The Pagan's Prize (Captive Brides Collection)

by Miriam Minger

  Rurik’s lips this time were not so gentle, his tightening embrace swamping Zora with excitement. Yet she knew nothing that he did could make her forget the anguish lying hidden inside her.

  And she didn’t want to forget! She would share with him just how she felt but not in words, for she couldn’t bring herself to voice what she held in her heart. Yet there were other ways, ways perhaps more expressive than anything she could say…

  It was Zora who deepened their kiss, her wandering tongue surprising his as she wantonly tasted the inside of his mouth, her hands gliding up Rurik’s chest to his immense shoulders where she caressed muscles that were wonderfully hard beneath her palms. If at first he had seemed startled, he soon groaned with pleasure, yet he did not allow her to keep the upper hand for long.

  His tongue sought to ravage her mouth as wildly as she had just done, their kiss becoming a passionate dueling that made Zora feel as if she were on fire. Wrenching off the blanket that was only fettering her, she pressed herself that much closer to Rurik’s body, for his was the heat she craved. His was the kiss she wanted, and as she slid her hands up the back of his neck, her fingers funneling along his scalp and entwining in his hair, she cried out to him in her mind.

  I love you!

  She felt herself falling backward as Rurik pushed her to the spongy, moss-covered ground, his mouth burning a blistering path down her throat and across her shoulder while his masterful hands stoked the flames building inside her. She caressed him in kind, his powerful back, his upper arms so thick with muscle, the massive breadth of his chest and the crisp golden curls upon it, delighting in the smooth texture of his skin and the sun-warmed scent of his body.

  Then she strayed even lower, wrapping her fingers around silken steel and muscle, exulting when Rurik groaned and called out her name. But she didn’t stop, squeezing and stroking him until his body was shaking and he rolled onto his back as if he feared he might collapse upon her. Zora was astride him before he could reach out to her, her lips branding the spot above his racing heart.

  I love you!

  She moved lower, her hands splayed upon his taut abdomen as she kissed the glistening blond hair trailing to his navel. Then she teased the sensitive hollow with her tongue while Rurik cried out again.

  “Woman…!”

  He tried to pull her up to him but she deftly eluded his hands and found what she had been seeking, his turgid flesh leaping against her mouth as she kissed him and began to stroke the thick length of him with her tongue. Already he was tossing beneath her but she didn’t stop, torturing him relentlessly as she drew him with a swirling caress into her mouth.

  She tasted a wetness and knew he was very close to release, but she wanted to tease him to the brink of endurance. Her fingers enmeshed for a brief instant in the thatch of blond curls she found so arousing before she drifted lower and cupped him in her hand, squeezing gently.

  “Zora, enough!”

  Rurik’s voice was so hoarse with passion that she knew she could not sway him and she didn’t resist when he pulled her up beside him and pushed her once more on her back. Before she could blink he was poised between her legs, his midnight-blue eyes sweeping her with a look of fire.

  “Where did you learn such wicked things, Princess?”

  Zora gasped as he easily slid his fingers inside her before she could answer and teased her legs wider apart as she arched beneath his carnal caress. She already wanted him so badly, she was trembling from head to toe, and she cried out when he buried himself deep inside her with a ragged groan.

  “Hold me, Zora…hold me!” came his wild plea and she gripped him with all her strength, her arms flying around his neck and her legs locking at his back.

  She felt him stiffen, heard his breath snag in his chest…then her own climax came upon her so suddenly that she felt hot tears burn her eyes, but this time they were tears of sweet fulfillment. When she at last opened her eyes heart-pounding moments later, she was staring up into the clear blue sky, Rurik’s damp head resting upon her shoulder, his breath warm upon her cheek.

  It was so wonderful holding him like this that she wished it could go on forever and she hugged him tightly, willing him to stay. Yet she knew that soon he would roll from her, fearing as always that he might crush her even though she had insisted time and again that she was stronger than she may appear.

