by Jo Beverley
She heard rustling sounds and was tempted to lunge for them, but she knew he could evade her if he still wanted to. She would not chase. She'd make him come to her.
She hoped.
Perhaps she'd be wiser to burst into tears and let him comfort her. Perhaps from there she could get what she wanted.
She contemplated it, and decided she simply couldn't. It wasn't in her nature. She so rarely cried that she didn't think tears would come to order. And it would be a horrible simulacrum of Edith. Edith, whom he hadn't loved, or not for long.
Wicked to feel such fierce joy, but she found that in this mad hour she didn't care about wickedness or virtue, only about Raef.
Here.
Now.
Almost in her grasp.
Despite the chill—who cared about heat or cold at a time like this? -- she pulled off her thick woolen gown and dropped it on the floor. "I'm only in my shift, now. It's cold. Warm me, Raef?"
More rustling noises, but no touch.
She turned again, trying to spot him in the dark, but it was too complete. She stilled instead, trying to hear his breathing, but he must be controlling that better than she was. Her heart was racing and she was sucking in breaths.
Ah well. Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. She wriggled out of her knee-length linen shift.
"I'm naked, now." When the silence stayed unbroken, she twirled, whirling the garment around so it brushed the walls, and must skim close to the corners. So it might touch him-
It was caught.
Held taut.
Then slowly, naked and vulnerable, she was drawn toward him.
Toward what?
She sensed his warmth a moment before she was crushed against his body. His naked body.
She must have made a querying sound, for he said, "I can at least try to match a goddess, move for move."
Clutching him, his wonderful hard, hot, naked body, she said, "Don't make this a contest."
"Why not? That was always the most fun with you." Then, hand trapping her hair, he kissed her.
It was like the tainted greeting kiss of the day before, but profoundly unlike. Whatever was happening between them now, it was at least honest and lusty. If that was all there was, she'd take it. His penis was hard between them, and she pressed there, encouraging, welcoming.
"Don't worry. You're not escaping," he said, sweeping her into his arms.
By accident or design, his cloak was spread ready for her. He put her there, but then left.
"Raef?"
"Just gathering clothing. No need to freeze."
In moments he was back beside her, and he spread their various garments over them to make a haphazard nest. When he lay beside her, she went into his arms as if it was the hundredth time.
Even while kissing her ear, her cheek, her lips, he said, "Someone might come, Hera. To feed us. To torture us. To kill us."
"I don't care."
He laughed. "Neither do I."
He kissed her again, hotly passionate. Oh heaven, the world could come to an end now and she'd die happy, twined with Raef, sealed mouth to mouth with him.
Well, perhaps it could end not quite yet....
But then he stilled and broke the kiss. "Are you sure, Little Wolf?" His hand slid up to cup her cheek. "It will hurt. Edith-"
He tried to move away. She held him closer. "I'm not Edith. Take me. Now."
He stayed tense in her arms. She could have murdered Edith, if she hadn't already been dead, for what she'd done to him.
She knew better than to relax her hold on him, but she tamed her own hungers. "Has there been anyone since Edith?"
"No, of course not."
"And not while you were married." That was a statement of fact. He would have been a faithful husband. Since he didn't seem to be pulling away, she stroked his hair. "Raef, I don't know how it was with her, but all women are not the same. I'm not."
He turned his head and kissed her palm, but it wasn't the sort of kiss she wanted. "She was the first—the only—virgin for me. You can't know-"
He suddenly rolled onto his back, escaping her lax hold, but then he gathered her and pulled her into a tender embrace. Hell take it. She didn't want a tender embrace.
"It was so terrible for her," he said, rocking her. "The first few times even. More than a few. I had to do it. We couldn't not do it forever. She agreed. She didn't object...."
She just suffered, Hera completed for herself, suppressing a growl. And made sure he knew it. She could point out that Alfrida had lost her maidenhead to Magnus and come running back for more, but she didn't think mention of their captor would help at this moment.
"Many women are lusty," she said, "and they all lost their maidenhead at one time."
