Lord of Fire, Lady of Ice

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “Nay,” he said, sounding anxious. “I don’t want anyone else to finish what you’ve started.” He paused, uncomfortably clearing his throat. Pleasure began to ripple inside her, but then he added, “Besides, the servants are probably busy cleaning the hall and you are already here.”

  “I see. I will try to be careful.” She rubbed him lighter. “What happened to your back?”

  “It’s just an old injury that pains me sometimes.”

  “From battle?” Della asked, glad for a chance to break the silence of before with conversation. Many scars littered her husband’s body, but she’d never paid them much mind, for they only added to his appeal. Her eyes became mesmerized by the soapy flesh, trails of white against the alluring texture of his sun-bronzed skin.

  “I was hit with a club.” Brant motioned dismissively, as if to say it happened to him all the time.

  “Where does it hurt?” Della pushed on his back. “Here?”

  “Yea.” Brant grunted.

  “Wait here.” Suddenly, Della smiled. She dropped the cloth into the water and dried her hands on the skirt of her nightgown. Going to her personal trunk, she lifted the lid and dug through the small jars she had organized within it. Finding the one she was looking for, she picked it up. As an afterthought, she grabbed another before returning to the tub.

  “Rub this on your back twice a day. It is a mixture of wild yams and peppers made for muscles and will make you feel better. I use it after I work too hard scrubbing the floors and the maids swear by it.” She handed him the jar. “It might burn at first, but that is good.”

  Brant took the jar and set it next to the bath. He nodded his silent thanks.

  “Now, dip your head under,” she ordered. He gave her a charming half smile. Della’s heart skipped and he did as she commanded. The head of his serpent peeked briefly from beneath the dark water. When he resurfaced, she said, “I got this recipe for soap from an alchemist traveling from Eblana. It’s very good for the hair, if one does not use it too oft.”

  Brant eyed her suspiciously as she dipped her fingers into the gummy substance. “What kind of soap looks like curdled cream?”

  “It is soap, truly,” she said, defensively. “It’s special for the head. As much as you wash yourself, you must have tight skin on your head, do you not?”

  “Yea, mayhap sometimes.” Reaching up, he scratched his short beard. He kept an eye on her hand as she lifted it to his head.

  Without further comment, Della slapped the substance on his scalp and began to lather his long locks. Gliding her hands over his head, she untied the leather strap that bound the lock of his hair and ran her fingers to take the braid out of the red streak. Without thought of her words, she asked, “Were you really born with this red? Or do you bleach your hair?”

  Brant groaned in enjoyment of her administering hands. She massaged her way down his temples and over his short beard. Her hair was beginning to dry and curl about her face. Through the veil of her locks, she saw Brant lick his lips. He was staring at her chest. Della followed his eyes. One of her long, damp locks adhered itself to the curve of her breast. At such a close proximity, the outline of her nipple could be seen through the thick fabric. She shifted her weight, causing her hair to fall over the globe to hide it. Finally, he answered, “I was born that way.”

  “It’s also true then that you came from your mother in a blaze of fire?” Della questioned, recalling Gunther’s comment. Suspicious, she scrubbed harder.

  “Yea, it has been said.” By the look on his face, he wasn’t paying attention to what he answered. His eyes rolled lightly in his head as she pushed along his scalp. Again, he licked his lips.

  “It’s also true then that you have gone to many women that same way since?” She pushed harder, scratching her nails against his head, unmindful that her breasts bobbed closer to his face.

  “Yea, it has been said.” Brant again moaned.

  “Oh! You hideous…” Della shoved his head under the water.

  Brant came up sputtering. He reached for her before she could pull away.

  “Let me go,” Della yelled. “You are a miserable, perverted man!”

  Brant lifted her into the air and onto his lap. Water sloshed over the sides of the bath to run along the stone floor toward the fur rug. Alone he filled most of the tub, so when she landed on top of him there was hardly a place she could go that wasn’t next to his body. The moment his own words donned on him, he started to laugh. “Could it be you are jealous, little wife?”

