“Yes, yes of course, my lord,” the steward said in a nervous rush, his hands shaking as he took back the list.
Rurik turned to Zora, finding that it had given him a great deal of pleasure to speak out on her behalf. “Does this satisfy you, wife?”
Chapter 21
Zora couldn’t have been more astounded. After how coldly Rurik had treated her earlier this afternoon, she would never have expected him to be so solicitous. Suspicious, yes. Brusque, yes, but to champion her as the mistress of his household?
“Y-yes, thank you. I am well satisfied.” Staring into his eyes, she knew that she was genuinely smiling at him as perhaps she had never done before, but she couldn’t help it. That Rurik had publicly stated his faith in her, at least as far as domestic matters were concerned, gave her a powerful surge of pleasure that had nothing to do with her plan. Perhaps that was the most startling thing of all.
“Is there any other way I can assist you, then, my lady?” Yakov’s eager-to-please tone now lacked the resentment it had held earlier.
It was hard for Zora to tear her gaze from Rurik’s, for he seemed just as content to be staring at her as she was at him. Yet the steward’s question was a sobering reminder that she must think again of her plan, especially now that she feared her growing feelings for Rurik were battling against her. This latest reaction to him proved it! The sooner she took up her duties within the compound, making it appear to all that she was accepting her marriage, the better.
“Yes, Yakov, there is something.” Zora hoped Rurik would miss the tinge of desperation in her voice. “I’d like to visit the weaving house if I may, to see if anything else should be ordered from the market, then the cooking house and the storehouses where the foodstuffs are kept, the brewery, the dairy—”
“It pleases me that you’ve taken an interest in the welfare of my retainers and the needs of my household but it grows late, wife,” Rurik interjected, trying to contain the mistrust that had leapt into his mind at this new request. His better judgment was telling him that she had to be nursing some plot, but he was determined to honor Arne’s advice. Anything if Zora would smile at him again as she had been a moment ago. “Tomorrow Yakov can show you all of those places, but for now we must ready ourselves for supper. Everyone will be gathered in the hall by dusk.”
“But I am ready,” she insisted. As if to illustrate her point, she glanced down at the rose-colored tunic that she wore, the shimmering fabric cut to accentuate the lush curves of her body, and then met his eyes. “Does this gown not please you?”
“More than I can say,” said Rurik, noting her deep blush, which thrilled him as much as the thought that she might have dressed with his pleasure in mind. “But I have no wish to go to supper with the stink of battle upon me.” He held out his hand. “Come. I’d like you to accompany me to the bathhouse.”
“I can’t go there!” she said, shocked.
Rurik frowned. “Why not?”
She stared at him in confusion. “You…you would want other men to see me…?”
Suddenly realizing why she was so flustered, Rurik almost laughed aloud.
“Not the main bathhouse, Zora. True enough, it’s probably filled with my warriors. No, I have my own.” He took her small hand firmly in his, and drew her toward him. He lowered his voice so only she could hear. “Do not think that I would ever allow another man to glimpse your beauty. It is for me alone. Now come.”
Zora could tell from Rurik’s husky command that he would not be swayed, and disconcerted all the more by the heat in his eyes, she felt her urgency about her plan melt away. As they left Nellwyn, Yakov, and her guards staring after them, Zora had to walk quickly to keep up with Rurik’s powerful strides, but they hadn’t gone far before he chuckled and purposely slowed his pace.
“Forgive me, little one. I forget that your legs are shorter than mine.”
Little one, Zora thought, undeniably warmed by the way in which he had said it, like an endearment.
Suddenly she recalled another time when he had held her hand, at their wedding only a few days ago. He had stroked her fingers and asked her if it was truly that bad…she supposed that he had meant their marriage. She had called him a heartless barbarian, believing he was mocking her, but maybe he hadn’t been after all. Maybe he had been touched by her tears. Maybe even then he had cared…
Sighing to herself, Zora could hardly believe how much had happened since she had come to Novgorod. Nor could she believe how Rurik’s mood had changed from when first she had seen him that afternoon, going as if from night to day.