"But at least within marriage. We'll wait, Hera. We'll marry-"
"When? Perhaps Christ will come tonight!"
"Stop that. You don't believe that."
She eased across, so she was lying half over him. She didn't know what to do to overcome his reluctance, but she'd try. "I believe it's right for us to do this. Raef. I'm not afraid. I want it."
"Adults are not governed by wants."
"But they can grasp them if it's right to."
"It's not right. We're not married." His hands settled at her waist, controlling her, but she managed to wriggle a little closer. Her leg brushed against something and she realized he was still hard.
"You still want me."
"Of course I do! I've wanted you since you walked into the hall. I nearly died of wanting while I warmed your frozen feet. I've wanted you-"
He thrust her off him, and in a moment she was alone with only his lingering warmth on the cloth beneath her.
For a few moments, she didn't breathe at all. He'd been about to say that he'd wanted her during his marriage to Edith. She could imagine how much that must hurt a man of honor. A man of honor she ached for.
She sat up gathering his cloak around her shoulders, seeking words that would break his resistance, his fears, and his sense that this was sin. Perhaps his sense that his desire for her was a sin.
The darkness blinded her, however. It blinded her to his feelings and his pain. Was he angry, or in despair? Was he longing or tangled in other matters?
Was he lost in memories of Edith, whom he must have loved at some point, and who had been his wife? That alone formed a bond. Would Edith always come between them? Did thought of Edith's rape mix in with his desire for herself, making it impossible?
An ache around her eyes gave her a new weapon. "I'll cry."
"What?" Disbelief rang clear in that.
"I will."
"You never cry."
"I'm sure you cried over Edith."
"That was-"
"-different. This is different." Suddenly she was speaking blunt truth, all deception forgotten. "The world's already turned. Father, Edmund, Edith, Alfrida.... I've been saying cheerfully that Christ is not coming, but I don't know. Perhaps He is. I suppose He'll take me to heaven. I've not committed too many sins, and I've spent the past half year praying and doing good works."
"All the more reason not to sin now."
"But even if Christ doesn't come, my world has turned awry! And you're probably going to fight Magnus. And"—her voice genuinely broke—"and I just want one thing right. I know it will be right, Raef."
She felt his closeness, then his hand touched her arm, and he drew her close. "Ah, don't, Hera. Don't! If you cry, the world will truly have come to an end." His lips brushed her cheeks and she thought, she hoped, they found them dry, even though perhaps tears would complete her conquest.
She didn't want that kind of conquest.
She just wanted Raef.
She held him as tight as he held her, kissing and tasting whatever skin came close to her mouth, wanting him more and more, tangled in the warmth and textures of their clothes—in linens smooth and rough, in wool and embroidery and the occasionally soft toughness of leather.
In the
hall, a drumming started, and she kissed him to the rhythm of the drum, grasping various parts of his hard-muscled body, a deep, hot hunger rising up to consume her.
Raef, here, now. Hot. Hard. Murmuring his delight as he kissed parts of her she'd never imagined kissable.
She laughed. Like Edith? Never.
She rolled her head back, as she opened herself wider to his exciting mouth…
The door slammed open and flaming torches dazzled her. She couldn't help but cry out with shock.
"Hell's fires!" Raef bellowed, sitting and swirling covers tightly around them both. "Get out of here!"
Chapter Eight
Magnus, huge in the doorway and torchlight, rocked with laughter, but he gestured the grinning torchbearer outside. "I think you forget who rules Acklingham now, Thegn Raefnoth!"
Raef's indrawn breath rattled like a growl, and Hera flung her arms around him in the faint hope of stopping him from trying to kill the Dane with his bare hands. One thing was sure. Her chance to make love to him had probably just been smashed like ice on a puddle under a cruel boot.
May Magnus Ravenbringer roast in hell!
Only then did she think to be afraid. Why was Magnus here?
Torture?
Death?
Raef went still, too. "What do you want?"
