Landing with a splash, she grimaced at the impact, then quickly made her way to where she’d left the box of treasure.
* * *
As he and Orm made their way to the opening to the hold, Magnus expressed his concern: “We threw so much overboard, I fear there’s nothing left to sell. And you say the Seawolf’s the same?”
“Aye, but she wasn’t carrying near as much cargo. I can’t believe there’s nothing left on this ship. The other men said she was loaded to the top.”
“Hold the lamp while I climb down, and we’ll soon find out.” Magnus handed the soapstone lamp to Orm, then let himself down into the hold. He reached up for the lamp so Orm could jump down beside him.
Raising the lamp, Magnus looked around. “I guess we should start on the side of the hold where the women were.
Magnus ducked his head and they made their way into the cargo area. As he shone the light around, he began to feel even less hopeful.
“Some hides.” Orm gestured. “But they’ve been ruined. And what’s this barrel here?”
“Probably water,” Magnus answered. “Hafgrim told us what could be tossed and what we might need to provision the ship for the rest of the journey. I fear all that’s left is drinking water, salt fish and other foodstores.”
“Which man is Hafgrim and how does he know so much about the cargo?” Orm asked.
“The one with the badly scarred face. He supervised the loading of the ship.”
“Do you think Hafgrim might feel some loyalty to Croa?”
“Maybe,” Magnus said.
“Well, you can’t too be careful. There’s no telling when one of the men might decide he’d make a better a captain than you.”
Magnus leaned down to pick up the lid of a wooden box, floating in the water. Recognizing it, he held it out to Orm. “This is part of one of the straw-filled crates that held the glassware from the warehouse you set alight. What a waste. And yet, we had no choice. If we hadn’t pitched it overboard, we’d have all drowned.”
Orm grunted in response, and they continued their survey of the cargo area. Holding the lamp near, Magnus bent down to examine the symbol on the side of the barrel. “This one’s marked with some sort of rune. I’ve always been intrigued by runes. I’d like to learn to read them someday.”
“Wait! What’s that?” Orm interrupted.
“What did you hear?”
“Someone’s down here.”
They made their way back to the opening. Magnus was startled to see Ailinn climbing on a barrel as if she meant to try to boost herself out of the hold. “Ailinn!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing down here?”
She turned and stared at him, her expression so guilty that he was stunned.
Chapter 13
“What are you doing here?” he asked again
Ailinn motioned with her head toward Orm, as if to indicate she didn’t want to speak in front of him.
“Orm’s my friend. I’d trust him with anything.”
“It’s all right,” said Orm. “I’ll leave the two of you alone.” He started to hand Magnus the lamp.
Magnus waved it away. “Nay, take it with you. I’ll examine the rest of the cargo another time.”
Orm leaned near and whispered, “Remember what I said earlier. This might be your chance.” Orm lifted the lamp onto the edge of the deck and then heaved himself up.
Magnus considered Orm’s suggestion that he bed Ailinn and be done with it. While that thought enticed him, he couldn’t ignore her strange behavior. “You haven’t answered my question,” he said.
“I was looking for something I left down here.”
“I thought you said everything was ruined.”
“I...I had another bag containing some jewelry and other valuables. Croa took it away from me, but I thought it must still be down here.”
Even as she said this, Ailinn inwardly winced. This tale seemed too close to the truth, yet she could think of nothing else to say.
Magnus took a step nearer to her. When he spoke, his voice was a deep rumble that throbbed through her body. “And did you find this treasure?”
“Nay. It’s possible one of the crewmen found it. Or it might still be hidden somewhere.” She turned and gestured toward the side of the hold where Magnus and Orm had just been. “Perhaps you’ll have better luck searching than I did.”
“Perhaps I will...later.”
Magnus took a step nearer. Ailinn could feel his breath caress her face and his eyes bored into her like blue flames. She was torn. Part of her longed for this man to kiss her. Another part of her was terrified. The bag containing the treasure was lying in the water at their feet. Somehow she must get it safely up on deck without him seeing it.