It seemed that already he was relaxing around her and she had barely set her plan into motion. Was it possible that her simple apology to his people had moved him? Or was it because she had greeted him earlier, not with defiance and sharp words as he might have expected, but in a softer manner? Maybe he had decided he no longer wanted to fight his emotions—
“You know, Princess, you surprise me.”
Her heart pitching crazily, Zora glanced up at him. “I do?”
Rurik nodded. “I would never have expected you to call upon the families who lost their homes and tell them you were sorry, and then ask if you could help.”
“I would have done more if I could,” she said honestly, for in truth her actions this afternoon—other than choosing her gown with an eye toward pleasing him—had been only partially spurred by her plan, but mostly because she felt badly about her role in the fire. “I never intended for such a terrible thing to happen.” When he didn’t readily reply, she added, “I’m not a callous ogre, Rurik. I have feelings, too.”
“I never said you didn’t.”
Distracted all over again by how intently he seemed to be studying her, Zora looked away.
“I must admit your sudden interest in my household has also come as a surprise.”
She kept her gaze trained straight ahead, her heart suddenly pounding. Holy Mother Mary, did he suspect…?
“I don’t see why,” she answered as steadily as she could. “Surely it is a normal thing for a wife to wish to please her husband—”
Rurik stopped and faced her so abruptly that Zora gasped. “Is that what you’re trying to do?” His demand was strained as he searched her eyes. “Please me?”
Seeing the same turmoil in his gaze, Zora was shaken by the intensity of her guilt. Damn him, why could he make her feel like she was betraying him? The line she was trying so desperately to preserve between what she wanted him to believe and the emotions tugging at her heart was becoming more blurred with their every encounter, a realization both frightening and thrilling.
“Zora?”
She knew that he wanted an answer, but she didn’t know what to say, fearing that if she spoke at all she would reveal too much. Then just as suddenly Rurik seemed to change his mind as if he sensed he was pushing her too hard. Squeezing her hand, he set out with her toward a small wooden building that adjoined his longhouse, not speaking again until they were almost there.
“The stones should be red-hot by now,” he said, all trace of tension gone from his voice. “I sent word an hour ago that I wanted the bathhouse made ready.”
“Stones?” she asked, still unsettled.
“You’ll see.”
Zora was greeted by a hot blast of air as Rurik opened the door and pushed her gently inside the lamplit, windowless building. She heard him draw the bolt behind her, then he brushed past her to a large open hearth in the center of the room that was piled with smooth rocks.
“You’ve never been in one of these before, have you?” Watching as he dipped a ladle into a bucket of water, Zora shook her head.
“Steam baths are a common thing in the north,” he explained, smiling at her over his shoulder. “Every house has one. We Varangians swear by them.” He gave a short laugh. “Your uncle has a steam bath in his palace big enough to seat his entire senior druzhina.”
Zora started when Rurik threw water on the hissing stones, steam filling the room.
He emptied the ladle again and again until it looked like a dense fog had enveloped them, and only then did he unbuckle his sword belt and begin to strip off his clothes.
“Join me,” he said in a low, teasing voice that sent chills racing through her. “I think you’ll like it.”
It seemed Zora had joined him, for already her silk tunic was damp and clinging to her skin, sweat tickling down her back. Yet she grew flustered at the thought of undressing in front of him, despite the intimacy they had shared. Turning around modestly, she gathered the garment to her hips and began to draw it up over her torso.
“Let me help you, Princess.”
“Oh!”
Rurik had come up so silently that she hadn’t even heard him behind her. She sucked in her breath as he took charge, his splayed hands caressing the tunic from her body. Within the blink of an eye she was standing naked in his arms, even her thin linen underdrawers cast onto a bench near the door.
