“I fear I will hurt you,” he respired. “I refuse. To hurt you.”
She felt his ragged breath behind her ear as he buried his heavy head in her shoulder. She arched her bottom more and wiggled against him, taunting him, goading the ravenous animal with sweet, relentless torture.
“Stop.”
His one word command was laden with urgency. She smiled and disobeyed his order, moving her hips forward and backward upon his length.
“Æsa.”
“You will not hurt me,” she insisted.
“I will.”
“You have it not in you to hurt me, m’lord. Please…” she mewed. “Let me have all of you.”
His answer came in the form of a sudden thrust. Her whimper drowned in the fur of the cloak, but his manly grumble thundered in her ear. The pace of his movements quickened by degrees as did the force of his hips thrashing against her. With his fists holding tight to the hide, he shoved himself in and out of her, his restraint nowhere in sight.
She heard her name on his lips, begging her forgiveness, but she was incapable of holding any thought long enough to let it register. Her mind was consumed with the notion of catapulting into another orgasm and hopefully, this time, with Gustaf.
As her body convulsed in blissful euphoria, he stiffened and gripped her hips, his release just seconds from erupting. He broadened the space between his knees, which spread her wider, and plunged into her with fanatical repetition. His agony finally ended as a long-winded roar boomed from his lungs and his seed burst from his loins.
A flock of nervous birds took flight from the trees, and then there was silence, save for the uninterrupted drone of the mighty waterfall and the cadence of Gustaf’s winded breath in her ear.
****
Ásmundr swiped his hand across his mouth, wiping away the horrid taste of jealousy from his lips. From a distance, he had watched Æsa strip to nothing and lure the blond giant to the edge of the stream, offering her favors to him like the whore she was. His view from the top of a densely covered hillock allowed him the pleasure of keeping a close eye on the two lovers, though he would rather not have seen their disgusting intimate tryst. It sickened him to know she favored this worthless knave over what he’d had to offer her. Senseless bitch.
What did this fool have to give that he couldn’t provide? She could have been treated like a princess under his care, instead of a groveling petty concubine. But just like he’d found out in his father’s bedchamber, she still seemed to prefer subordination; to be taken like a slave and treated like an animal.
His bollocks ached to violate the woman who’d spat on his selfless plans and stomped on his pride. He’d done it once before, the gratification he’d gained outweighing the price he paid for it, and she deserved it again.
He shifted himself in his breeches and drew in a long, harsh breath. His tolerance for her barefaced depravity was wearing thin, as was his patience. In due time, he reassured himself. All in due time…
He continued to spy on her as she bathed in the water alongside her pathetic escort, all the while plotting his revenge. Contentment had to be obtained somehow, lest he go mad. Once he saw that she and her sexually satisfied companion were returning to the group, he traipsed down the hill and met his loyal few, who were saddled up and mounted.
“They are moving on,” he proclaimed, scaling his own horse in exasperation.
Grimr eyed him cautiously. “You have grown tired, m’lord.”
“Indeed, I have,” he agreed, clutching his reins in an embittered fist. “But as of right now, they outnumber us. We would be fools to strike prematurely.” He rotated his father’s ring around his finger, stewing in his thoughts. “Fortunate for us, she has one of them bewitched, leading him like a bitch in heat. Soon, he will grow careless, and when he does, we shall then make our move.”
Chapter Nineteen
Gustaf exhaled violently as the slow, swaying gait of the horse proved cruel and inconveniently erotic to his senses. It rocked Æsa’s sumptuous body against his, battering him with titillating memories of their recent clandestine affair at the waterfall. With his legs spread astride the animal’s back, her bottom constantly bumped and rubbed against his exposed genitals, making it nearly impossible to forget the soft, womanly arse he had claimed only hours ago.
“Troubles, m’lord?” Æsa glanced over her shoulder and by the look on her face, he knew she understood, if not felt, the extent of the torment she inflicted upon him.