Then he pulled her against him, and her ability to reason vanished. As their bodies came together, she moaned at the splendor of being so close to him. He felt so big, so warm, so solid. When he brought his mouth down on hers, she thought she would drown in delight. She never wanted the kiss to end. His lips moved over hers, tender and gentle. She could feel his body tremble as he sought to hold his passion in check. Her own desire matched his. She opened her mouth to him, encouraging him to take her, to fill her, to ease the burning ache inside her.
He deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth with his tongue. How wonderful he tasted, like the ripest, sweetest fruit. Her body was dissolving. Her flesh singed by the sheer intensity of her desire. She wanted to be closer to him. Closer and closer.
He answered her need by leaning down to kiss her neck, then reaching lower to ruck up her skirts. She clung to him as his questing hands found the bare flesh of her thighs beneath the layers of kirtle and shift. He cupped her buttocks and she pressed her hips into him, arching upwards, seeking release. With a harsh groan, he moved his hand between her legs, stroking her wet, swollen flesh through the fabric of her undergarment. She cried out, needing more. Wanting more.
She pressed her whole weight against him and spread her legs to offer him better access. Never had she felt like this, as if she would die if he didn’t do something to ease the violent ache inside her.
He torn away her undergarment so there was nothing in the way. He stroked her with a sublime, rough rhythm as his harsh breathing matched hers. She gave in to the sensation, like a vast wave crashing over her. The wave carried upward into a mindless peak of pure pleasure. She floated down upon it.
Gradually, she grew aware again. She clung to Magnus and he held her tightly, although he no longer touched her intimately. Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath. “Oh,” she murmured. “Oh, Magnus.”
He kissed her with great tenderness. “I hadn’t guessed a woman could peak with such passion.”
His words suddenly made what had happened seem very real. Embarrassed, she sought to move away from him.
“Nay. Let me hold you.” He gripped her tightly. “It enflames my lust, but I care not. We can do nothing for my need, but I’ll gladly ease yours.” Touching his cheek against hers, he murmured, “My Ailinn, my darling.”
Ailinn wanted to weep. She couldn’t think...and that terrified her. She felt herself yielding to this man, offering him everything. Nay, she couldn’t do that. She must be strong. She must not come to depend on him, to trust him.
He began to kiss her again. Light tender kisses. Along her neck, on her nape. Dear God, now he was nibbling on her ear! She felt as if her whole body were made of quivering jelly. With great effort, she forced herself to push him away. Her breath came in gasps. She had to get away from him. She had to...
“Ailinn, what’s wrong?” he asked
She shook her head, unable to answer. She feared she would weep. Never had she felt so helpless and overwhelmed. He touched her with such skill...as if he knew her better than she did herself. Oh, sweet heaven! How could she have allowed him to...? She could feel the wetness on her thighs. Smell the yeasty, warm scent of her own release. By the saints...
He drew her against him again, her back t
o his chest. When she twisted to get away, he held her tighter. “It’s all right, Ailinn Such things happen naturally between a man and a woman. Being a princess and a virgin, you never learned about coupling. I promise you, there’s more, much more. Even better than this. But I can wait. I will wait.”
His voice was soft thunder in her ears as he rubbed his face against her hair. Her nipples tightened until she could feel every movement of her shift sliding against them. The lingering tingle between her legs became a pulsing throb. Oh, dear heaven, it was happening again!
She inhaled sharply and sagged against him. He responded with groan deep in his throat. The next moment she felt the hard ridge of his arousal pressing into her backside.
“By Freya, what you do to me,” he whispered.
“Magnus, I...” She leaned back against him and he brought his hands around to cup her breasts.