“Thor’s blood, woman, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered in her ear. He stroked her worshipfully, the curve of her hips, her belly, then his hands glided upward to the soft undersides of her breasts where he gently cupped her. “So beautiful.”
Her head lolling back against him, Zora moaned as his thumbs lightly grazed her tightened nipples, circling around and around. Yet the wondrous sensation had no sooner begun when he released her, and she heard him chuckle.
“Not yet, Princess. First the steam bath must be enjoyed. Come and sit with me.”
As Rurik took her hand and led her through the billowing steam to a platform set around the walls, Zora could see that his sun-gilded skin already glistened with sweat. Her eyes drifted down his muscled back to the curve of his taut buttocks, her face firing with a warmth that had nothing to do with the peat fire in the hearth. He was so magnificent, his hard masculine body made all the more fascinating in her eyes by the nicks and scars he bore from countless battles.
“Are you pleased with what you see?”
Embarrassed that Rurik had caught her staring at him so brazenly, she could only nod as he turned her around and drew her down to sit upon his lap, her back nestled against his chest.
“Lean your head against my shoulder and close your eyes,” he bade her and she did so, sighing within the security of his arms. “That’s it…now relax and let the steam wash over you.” He lightly kissed her temple. “It feels wonderful, doesn’t it? So warm, wetting your hair, your skin…”
It is wonderful, Zora thought dreamily, but no more so than the sensation of his steady heartbeat drumming against her back, the added warmth of his breath fanning her cheek, and the way his fingers were toying with the damp hair that streaked her breasts and shoulders. At one point she even felt herself sliding from his lap, the moisture of their bodies a slippery sheen between them, but he only drew her back with a husky laugh and held her that much more closely.
She couldn’t have said how many moments had passed, the engulfing steam and the incredible heat of Rurik’s body like a cocoon shielding her from all sense of time or place, when suddenly she felt him lift her and stand her upon her feet.
“It was not my intent for you to fall asleep, Zora, but I’m sure this will wake you,” he said with amusement in his voice. Supporting her with one arm, he drew something from a basket set near the hearth.
“I’m not sleepy,” was all she managed to say just before she felt a stinging sensation cut right across her bottom. “Ouch! That hurt! What are you…?” Now fully alert, she stared in horror from the telltale birch branches he held to the innocent smile on his face.
“It’s part of the steam bath,” Rurik tried to explain through the laughter threatening to erupt from his throat, Zora’s indignant outrage truly a sight to behold. “To get the blood moving. You scarcely feel it after the first few—”
“Blood moving be damned! You will not strike me with those…those branches again!” She broke free of his grasp and skittered to the other side of the room. “If you want to lash yourself to ribbons, go right ahead, Rurik Sigurdson, but you’ll not have me participating in your strange Varangian custom!”
Her eyes were sparking such fire, Rurik could suppress his mirth no longer.
“It’s not funny!” she cried, although he could see that she was fighting hard not to join him, her lips twitching and her dimples beginning to show. “You could have at least warned me!”
“And ruin the surprise?” he asked, actually wiping tears from his eyes. By Thor, he didn’t think he had laughed so hard in years. His stomach hurt!
“Some surprise.” She swiped irritably at the steam. “I want out of here. I’ve had enough! From now on, you can enjoy your steam baths and I’ll keep my tub, thank you.”
“Oh, but we’re not through yet, Princess.”
Zora glanced at Rurik warily, not liking the enigmatic smile that he now wore on his face.
“Whipping me isn’t enough?” she demanded, a giddy excitement fast overwhelming her vexation as he began to stalk her around the hearth. The rogue! She glanced at the door they had entered, but that one led outside and she’d never have enough time to wriggle into her tunic before he caught up with her.
She threw a glance at the opposite door. Surely it led into the longhouse…and if she went right now—
Zora screamed as she dashed for the door for at that same moment, Rurik lunged for her. Yet he wasn’t quite fast enough for she had it open before he reached her and she rushed inside another room, only to stop right up against a huge wooden tub that was blocking her path.
