Beyond the Sea Mist

by Mary Gillgannon

  “Mount me.” His voice was a harsh whisper. Ailinn inhaled sharply as she wondered how she would manage such a thing. He seemed impossibly large.

  She positioned herself over him and lowered her hips, gasping at the exquisite pressure she felt as his phallus pressed against her opening. With slow, careful movements she continued to lower herself onto him. When he was halfway inside her, she paused, uncertain she could accommodate more.

  All at once, he thrust upwards. The shock of the pleasure-pain she felt forced a scream from her lips. She closed her eyes, trembling as the intense sensations shot through her body. Gradually the waves of feeling subsided. She opened her eyes and saw in amazement how deeply he had penetrated her. Her gaze went to his face. He lay back on the bed, observing her with a heavy-lidded, sensual expression. “The view from here is splendid.”

  Ailinn looked down at herself, observing her flushed skin and the sheen of sweat glazing her body. Her nipples thrust out, swollen and red. She watched as Magnus reached up to touch them, teasing the taut points with his fingers. Then he moved his hands down her body and around to her buttocks. He fondled the soft flesh, then eased his fingers lower, to where their bodies were joined.

  Ailinn gasped and wriggled. The movement pushed his shaft even deeper inside her, making her squirm more. She found herself writhing and shifting, each motion sending ripples of pleasure through her body. In moments, she was on the verge of peaking. She fought losing control, embarrassed that he was watching her. Then he brought his fingers around to the front to tease and fondle her cleft. As he stroked his fingers along the place where they were joined, she seemed to dissolve. She cried out as she was overwhelmed by a roaring tide of passion. Her thoughts blurred, and for a moment, she unaware of anything.

  She came to herself again and met Magnus’s gaze. His expression looked somehow pained, and she knew a stab of guilt, thinking of her plan to repay him for all he had done. “Magnus, I... ‘Tis not right that you always concern yourself with my pleasure. I want to satisfy you as well.”

  He smiled at this. “You think I haven’t enjoyed watching you and feeling your tight sheathe around me? I vow, if I were to feel any more pleasure, I would die from it.”

  “But what can I do to satisfy you?”

  “Kiss me.”

  His request surprised her. She adjusted her body, intending to lift herself off of him. “Nay.” He put a firm hand on her buttocks, holding her in place. “I want us to remain joined while we kiss.”

  Although she wasn’t certain how this would work, she leaned forward to bring her lips to his. As she did so, he grasped her buttocks and braced her. Their mouths met in a greedy kiss.

  So many sensations assaulted her that she could hardly think. The feel of his lips on hers. Her breasts brushing against his chest. The intense pressure where they were joined. His hands on her bottom, kneading the kiss deepened. He slid his tongue into her mouth, adding a new delight.

  He moved his tongue in a gentle rhythm that sent ripples down her body. Ailinn moaned into his mouth, overcome by all the dazzling things happening to her. When he matched the rhythm of his tongue by thrusting upward with his hips, she was undone. She cried out, drowning in indescribable ecstasy.

  The movements of his hips and tongue grew faster and more intense. Without breaking the connection between them, he rolled her onto her back and thrust into her with deep, violent strokes. She welcomed him, awed at how deeply they were joined. As he arced over her, his body convulsing as he found his peak, she knew a great satisfaction. She had pleased him well.

  Slowly, they disengaged, then came together again, her head resting on his broad chest. Tears filled her eyes as marveled at what they’d shared. He was so dear to her, so precious. How could she let him risk his life for her sake?

  She shoved the troublesome thoughts aside. For this moment, she would savor the sweetness and let nothing intrude.

  * * *

  A pounding at the door woke Magnus. His instincts told him it was not yet morning. Who could it be? He gently slid away from Ailinn and sat up. He felt dazed, his wits confused. Had he imagined the noise?

  Another sharp rapping sound. He climbed out of the bed. His limbs felt like they were submerged in water from the long night of lovemaking. He pulled on his trews, then cast one last glance at Ailinn, curled on her side. At this moment, her nakedness didn’t arouse his lust, but a deep yearning to protect. She looked so small and fragile lying there. Somehow, he must keep her safe.

