The Temperate Warrior

by Renee Vincent

  Chapter Fifteen

  Morning came like a thief and robbed Æsa of her sweet dream. Her eyes fluttered open upon hearing muffled voices and neighing horses. The blaze that had kept her warm through the night was nothing but a smoldering fire beside her, the rancid smell of smoke and ash slipping up her nostrils.

  As Gustaf had promised, he lay beside her, his heavy arm draped around her waist. He stirred as she did, but his eyes remained closed. She raised her head and saw that his men had deserted their beds and began moving about. There was a sense of excitement in their movements as each man made preparations to pack. Everyone seemed ready to mount up and journey onward, except Gustaf. He pulled her back down to his chest and snuggled closer, flipping the wolf-skin cloak over their heads.

  Æsa giggled at the childlike behavior of her bold warrior and stroked his beard. “Hiding beneath your cloak will not trick your men into letting you sleep longer.”

  “I am willing to try.”

  “But they have been looking so forward to going home,” she empathized.

  “As have I,” he concluded sleepily. His hands idly rubbed her arm until his palm accidentally brushed across her breast. Like a man who could barely control his urges, he lazily cupped her and smiled. “Can we not wait a little while?”

  Someone kicked at Gustaf’s back, causing his eyes to flash open. “Nay, you may not! Now, on your feet before I jerk you out by your ankles.”

  Æsa recognized Jørgen’s voice at the same time Gustaf peeled the covers back and glared. He didn’t proceed to argue with his friend, but he didn’t make haste to move from his sprawled position either.

  She ran her hand down his chest and over the flat of his stomach. “Be not so grumpy,” she asserted mildly. “He has been deprived of the pleasures you have had.” Beneath the cloak, out of sight of his men’s attention, her hand coiled around him, causing his head to snap in her direction.

  “Easy woman,” he warned. “That is early morning wood you have in your grasp. ’Tis a bit more responsive than the others.”

  “Is that so?”

  In an instant, Gustaf seized her wrist and rolled on top of her, his impressive erection pushing against her sex. “Seems a pity to waste it.”

  At least she had some sense of nonchalance when it came to seduction. He might as well have had his way with her given the suggestive pose he managed to flaunt. Embarrassed that she and Gustaf had become a spectacle, she shoved at his chest but failed to budge him. She hid her smile behind pursed lips and gave up. “M’lord?”

  He dipped his head to her neck and nudged the shell of her ear with the tip of his nose. His whisper came hot against her skin. “It pains me to release you, but I promise this will not be last time you feel my arousal at dawn. One morning,” he vowed, “when we are without eyes, I will have you.”

  With great effort, Gustaf pushed himself off her and stood. He held out his hand and helped her to her feet, his stunning blue eyes daring her to challenge his promiscuous oath. She’d be a fool to contest him, for if there was one thing she knew about Gustaf, he was a man of his word. That alone excited and scared the heck out of her.

  ****

  Gustaf limped from the woods, where he’d struggled to relieve himself under the duress of a hard-on, and began saddling his horse. He was glad his men didn’t slake their desire to ridicule him about his current condition, though he knew they were dying to. He figured their silence had a lot to do with a woman’s presence and a slim sense of courtesy. Either was fine with him. He could certainly go all day without having to hear their jokes.

  As he hoisted the saddle upon his horse’s back, he noticed Æsa returning from her morning ablutions, the golden light of the morning sun sparkling in her hair. He watched her comb her fingers through the tangled locks and braid it over her shoulder as she walked. A song was on her lips, a cheery melody he barely heard over the busy work and chatter of his men behind him. When he listened close, he realized she had a beautiful voice, one that reminded him of his mother.

  Pain of knowing he’d never hear his mother’s lovely voice again kept him from mentioning it to Æsa. Instead, he went back to fastening the girth and gathering his belongings.

  “What can I do to help?” Æsa asked as she rounded the horse, her hand resting on its rump.

