought about what to answer. “Nay, that is not all I think of you. I recall a day when I came upon you in the back courtyard where you were talking with Bjorn about an herb garden or some such. Your hand was on his shoulder as you spoke. You were wearing an old gunna of Signe’s…a pale rose color…and your hair was bound high on your head and swished like a horse’s tail when you turned abruptly to look at me. I was discouraged, having come from the barn where everything was in disrepair. But when you smiled at me, all my worries disappeared, and I felt such a warmth rush through me.” He shook his head as if surprised that he’d revealed so much. “A good memory,” he concluded with a shrug.
Before he had a chance to withdraw into himself, she said, “It’s funny how it’s the little things that stick in our brains. The memory that plagued me most when I was gone was of the day when we arrived at Haukshire. We’d just disembarked from your ship and you got your first look at your home after being gone so long. You were looking so forlorn and sad. I took your hand and laced our fingers together. You raised our double fist and kissed my knuckles, looking at me the whole time, thanks in your eyes. Then we walked toward the keep. Together.”
Her words caught him off guard and he said nothing at first. Then he laughed. “That is some memory. I would have thought your favored remembrance would be of me tupping you like a…what did you call it…a jackrabbit.”
“That was my second favorite memory.” She didn’t bother to look at him as she spoke. Instead, she was concentrating on the delicious but messy honey oak cake she was nibbling on, finishing off by licking her fingertips. When she noticed his continuing silence, she glanced his way and saw him staring at her with disbelief.
“What?”
“You say…and do…the most outrageous things.”
She looked at her fingers, realizing what he referred to. “Pfff! It’s not as if I was licking any of your body parts.”
“I have a vivid imagination.”
He seemed to be softening toward her. “Are you still mad at me?” she asked.
“Furious.”
“But that would not stop you from a free fuck, would it?”
He winced at her crude word. “What has one to do with the other? A man has his brutish urges and must slake his lust in some way.”
“Typical man! If you’re going to say that all cats are the same in the dark, forget about it!”
“Huh?”
She shook her head at his hopelessness, or maybe at the hopelessness of repairing their relationship. “Sorry, Charlie, but I’m not making love with a man who doesn’t love me, probably never loved me.”
“I do not know about that. In truth, you missay me at every turn,” he said with a lazy drawl that caught her attention and caused her to look at him suspiciously. “There are butterflies fluttering in my belly. I am assailed by dizziness at odd times. And bilious? I could vomit here and now. In truth, I scarce know whether to oink or bray. Should I laugh or should I cry? That’s how moodsome I’ve become. A sad, sad state for a Viking warrior!” He arched his brows at her as if asking if she understood. Then he got up and walked away.
She frowned, then recalled once telling him about a Cosmo magazine article detailing the symptoms of love. Was he saying he still loved her? And then just strolling off, as if it was of no matter.
No frickin’ way!
“What are you saying?” she yelled after him.
Everyone at the high table and many of them below looked at her and then Hauk to see what was going on.
Kirstin stood and took her goblet in hand, raising it high. “I’d like to propose a toast,” she shouted. “Here’s to strong-minded Viking women.” The women in the hall cheered, Signe loudest of all, and raised their arms in the air, taking long draws on their drinks. “And to the few, very few, rare men who have the talent to hold them.”
The women cheered even louder, and the men not so much, as they peered at each other, wondering if they’d been insulted. Thorkel seemed to be shocked by his new wife’s actions.
Hauk stopped in his tracks, turned to stare at her. “Is that a challenge, m’lady?” he called out.
“That is a dare, my friend. In fact, I double dog dare you.”
“A dog now!” he said with disgust, not understanding, into the silence that had suddenly overcome the hall as everyone watched. He motioned with his forefinger, beckoning for her to come to him.
“Not a chance.” She laughed.
He started to return to the dais.
She started to sidle toward the other end of the dais.
He changed direction, moving over in front of the dais.
She did an about-face, and went back the way she’d come, bypassing Egil, Bjorn, and Gisela. Jarl Ingolf appeared amused, while his wife was horrified by Kirstin’s actions which she likely deemed unseemly. The two daughters were just confused.
Kirstin flew down the steps and ran up the center aisle.
Hauk leapt off the dais, which he’d just climbed, and came after her.
The crowd was in a raucous uproar, with cheers, laughter and bets being placed.
“A brud-hlaup! We finally get a bride-running! A real one this time!” someone hooted.
Another person contributed, “Best get the master’s sword for ’im so he can smack our lady’s arse when he catches her.”
A female voice shouted, “If he can catch her!” And a number of other ladies cheered her on.
Kirstin stopped, picked up a greasy piglet head, and tossed it at Hauk, aiming for his face.
He caught it with surprise, then a grin. He was slowed down a bit as he had to find a place to drop it.
She almost escaped. Bolting through the open door of their bedchamber, she turned to slam the door shut, but Hauk got his booted foot in first. In a match of strength, she pushed, he pushed, and he, of course, prevailed. Slamming the door behind him, he grabbed her shoulders and pinned her against the wall.