  He found his sword belt and put it on, then made his way to the door and called out. “Who’s there?”

  “My name is Berein. One of Niall the Metalsmith’s servants.”

  Magnus frowned as he unlatched the door. What did Niall want? Had the owner of the house returned early? Was that the reason for this intrusion?

  Berein, the smaller of Niall’s two slaves, stood outside the door, carrying a torch. “My master sent me to warn you. Something has happened at the docks. Some sort of fight or skirmish. A man named Orm was wounded.”

  Magnus sucked in his breath. “Who told Niall of this?”

  “A man named Asgar.”

  “Where’s Asgar now?”

  “He went back to the dock.”

  Magnus cursed, long and low. He might pay dearly for this night alone with Ailinn. He nodded to Berein. “Thank your master for sending you to warn me.”

  Berein nodded. He handed Magnus the torch and disappeared into the night.

  Magnus stuck the torch in a holder on the wall, then went into the bedchamber and began to don the rest of his clothing. As he collected the amulets, armband and daggers from Croa’s treasure and replaced them in their hiding spots, he realized how fortunate he was that he’d thought to bring everything with him. If he had to start over again, at least he would have some wealth.

  But he wasn’t about to give up yet. He must go back to the dock and see what had happened. If the ships were still there, he would fight for them, and for Orm. Thor’s hammer, he hoped Orm was all right!

  He went to the bed and gazed down at Ailinn. The love he felt for her was so strong. He didn’t want to leave her. Yet, he feared to take her with him. If there was fighting, he didn’t want her involved.

  But she wouldn’t be safe alone here either. He would have to take her with him to the dock and hope for the best.

  He shook her gently. “Ailinn, wake up.”

  A faint smile curved her lips. “Nay, Magnus. No more. I can’t bear any more of your pleasuring.”

  He grimaced, dreading to tell her that their magical night together was at an end. “Ailinn, listen to me. Something has happened. We have to go back to the dock. Orm and the other women might be in danger.”

  Her eyes snapped open and she sat up on the bed. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

  “I know little. One of Niall’s—he’s the man who arranged for this house—one of his slaves came to warn me there was trouble on the dock. He mentioned Orm being wounded, but nothing else.”

  Ailinn began to dress. As he watched her glowing, perfect nakedness disappear beneath the shift and then her outer gown, he wondered if he would ever have a chance to see her like that again. He might die, and this would be all they ever shared. A shudder went through him.

  Then his resolve returned. He wouldn’t— couldn’t— give up now.

  She wasted no time in putting on her shoes and gathering together her things. Her expression was grim. He knew she was thinking the same things he was. For a time, the future had seemed so bright and promising. They would return to Ireland and regain her family’s lands. Then they would wed and live in peace and happiness for the rest of their lives.

  A pretty tale, but not a realistic one. There were many obstacles ahead of them before they could hope to know such a happy destiny.

  * * *

  A heavy gloom descended on Ailinn’s spirit as she walked through the darkened settlement with Magnus, the glow of the torch forming a circle of light a
round them. For a time, she’d experienced happiness. Now she must return to the usual harshness of life. Ahead would be more struggle, more danger, more treachery. ‘Twas the natural way of things, she thought.

  A part of her mourned that it must be so, while another part of her feared for Magnus. How she loved him and longed to keep him safe. But how could she?

  Magnus reached out and grasped her hand. “Whatever happens, Ailinn, know that I love you.”

  “Aye,” she whispered back. “I love you as well.”

  Tears filled her eyes. She forced them away. She must be strong. And determined. They had prevailed against so much already. They must continue to fight. She thought of the dagger at the bottom of the satchel she carried. Before they arrived on the dock, she would get it out and ready herself for what was to come.

  Chapter 19

  “Wait here,” Magnus said as they approached the dock.

  “Nay. I want to go with you,” Ailinn responded.

  Magnus turned toward her, his face etched with worry. “If I have to concern myself for your safety, I’ll be distracted and it will be more dangerous for both of us.”

  “I have a weapon.” She pulled a dagger from her pack and held it out.

