“All dead, your highness. I’m sorry.”
She waved away his words. “I need to surprise my uncle,” she said as anger replaced her surprise.
“We’ll come with you,” the guard said.
Jarina knew the castle and all its secrets from many hours of childhood play. She led the Pereth guard and two Hesione guards through secret tunnels and doorways until she came to the throne room. On the other side, she could hear men speaking, though she couldn’t tell what they said.
She nodded to her three guards, and they quietly slipped unseen into her throne room. She was shocked to find who she could only assume was King Kyros holding her uncle at the point of his sword. The king’s helm covered all but his mouth and chin. Her gaze raked over him, from the tip of his helm’s black feathers to his boots. He was tall and lethal looking as he held her uncle in place.
“Answer me!” Kyros bellowed. “Where is she?”
Jarina swallowed as she realized Kyros wanted her.
“I told you,” Ampyx said. “I don’t know where she is.”
Jarina turned to her guards and took one of their swords. It was time she interfered.
“You lie!” Kyros bellowed and pulled back his arm as he prepared to plunge his sword into her uncle.
Jarina stepped from the shadows behind her uncle and waited until she felt Kyros’s eyes on her. “He doesn’t lie. Up until just a few minutes ago, I wasn’t in my city.”
Kyros slowly lowered his sword as his mouth fell open. Jarina found his reaction curious, but she was more concerned with her uncle, who whirled around on his knees to face her.
“Niece!” he cried out and tried to take hold of her hand.
Jarina lifted the sword and pointed it at his throat. “Tell me, Uncle, how surprised you are to see me. Alive.”
He swallowed nervously and tried to smile at her. “I think there has been some kind of misunderstanding, Jarina.”
“No, I finally understand just what a monster you are. If it hadn’t been for the loyalty of the guards, I would be dead now. That is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
The smile on his face vanished to be replaced by a scowl. “Yes!” he yelled. “The throne should have been mine!”
Jarina’s eyes clouded with tears. “My parents weren’t killed by Pereth soldiers, were they?” When he didn’t answer but only stared at her, she shook her head and took a step back. “You killed them.”
“I had to make it look like an accident,” he said as he rose to his feet. “Besides, I needed to keep the battle raging with Pereth.”
Jarina lowered her sword. “Guards, take him to the dungeon,” she said. She turned on her heel to walk away, when she heard a scuffle behind her.
She turned in time to see her uncle lunging at her with his dagger and Kyros stepping between them. Her eyes widened as she saw her uncle fall on Kyros’s sword; his lifeless body fell to the floor.
With her heart hammering in her ears, she raised her gaze to the king of Pereth. “Thank you,” she said and licked her lips. “You came here for me.”
“I did,” he said.
There was something about his voice that sounded familiar. Jarina took a deep breath and realized she longed for the man who had claimed her body and soul…and her heart. Would he still want her once he knew she was a queen?
She shook her head to clear her thoughts and focused on Kyros. “My uncle lied to me, and I’m sure he lied to my father. I don’t know why the war between or kingdoms started, but I would like it to end. Tonight.”
Kyros reached up and pulled off his helm. Jarina’s breath lodged in her throat as she stared into eyes as black as midnight. Her mouth fell open in surprise as she took a step toward her master. Slowly her hand reached up to touch his cheek.
“Is it really you?”
“Yes,” Kyros said. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”
She smiled. “I needed to return here and confront my uncle. I feared if I told you who I was and you didn’t believe me, you would keep me tied.”
Kyros pulled her against his chest, his armor digging into her cheek, but she didn’t care. “Thank the gods you found your way back.”
For long moments they stayed silent as they held each other; then Kyros pulled back and held her at arm’s length. “We signed a treaty to be married.”
Jarina sighed. “I never signed it. My uncle must have forged my signature.”
“That doesn’t matter. I’ve realized something in the time we’ve spent together. I’ve never found another woman who has claimed my heart the way you have. I was so worried about you I had my guards take you from the palace to my manor in the forest.”
“I know,” she said with a smile. “What are you proposing?”
“That we marry.”
“We don’t know each other,” she argued.
He took her hand and looked deep into her eyes. “What are you afraid of, Jarina? Think of our kingdoms. We’ve been divided by war; let’s unite by love.”
“Are you saying you love me?”
“I’m saying I’m falling in love with you. I want to know everything there is to know about you, and I want to share all my secrets with you. Marry me. We don’t have to get married right away, but I have to know you’re going to be mine.”
Jarina couldn’t believe Kyros was offering her everything she ever wanted. “I’m falling in love with you as well.”
“Then let’s spend more time together. Take as long as you want planning the wedding, as long as it isn’t more than six months from now,” he finished with a heart-stopping grin.
There was no reason for Jarina to refuse. She knew in her heart her future was with Kyros. “Yes.” She nodded. “Yes, I will marry you.”
Kyros let out a whoop as he lifted her in his arms and spun her around the room. Jarina’s laughter joined his as the guards cheered with them. She looked down at her future husband and kissed him. The laughter died from his eyes and was replaced with desire.