Kirstin did the most unexpected thing then, unexpected to both her and Hauk. She began to cry…big, loud sobs that wracked her body and caused her eyes and nose to run.
“What? Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head, not wanting to tell him that it was the pent-up fear and pain of the past few weeks and things not going as she had planned on her return. Relief, actually. Now that they were alone, together, there was hope. She could swear she saw tears in his eyes as well.
Carefully, without speaking, he wiped his hands, then hers on a piece of toweling sitting on a nearby shelf. He also dabbed at her eyes and nose with a clean edge, still pinning her to the wall with his body. Afterward, he bowed his head for several moments, as if in prayer. Then, ever so slowly, he raised his head and regarded her gravely.
She couldn’t let him get all serious on her, venting about what she’d done, then her venting about what he’d done, and blah, blah, blah. Wasted time, wasted energy. Instead, she turned the tables on him by warning, “You better not plan on hitting my ass with a sword.”
He blinked several times, puzzled.
“Like those dumbbells out in your hall suggested. You know, the bride-running crap.”
He blinked several more times, then visibly relaxed with understanding. “Have no fears, my foolish, impulsive, stubborn, deluded lady.” He paused and leaned down to nip her earlobe, blowing softly into the shell with erotic intent, before whispering, “I have other plans for your arse.”
Chapter 25
Round one…
Hauk wasn’t sure what to do first.
Paddle the wench’s arse.
If she’ll let me.
Kiss her senseless.
If she’ll let me.
But, of course, Kirstin took the action out of his hands. “Listen, sweetheart, since my abrupt departure and equally abrupt return are the big pink elephants in the room, let me assure you—”
“An elephant am I now?”
“Not you. It’s a fi
gure of speech. Never mind. I am never going to leave again. Even if you don’t want me anymore.”
“Kirstin,” he said on a long sigh. “You came. You said you love me. You left. You came back again. You said you were sorry. Then you locked yourself in this room. You came out acting as if you’d never left. Then you get all shrewish on me and run away, crying. How can I trust what you say anymore?”
She bristled. But then she raised her chin. “What if I can prove it, that I won’t be leaving ever again?”
“How?” He suspected he was falling into some trap.
“Release me, and I’ll show you.”
He hesitated, still wary of a trap. But then he muttered, “Damn me for a fool!” and stepped back from her.
Immediately she went toward the door and opened it. At the same time, she was pushing the two arm rings down from her upper arms to her wrists, then off. By the time he caught up with her, she was already poised over the closest of the hearth fires where one of the yule logs, which had been lit this morning, was still burning white-hot. Before he realized what she was about, she dropped both arm rings into the fire.
“Good gods!” he exclaimed as he came up beside her. “Have you lost your bloody mind?”
“No. I’ve found it,” she said, smiling up at him.
It took him several moments to find a poker which had been moved to another hearth. The heat was so intense that he had to be careful not to singe the hairs on his forearm. Once he caught the two arm rings on the tip of the poker, the metal had already started to soften and reform into odd shapes. The rings would have had to stay in the coals for much longer before the silver would actually begin melting, but as it was, they would never fit over anyone’s arms at this point, not even a child’s.
Kirstin had already turned and was stomping back to the bedchamber.
Egil and Bjorn came up to him, both of them laughing like hyenas.
“Truly, m’lord, I have not had so much fun since…since…” Egil sputtered.
“…since Lady Kirstin was here before,” Bjorn finished for him.
“I cannot wait to see what you two do next,” Egil said.
“Nor can all the rest of us here in the hall,” Bjorn added, waving to indicate the dozens of people in the hall who were blatantly eavesdropping. Ever since Hauk had gotten the appellation of Viking in a Cage, he’d been the subject of much mirth, and he was damn tired of being the source of everyone’s amusement. He motioned for the musicians to resume their performance and told Egil and Bjorn in no uncertain terms to go back to their seats and lead the feast to its usual finish, which should be soon. Otherwise, he would be back, and it wouldn’t be him providing the entertainment; it would be the two of them, singing, or dancing, or standing on their mead-sodden heads.
Hauk was left, still holding the poker with the dangling, misshapen arm rings in front of him. They were too hot to set down anywhere. After he followed her into the room, he kicked the door shut behind him and tipped the poker over the water pitcher where the rings sizzled as they sank to the bottom.
Only then did he turn to look at his wife who had the absolutely infuriating, galling, outrageous nerve to smile at him. She was half lying on the bed, propped against a pile of bed furs, her arms crossed behind her neck, and she was as naked as the day she was born.
And she was wearing a set of arm rings.
Round two…
On the outside, Kirstin worked to appear calm and triumphant, but inside she was nervous and unsure how Hauk would take her grand gesture, which turned out not to be a grand gesture after all. Well, actually, it was, but she would need to make some explanations before he would realize that.
He did not look like he was in the mood for explanations. He put his hands on his hips and shook his head with disbelief. “Do you enjoy making mock of me?”
“I wasn’t mocking you. I needed to make a grand gesture in order to get your attention.”