  He pulled out a cloak made of dense brown bear fur from one of his bundles. The warm hide was not something he cared to see Æsa wear given it was Ragnar’s. He recalled swiping it from the bastard’s wall as a considerate gesture to hide her nakedness the first time they met. Little did he know he would fall in love with her and escort her through the frigid mountains of Norway. It was all he had at the moment and this was no time for vanity. “Put this on over the wool cloak Diðrik gave you. You are going to need it.”

  Her pleasant mood plummeted upon laying eyes on the fur. Likely, she held the same distaste for wearing Ragnar’s personal garments.

  “I swear you will have a new one soon…made of wolf like mine,” he said, wrapping it around her shoulders. “But for now, this will have to do.” He pulled her braid out from underneath the dark sable pelt and smoothed it with the fur. She looked beautiful in the cloak, he hated to admit, and he actually began flirting with the idea that perhaps a bear’s coat would better suit her ivory complexion than the dull gray of a wolf’s.

  “What are you thinking, m’lord?”

  His mind wondered to the creamy globes of her breasts as he imagined her sprawled across the soft fur of the animal, her fiery red locks fanning in a halo of silky cinnamon. He clutched the fur beneath her chin and drew her closer, dipping his head to suckle her neck. “I am thinking how good bear would taste right now.”

  Æsa’s giggle delighted him, despite her efforts to push him away again. He liked when she played the unwilling woman, probably far too much. He imprisoned her in his embrace.

  “Either you two mount up or we are going to ride ahead of you,” Jørgen scolded impatiently.

  Gustaf retracted his face from the haven of his woman’s throat and threw his friend a look. “Let me not delay you, my liege. By all means, carry on,” he said sarcastically. “I shall be right behind you.”

  Jørgen rolled his eyes and kicked his horse onward, the other six men hot on his heels. Gustaf’s horse tried to follow, but Gustaf grabbed the reins in time, the animal lunging once around them. The steed continued to protest over its separation from the herd, pawing at the ground and tossing its head.

  “I never thought I would say this,” Gustaf prefaced as he soothed the anxious equine. “But I pity Jørgen’s wife when he returns. I imagine we will not see the poor woman for days.”

  “Poor woman, you say?” Æsa gripped the mane and mounted the horse as Gustaf held firm to its bridle. “I doubt a woman would consider herself less fortunate to be confined to her husband’s carnal needs.”

  “Oh, my dearest Æsa. You say that now, but you have yet to endure mine.”

  “And what may I ask have you been doing this whole time then?”

  He waited until she governed the horse before mounting behind her in one swift leap. As he secured his footing in the stirrups, he wrapped his arms around Æsa’s body and pulled her tight against his chest. “Holding back.”

  Intolerantly, the horse danced and toyed with the bit in its mouth, eager to be turned loose. Æsa spun her head around and gawked at him over her shoulder. “Think me not woman enough to endure all of you?”

  Gustaf tilted his head back and laughed. “I know what my answer should be, but I suspect ’twould be more fun to disagree with you.” Before she could counteract his statement, he stole control of the reins and kicked the horse’s flank, jolting her body back against his chest. If he were a betting man, he’d wager his right arm that she’d spend the rest of their journey plagued with thoughts of proving him wrong.

  ****

  The subsequent days trickled by slowly, each one melting into the next. The only moments Æsa could vividly recall were th
e few occasions when a spectacular view of a fjord, dotted by the colorful native wildflowers amongst the lush green landscape emerged before them. As breathtaking as it was, the ridge of mountains in the background made her realize they still had far to go. Eventually, the toll of sitting in a saddle for hours weighed heavily on Æsa’s body. The muscles in her back and legs grew stiff, and her bottom felt bruised with the constant bounce of the horse’s gait.

  Gustaf had warned her that it wouldn’t be easy and insisted they would stop to rest whenever she needed to. But she didn’t want to be the one who delayed his men from seeing their families. She knew if it weren’t for her, they would have traveled at a quicker pace.