  Water soaked into her clothing and her gown became uncomfortably heavy as she struggled against his naked chest. Furious, she swore, “I am not jealous. I care not that you have two mistresses in Jorvik alone!”

  Brant laughed harder, holding her firm against his length.

  “Why don’t you go there and torment them?” She faltered in her movements. “I do not need you here. I already said you could have them. I care not.”

  “Nay, Della. You will not be rid of me so easily,” Brant said. “Gunther should not have told you that.”

  She gave one last, valiant shove against his chest before letting his strong arms pull her forward. Her lips were inches away from his neck and she didn’t protest as much as she should have. “Then tell me how I will be rid of you?”

  “Princess, I don’t think you ever will.” Brant sighed in heavy contentment.

  Since she’d stopped struggling, Della settled hard against his flesh. Her knees straddled his left thigh and her hands pressed into his chest. When he looked at her, her heart actually ached. Insecurity filled her.

  “Besides,” he continued, “those other women were before our betrothment.”

  Della slowly warmed to the idea of having someone around to share her life, even if it was a Viking barbarian. But Brant wasn’t like the others. He was kind to Rab. He was amusing at times. And, except for earlier in the hall, he had never laid a violent hand on her and even that could be seen as an accident. She rested her head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under her palm. He drew her closer.

  “How long before?” She was unable to hide her interest, as she pouted her lower lip, awaiting his answer.

  “Nigh on a fortnight before I arrived here.” Then, his tone light and teasing, he said, “Methought you wanted me to have mistresses.”

  “I do.” Even to her own ears, her words were unconvincing. The idea of him in such a position with another woman bothered her greatly. “Just not right now. What I mean to say is, will you be moving to Blackwell with them?”

  “Nay.” Brant nuzzled her, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “Nay, I will be living here.”

  “With them?”

  “Nay, Della.” Brant swallowed hard.

  “You would not lie?” Della nudged him under the chin with her head. He stroked her hair and she was very aware of his heartbeat against her hand. It was strong and sure, just like the rest of him.

  “Nay, I will never lie to you, Della.”

  She placed a soft, shy kiss next to his collarbone and he didn’t move to stop her. The feel of his arousal grew larger beneath her, tangling in the wet folds of her nightclothes. The water had cooled, or mayhap it was because he was so hot that the water felt colder in comparison.

  Her breasts strained against the confines of her gown, her nipples hard. Again, she became frightened. Suddenly she drew away and he didn’t stop her. Della pulled at her wet gown to better hide the shape of her breasts. As she looked into his blue gaze, she knew they’d strayed into strange emotional territory for both of them.

  “I should get out.” Nervous, Della tried to stand. Pushing against the rim of the tub, she straightened her legs to rise precariously over him. Brant angled his head to better see down her nightgown and grinned. A hot glow flamed her face at his interest.

  Ducking his head under water to rinse off the remaining soap, Brant resurfaced with a gasp. He pushed his hair out of his face. Droplets trickled over his chest in captiva
ting rivulets.

  Della straightened fully, teetering as he moved in the water, uncertain if the heaviness in her limbs was from the wet gown or his nearness. She’d been so close to him, had felt his firm body pressed intimately against her, and yet he didn’t touch her as he had before. Where was his barbaric passion? Mayhap she talked too much, demanded too much with her questions. Mayhap he decided he didn’t want her anymore.

  She began to lift her foot to climb out of the bath, but before she could move, his large hands clasped her bare feet to stop her from leaving. His fingers stroked her toes, only to work slowly over her ankles and up her calves. She panted, her breath quivering as pleasure rippled over her. His hands dipped down only to glide back up over her skin with the aid of the water. When he leaned forward to reach farther up her gown, her knees weakened, her whole being focused on his touch.

  Brant’s eyes stared piercingly at her, holding her captive in their powerful trance. His will overtook hers and she knew she would do anything he asked of her. She didn’t care if he cast a spell over her. How could she, if it felt like this? The whole world faded away—the knights belowstairs, the servants, Strathfeld Castle, and the Vikings. She was just a woman and he was just a man, alone in their chambers.