“Where is your chamber?”
“Upstairs,” she said breathlessly. She was as eager as he to find some privacy.
“Let’s find it. And something to tie you with,” he said as he pulled her from the throne room to their future.
The Pleasure of His Bed - Annalise Russell - In His Bed
In His Bed
Annalise Russell
1
“A re you agreed?”
Sitting back on her knees before the large Viking, Chessa nodded. “Yes, I am agreed.” Good, her voice hadn’t faltered. She clasped her hands in her lap and tried not to think. Too much thinking would make her blush.
“Then repeat the terms to me, so you appreciate the weight of this bargain you wish to strike.”
Wetting her lips, Chessa lifted her chin, looking Bodin in the eye. A bold action, yes. But, after all, she had been freed of her servitude, if only since the dawn. “I agree to tend all the needs of your body as payment for my place on your ship.”
She waited, silently willing his agreement to the bargain. Her heart lodged in her throat. If he refused her, denied her passage home, what would become of her? The one thing she’d learned well living these past ten years among the Vikings was that a woman without protection lived in peril every moment.
Bodin took a deep breath. “Your home may no longer be as you remember. Are you certain this bargain is what you wish? Once made,” his eyebrows raised in warning, “there will be no going back…”
Chessa tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. Fear burned in her belly, weakening her confidence and softening her words. “Please, I’ve nothing else of value.”
Sitting in the large village hall, he leaned forward in the chair, bracing his forearms on his thighs. Her sweet face only inches from him, smudged with dirt from her first day of freedom—the first day she’d not had the protection of his father’s name by serving in his household. He lifted her chin with his finger, thinking on what she offered him with this bargain of hers.
“Tell me what you know of tending a man’s needs.”
Her mouth opened, then closed. Chessa pressed her lips into a thin line. Cowardice would not get the better of her now. She inhaled a deep breath. “It means I’m to share your quarters.”
“Just my quarters?”
She shook her head, swallowing nervously. “No, I’ll share your bed as well.”
“And?”
“And do all you ask of me.” Her stomach fluttered in anticipation. His ship sailed at sunrise, and already the light outside grew dim. He would have to give her an answer soon. Meeting his gaze with bold intent, she held her breath….
Bodin let go of her chin and leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out, ankles crossed. “Agreed.”
Chessa beamed. “Oh, thank you! Thank you!” She scrambled to her feet, swatting the dust from her skirts. “I won’t be any trouble, I promise. You’ll see.”
“Chessa…”
His voice commanded her attention, and she froze midstep on her way to the door. The tenants of the village were beginning to gather at the tables in the hall for the evening meal, and she had much to do in the kitchen yet.
“Yes?”
Bodin got to his feet. “Your service begins now. Conduct yourself to my quarters, not those of my father.”
“And what would you have me do in your absence?”
“Wait.” He adjusted his sword belt. “I’ll join you shortly.”
Chessa nodded. She hadn’t realized he would mean to start immediately. Not that a few hours made much of a difference one way or the other. She’d had her day of freedom. And this bargain meant she got to go home, got to return to her family and take her rightful place among her people. “Of course, sir.”
Her hand skimmed along the rough-hewn door frame of the massive hall where everyone but the sick and injured took their meals. She glanced back inside at the tables and benches. Much of her life had been spent in this hall. And now she would not come here again. Chessa sighed and looked away.
Outside, stars began to twinkle amid the cloudless twilight. Had her parents counted the days until the completion of her service? Were they looking out to the sea, waiting for her to return? They would be proud of her. She’d done her duty—to them and to her people.
As Chessa made her way along the worn dirt path, the past came to mind. She had been the price of peace for her people, the center of a bargain between her father and Bodin’s father: servitude for the period of ten years, the time until she came of an age to marry, had been the deal. Nonnegotiable, she had been the old Viking’s prize.
And she’d been lucky. As the daughter of a ruler, sent along to represent her people, she’d received much more gentle treatment than many of the others who were taken. She still held in her memory the names of the women who had been carried off, never to return. She’d been but a child then, and while she had not witnessed their manner of death, she knew they had died. Every part of her knew it.
She shivered, wanting to forget all that. She’d long since quit thinking about her first days and weeks in the village—so many frightening strangers, ways and words she couldn’t grasp.
The trail branched, and she almost walked the way she had for more than half her life. But no longer. Tonight she would take a different path, one of her own choosing. And soon she’d wander the hills and shores of her father’s land again.
Chessa stopped at the entrance to Bodin’s quarters. She’d never been inside before. From time to time she’d left things for him at his mother’s instruction. But never once had she been inside.
She looked over her shoulder. The evening had settled softer and quieter than usual. Most would be in the hall by now, having their fill of meat and mead.
Too late to turn back.
Chessa tugged at the heavy latch until the metal bar inside was freed and the door creaked open. Warm air touched the chill on her arms, but her underskirts were made of thick-woven wool and held back such comfort from her legs.