  Bearing in mind the many years Gustaf’s men had waited for this moment, she endured the pains and aches of their excursion without a word of complaint, anxious for the next break they’d take to water and rest the horses. By day three, she was exhausted and could barely sit upright. The soreness in her thighs spread to her bones and she thought her legs might dislocate at the hips. At one point, she recalled wishing they would so she wouldn’t feel the agony anymore.

  Unable to withstand the torture, she slumped against the solid wall of Gustaf’s chest and the heavy weight of her head slung back on his shoulder.

  “Jørgen,” she heard him call out. “We need to stop for the night.”

  She mumbled something akin to nay, I am fine, but thankfully was ignored. The uncomfortable gait of the horse ceased and she felt Gustaf shift her weight to one arm. Her body felt lifeless and weak as if she’d soon topple to the ground. She had no energy to brace herself. If she fell to the earth, at least she would no longer be subject to the misery of a large hoofed animal between her legs.

  She felt his grip around her waist tighten and his other arm slip behind her knees, lifting her from the unforgiving saddle. The relief of this position washed through her, the smart of her discomfort fading as she lay draped in his arms.

  With a thud, his feet hit the ground and the jolt of his descent ricocheted through her aching spine. She must have groaned for he apologized and hoisted her higher in his embrace. She heard him spout a few orders, the shuffle of his men’s feet close by. Several strides later, her body came to rest on a soft hide spread upon the ground. It felt glorious to be horizontal.

  Her hair was brushed from her face and a tender stroke across her cheek made her lips twitch into a half smile. She’d recognize that touch anywhere.

  “Stubborn woman,” he uttered before kissing her softly on the lips.

  The warmth of his mouth meeting hers soothed her in ways unimaginable. The heady scent of worn leather mixed with the woodsy aroma of Gustaf’s skin lulled her as well as any scented steam bath. If she felt any stiffness at all, it quickly dispersed like dandelion fluff on a breeze. She was nigh close to slipping into a deep sleep and she’d take with her the most wondrous feeling in the world; being loved by a man who was no less than chivalrous.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The savory smell of roasted meat woke Æsa from her sleep. When she opened her eyes, she noticed that morning had broken over the horizon and Gustaf was sitting beside her, turning a hare on a spit over a fire.

  She made an effort to sit up, only to be reminded of their grueling moments spent on horseback. Her body opposed the endeavor, her muscles cramping as she attempted such a simple task. Moaning, she dropped back down.

  Gustaf glanced over his shoulder and chuckled. “Still sore I see.”

  “Aye.”

  “You slept well it seemed. I do not think you moved all night after I laid you down.”

  She smiled. “I dreamed you were snuggled against me.”

  “’Twas no dream, my dearest Æsa. I was there.”

  She felt slightly vulnerable knowing Gustaf had lain curled against her and she slept right through it. “I am sorry I am not a seasoned rider.”

  “I never expected you to be. Here, eat this,” he said, handing her a chunk of charred meat. “’Twill help you regain your strength.”

  She took one bite and hummed with satisfaction, realizing it had been a long time since she’d eaten anything this substantial. A person could only last so long on wild berries and mushrooms. Vegetation was nothing compared to the filling benefits of animal protein and she wasted no time gobbling it up.

  “Your appetite is good,” Gustaf jested, handing her another.

  As she finished the second piece, she heard a lively sound of hoots and hollers in the distance. “Where are the others?”

  “We are but a short ride from our destination and the men found a waterfall when we went hunting this morning. They have gone to freshen up before greeting their women.”

  She glanced over herself, feeling less than presentable. This was an important day for Gustaf’s men and showing up tattered, weak, and smelling of horse was not the first impression she wanted to deliver. “I would like to clean up as well.”

  “I intend for us to do so, but I think ‘tis best to wait until they are through. You know what happens when grown men frolic in water,” he said, wagging his brow. “They turn into devious boys with a mind to dunk anything possessing two legs.”

  Æsa rolled her eyes, remembering how Gustaf had thrown her into the cold stream on Skúvoy. “No worse than you.”

