“Then they must be women themselves. Here it is the man who must be pleasured.”
“Get real. If the woman isn’t happy, how can the man be happy?”
He scratched his belly like a gorilla. “All this talk is irrelevant. It’s not important for a bed slave to be satisfied. A wife, perhaps.”
“You are so wrong. Look, if your bed partner is satisfied, doesn’t it make you feel more manly?”
A corner of his mouth quirked up sexily as he studied her.
“More powerful and masculine?” she went on. “Doesn’t it feel good knowing you were the one who'd satisfied her?"
“Hm.” The sound was deep and sensual, wrapping around her like two strong arms.
She gulped hard. “Try it sometime. I think you’ll find the results very rewarding.”
There was that twinkle again! He was stringing her along, relishing her discomfiture.
“The customs in your land are rather unusual.” He squinted. “Where are you from? You haven’t told me.”
Oh, man. If he knew the truth, he’d take her back to that sleazy auctioneer...or worse. Toss her in a shed and throw away the key.
“I’m from a really distant place you’ve never heard of,” she said breezily.
He arched a blond eyebrow. “It has a name, I presume?”
“Um, sure, but like I said, it’s really far away.”
His blue eyes hardened. “I shall not ask you again. What country are you from?”
“I’m from...ah...” She desperately searched her librarian memory banks. “I was captured during a raid on the Isle of Lewis in the Hebrides.”
“Lewis? That’s off the coast of Scotland, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“That is a ways off. When were you seized?”
“Oh, a few months ago.”
“Where, exactly?”
“At a monastery. I was employed there as a librarian.”
“A lib...liberarian? What is that?”
“I work with books.” She remembered how very rare they were in this time period. “I helped the monks keep their manuscripts and papers in order.”
That seemed to impress him. “You are indeed educated if you labored at such a place.”
“Yes, I am.” That sounded a bit conceited. “Thank you.”
He snorted. “It’s good there are no monasteries here. The new religion is for weaklings, not warriors.”
“So you think now, but I wager you’ll all be good little Christians in a few years.”
He shook his head. “Forsake our gods? Never!”
“Don’t bet on it.” She climbed up on her feminist soap box two steps at a time. “I’ve got another prediction. Someday this country will lead the world when it comes to women’s equality.” She caught her breath. “Why, I’ll even go out on a limb and say that, in the future, a lot of men will stay home and take care of the kids, while their wives work out of the house full-time.”
He glared at her as if she had sprouted horns. “You’re insane. Women will never have the power to control men. They are too weak in body and in mind.”
“Weak?” Her dander was up and she was loving the banter as much as he did. “How can you say that? Women are...”
“Women are good for fucking and bearing children. Nothing else.” He got right in her face. “And that is all you are good for, as well.”
She would have been scared if she hadn’t caught the little gleam of amusement in his eyes. Instead, she gave as good as she got.
“Well, we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?”
They glared at each other, nose to nose, like dogs staring each other down, but they were both faking it. Well, she was anyway.
Fortunately, the stalemate was broken by a knock on the door.
“Come,” he barked.
The innkeeper, stooped and frail, entered bearing a pewter tray containing a plate of tiny fish fillets, another of strong-smelling cheese, and a small loaf of sliced dark bread. Towering over the food were a ewer and two tankards filled to the brim with a yellow liquid, probably mead.
“For your pleasure, sir,” said the innkeeper.
“Thank God,” she whispered. Her mouth began to water as she watched him set the food and drink on a long, narrow table wedged between the bed and the wall.
“Thank you, innkeeper. Please do not disturb us again.” Stein pulled a coin from his waist pouch and tossed it to him. “I want privacy until morning,” he said, nodding in her direction.
“Certainly, sir.” The innkeeper backed out of the room, barely hiding a smirk.
“Dirty old man,” she mumbled under her breath.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.” She grabbed a cube of white cheese and popped it in her mouth. “God, this tastes good.” She chewed with relish. On cue her stomach rumbled like an earthquake. “I’m so hungry, I could eat a horse.”
He raised his eyebrows. “A horse?” He picked up a fish fillet and swallowed it whole like a contestant on a gross reality show.
“Not literally. It’s just an expression where I come from.”
“Horses must be plentiful on your island. Here they are too valuable to eat.”
She was too busy stuffing her face to answer. Everything tasted so good, and the goat cheese was the best she’d ever had.
“You are hungry,” he said with a hint of awe.
“Mmm,” she hummed, wolfing down everything in sight.
He watched her eat. In fact, he hadn’t taken his eyes off her since they’d entered the room. Sure, he’d been pushing her buttons most of the time, but his stare held more than wry skepticism or curiosity. He looked like he was hungry too... hungry for her. It was dangerous and exciting. She’d never had a man look at her that way. Not even Sven Nydahl.
Stein picked up a piece of the black bread and tore it in two. “It’s good you have an excellent appetite. You must eat for strength and stamina.” He sopped up a bit of the fish juice with the bread and popped it in his mouth. “You look strong and healthy. That is good.” He smiled slightly, the corners of his oh-so-blue eyes crinkling sexily.