  Della welcomed the myriad of sensations that his touch brought to her body. Her breathing deepened, becoming ragged gasps of air. His hands passed the intimate curve of her knees and slid their way to the back of her thighs. Brant’s head was only a hairsbreadth away from her midsection. He focused on her stomach and his nose came very close to nuzzling between her thighs. She grew hot and moist at the close attention. He kneeled, a pleasant smile on his face as he rubbed her legs under the wet gown. Each movement was slow and easy.

  She gazed past the top of his head and saw the tip of his hardened serpent peeking out of the water. It peered at her like a sea dragon. Della took a deep breath, fearfully thinking of Ebba’s counsel.

  “Why do you wear so many layers to bed?” Brant groaned as the heavy folds of her gown inhibited his roaming. He dipped his hands back into the water, only to move them once more over her legs. Nestling his face intimately against the apex of her thighs, he inhaled through the wet material, shamelessly reveling in her scent. She trembled.

  Della watched him in wide-eyed wonder. As he leaned his head nearer her center, her body weakened. She could feel the press of his chin pushing intimately against her sex. His mouth opened wide where her hip met her thigh and he gave her an opened-mouth kiss through the cooling fabric, heating it and her. She moaned lightly, unable to move, unsure what to do. His lips closed and he pulled the wet material into his mouth, biting it with his teeth, enflaming it with his breath. Her strength gave out and she was forced to put her hands on his shoulders for support.

  Brant rose to his feet in one smooth motion, intent on capturing her in his arms. He seized her mouth with his own in a tenderly passionate kiss. Fingers grazed lightly over her cheeks, slow and gentle. He molded his body hard against her. The more he kissed her, the less she could resist him.

  “Stop.” Della pulled away to breathe. He was naked, with only her wet gown keeping their bodies apart.

  “Nay, not again,” he begged, his tone ragged and soft. He rocked his hips, pressing his hard arousal along her stomach. “Don’t deny me. My body could not take it if you did. I need to feel you. I need to be inside you.”

  “Just for a moment, I cannot think when you kiss me like that.” As if to attest to the truth of her words, her dazed eyes threatened to clear.

  Brant’s animalistic groan reclaimed her mouth in a slanting assault. She pitched fully against him, unable to support herself. When he broke away, he said, “Nay. Do not think tonight, Della—only feel. I can give you so much pleasure, if you but let me. I can show you things you never thought possible. I want to give you pleasure.”

  Della shivered at the promise in his husky words and for once she found herself believing them. Brant’s hands wandered the length of her back, her sides and her hair. He grew frustrated as her clothes stopped his exploration.

  “Take off your gown. I want to see you.”

  They were still standing in the bath water. Della pushed against his chest until her own feet once again supported her.

  “I cannot.” She bit her lip and looked away. A blush stained her cheeks.

  “Yea, you can.” Brant touched the back of her neck. “You are most beautiful, Della. You have naught to be ashamed of.”

  “That is not what I meant.” Della flushed, shyly enjoying his compliment. “The tie is in back. I cannot reach it.”

  Brant smiled as his fingers found the tie hidden in the gown the same moment she said the words. He pulled at the string and the heavy linen immediately slid to her shoulders. His fingers moved over the wet, naked skin he found there. Pulling her arms from his chest, he angled them down so the gown slid completely from her to pool around her feet in the tub.

  The chilled air of the bedchamber hit her naked flesh. Before she could react, Brant lifted her into his arms, one hand wrapping intimately around her naked thigh and the other winding behind her back, his fingers grazing the side of her breast to skim close to her nipple. Their bodies were still wet from the tub. His feet splashed in the spilled water as he carried her to the bed. As he walked, he kissed her jaw just below her scraped cheek. Della hid her face in his neck, but she didn’t fight him, didn’t tell him to stop.

  Placing her on the warm fur coverlet, Brant crawled onto the bed and leaned over her. His eyes swept her body in a wondrous caress, devouring her hungrily. An unfamiliar pride overwhelmed her senses at his approval. Unable to keep his bold gaze, her eyes dipped underneath her lashes.