  Just as she had thought, he shifted and rose onto his forearms but instead of lifting himself from her, he smiled into her eyes. She smiled back, hoping that he could read what she could not yet tell him… I love you, Rurik Sigurdson.

  “You know, wife, you never cease to amaze me,” Rurik said gently, struck as ever by her tawny beauty but even more so by the softness in her gaze. By the gods, surely she would not be looking at him like that if…

  “How so?” she replied, the warmth in her voice only fueling a gut intuition that he wanted so badly to believe. Tempted as never before to admit what lay in his heart, he nonetheless forced himself to think rationally, his fear of betrayal rearing its ugly head like a thing he could not control.

  “Tears one moment, passion the next.” He shrugged. “You’re a hard one to understand.”

  “Not so hard as you may think, Rurik,” said Zora, wondering why he had grown so somber when he had been smiling at her an instant before. “I could say the same about you…although I believe there are things you haven’t shared with me yet that could explain so much.” To her amazement, he suddenly seemed irritated, and rolling to one side, he lay next to her on his back, stone silent as he stared up at the sky.

  She had never seen him quite like this before, sensing in him an agitation that was palpable enough to touch.

  Usually after their lovemaking, he was open and willing to talk, and so they had, about his childhood and his life since he had left Norway for Rus, his quick rise within her uncle’s ranks. About his trading ventures to far-off Byzantium, and even how he had come to be called Beast-Slayer, a story that had convinced her if any wild creatures had come after her in the woods the night of her escape, Rurik would have had no trouble bringing them down.

  The only thing they hadn’t talked about was the woman who had betrayed him, and she couldn’t help thinking that perhaps that was what he feared she was going to ask him now. Well, why shouldn’t she? She could hardly ease the treachery from his heart as Lady Ingigerd had said if she didn’t know the full story behind it.

  Taking a deep breath, Zora raised herself on one elbow to face him. She didn’t think to cover her nakedness with the blanket, for their intimacy was such now that she felt completely at ease around him. He knew every inch of her.

  “Rurik?”

  He refused to look at her, convincing her all the more that he sensed exactly what she was going to say.

  “Why did you swear never to marry?”

  His expression became grimmer but he didn’t get up and walk away, which to Zora was a good sign.

  “You already know the answer to that, Princess. You have thrown it in my face once before.”

  “Yes, I know, and it was unkind of me,” she said, watching him for his reactions. “I was hurt that day and I wanted to hurt you back, but I don’t think it’s true anymore.”

  He met her eyes. “What?”

  “That you’re hard and unfeeling…that your heart is made of stone.”

  He sat up so abruptly that she was taken by surprise. Yet he made no comment although his jaw was working as he stared straight ahead of him, his arms propped on his knees.

  “What I meant is I’ve seen you with your children. You love them, I can tell. And in a way, I believe you care about your concubines, too. You could have dealt much more harshly with Semirah, yet you didn’t—”

  When he glanced at her sharply, Zora fell silent, almost losing her nerve to continue.

  “What does Semirah or any of my concubines have to do with my vow not to marry?”

  “N-nothing,” she said, her heart sinking. It was obvious that he
hadn’t brought her out here today to explain why he had gone to see his women, but she wasn’t going to give up on the other, more important issue plaguing her mind. Not yet, anyway. Sighing, she decided to try another tack.

  “What was her name, Rurik? The woman in Norway.”

  He looked away, his tone grown bitter. “Astrid.”

  Pained that he could yet feel so much emotion for a woman who had hurt him so long ago, Zora nonetheless believed that it was all the more reason to persist.

  “Did…did you love her?”

  Rurik exhaled in exasperation, dropping his forehead to his arms. Why was she torturing him with these questions? And as for her observation about his concubines, had she perhaps heard that he had visited them yesterday?

  Thor’s blood, if he discovered that someone had broken their oath of silence…! He wanted to be the one to tell her that he had decided to marry his remaining women to five of his warriors, something to which his concubines had thankfully made little or no protest, understanding what Zora now meant to him. But he would tell her after tomorrow. After he was sure!