Magnus spread his hands as if innocent of every sin imaginable. "What is it Christians say? Good will among men. Come to the feast."
"No."
Magnus's beard jutted forward. "It was not a request. I can drag you there naked. Both of you."
Hera realized the Dane was drunk, and thus even more unpredictable. Raef was dangerous through sheer fury. Even so, she couldn't think of a thing to say that wouldn't make matters worse.
"I will not eat or drink in this place," Raef said, "until it is mine again."
"Then I'll happily watch you starve!" Magnus roared, but then he glanced at Hera, almost pouting. "Blame your sister. She's been begging me to save you from this terrible man."
"As you can see, there's no need."
"Ah, but didn't you preach Advent to me, Little Nun? Shouldn't I save you from sin?"
"I'd really rather you didn't."
"Alfrida won't believe me. You come to the hall dressed or naked."
The Star's power over him was truly remarkable. "Alfrida won't like to see me dragged into the hall naked, Lord Magnus."
"Yet I will do it."
Clearly that was his limit.
"Raef…?"
"Go!" snarled Raef to the Dane. "We'll dress."
At the tone, Magnus folded his arms. "I leave at no man's command."
"Then-"
Raef stopped because Hera had locked hands and squeezed his chest as hard as possible. It was only momentary surprise, however, so she rushed into speech. "Lord Magnus, I don't think Alfrida wanted you to provide this sort of show of me for your men."
The Dane glanced back at his grinning men, and perhaps he even reddened. He stalked out and slammed the door.
"Don't interfere again," Raef snapped in the dark, pulling out of her arms and standing up.
"I'll do whatever I can to keep us both alive." She was scrabbling around in the clutter of clothes for the ones that were hers.
"I have no wish to live."
"I want you alive." She realized she was trying to put on his shirt and shoved it toward where he was. He was closer than she thought, so she thumped him.
It felt rather satisfying, despite the sorrowful ache left by their frustrated lust. May the imps of hell nibble Marcus's toes, and Alfrida's too.
She found her shift and wriggled into it.
...and King Ethelred's, who was letting the Danes run free all around England. And King Olaf of Norway's, and King Svend Forkbeard's of Denmark, who saw England as a free marketplace....
By the time she'd found and struggled into all her clothes, she'd wished nibbled toes on most of the rulers of the world including the Pope. Underneath it all, however, churned fear. As soon as Raef and Magnus were face to face, they'd be like snarling wolves again, and though her name meant wolf-herder, she doubted she could stop this all coming to bloodshed.
She remembered the Star, and pulled it out to lie on top of her clothes, but there was nothing in the myth to say it could protect men from their own violent follies. But, she thought, holding it tight, didn't the story imply that the woman who wore it could bring harmony and light into her world?
The door opened again, flooding the small room with the flaming light of torches, and showing Magnus waiting, arms crossed. Hera realized for the first time how much pride was at stake here. Raef's pride was deeply wounded, and Magnus would lose face before his men if he was too weak with these enemy prisoners.
She looked around and found her shoes, thinking there was no hope of a solution. Even if Magnus didn't truly want it, he could never give up a prize like Acklingham. Raef would accept nothing less.
Oh, Alfrida, if you hadn't tried to help, at least I might have had something to cherish.
Raef looked at her, then seized the Star. "Is this...?"
Did he think himself magicked by it? "Yes."
"I thought you said you'd brought it for Alfrida."
"When Magnus sent me here, she gave it to me to protect me from you."
He closed his eyes for a moment. "Hera, you never need protection from me." She looked at him, and even by torchlight she saw him color. "I was not myself."
She touched his face. "You had reason to be angry. But now, I think, we must go to the hall. For my sake, don't force a fight."
"I make no promises." He wrapped an arm around her as they left the hut, but it was protective rather than tender. In fact, it was territorial. A claim made by one snarling wolf to another. At least that was one thing she need not fear. Magnus had no physical interest in her.
It was fragile Edith who lay between the two men, making any kind of peace impossible.