  Magnus raised his eyebrows. “Where did you get that?”

  “I found it on deck. Some crewman must have dropped it.”

  “What if a man draws a sword on you? What would you do then?”

  Ailinn’s insides clenched. His words were true; she was no match for a well-armed warrior. She would have to remain here. At the thought of being parted from him, despair near choked her. “Kiss me,” she said. “Kiss me and promise me that you’ll remain safe.”

  Magnus pulled her into his arms, embracing her as tightly as he could while holding the torch. He sought to memorize the feel of her body and her sweet scent. “This night was glorious. No matter what happens, we’ll always have that.”

  She nodded, her face downcast. He knew she wept, and felt tears spring to his own eyes. After handing her the torch since it was finally getting light, he turned and started toward the dock.

  Sword at the ready, he made his way past the warehouses. His heart pounded as he wondered what he would find. He half-expected both ships to be gone, so when he reached the river and saw the two vessels still moored there, he was flooded with relief. But then his anxiety returned. The ships might not be lost, but what about Orm?

  He crept forward, watching for movement on either of the ships. Seeing none, his tension increased. If Asgar had come and told Niall what was going on, where was he now? Was this a trap? Niall’s man had alerted him to the danger, but could he trust Niall?

  The loading ramps were gone, which would make boarding more difficult. He didn’t know who his enemies were, nor which vessel they were on. Sweat broke out on his skin. He adjusted his grip on the sword hilt, then reluctantly resheathed his weapon. There was no way he could climb aboard a ship carrying a sword.

  He scrutinized the two vessels one more time and decided to board the Seawolf. That was where Orm had said he was going when he last saw him.

  Magnus approached the Seawolf and sought out the mooring line. Finding it, he leaned out and grasped the rope. He swung out on it and levered himself onto the deck.

  He landed nearly on top of a sleeping man. The man cried out and sat up in his bedsack. Despite the light from the rising sun, Magnus didn’t immediately recognize him. Was he friend or foe?

  “Magnus,” the man said, sounding shocked. “Bodolf said you were dead. He said he’d killed you and now he was in control of the ship. He said we were sailing at first light, and he would be our new captain.”

  “What happened then?” Magnus demanded. “How was Orm wounded?”

  The man—who Magnus recalled was named Ottar— shook his head in consternation. “Orm refused to believe Bodolf. He insisted you would be back. He and Bodolf got into a fight, and Orm got a swordthrust to the belly.”

  Magnus grunted in dismay. Belly wounds were nasty. Those who suffered them might survive for several days, but usually perished in misery. “Where’s Orm now?”

  Ottar gestured. “On the Dragonsbreath. Orm wanted to stay here, but the red-haired wench insisted he go to the other ship. She seemed to think she could better tend him there.”

  “And Bodolf allowed him to do this?” Magnus was puzzled. Why hadn’t Bodolf finished Orm off?

  “Bodolf said Orm would die anyway.”

  Magnus’s mood sank. It didn’t sound good for Orm. “Where’s Bodolf now?” Magnus glanced around the deck. A few of the men nearby had roused and were listening to his conversation with Ottar, but others remained asleep in their bedsacks.

  “Bodolf went into the settlement some time ago and hasn’t returned.”

  “But he could have come back and boarded the Dragonsbreath, couldn’t he?” Magnus said. “After all, if I hadn’t have landed nearly on top of you, you’d never have known I was here.”

  “Perhaps,” Ottar answered. “I don’t know anything for certain. None of this makes any sense to me. Why did Bodolf say you were dead? And why did he go into the settlement?”

  “Who went with him? Any other men?” Magnus asked.

  “Aye. Kvist and Hrut.”

  They were all crewmembers of the Seawolf, as was Bodolf. At least the men who plotted against him were not from the crew of the Dragonsbreath.

  Magnus tried to figure out Bodolf’s scheme. Bodolf must have decided to take control of the ships, and after telling the crews that Magnus was dead, gone into the settlement to make his lie the truth. Except, Bodolf didn’t know where to find him. No one knew, except for Niall and his servants. What had Bodolf done when he’d been unable to locate him? Had he remained in the settlement or returned to the Dragonsbreath?