  “I was young,” he finally muttered. He raised his head to stare in front of him again. “I barely knew the meaning of the word.”

  Then, thinking guiltily that he was being far too harsh and that there was no good reason why he shouldn’t share this part of his past with her other than how uncomfortable it made him, he added, “Yes, I believed I was in love with her, but apparently she had only been toying with me. When my brother Rolf’s wife died after childbirth, Astrid was right there to comfort him. I suppose a man who one day would be a powerful chieftain seemed far more tempting than a second son who must make his way by sword and by trade.”

  When Zora did not reply, Rurik turned to find her studying him intently as if she didn’t believe that he had told her everything.

  “Does my answer not satisfy you?”

  She slowly shook her head.

  Sensing that this woman knew him far better than he could have imagined possible, Rurik sighed heavily. “May I ask why not?”

  “You speak Astrid’s name with bitterness, yet I cannot believe that it was only her betrayal that caused you to denounce all women and to deem them worthy of no more a place in your life than to share your bed and bear your children. No, I believe your hurt goes much deeper.”

  Her bluntness startled him. Wondering where she might be leading him with such a pronouncement, Rurik decided to be just as blunt.

  “If my hurt goes deep, it is only because I have witnessed more treachery in women than loyalty—”

  “Is that what happened to Sveinald?”

  Rurik was as stunned by her question as hearing his long-dead friend’s name upon her lips. “How did you…?”

  “On the riverboat. Late one evening you began to recite poetry with Kjell and I was still awake in the tent. I heard you speak of Sveinald as your closest friend, and that he had lost his life because of a woman—”

  “Solveig, one of the loveliest women in the Hardanger,” Rurik broke in, struck by how much the memory still pained him after so many years. “She led Sveinald to believe that she loved him no matter the long-standing oath of blood vengeance between their two families, and he was so taken by her beauty that he would heed no warnings, not even from me. One night she lured him to his death, her three brothers falling upon him with knives when he came to her bower. They cut him to pieces, then threw his flesh to the dogs.”

  “How terrible,” breathed Zora.

  “No more terrible than what happened to my mother because of another scheming woman,” he added, his voice as harsh as she had ever heard it as he turned his face from her to stare at some distant point.

  “I told you some nights ago that I left Norway because I wanted to seek my fortune, but that wasn’t the truth. If I had stayed, my father’s blood would have stained my sword. He abandoned my mother for his Welsh concubine Gwyneth, who cruelly harried my mother into her grave while my father did nothing to stop it…an aging fool of a chieftain made blind by fiery hair and a young, voluptuous body.” Rurik snorted in disgust. “The bastard married Gwyneth the day after my mother died. I hope she has made his life as much a Hel.”

  He fixed his angry, pain-filled gaze back upon Zora, his shoulders stiff with tension. “Are you satisfied now, wife? Have you heard enough?”

  Seeing what it had cost him to reveal so much to her, Zora said softly, “Enough that I understand why you first treated me as you did, and said the things you did. Enough that I would understand if you still blame me for Kjell’s death, and rightly. So many times I’ve wished I could take back the events of that day, that I hadn’t run away into those woods…that I hadn’t misled him as I did. If I can’t forgive myself, I don’t know how I could ever expect you to.”

  Rurik didn’t reply, yet she could see the strain easing from his face and body as if her words had moved him. When he finally spoke, his tone was hauntingly quiet. “I don’t blame you, Princess. Not anymore.”

  Swept by wild elation, Zora’s heart began to beat faster at the way Rurik was looking at her. His gaze no longer held pain but a candidness that made her hope flare bright.

  “You don’t?”

  He shook his head, reaching out to touch a damp curl that clung to her arm. “It was my fault for having brought Kjell along on that mission. If he had been a fighter instead of a poet, he would have known not to rush headlong into those woods without his sword at the ready. Such a simple thing could have saved him. And as for you trying to escape, you only acted as you felt you must. If I ever had a daughter in a like situation, I would want her to fight just as hard as you did.”