“Thanks.” She picked up a skinny fillet. “I try to stay in shape.”
“Good. It will be a long night.”
Startled, she dropped the fish, staining her jeans. “Oh...”
“You’re nervous.” He took a sip from his tankard. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”
She picked up the fish and nibbled at it, trying not to react to his words. But something odd was going on deep in her lower belly. A kind of stirring. An awakening perhaps?
His gaze roamed over her face and chest. “Your appearance interests me. Why do you dress as a man? Is it a disguise of some sort?”
“No. It’s what I normally wear. It’s more comfortable than a dress.”
He pointed to her glasses. “What is that strange device upon your face? It hides your features, which are quite pretty.”
Yay! She wasn’t completely surprised by his remark, of course. He wouldn’t have paid a small fortune for her if he thought she was homely, but it was the look in his eyes that baffled her. She expected to see lust, but his gaze held another, unidentifiable, emotion.
She sat straight up as comprehension dawned. There was pain in those beautiful eyes of his. Pain he was trying hard to conceal. She tamped down her natural inclination to empathize. She didn’t want to feel sorry for him. Heck, she shouldn’t even like him.
He plucked off her glasses and studied her face. “Yes, you’re quite beautiful.”
Her heart surged. No one had ever used that word before. Damn! He was good! If he kept this up, she’d be putty in his hands.
Their eyes met and, for a brief moment, they connected on a more intimate level. Sexual attraction hummed between them, their raw desire flaring for a millisecond before flaming out.
The moment made him seem a little self-conscious and awkward. Returning to the examination of her glasses, he in
spected them, turning them this way and that. Looking through the lenses, he grunted in disgust.
“This makes everything confused.” He tossed them on the bed like they were poison ivy. “I don’t understand. Does it possess magic?”
“No, no magic.” She put them back on, her heart still fluttering at his praise of her looks. “Many people wear these where I come from. They’re called ‘glasses.’ They help people see more clearly.”
“They didn’t help me.”
“That’s because your vision is already perfect.” She took them off and pointed to the lenses. “These glass pieces were made especially for me. Without them, the world is kind of blurry.”
“Your land is indeed strange.” He grew silent and sipped his drink, apparently mulling over what she’d said.
She picked up the other tankard and sniffed. The odd aroma was reminiscent of the clover fields just outside Asgard. “Is this mead?”
“Yes, fermented honey.”
She took a sip. “Hmm, not bad.”
“It’s a common drink.” He studied her over the rim of his tankard. “I suppose you’re going to tell me the people in your land do not drink it?”
She chuckled. “Yes, that’s right.”
He took a long draft of the mead. “In many ways you are rather odd.”
Beautiful, but odd. Not the best combo. “Oh, you think so? Why did you buy me then?”
He laughed heartily, honestly. It warmed her to the bone, like sunshine bursting through rain clouds.
“You interest me. You are unlike any other woman I’ve encountered.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.” He put down his tankard and edged closer to her. “I watched you on the auction block. You showed spirit and courage. It was brave of you to strike the Arab.”
“Yes, well, he really pissed me off.”
His brow furrowed. “Pissed you off? I don’t understand. He did not urinate on you.”
Now it was her turn to chuckle. “Where I come from, it means he made me really angry.”
“Ah, where you come from,” he repeated. “It is a land of some mystery.” He moved closer and cupped her chin. “You have a beautiful face and, from what I can tell, a pleasing body.” He ran his thumb over her jaw line. “You are going to make a fine bed slave.”
Red alert! She stiffened and tried unsuccessfully to break his hold. “I’m not sure I want to be your bed slave. Not if it means I’ll have to sleep with a bunch of strangers.”
The corners of his eyes creased as he smiled. “Does that mean you won’t mind sleeping with me?”
He had her there. “Ah, I, uh...”
He tightened his grip on her jaw, drawing her toward him. “You will share my bed, and you will obey my orders. Beginning tonight.” She felt the whisper of his warm breath on her skin. “Starting now.”
Her clit twitched like Mr. Darcy’s nose. Sex with Stein Magnuson was going to be the most incredible experience of her life.
Don’t be a fool, Esme. He’s not in love with you. All he wants is a romp between the sheets for a few nights and then he'll pass you around like a plate of chocolate chip cookies.
“And what happens tomorrow morning? What if you don’t like me? I don’t think I came with a money-back guarantee.”
He leaned closer as if he was going to kiss her. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” Man, he smelled good. All woodsy and male. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth slightly, ready to receive his kiss.
Was she really going to cave that easily? If they locked lips, it’d be all over, and he’d stake his claim to her without so much as a ‘by your leave.’
She jerked her face out of his hand and tried to scoot away, but he captured the back of her neck.
“I...I don’t know," she stuttered. "Can’t we talk a while longer?”
“I’m through talking,” he said in a low voice, glaring at her like a hungry beast. He lifted the hem of her sweater. “It’s time to find out what lies beneath these men’s clothes.”
She gulped...hard. Every part of her body tingled at the mere thought of his touch. On her mouth, on her throat, on her breasts...
Oh, she was in such trouble.