  Magnus looked across the water to where he could see the tall mast of the other ship, looming dark against the growing light. He needed to board the Dragonsbreath and find out how Orm fared. But if he climbed aboard and discovered Bodolf was there... Well, then, he would fight him, Magnus decided. A confrontation with Bodolf seemed inevitable, and he’d rather it take place on the ship where he had some allies than in the settlement.

  He repressed a shudder as he contemplated what might have happened if Bodolf had found him at the merchant’s house. He might have died there, in the place where he and Ailinn had known so much pleasure. Although he’d made certain the door of the house was latched, three determined men could have found a way in, or even set the place on fire. Thank the gods, he’d been spared that awful fate. So far, it seemed that fortune smiled on him. With that thought in mind, he said to Ottar, “I’m going aboard the Dragonsbreath. If Bodolf comes here looking for me, tell him I’m waiting for him there.”

  Ottar nodded.

  Magnus slid down the mooring rope and landed on the dock. He started to approach the other ship when he heard voices. Instinctively, he drew his sword. Scanning the dark shapes of the warehouses along the quay, he thought of Ailinn. What if Bodolf and his men found her and took her captive? Sick dread clutched his belly.

  He waited, his heart beating wildly. Three men walked from between the buildings. Magnus faced them, his body rigid. “As you can see, I’m not dead.” He cleared his throat and shouted, “Magnus Gunnarson is not dead! Nor does he mean to die this day!”

  His goal was to wake the men on both ships. He would fight better if they were watching.

  Bodolf took a step forward and motioned with his head to the two men flanking him. “Three against one. Even you can’t prevail against these odds.”

  “He can and will!” someone shouted. “He’s done so before!”

  Although Magnus couldn’t turn to look, he recognized Orm’s voice and was greatly heartened to think his friend was well enough to yell words of support.

  A heartbeat later, he forgot Orm and focused his thoughts on the three men. They were young, but that didn’t mean they weren’t skilled. If they all attacked him at once, he�
�d be in serious trouble.

  But only Bodolf who moved toward him, sword raised. Magnus felt a stir of admiration for his opponent. It was likely that if the battle started to go against him, Bodolf would call on his companions for aid, but for now Bodolf clearly wished to defeat Magnus on his own.

  They circled each other, taking the other’s measure. Magnus assessed Bodolf’s size and build. Like most men, he was smaller than Magnus, and his legs were rather short. That probably meant he had good balance, and also that the power of his blows would come from underneath. Magnus flexed his legs to compensate.

  Bodolf slashed out first, and Magnus dodged. Bodolf tried again, and Magnus easily avoided the swinging blade. Patience, he thought. That was the way to defeat the man. Bodolf had been searching all night for him, and now that he’d found him, he wanted to get things over with quickly.

  Bodolf attacked once more, and appeared frustrated when Magnus moved out of reach. “Are you a coward?” Bodolf taunted. “Are you afraid to fight?”

  “I wasn’t afraid to kill Croa, nor Thorvald either.” Although Bodolf hadn’t witnessed those conflicts, it might shake his courage to recall that two men had died opposing Magnus.

  Magnus watched his opponent carefully. If Bodolf grew too nervous, he might forget about honor and order his companions to attack at the same time he did. It was time to act.

  Magnus moved forward and swung his blade. Bodolf parried the blow, but was unprepared for Magnus to whirl around and strike him from the other side. Magnus’s blade caught Bodolf’s shoulder. It was a minor wound, but it began to bleed. Over time, it would flow down Bodolf’s arm and hinder his grip on his sword. Magnus saw panic flare in his opponent’s eyes. Bodolf called out to his companions, “Kill him! Once he’s dead, the ships will be ours!”

  The three men charged him all at once. Magnus whirled and swung his sword in a wide, dangerous arc. The three men leapt back to avoid it. They waited, surrounding him like a pack of wolves. When they started forward, he repeated the motion. As Magnus came around, one of the men flanking Bodolf darted forward and slashed at Magnus’s arm. The blow missed, but only barely.