“Hah! You had my attention when you came walking up the fjord path looking like a Valkyrie in that white fur. You had my attention when you came swanning into the Jul feast looking like Queen of the North. You sure as hell got my attention when you made that challenge toast.”
“Well, how did I know that? That stupid shield of indifference you built around yourself was impenetrable. I had to make a grand gesture with the arm rings on the fire.”
“Pfff! More like a grand jest. At my expense.”
She sat up and held her arms out to him. “Take off your clothes and come make love to me. Afterward, I’ll explain everything.”
He shook his head. “You will not trap me by pulling on my cock.” When she said nothing and didn’t even flinch, although she wanted to, he said, “Aren’t you going to threaten to leave again if I don’t do as you wish?”
She did flinch then and lowered her arms, pulling the bed fur up to cover her breasts. She was embarrassed now. “Is that what you think? Is that how I acted all the time…as if you had to toe the line, my line, or I would threaten to leave? As if you always had to be on tenterhooks?”
“You make me sound pitysome.”
“No, it makes me sound like a self-centered bitch.”
He shifted from foot to foot. She wasn’t sure if he was going to leave, and to hell with her. Or if he was going to give her…no, them…another chance.
“I love you, Hauk.”
“Cherry lip gloss and love! You do not play fair.” More shifting from foot to foot.
She shrugged. “All’s fair in love and war,” she quipped, and didn’t even care that it was a cliché. “I brought you a Christmas gift.”
“Is it cherry-flavored?” He didn’t shift from foot to foot this time, but he did glance at the door, as if contemplating how quickly he could exit, gracefully.
“No, it’s not cherry-flavored. Actually, the gift is from both me and my father.”
A gleam of interest showed in his eyes. God bless the Viking man’s curiosity! Why else would they have gone a-Viking and adventuring to new lands that frightened off most people of that…rather, this time period. “Hand me my cloak,” she said.
He took it off the hook on the wall behind him and arched his brows at its continued weight. “What do you have in here? Stones?”
“No, but your gift is contributing to a lot of its heaviness.”
“Is it a sword? A solid gold belt? A crown?”
The fact that he was joking…at least, she thought he was joking…gave her hope.
He laid the cloak over her lap and raised his brows at her clumsy attempt to keep the bed fur over her breasts. “You owe me at least the pleasure of your nakedness.”
“And the pleasure of seeing my discomfort?” she added.
“True.” He sat on a stool beside the bed. “Well?” he said, waving a hand toward the cloak.
She opened the garment and took out two large Ziplock bags, one from each side, which had been needed to balance the weight. There were six mini bottles or splits of Blue Dragon wines, reds and whites, each protected with bubble wrap. “These are samples of the types of wine made at Blue Dragon vineyard,” she told him. “They’re much smaller than regular bottles, of course. They’re only intended for promotions or travel venues, like airplanes or hotel rooms.” He had to be amazed at the very idea of bottles of glass holding a beverage, least of all her bringing them back to him or the sound of those other strange things she mentioned, like airplanes and hotels.
The wines had such names as Dragon Spit, Dragon Tail, Dragon Flame and Dragon Breath. She recited the names of each of them as she unwrapped them.
“That one seems appropriate,” he said when she got to Dragon Lust.
She handed the bottle to him, but then had to show him how to open the screw-top lid. Over and over, he opened the lid and closed the lid, more fascinated by that modern invention than the glass bottle itself. Glass had of course been invented ages ago, but he wouldn’t have ever seen anything so small or perfectly proportioned for holding a liquid. “A
mazing!” he said and was ready to try the content.
“Just sip,” she advised. “Maybe hold it in your mouth for a few seconds to get the full flavor before swallowing.”
He did and then made an expression of pleasure at the taste before handing it back to her. She took a tiny sip as well, being careful to hold the bed fur up under her arm pits.
“Dragon Lust is a cabernet sauvignon. A dry red wine. Often served with red meats. Very popular.”
She replaced the cap and opened Dragon Breath. “This is my favorite. A light white wine. Pino grigio. Goes great with fish or cheese, or just for drinking.”
He sipped and said, “Good, but I prefer the first one.”
“Do you want to try more?”
“Yea, but are you going to clutch that bed fur like a chastity belt the whole time?”
“I am if you’re going to remain fully clothed,” she responded as she opened another red, Dragon Flame, and handed it to him. “By the way, I have another present for you. A tattoo.”
“You’re giving me a tattoo?”
“No, I got a tattoo on my body, for you.”
He considered that for only a second before asking, “Where?”
She fluttered her lashes at him. “That’s for you to find out.”
He muttered something that might have been “Wench!” or “Witch!” before chugging down the entire split in two long swallows, despite her warning to only sip.
She arched her brows at him.
“In every battle, a point is reached where one side needs to make the assault. Enough of these pricking little attacks.”
“Do you consider this a war?”
“Don’t you?”
“And the end result?” she asked. “Winner takes all?”
“Or loser loses everything,” he said ominously.
Round three…
It was true. Hauk was tired of the games they seemed to be playing.
I love you. I hate you. I love-hate you.
Thrust and parry.
