by Lily Harlem
“Yes, yes, I want that.”
He smiled, then again kissed down her body. He felt calmer now, there was no rush. He wanted her to relax into his touch, and get used to the fact he was going to be touching her, a lot.
“Hold onto my hair,” he said when he kissed over her navel.
She did as instructed.
He moved lower down the bed and pushed her legs wider.
“Halvor, what are you doing?”
He didn’t reply, instead he kissed over her patch of dark pubic hair and wriggled his finger inside of her.
“Oh…” she gasped, tightening her hold on his hair.
“You need to trust me,” he said. “I’m going to make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”
“I don’t doubt that. That ginger, it—”
“There is no ginger root today, and it is not the time for me to breach your ass with my cock. So try and relax and let your body find its pleasure.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“You can, and you will. Because I’m not stopping until I’m satisfied you’ve had as much pleasure as you can take.” He eased another finger into her, but he could only go up to the first joints on his fingers.
Damn, she’s tight.
She groaned and flopped back on the bed.
“Good,” he said. “Hand yourself over to me.” He licked over her folds.
“Oh, God and all the saintly ghosts.” She yanked his hair. “What are you doing?”
“That is not of your concern,” he said a little harsher than he’d intended. “Keep still and let me do my work.”
She muttered something he didn’t catch.
He licked her again, sought out her little nub and circled it with the tip of his tongue. He adored her taste, soapy and clean and with an undeniable tang of desire.
He set up a steady rhythm, working her clit with determination.
She was breathing heavily, and had clamped her legs against him.
After several minutes, he began to pump his fingers in and out of her. She was wet and getting wetter, but still the tightness remained.
“Halvor,” she gasped. “I don’t know what’s happening.”
He didn’t answer.
“It feels so…” She pulled at his hair and canted her hips for more of his tongue. “What you’re doing, it’s making me want to burst inside…”
She was getting close, he was sure of it. But it wasn’t time yet. He had to wait for the right moment, so he wouldn’t hurt her—or at least not too much.
He laved at her clit. It was swollen and taut. He wished he could play with her nipples too, but he needed to be inside her at the moment of her climax.
“Oh, oh, oh…” She bucked up, then pressed her buttocks into the bed. She arched her back and held her breath.
Now.
He increased the pressure of his two fingers, which were seated inside her, pushing them through the tension, and disregarding the resistance.
She cried out, but it was a pleasure-soaked sound, and clamped her legs tighter around him.
Still he kept on pushing, until finally, he felt her flesh give and he was buried knuckles deep. Her delicate walls were fluttering around his fingers and her clit pulsing against his tongue.
Her cries and gasps echoed around the room, filling his head and making his cock feel as if it would explode.
It would be worth giving up Valhalla to feel that around his manhood.
He continued pleasuring her, riding through her release, and eking out every gasp from her he could.
His scalp pained him, she was dragging on it with such force.
Eventually she released his hair. He lifted up to study her face, but kept his fingers buried deep.
She was propped on her elbows staring down at him. Perspiration sat on her brow and top lip and she was breathing fast.
He grinned. “Did that feel good?”
“What… what was that?”
“A woman’s pleasure,” he said. “The moment when it all comes together.”
“It… it was incredible. I’ve never…”
“Well, you have now, and you will again soon, morrow, with my cock inside you. And then again the day after and the day after that.”
He looked as his hand with his two fingers buried inside her. He withdrew and spotted a few streaks of blood. “Did I hurt you?” he asked.
“No, Master. It took a moment to get used to you… being down there, with your mouth and fingers, but no, you didn’t hurt me.”
“Good. I never intended to but feared I might, a little.”
He shifted on his haunches; damn, his cock hurt. A weaker man would shove off his breeches and fuck the woman lying wet and naked before him.
I want her so much.
He moved from the bed. It took a moment to stand straight, his groin ached so.
There’s only one thing for it.
He stepped away.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to… check on Raven. You should bathe again.”
“But…”
“And sleep in your own bed.” He clenched his fists and made for the door. “For the last time.”
He was but a mere mortal, and even after he’d found release, outside beside the barn, coming back indoors and seeing her in his bed would likely push his self-control to the breaking point.
* * *
Duna drew her legs together and watched him leave. Why was he walking so strangely?
Her cunny felt damp, satisfied, and a little stretched. She could still feel his fingers inside her, his tongue on her… there.
She pressed her fingers over her lips. What a thing to do. To have a man kiss her between the legs, make her flail and cry out, allow him to render her mindless with pleasure. A state her friend had spoken of only doing when alone.
‘You will again soon, morrow, with my cock inside you. And then again the day after and the day after that.’
His words came back to her. So that’s what was in store for her. That was what being married would be like. Was that true for all women? Or was it only Viking men who had such mastery of the female form?
She rose from the bed, feeling a little shaky, but was unable to wipe a smile from her face. Her thighs slicked together, and she tipped some hot water into the bathtub, then sank in again.