He shifted in the saddle, though it did little to ease his restlessness. Nothing would alleviate his erection save for one thing. And he knew his men would not be willing to stop, especially when home was so close.
He pulled back on the reins and slowed the horse’s pace, giving him and Æsa some privacy as they talked. “’Tis a good thing Jørgen is leading the way, for I am lost in the thought of your open thighs.”
Her shameless giggle tickled his insides. “That is hardly the words of a man with temperance. I should be appalled by your wicked tongue.”
He pulled her hair aside and tormented her with playful kisses on her neck. “My tongue,” he whispered, licking her just behind the lobe of her ear, “is the least of your worries.”
She flinched, trying to escape his sensual play, but failed as she had little room to move clutched in his embrace. “If you want a worried woman, you will not find one here. There is naught you could do to alarm me. The only thing I fear is the temperament of this horse as ‘tis forced to endure your aggressive encroachment of its female rider upon its back. I would not blame the poor animal if it resorted to bucking.”
“Hmm…” He gave thought to the horse springing into the air and the extra effort he would need to stay astride the thrashing animal. “I wager if you turn around and straddle me, we could both profit from such a wild ride.”
“You are an incorrigible man.”
“You will find there is no help for me. Curse the gods if you will for bringing me to you, but I will not cease to ponder your exquisite treasures or indulge myself whenever I get the notion. You are mine and I can do with you what I please.”
Æsa curled her spine and nestled into his chest, her head twisting enough for her lips to brush his neck. “Does that hold true for me as well?”
Gustaf swallowed hard, realizing she might be better at the game of seduction than he. “You have my consent to do whatever your little heart desires.”
Long black lashes batted over heavy-lidded eyes and she moistened her lips with the quick dart of her tongue. “What my little heart desires is the least of your worries, m’lord.”
He felt her hand on his thigh slide upward, stopping short of grazing his manhood, already throbbing with anticipation for her touch. She planted her lips on his Adam’s apple and swirled her tongue around the protrusion before gently sucking on his throat. His cock bucked and his balls tightened.
****
As Gustaf continued to shamelessly toy with her upon the horse, Æsa realized there was not one ounce of temperance in his character anymore. Though she knew he tried with all his might to live up to the clemency of the pet name she bestowed him, she’d grown to love the man who was unable to adhere to her predilection.
It was difficult to ignore her handsome aggressor, given she was strapped between his muscular thighs and held to his mighty chest by a brawny arm curled around her waist. She’d never felt more secure in her life. The refuge she found in his embrace was enough to keep her completely fulfilled and she had no need to wish for more. She only hoped she could provide him the same.
Concerns over whether she could produce an heir slipped into her thoughts again. Inwardly she cringed. She hated to ruin this moment with needless worry, but feared eventually it would be a topic she’d have to address. Perhaps, it was an issue she should bring up before they were married. It would only be fair to Gustaf to know she may be barren before locking him into an unfruitful relationship.
“You have grown quiet, Æsa. Too qu
iet.”
Her heart sunk and her throat went dry. It amazed her how perceptive he was, given he could not see the grimness of her face. Was now the right time to reveal her distress when they were but hours from reaching their destination?
“Æsa?” His chin rested on her shoulder as he spoke. “Speak to me.”
She took a breath and prepared her words. “Forgive me for thinking such things, but I fear I would be selfish if I told you not the truth.” She felt Gustaf stiffen and stroked his forearm. “Do you remember when you told me you were the only son of Rælik, left to carry on his noble name?”
“Aye.”
“And you also said you wanted a house full of children to fill your home.”
“If we are including your count, I believe the number we reckoned upon was seven.”
Æsa trembled as she recalled the quantity of offspring she desired to have with him. “But what if I am unable to give you even one?”
The silence that followed haunted her. It was evident she’d shocked Gustaf and he could not put into words what he was feeling. She imagined she’d caught him unaware and he but sat in awe.