He ran his fingers over her breasts, searching for her nipples beneath her clothing. Finding them, he moved his fingers in slow circles over the aching points. She writhed in pleasure, her bliss intensified by the awareness that her buttocks were rubbing against that deliciously hard part of him. He made a strangled sound, then turned her in his arms so she faced him. “There is no bed, no place to lie down,” he muttered. “How can we...”
He took her over to one of the barrels. She cried out as he lifted her on to it. Holding her in place with one hand, he grasped the hem of her kirtle and pulled it up to her waist. “Spread your legs,” he said.
She was too shocked to obey. But then he touched her and she found herself doing exactly what he asked. She closed her eyes, thinking she would die of embarrassment. But there was no denying she wanted him. Wanted his fingers to stroke her, to tease her, to open her and then slide deep inside her.
She’d never felt anything like this. A pressure so intense it was almost painful. But when he slid his finger out, that tormented her even more. She gave a little cry of need and thrust her hips forward.
He used both hands to steady her on the barrel. She could hardly stay still. Arching her back and raising her hips, she sought out more. He changed position and slid one finger inside her again. As he moved it in and out in a rough rhythm, she moaned frantically.
He brought his mouth to hers and began to kiss her. She trembled, feeling the pressure building inside her. She wanted...oh, God, she wanted... As his tongue filled her mouth, the wave of pleasure crested, surging over her body.
For a time, she couldn’t seem to think at all, then awareness returned. She felt stunned. Never would she have believed she would allow a man to do such things to her. Never would she have imagined how much she would enjoy it.
Magnus lifted her down from the barrel. “I’m sorry about your undergarment,” he said. “I promise when we get to York, I’ll purchase you new clothing.”
York. The reality of her circumstances slammed into her. She must think of her goal. She must not let this man make her his captive, rendering her helpless, not with the threat of brute force as Croa had, but with tenderness and passion. He was a danger to her...to her will, her reason, her freedom.
“I want to go back up on deck,” she said. She couldn’t think with him so near. The thought of what they’d shared seemed to overwhelm everything else.
Magnus was confused. Why did she still want to be away from him? She’d obviously enjoyed what he’d done to her. By Freya, he hadn’t guessed a woman could be so responsive. She’d near turned to flame in his arms. The memory aroused another wave of lust and longing. He wanted more, so much more. Even if he couldn’t properly bed her, there were other things they could do. He thought of something a whore had once told him, about having a lover who kissed her private parts. It hadn’t appealed to him with that woman, especially thinking of all the men she’d been with. But with Ailinn, his lovely, sweet-skinned princess, ah, that was another matter.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Magnus. Please help me up.”
It appeared such delights would have to wait until another time. Perhaps he’d satisfied her so completely, she had no more interest in loveplay.
Resigned, he started to move the barrel out of the way, so he could boost her up onto the deck. His foot struck something lying in the water. He bent down and lifted the object. It was a leather bag containing something very heavy. Metal, from the clinking sound it made. This must be the cache of jewelry and other valuables Ailinn had mentioned. But she’d said she hadn’t found it!
“Give it to me.” She held out her hand.
He stared at her. “You did find it. Yet you lied to me. Why?”
She didn’t answer. The quick dart of her eyes and the way she licked her lips reminded him of Orm’s description of her as “calculating and sly”.
“I’ve gone to all this trouble to rescue you,” he said. “I risked my life several times to aid you. Why don’t you trust me?”
She shook her head and didn’t answer.
He set the bag on the barrel and opened it. Amazement swept through him as he observed the dazzling contents. He took out an armband and admired the workmanship. There were gold and silver amulets, and several daggers. All of the pieces were heavy and substantial. They looked like things that might belong to a man. Not a woman.
He glanced at Ailinn. Her expression was wary and hostile. All at once he realized she’d lied about not only finding the treasure but about it belonging to her. This wasn’t her cache of valuables; it was Croa’s.
“Give it to me!” she exclaimed, eyes narrowed.
He tightened the drawstring. “For now, it stays with me.”
“But it’s mine!”