“What…?” She gasped as Rurik grabbed her from behind and lifting her kicking and squirming into his arms, he stepped with her into the tub.
“It will feel good, Zora, I promise you,” she heard him say just before he knelt and then dunked her under the coldest water she had ever felt in her life.
“You’re mad!” she sputtered a split second later when she came up for air, her shivering body one giant goose bump and her teeth chattering uncontrollably. Her fingers were so cold that she could barely shove her hair out of her eyes. “Mad, I tell you!”
“Exhilarating, isn’t it?” Rurik said as if he hadn’t heard her, and letting go of her suddenly, he disappeared for a long moment under the water, so long in fact that Zora began to grow anxious. Yet she needn’t have worried for he exploded above the surface with a mighty splash that sent shimmering droplets flying through the room, extinguishing an oil lamp on a table near the tub. His delighted roar shook the rafters.
“By Odin, you can’t come any closer to rolling in snow than this! Fresh water from a stream still ice-cold with the spring thaw!”
Zora stared at him incredulously, thinking herself a sorry contrast to Rurik’s vigor. He looked like an invincible Norse god rising up from the water, his wet blond hair slicked back from his forehead, his skin sleek and tanned and his face flushed healthily, while she must appear a drowned rat.
“You roll in snow?”
“From October to May, if we’re lucky.” His broad smile warmed Zora more than she could have imagined possible. “Where do you think we Varangians gain our strength?” Then he sobered a little, beckoning to her. “Come here, Princess.”
Inching over to him, Zora wondered what he might be plotting to do to her next in this damnable steam bath of his and she stopped just shy of his reach. “You’re not going to dunk me again, are you?” she asked suspiciously, although the water didn’t feel half so cold to her now that she had been in it for a while.
“Hardly, wife,” came his low reply, but he didn’t wait for her to come to him, he came to her. In a single splash, he captured her in his arms, and finding her mouth, his lips were as hot as firebrands upon hers.
Zora was certain she had never felt a kiss more passionate or more incredibly powerful, and within seconds, she no longer felt the cold at all for the seductive weight of his hands upon her body and the wet possession of his tongue as he led hers in a heady dance. Then she felt him cup her bottom and
lift her and she was sinking onto fire and steel, the water churning around them.
He took her fast and hard and she let him, her thrusts as relentless and demanding as his own, but never once did their mouths lift from each other’s as if neither could bear to breathe alone. And when their climax burst upon them, they shared it wildly, ecstatically, clutching each other as if all joy and life depended upon it for in that moment, it did.
Chapter 22
Zora’s hair was still damp when she and Rurik took their places at the high seat. She couldn’t believe that they were at supper just a little past the appointed hour.
Rurik’s hunger for her had not abated after they left the tub, and only the fierce growling of his stomach had been a pointed reminder to him that he should seek some food. Yet he had laughingly hidden his need for nourishment under the guise of building his strength for later that evening, a thought that had filled Zora with dizzying expectation before they had even set foot from his longhouse.
“Good evening, my lady! My lord!” came Arne’s boisterous greeting from Rurik’s left, the warrior waving a foaming cup of mead. “We were about to give up on you, but it seems the old saying rings true, man cannot live by pleasure alone!”
Was it so obvious what she and Rurik had been doing? Zora wondered, a blush creeping over her face. She touched her hair, wishing it wasn’t so thick so she could have dried it faster.
“Don’t let him fluster you, Princess,” Rurik said in a low aside as if he had known her thoughts. “You’ll find that Arne says exactly what leaps onto his tongue. As we’ve known each other for years, it allows him liberties he deems as his right, I suppose, for putting up with me for so long.”
She smiled, appreciating that Rurik had thought to reassure her, then seeing the warmth kindling in his night-blue eyes, she looked away, overwhelmed.
The Pagan's Prize (Captive Brides Collection) Page 22