After the span of a few arduous breaths, his laughter erupted from behind her. It stunned her to the point of indignation, though she tried to hide it.
In uncontrollable gaiety, his chest shook as he pulled her close. “You will have to forgive me,” he said between throaty chuckles. “I am not familiar with the undulation of a woman’s emotions. For the life of me, I cannot understand how you can go from seducing me with a wanton kiss upon my neck to falling into despair with notions of infertility.”
Æsa huffed as she suffered the ridicule of his mockery. “I hardly think this is funny. Surely you can rouse some sort of sympathy in your temperate soul. Can you not feel my pain? You know what I used to be, and yet I have never swelled with child. I only tell you this so you know you may be taking a barren wife to your marriage bed. I would understand if you later wished to take a mistress—”
“What?” Gustaf’s stern voice shattered her resolve. “Take a mistress?”
She closed her eyes, the pang of such a thought knifed her heart in two. “I want you to have an heir, and if I cannot give you one, as much as it pains me, I would—”
His anger carried over the sound of the trotting hooves of the horses. “As much as it pains you? Odin’s blood, woman! It pains me that you would even think me to be akin to the lot of vermin from your past! That I would do as they have done, with no regard for your feelings, or your pride, or your loyalty. Is that what I am to you?”
He threw himself from the horse and landed on his feet with a thud, ripping the reins over the animal’s neck. “Have I ever given you reason to think I am anything like those men? Have I?”
Æsa’s heart pounded against her ribs. The bitter taste of bile rose in her throat, choking her as her head spun in desperation to draw back the man she’d sorely insulted. “Nay, m’lord, I—”
“Then you would do best to never speak of this again.”
She leaned over to touch his shoulder, but he sensed her attempt and quickened his steps along side the horse. “Gustaf, please…”
“Mind your tongue while I mind my own. You have said enough, and so have I.” He jerked the horse to accelerate their pace, his steps pounding upon the ground in hostile resonance.
As he marched to catch up to his mounted men, Æsa quietly cried in solitude, her tears burned as they trailed down her face.
****
The stark beauty of the land passed by unnoticed as Gustaf trudged on foot. The snow-capped mountains stood proud and majestic to his left while the clear blue lake of Mjøsa sat in polite tranquility, as if mindful of his somber mood. Like the arctic autumn breeze that funneled through the valley, the cold breath of sorrow channeled its way into his heart, impairing his ability to think optimistically for his worst fear had come true.
Somehow, he reminded Æsa of the cruel men who’d degraded her through one foolish moment of weakness. Since he’d let himself lose control with her at the waterfall, his secret reservations were now a painful reality.
Though she’d claimed otherwise, he knew he’d stooped to a level below righteous. He had lost himself in the moment, robbing her of the gentleness and love she deserved. He was none other than selfish and gluttonous as he’d held her down and slaked his needs at the waterfall.
He yearned to go back in time and change the course of his actions so that he could modify the outcome. Æsa would not be crying and she certainly wouldn’t be offering him a mistress to take into his bed. He wanted only Æsa to fulfill his needs, even if it came to be true that an heir was not possible through her womb. Having children was not his reason for wanting to take her to wife. It would have been an added blessing, but not his motive.
He should have never mentioned children when he proposed the marriage in the first place. It was an innocent oversight as he’d gotten caught up in the excitement of hanging up his sword and settling down with his family to start his own. Any man would have made such a mistake given they were fortunate enough to have the beautiful Æsa as their wife. But he was not just any man of little import. He was a chieftain’s son and a noble warrior, a man who’d been taught to rise above the wrong of the world and stand tall for the weak. Instead, he’d lowered himself to the belly of a slithering serpent.
As he continued to beat himself up, he was tortured by the sound of Æsa weeping behind him. He knew he should get rid of his damned pride and bring her comfort, for she was only trying to be selfless with her unusual offer. She meant no harm to his dignity and was willing to sacrifice her own so he could have a son.