She felt sure that Magnus had told the truth. He hadn't raped Edith. Raef would never believe that, however. It was far too pat to blame it on some wandering brigands that had done no other damage. As long as Raef believed Magnus to be guilty, the Dane could go on his knees and beg Raef to take Acklingham back and Raef would still have to try and kill him.
The winter night's wind cut cruelly through her clothes, but the ice inside cut crueler still.
Their escort flung open the big doors to the hall, and a blast of heat, light, and noise hit them as they were hustled in and the doors slammed behind. All the light here came from the central fire, but what a fire. They'd brought in the huge Yule log and set it upright to burn like a tree of fire, threatening even the high rafters. The smoke hole above had been enlarged to prevent fire there, and to let most of the smoke escape, otherwise the room would be choking.
Four men played instruments, and some danced. Other men drank, laughing and talking, many with women on their laps. A few were more intimately engaged still!
Edith would have fainted for sure.
Alfrida leaped up from her place at the big table and ran toward them in a fire of gold—gold bracelets and arm rings, torque and pendants. A pirate's woman, wearing his hoard. "Hera! Thank Sweet Jesus. Are you all right?"
"Of course. You know Raef would never hurt me." She ignored the memory of his attack, and of what had been interrupted. She had to add, however, "This might not have been wise."
Alfrida glanced at Raef, who seemed to have brought the winter chill into the hot room. "That wasn't my idea. I only wanted you here."
Magnus pulled Alfrida to his side, and considered Hera and Raef. "You still refuse to feast with us?"
Raef didn't answer, so neither did Hera.
"Very well," said Magnus, who clearly still had all his wits, no matter how much he'd drunk so far. "We'll feast in another way. This is why I brought you here, Thegn Raefnoth. For my people Yule not Easter is the turning of the year, when the old is put behind us, and the new begins. It's a time for making pea
ce. And a time for starting new wars. Which is it to be, Thegn Raefnoth? Peace or war?"
"War," Raef said without hesitation.
"On what cause?"
Raef looked eloquently around the hall, but said, "You raped my wife, thus killing her. Or if not," he carried on, before Magnus could speak, "you permitted it."
"On my soul, on my wave stallion, I did neither." With a great bellow he brought silence and attention to the hall and strode into a central space where the roaring fire illumined him.
"Hear me, hear me! I Magnus Gormsson, the Ravenbringer, swear on my Christian soul and on my great ship, my wave stallion—may it sink beneath me if I lie—that I never touched Edith, wife to Thegn Raefnoth, in any offensive or injurious way. I swear this oath too, on behalf of all my men here gathered—that none belonging to me harmed her. If this oath will dishonor me, let the man who makes it meaningless step forward now. He will be given the gift of a swift death."
All around the hall stayed still and silent. Hera glanced at Raef, and saw a slight frown that might mean doubt. It certainly was a mighty oath that no man would take lightly.
"So," said Magnus, looking around the room, "who here can support my oath before witnesses, that truth shall be known?"
On man stood, an older man with gray in his hair and steady eyes. "Great Magnus, Lord, Ring-giver, I, Foter son of Thorkyl, speak to support your oath. As you ordered, I did not stop the Lady Edith and her maid from sneaking out of this place, and watched them as far as eye could follow. Though frightened, she did not move as one who has suffered any kind of physical harm. This I swear by Woden and by the White Christ, and on my oath to you, and on the ring I wear."
He held up his clenched fist, showing the iron ring on his right hand, the sort usually given by men such as Magnus to their wild followers.
Another man stood. "I Haakon, son of Omry speak to support my lord's oath. In all the time Thegn Raefnoth's wife was here, I never heard her scream except in the hall over meat. This I swear by Woden and the White Christ...."
And so it went, until twenty men had stood to speak in support of Magnus's claim.
After leaving another silence, Magnus spread his arms. "So be it! That is my oath, by the God on the Cross and Woden's beard, and I stand by it, to my death, and the death of all my followers." He turned to Raef. "What say you?"