It was hard to believe the turn of events. She and Halvor had been working alongside each other for weeks, enjoying the summer sun and preparing for harsher weather. She’d found she missed him when he spent long hours in the field, or took the sheep up onto the hill to graze.
And now…
She stared into the flames. By becoming his wife she’d truly accepted her fate to live here, with him, forever. It shifted her mind-set. No longer a captive, but a woman who’d picked this life. Not that she’d thought of escape for a long time.
I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
That thought sent a traitorous sensation over her skin and she scrubbed herself with the soap. Her poor father was likely still frantic about her, wondering what her fate had become. Yet here she was, happy… yes, happy, and about to become a bride.
Quickly she rinsed, then stood, allowing the water to run from her body. After stepping out, she dried and found clean undergarments and a dress that wasn’t ripped.
She filled a bowl with food, then instead of sitting at the table, she went to her own bed and slipped beneath the blanket. Misty joined her and curled up at her side.
Halvor was outside for a long stretch of time. When he came indoors, Duna was snuggled under her blanket with her eyes closed. She was vaguely aware of him moving about, getting a meal then emptying out the bathwater, but she didn’t stir. There’d been something in his tone when he’d told her to sleep in his own bed that made her think she should lay low.
Soon he, too, went quiet and still. Duna then allowed herself to drift off to sleep. Her last night as an unwed maiden.
But her dreams were
Then he was at the lake, here, by Halvor’s longhouse. Dressed in leather breeches and a woolen tunic he held a sword, one she’d never seen before. His reddish hair was longer than usual and he was staring at her. His eyes wide, his mouth parted as if not believing what he was seeing—her, happy, in love, and with her husband.
“Duna, Duna, wake up.”
“Mmm.” She twisted on the bed and Misty meowed a complaint then jumped down.
“Duna, it’s morning.”
She opened her eyes. The night had gone so fast.
“Here.” Halvor held out a cask. “Milk and honey, to give you strength for the day ahead.”
She smiled and reached out to touch his jawline. He’d shaved and his skin was soft. “Thank you.”
He stood and turned. “Do not be long. I wish for us to leave as soon as the morning chores are completed.”
“Yes, Master.” She sipped the warm drink and it slipped over her tongue and throat. Today was a big day for her, possibly the biggest in her life.
If only it hadn’t started with Esca’s face in her dream. She’d known deep down she’d never wanted to marry him. Now that she had Halvor in her life, a man she did want to marry, she knew how it was supposed to feel. But Esca had been a kind man and a dear friend all of her life.
It made her heart ache to think he was in heaven and hadn’t been given the chance to find happiness. His passing made her sad.
Chapter Eighteen
Halvor rode swiftly to Asmund and Nadir’s farm. He hadn’t taken the wagon, just hoisted Duna onto the steed with him and headed for the hills.
But unlike when they’d first arrived at the farmstead, from the port, now she sat in front of him, holding Ivan’s mane and enjoying having Halvor’s arms around her as he held the reins.
She felt safe in his embrace, and excited about the day ahead. The sun was shining and the meadows were dotted with flowers. Above them birds soared, and several times they’d startled rabbits who’d dashed out of their way with their fluffy white tails bobbing.
When they arrived at Asmund’s he was busy butchering a boar.
Halvor pulled Ivan to a halt. The horse snorted at the carcass and backed up a few paces.
“Steady there,” Halvor said, before speaking in his native dialect to Asmund.
Asmund’s eyes widened then he nodded and replied.
But before he’d finished, Nadir rushed from the house drying her hands on a rag. “You are to be married!” She threw her head back and laughed. “I am not surprised.”
“You are not?” Halvor asked.
“No. The way you looked at her when you visited, Halvor. There was much more in your eyes than a master pleased with his new slave.” She pressed her hand over her chest. “You have been in love with your Celtic woman for a while; you cannot tell me I am wrong.”
Halvor chuckled, his chest moving against Duna’s back. “No, I cannot tell you that. She is an incredible woman and I want to care for her and protect her for the rest of my life.” He pressed a kiss to the side of Duna’s head. “However this stubborn Celt of mine will not take to my bed until she has said vows before a reverend, it is her beliefs.”
“We,” Duna interrupted. “We both have to say the vows.”
“Aye, I have heard of this,” Nadir said. “It is their way.”
“And I want to do whatever makes her happy,” Halvor said.
“And whatever it takes to get her into your bed.” Nadir gave him a knowing smile.
“Aye, that too.” He pointed ahead. “Where does this reverend live?”
“Yonder that hill,” Nadir said. “But Asmund will go and get him.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“I think it will.” Nadir reached for Duna’s hand. “Your bride needs to look like a bride, not a woman who has been sitting on a steed for an hour with the sun flushing her cheeks.”
Duna looked down at her dark green dress. She was wearing her precious steel brooch—something she normally kept safely tucked on a shelf for fear of losing it—and it held a paler green shawl in place over her shoulders.