CHAPTER 6
Stein’s cock was so hard it hurt. It took all of his will power not to throw her down, tear off her clothes, and take his pleasure. Not only was Esme beautiful, she was exciting and interesting, with strange ideas that piqued his curiosity and stimulated his imagination. He’d never encountered anyone like her.
She was also willful and obstinate. No doubt she would require strict training to become an obedient house slave. As for her nightly duties in his bed, he looked forward to giving her long and frequent instruction.
As he held her in his grip, she stared up at him, ready for his kiss. It would be so easy to subdue her that way. But he could be as stubborn as she. He would not do as she demanded. He released her.
“Take off your clothes,” he growled. “Now.”
She didn’t move, but her green eyes revealed her internal debate. “I hardly know you,” she muttered.
He removed his leather boots. “You’ll soon know me better.”
She drummed her fingers on the sheet. “But what if I get pregnant?”
He tilted his head. “What of it? There are herbs to resolve such things.”
“Herbs?” Her voice rose an octave. “Herbs? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I don’t what ‘kidding’ means, but I assure you, my mother knows all about such matters. She will instruct you, if you require it.”
“If I require it,” she repeated flatly. “Why is birth control always the woman’s problem? Don’t you have a condom or something?”
He removed his dagger and waist pouch, placing them on the little table next to the food tray. “What is that?”
“It’s a sheath thing that you put on over your...your...” She waved her hands in the general direction of his lower body.
“Penis?” he offered, grinning.
“Yes. You’ve heard of such a thing?”
“A penis? Yes, I’ve heard of those,” he said, pulling his shirt loose from his leggings.
“I meant a condom.” Her cheeks grew pink as she blushed.
“You need not be embarrassed. There will be much intimacy between us, and soon we will know everything about each other’s bodies.”
She tittered nervously. “Yes, I’m sure we will.”
“Good.” He pulled his shirt up and over his head. Her lovely green eyes widened as she inspected his bare chest.
“Oh, my,” she murmured. “You must work out, too.”
“Work out? Yes, I work very hard on the farm. It is a good way to keep up my strength.”
She appeared almost dazed. “Hm, I bet.”
“Are you all right?”
"Yes," she said dreamily. Then she snapped to attention. “Getting back to this condom thing. Would you consider wearing one?”
“I would never wear such a contrivance. It dulls the sensation,” he grinned, “and I want to feel everything.”
“Oh,” she said, staring at his groin.
He removed his belt and placed it on the table. “Why are you still dressed?”
She spread her hands out before her. “Look, it’s been a very long day and...” she paused, “and I really don’t want to get pregnant.”
“I told you, my mother will take care of that.” He planted his hands on his hips and gave her an expectant stare. “I will not wait much longer.”
She scrambled to the back of the bed. “You’d force me against my will?”
*****
“You’re a bed slave. You have no will.” He knelt on the mattress. “A few seconds ago, you wanted me to kiss you. What is it you want, Esme?”
She didn’t have a clue. Her emotions were all over the place. Lust, arousal, fear, embarrassment. She was one big, confused mess.
“I don’t want to get pregnant,”
she offered lamely.
He showed a flash of white teeth. “Once I am inside you, you’ll forget all about it.”
“Oh, God,” she moaned. Her mind may have had lingering reservations, but her body was primed and ready. “What are you going to do?”
Big, bad Stein, crawled up the bed on his hands and knees, like a demented fiend from some old horror flick. A really good-looking demented fiend. She was mesmerized by the powerful muscles of his chest and arms. He looked even better than the cover model she used to fantasize about. Only a ruddy scar on his right shoulder marred the smooth expanse of sun-browned skin.
“You’ll see.”
The enormous tent in his trousers brought her to full attention. Maybe she could distract him, get him drunk. Hell, get drunk herself.
“I’m a bit nervous, as you can tell. Why don’t we have a little more mead. It might make me more receptive.” She smiled coyly.
“Hm.” He sat back on his haunches. She could see his brain working. “Perhaps that is a good idea.” He turned toward the table and filled their tankards, then handed her one and raised his own. “I don’t want you to be sore.” He pointed to his erection. “I’m larger than an average man.”
“Really?” She gulped down at least three ounces of mead.
“You may try to get me drunk, but you will not deter me. I will have you tonight.”
“I would never do such a thing,” she said, mentally crossing her fingers that he would indeed get stewed. “I’d just like to know you a little better first.” She took another enormous gulp of mead. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself.”
“There’s not much to tell.”
“Oh, I doubt that. A big, handsome warrior like you?” Bat your eyelashes too, while you’re at it. “What about that scar on your shoulder.” She pointed at it with her tankard. “It looks fairly recent.”
He shrugged. “It’s nothing. An Irish spear surprised me on our last raid six months ago.”
She shook her head. “It looks serious to me.” Her gaze drifted upwards to his face. “What about the scar on your cheek?”
“That is from a raid in Scotland a few years ago.” He traced it with his finger. “Does it bother you?”
“No, not at all. I think it makes you look kind of sexy and dangerous.” Shut up, girl!
Vanquishing A Viking Page 5