But what kind of woman does that? What does he say to a woman who’d forgo her self-respect so her less than worthy husband could procure an heir through unthinkable means, albeit distasteful and desperate?
His head spun amongst the chaos of his emotions, his chest tightening as his mind filled with thoughts of self-loathing. He hated himself and what he’d done to make Æsa value his happiness more than her own. Love was not about giving up what one holds dear for the other, but sharing them equally. It was evident she hadn’t the faintest notion of what real love was.
To her it seemed to be an alliance where she felt inclined to accept the terms, no matter how outlandish—and it was all because he failed to be true to the temperate warrior she needed him to be.
Wracked with guilt, Gustaf hardly noticed where he stood. A ring of broken rune stones lay at his feet, encircling an area of dense woods.
“M’lord,” Jørgen announced, his hand outstretched. “We have crossed the perimeter into Dal Hinna Dauðu.”
Chapter Twenty
Gustaf gazed at his boot tips, the shattered stones of Halldora’s ancient spell lining the brink of their destination. A haunting airstream kicked up around them, a warning of unnatural forces afoot. Despite the gale force wind that blew through the gorge, a ghostly low-lying fog remained adrift along the forest floor.
With a tentative step, he crossed the threshold, careful not to disturb the boundary of the rocks as he led Æsa and his horse through. He breathed a sigh of relief when they all stepped across unscathed, but the eerie silence of the forest had him hesitant to think their presence was welcomed.
“We are not alone,” Jørgen announced.
Gustaf unsheathed his sword and turned to Æsa. He motioned for her to dismount and caught her with one arm before her feet hit the ground. He set her to the ground and guarded her behind his body as he pressed her against the animal’s side. “Stay close to the horse,” he whispered, handing her the reins. He removed the shield strapped to his back and secured it in his left hand. “Keep your head down.”
He ducked beneath the horse’s head and stalked in stealth toward the front of the group. The only sound he heard was the slow withdrawal of his men’s swords in unison and the random nickering of the uneasy horses behind him.
Eyes drawn to the trees swaying in the wind, he
took another step forward.
“Halt!” a deep male voice called out from within the whistling timbers. “You have crossed onto sacred land and unless you wish to take your last breath where you stand, I suggest you turn around and return from whence you came.”
Gustaf gripped his sword a little tighter. “We have come a long way and we mean no harm to the people you safeguard amongst these borders.”
“State your name and your purpose.”
Jørgen and Gustaf exchanged discomfited looks before speaking out. “I am Gustaf, son of Rælik, and these are my men. Their families are protected here and we wish to see them.”
A long pause elapsed after his reply. The hairs on the back of Gustaf’s neck stood up and his stomach hardened. Nausea was close at hand. Here, in this enchanted place, he was a vulnerable target no matter how well he fortified himself with sword and shield. He had no experience negotiating with those whose powers extended beyond the realm of natural forces. Whether real or hoax, he was not about to test the power of black magic or disrespect the supernatural with undue impatience. He’d stand poised and tolerant until the sun set if he had to.
“There is no one here by that name,” the voice said finally.
“’Tis true. You would not recognize it, as you were too young to remember. Halldora would recall my name. Perhaps you might send for her.”
“And leave my post unguarded? Think again.”
Gustaf hid his irritation and bartered further. “Might we at least possess the knowledge of your name before we are turned away?”
“I am Ketill, son of Jørgen. Now be gone.”
Gustaf and Jørgen stared at each other. He could see Jørgen contending with the unfamiliar sound of his grown son’s voice, the realization that he failed to recognize it lay heavy on his heart. Jørgen’s face fell in shame and unshed tears welled in his eyes.
Gustaf spoke on behalf of his awestruck friend. “Unless you wish to run your own father through, I suggest you lay down your weapons and greet him as a son should.”
The Temperate Warrior Page 12