“I don’t think so. Nothing in this cache looks as if it belongs to a woman.”
“The pieces were my father’s!”
He shook his head. “These things are obviously newly made. Croa must have just purchased them.”
He saw resignation creep over her delicate features, followed by a look of despair. The bleakness with which she regarded him tore at his resolve. A part of him wanted to give her the treasure to make up for all she’d had to endure at the hands of Croa. But he couldn’t do that. He needed these things to pay the crew and maintain control of the ship. Surely she understood that if some other man seized power, she was back to being a helpless thrall.
He tightened the drawstring and left the bag on the barrel. “Come,” he said. “I’ll help you up onto the deck.” As he grasped her waist and lifted her up, her body--which had only a few moments before had melted at his touch--felt as rigid and unyielding as stone.
* * *
Ailinn walked grimly to the tent. She was furious at Magnus for taking the treasure from her. He was no different than any other man. His goal was to dominate and control. To take all power away from her and make all the decisions. It was infuriating. But inevitable.
For a time, she’d hoped he was different. He’d seemed so noble and sincere, had treated her with such obvious respect and deference. For a time, she thought she might truly be able to trust him. How stupid she was. He was a man. It didn’t matter whether Norse or Irish, they were all alike. Had she not learned that from her father and brothers? If her father hadn’t died, she would have been bartered off in marriage to make an advantageous alliance for the clan. Men didn’t have to endure such humiliation. But because she was a woman, it was her lot in life. Even the priests and holy brothers said so.
Her turmoil intensified, and she told herself she must regain control. Put aside her feelings and try to think clearly. Ah, her wretched, treacherous feelings. And even more so, her traitorous body. Her insides still throbbed with the lingering rhythms of gratified desire. In the future, she must not let Magnus get her alone.
She entered the tent and found all the women inside. Ullach said, “Gormlaith started to feel sick, so we brought her back here.”
“Aye,” Brina agreed. “When Gormlaith turned pale as whey, I knew she must lie down. Besides, we’d finished mending most of Asgar’s garment
s.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Ailinn answered dejectedly.
“What’s wrong?” Brina asked.
Ailinn sat down on the blankets and hung her head in her hands. “Everything. All my hopes are dashed.”
Brina gasped. “Don’t tell me—Magnus has decided to sell us after all. Why? Did you do something to make him angry? Surely you understood that all our futures lay in his hands.”
“Nay, I did nothing to anger him.” Ailinn raised her head and spoke with cold, icy precision. “But he’s done something to infuriate me. He’s taken the treasure. Now everything is hopeless.”
“Hopeless? I doubt that. If you would try to win him over, I’m certain you could. ‘Tis clear he cares for you. You might well be able to take advantage of that, and while you might not regain control of this cache of valuables, you could very likely influence what he does with it.”
“I doubt very much he will agree to use it to hire warriors to win back my family’s lands.”
“You never know. It’s hard to say what a man might be convinced to do if he truly cares about you.”
The dreamy tone of Brina’s voice alarmed Ailinn. “What has this Orm fellow been telling you?” she demanded.
Brina shrugged. “He said that when we reached York, he’ll buy me a new kirtle and shift and perhaps an armband or brooch.”
“And what did you do for him in exchange? Did you kiss him? Let him touch you intimately?”
“Does it matter?” Brina’s voice was uncharacteristically tart. “At one time we were captives kept in the hold like animals. Now we have a chance at some sort of life.”
“What sort of life?” Ailinn exclaimed. “To be the concubine of a Norse seaman and spend the rest of your days in a foreign land far from your home and all that’s familiar? I’d rather have drowned,” she added with emphasis.
“But it does seem preferable to being sold as a slave,” Ullach said in a timid voice. “And that was to be our fate until only a day ago.”
Ailinn turned her gaze on Gormlaith. “And how do you feel about it? Have you already chosen the Norse sailor you mean to give your maidenhead to, in exchange for a life a mere step above being a thrall?”
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