  Gustaf’s hearty laughter echoed around her. It was a rarity she had come to cherish. With their troubles far behind them, she could only hope it would be a common occurrence, especially after they became husband and wife. She longed to be the source of his joy for the rest of his days and imagined giving him the sons he’s always wanted.

  Their conversation on Skúvoy circled back into her thoughts. “I want to fill our house with many sons.”

  “And daughters?”

  “Aye, and daughters. I can only hope they resemble your beauty and speak with fire on their tongues.”

  “And if they do not?”

  “I shall love them anyway for they will come from your womb.”

  She envisioned him cradling a babe in his arms and teaching the youngster all there was to know about the new world he’d been born into. That was, if she could provide him a child at all.

  Given that no man’s seed from her sordid past had taken root, she worried her womb was barren, incapable of even producing Gustaf’s heir.

  “What are you thinking?”

  His voice broke apart her sullen thoughts and she struggled to fabricate a credible answer to his question. “I was thinking of us and you as a father.” A half truth was better than a blatant lie, and she’d only disappoint him with mentioning such nonsense, especially since they’d yet to give conception a fair try. “I am eager to be your wife and the mother of your children.”

  Gustaf tipped his head in surprise. “From where did that thought come?”

  Another bout of spirited shouts erupted, followed by a considerable splash as if some poor bloke had hit the water. “I suspect it came from the devious seven we already have in our company. It would bring me great pleasure to birth that many or more with you.”

  “Seven children, you say?” Gustaf nodded as he considered the thought. “You do realize I am a man of mature age. ’Twould require a considerable amount of lovemaking to acquire that number of offspring.”

  “I am willing if you are,” Æsa stated, leaning up on one elbow.

  Gustaf scooted closer and inclined his body across her torso, bracing his weight on one arm at her side. His dark blond hair fell over his shoulder and hugged the sharp angle of his jaw shadowed with soft scruff. She dared to reach up and stroke the soft curls of his thick mane, but the serious look in his eyes had her hesitating.

  “I am most willing,” he said softly, “as long as it makes you happy. For the rest of my life, I will do whatever it takes to ensure it. As my wife, you will not want for anything. What you desire, I will provide.”

  “I desire only you, m’lord.”

  He bent to kiss her, but stopped midway. “Would I disappoint you if I s
aid I wished to wait until we returned to Inis Mór to marry?”

  The warmth of his breath across her lips caressed her starved skin. The blue of his eyes sparkled like the depths of the crystal sea. He was a beautiful man and it still seemed hard to fathom that he was all hers. She could barely contain her emotions as she lay motionless in their near kiss. “You could never disappoint me, Gustaf. Knowing you are eager to share our union with your family is more than I could hope. I have been without a family for so long and to be united with yours is an honor I cannot put into words.”

  His smile stroked her all the way to her soul and the anticipation of his mouth meeting hers consumed her whole being. Nothing mattered except this moment, this kiss that made her keenly aware of her heart beating in her chest. Her entire body tingled as his lips finally made contact and her will to tolerate much more of this deliberate torture disintegrated in an upwelling of exhilaration.

  She arched into him, craving the feel of his hard body against hers. It had felt like forever since he’d touched her intimately, despite that it had been only a few days. She hated going a single moment without his touch and drew toward him like a delicate flower in desperate need of warm sunlight.

  He forced his body over hers and cupped the underside of her breast as he ground his erection into her sex, now swollen and aching with need. There was so much passion in this one little kiss that it seemed to surpass all others in comparison.

  She shifted beneath him and opened her legs, eager for him to pull up her tunic and bury his rock hard shaft inside her. As she felt his arousal more prevalent against her flesh, she was reminded of the previous promise he’d made to her: This will not be last time you feel my arousal at dawn. One morning when we are without eyes, I will have you.

  She hoped this very morning was the instance he’d relinquish his vow. Wrapping her legs around his back, she encouraged him, giving him permission to take her in the fashion she knew he longed for. “Throw your temperance aside, m’lord. Please.”