  Scarcely able to believe what he had just told her, Zora shivered as his knuckles grazed her breast. “Then if you’ve forgiven me,” she murmured, finding it very hard to concentrate, “perhaps you don’t look upon me as harshly as you once did. After everything you’ve suffered in the past, I would understand if it might take you a while to admit…” Her courage faltering, she glanced nervously at the ground.

  “Admit what, Zora?”

  His tone was gentle, yet probing. He was scarcely breathing as if hanging upon her every word.

  “I…I thought that was why you had brought me out here today,” she began haltingly, her cheeks flushing with warmth as she met his eyes. “Not just to swim, but because you might want to tell me—”

  Zora got no further, for suddenly Rurik gestured for her to be silent while he inclined his head slightly, listening for something. She heard nothing, but he must have for he lunged to his feet and found his belt. His sword seemed to ring as he yanked it from the scabbard.

  “What—”

  “The blanket, Zora. Wrap it around yourself. Now!”

  She obeyed him, watching anxiously as he tugged on his trousers. It was then that she heard it, the unmistakable sound of galloping horses drawing closer and closer. She had no sooner stood, clutching the blanket around her, when three riders burst through the trees. Yet she relaxed when she recognized Arne and two more of Rurik’s men, as did Rurik who lowered his sword as the warriors reined in their lathered mounts only a few feet away from him.

  “My lord, a message has just come from the grand prince,” announced Arne, his bearded face beet-red and sweating. “He has called an immediate meeting at the kreml. The reinforcements have arrived.”

  “At last,” Rurik said under his breath, then catching one of the warriors who had accompanied Arne casting a covert glance at Zora, he shouted, “Wait for us beyond those trees!”

  Thinking as the three men rode away that he would have to speak to the younger warrior, Rurik turned to find Zora already gathering up her clothes.

  “I’m sorry, Princess,” he said. But she seemed not to have heard him, moving woodenly and avoiding his eyes as she dressed. Only when he had settled her in the saddle did he try again, holding her close against him after he mounted behind her.

  “We will talk later. I promise.” Grow
ing concerned when still she did not answer, he prodded, “Zora?”

  “Yes, later,” she replied in a strange monotone, her body rigid in his arms.

  Sighing, Rurik would have liked to say more, but there was no time.

  Spurring their mount into a gallop, his thoughts turned to the urgency of Grand Prince Yaroslav’s message and the council of war that would probably go well into the night. Yet however late it ended, he planned to awaken Zora as soon as he arrived home. He would hear what she had been going to say…words he hoped would confirm the intuition that even now was driving all other matters from his mind.

  Chapter 25

  “My lady, does this cloth not please you? It is of the finest quality, pure Byzantine silk…My lady?”

  “What?” Startled, Zora focused upon the shimmering bolt of yellow fabric that Yakov was pointing out to her. “I said does this silk not please you?”

  “Oh, yes, it’s lovely,” she murmured, although in truth she might have been looking at coarse wool for all the enjoyment it brought her. As the steward began to haggle with the merchant over the price, obviously having assumed that she must want some for a new tunic, Zora found her gaze straying once again to the imposing kreml that lay directly across the Volkhov River from the marketplace.

  Rurik was still there, the council of war having lasted through the night and now continuing into the morning. That could only mean war was at hand. How could she find pleasure in silk and brocade while the man she loved would soon be leaving, perhaps never to return

  No, she mustn’t think like that! At least she was here in Novgorod and close to him rather than pacing their bedchamber as she had done all night, unable to sleep for those same terrible questions roiling in her mind.

  If the meeting ended soon, Rurik might even come to the market to find her. Then perhaps they could talk as Rurik had promised and this time she would not allow anything to stop her.

  Deep in the night, she had realized that if she was to free him of his past, she would have to tell him of her love. If she harbored fears, she could imagine what his must be. No wonder he was testing her! It was so plain to her now why he needed to know that he could trust her. True, her life had been touched by treachery, but not anywhere as tragically as his.