“She looks perfect,” Halvor said.
“I agree, but on her wedding day there are a few things Celt women like.”
“You know a lot about this.” There was irritation in Halvor’s voice.
“I am old and wise.” She laughed. “And I spend time sharing wine with the reverend, he likes to talk about his travels, and the traditions he’s encountered along the way.” She paused. “Be patient, son of mine, and you will not be disappointed. Come, Duna. Come with me.”
Halvor swung down then reached for her.
As Duna’s feet hit the ground, Nadir spoke to Asmund. He appeared to make a mild complaint and pointed at the boar, but then he set off around the side of the longhouse.
“Halvor,” Nadir said, curling her fingers with Duna’s. “You may get a cask of ale and sit in the sunshine to await the reverend.”
He frowned. “How long will that be?”
“You have waited months, a few more hours will not hurt.”
He huffed and walked toward the door of the longhouse.
Nadir chuckled and pulled Duna close. “He is not the most patient of men. I’m surprised he’s shown so much with you.”
“I fear it has given him some pain.”
“In his breeches, yes.” She led Duna away from Ivan who’d wandered over to a patch of long grass. “But it does not do long-term damage for them to wait, and you, Duna, have found yourself one of the best Viking men I have ever known to be your husband.”
“He is the only Viking I would take as my husband.”
“I knew you were wise.” She nodded ahead. “Look, daisies, let’s collect some to put in your hair. The white petals will go so well with your black locks.”
An hour later Duna sat in the longhouse by a fire, which held a pot of mutton stew, and holding a cask of ale.
Nadir was fussing with her hair, filling it with flowers. “Where did you get this hair color?”
“From my mother,” Duna said. “Hers was longer than mine, past her waist.”
“I would love to have such a color. Mine was white, before it went silver, now it is like a polished sword.”
“Which is very pretty.”
“Thank you, my friend.”
Duna smiled. It was nice to have female company after so long. She’d missed her friends from the island.
“When you have bairns,” Nadir said, “you must let me come and help you during the…” She paused. “What is it called in your tongue?”
“Labor, which means hard work.”
“Aye, it is hard work. I will come and tend you.”
“I do not know when that will be.”
“In about nine moons time.” She nodded at the door. “If ever there was a man born to sire warrior sons, it’s that one.”
Duna nodded, though couldn’t help a little tremble of nerves. Oh, she knew it was the male seed that resulted in bairns, of course she did. But having Halvor’s? He was big, that would mean big babies.
“And you will be strong and capable in labor,” Nadir said. “For you are young, healthy, and I suspect not one to give up easily.”
“No, I don’t like to give up.”
“See, all will be well.” She stilled and tilted her head. “It is time. I can hear the reverend.”
They walked toward an elm tree, dappled shadows littering the ground surrounding it.
When he saw her, Halvor stood straighter and brushed his palms over his leather tunic.
The reverend was a stout man with red cheeks and wore his belt too tight, creating the illusion of an apple wrapped in a tight band as it had grown and over spilled the sides. His rosy jowls didn’t help the image.
But he was kindly, his smile warm, and he took both of Duna’s hands in his as he greeted her, reminding her of an action her father used to do.
The ceremony began.
“Halvor Stein of Gorstein, do you take Duna Terin of…”
“Shet Isles,” she said.
“Duna Terin of Shet Isles, to be your wife in the eyes of God. Protect and care for her through good and harsh times and in all seasons?”
“Aye.” Halvor nodded and took her hands in his.
“You have to say I will.” The reverend raised his bushy eyebrows; several strands were long and gray and curled up toward his forehead.
“Aye, I will.” Halvor nodded solemnly.
“And Duna Terin, do you take this Viking man, Halvor Stein of Gorstein, to be your husband in the eyes of God? To obey and serve him through good and harsh times and in all seasons?”
“I will.”
“Before the witness of God and in his name, I pronounce you man and wife.”
“Husband and wife?” Halvor said with a frown.
“It’s the same.” Duna smiled up at him. He was so handsome, so unique. With his swirling ink around his right eye, his long blond hair, and his square jaw. She’d never seen eyes so blue, or eyes that looked at her with such love.
“Husband and wife,” the reverend said with a smile. “You may kiss your bride, Halvor Stein.”
Halvor didn’t smile; instead he released her hands, dragged her close, and set a kiss on her lips that left no doubt about his unholy intentions.
She gasped and fell into his embrace. He was the only man she’d ever kissed, and the only man she ever would kiss.
Nadir clapped, Asmund laughed.
The reverend chuckled. “I wish you both the best.”
Halvor pulled back, but didn’t release Duna.
The fire in his eyes caused her to tremble. Her new husband was a desirous man with needs—needs he was no longer required to keep in check.
He stooped and slotted his shoulder against her abdomen.
The next thing she knew she was being lifted into the air, the way she had been when he’d stolen her from her village.
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