  “You are so lovely, princess.” Brant cupped her breast briefly before sliding his hand down her flat stomach. She didn’t touch him in return, only lay still, letting his hand move where it will. “Your skin is so soft.”

  He touched her pelvic bone, drawing leisured circles down her thigh. She saw that her body excited him and knew she should be embarrassed to be so exposed to his view. But she couldn’t be, not when he looked so approvingly at her.

  “Do I look as other women do?” she whispered, hesitant. “You have seen many.”

  “What an odd question.” Brant chuckled and the sound rumbled in his chest, but his laughter died when he met her eyes. Her words hadn’t been accusing or bitter, but they were serious nonetheless. “Yea, Della. Only you are the most beautiful.”

  “You promised never to lie to me.” Della stiffened at his words. A slight frown marred her face. “I don’t expect you to say those things to me. I will not command any such sentiments from you. I know what I am.”

  Brant looked at her intensely, but didn’t answer. He moved his hand over her stomach. The ache returned to her midsection as the fire inside her grew into an inferno beneath his touch. She wanted to grab him to her, but she didn’t know if it was allowed so she held back. His fingers lightly brushed over the soft curls intimately guarding her slick folds and she jolted in surprise as an uncontrollable shiver shot through her at the private handling.

  “You like that, don’t you?” He inched his body lower, settling next to her hip to kiss below her navel.

  Della arched toward his mouth. Moaning, she instinctively wanted his lips to move lower, wanted to force him more fully against her, but his kisses stayed light and teasing, dancing over her flesh. She wanted to touch him, as he did her, and she wanted something deep inside her belly.

  “Please,” she implored, not knowing what she was begging for. “I cannot think like myself, but methinks you must stop. I’m sure you shouldn’t be there.”

  Brant chuckled again as he crawled over her, straddling her with his legs. He brushed his nose against her nipple until it became erect. Before taking the hard peak into his mouth, he said, “You are not to think.”

  “But, oh.” Della gasped, shaking her head. “I want…to ask you…something.”

  “What?�
� His word vibrated on the soft mound between his lips like a hungry growl.

  “I want…” Della’s words trailed off. She shook her head, trying to concentrate past the gentle movements of his lapping tongue. She grabbed a fistful of fur to keep her hands off him. The urge to touch him became unbearable. “You have to stop that for a moment.”

  Brant grunted his refusal, taking her nipple more forcefully between his teeth. His arousal rubbed lightly along her soft inner thigh.

  “Wait. Do not stop that just yet. Just let me think.” Her back arched against his mouth.

  Brant grinned as he gave her right breast the same treatment. His shaft continued to stroke her, the touch like kindling to fire as it flamed her wet center.

  “I want to touch you,” Della gasped, recalling what she wanted to say. “I mean…can I?”

  “If you do, I might explode,” he said softly, so soft she wondered if she’d heard him at all. But louder, he answered, “Yea.”

  Della’s hands instantly went to his head, pushing him more firmly to her chest trying in vain to end the sweet torture that coursed in her blood. A loud, gratifying moan escaped her lips. His tongue moved more fervently against her. She moaned louder.

  “May I touch you anywhere? I’m afraid I do not know what it is I’m expected to do.” Della raised her knee along the inside of his thighs. His smooth, thick member pushed into her tender flesh. The sound of her heart beat in her ears.

  “Yea, touch me however you like, there is no rule on how to do it. Later I will lie still for you and let you explore to your heart’s content.”

  “I do not,” Della gasped, “want to get burned.”

  “What?” He maneuvered his legs inside of hers.

  “Ebba said I had to put out the dragon’s fire.” Della answered him honestly, not able to do anything else.

  Brant laughed. She moved instinctively in her passions. “My darling little wife, you really know nothing about the art of lovemaking. It’s only an expression, princess, not a real fire.”

  “Yea, it is, m’lord.” Her hips sought his touch and he spread her willing thighs, putting his legs between them. “I can already feel it starting to burn.”