Chessa moved nearer the hearth and the faint heat of the dying fire. She thought to add another piece of wood but stopped. Bodin had instructed her only to wait. And it wouldn’t do to anger him before they set sail. He might decide she’d be too much trouble after all and change his mind about their bargain.
Behind her the door banged open, and she spun around. Two servant girls from the kitchen lumbered in carrying a large metal tub. Others followed, filling the cistern with buckets of steaming water heated over the cooking fires.
Bodin strode in, eyes fixed on her. Had he almost smiled? She reached for one of the buckets.
“Chessa…”
She looked up at him.
“That is not for you to do.” Bodin unbuckled the belt at his waist, draping leather and sword and knife over the back of a nearby chair.
He stepped over to the tub and dipped his finger in the water. “That’ll do.” He dismissed the maids. Grabbing the back of an empty chair, he turned it around and placed it at the front of the tub.
Chessa watched as Bodin sat, his long frame stretched, arms crossing over his chest. He said nothing. The air in the room turned dense and thick, making it harder and harder to breathe.
The door closed with a loud clank of metal and wood, startling her and freeing her from the confines of his stare. But her reprieve was temporary.
“Chessa…”
His voice—low and penetrating, as tangible as his gaze—sent a shiver down her spine. He’d done nothing more than speak, yet everything about him was as physical as a touch.
Tentatively she turned to look at him again.
“Undress.”
For long moments she stood frozen to the floor, chest tight, palms sweating. A warm, fluttery sensation danced inside her belly. He intended to watch.
Chessa swallowed the lump of nerves climbing the back of her throat. She couldn’t meet his ever-encroaching gaze as she fumbled with the brooch pinning the work apron over her linen gown. Her fingers shook, slowing her efforts to work the clasp free.
Doubt about the wisdom of this bargain crept into her chest as the second brooch snapped open. Chessa took a deep breath, trying to slow the many small breaths that were making her dizzy. She worked her arms free and then tugged the gown higher, pulling it over her head and off.
Bodin’s eyebrows raised at the sight of her pieced underskirt.
The women of the village wore no such garment, but Bodin’s mother had allowed her to make it from scraps to keep warm. The bulk of her gown threaded through her fingers, dropping onto the floor. She unlaced the side of the skirt, letting it puddle around her feet.
Nervous, her toes curled into the layer of packed rushes covering the dirt floor. She turned toward the tub. Steam rose from the smooth, glassy surface. She inched closer.
“Unh-unh.” He shook his head. “Not yet.”
His gaze roamed her body as she continued to stand exposed before him. She fought to keep her hands by her sides, her face growing warmer with each passing moment.
“Turn around. Let me see all of what you have bargained.”
Chessa turned her back to him. Again she fought against the shallow breaths plaguing her.
Bodin reached forward and tugged at the single, weighty rope of red and gold tresses that always hung down the center of her back. “Free your hair.”
She looked at him from over her shoulder. He sat upright, stiff. He was not relaxed as before. Chessa pulled the long strand of thick, unruly hair over her shoulder, untying the knotted leather strap that bound the ends together. Starting from the bottom, she began to untwist the hank of hair, freeing the tangled waves with her fingers as she worked her way higher, shaking the bulk of it loose.
“Very good, Chessa.”
Had his voice gone deeper? She peeked over her shoulder again. The dark look on his face tied her stomach in knots. Beat after beat raced from her heart. Was he displeased?
“Get in.” Bodin cleared his throat and nodded toward the tub. “But
remain standing.”
She braced her hands on the rim of the metal tub and climbed into the water. Her hair fell forward, offering a shield from his prying gaze. Embarrassment heated her chilled skin.
Hot water reached nearly to her thighs; the ends of her long, loose tresses mixed with the swirling steam. She looked around for soap and cloth but saw none.
Bodin stood. The sudden motion captured her attention.
Reaching forward, his calloused fingers traced the small bones that ran from her shoulder to the hollow at the base of her throat. Chessa held her breath. Did he plan to wash her? The idea made her hands tremble, and she swallowed. His touch was warm…distracting….
Slowly he spread his fingers, moving up the column of her neck. “Tilt your head back.”
She obeyed but tried to watch what he was doing. Bodin’s thumb turned her head back to face forward.
A small stream of heated water poured over her hair, running rampant down her face and shoulders, over and around her breasts, and down the flat of her belly to drip into the tub from the tufts of curls centered at the juncture of her thighs. Chessa held her breath and wiped the excess water from her eyes.
Bodin set down the half-empty bucket and handed her soap.
Wet and shivering, she began to scrub at the masses and masses of hair plastered to her back and legs. Bodin poured the remainder of the water from the bucket, rinsing her clean of the thin lather.
Again, Chessa wiped the water from her face. The Viking leaned in close. The heat from his body warmed her skin, heating her with embarrassment again. She made an effort to swallow. From what little she knew, she thought men wanted to touch, not to look.
“Wash,” Bodin’s voice rasped, harsh in his throat. He walked around the metal tub, taking in the sight of her wet, naked body. His fingers dipped again into the warm water, brushing against the smooth skin of her leg. “And hurry, before you chill.”
With the chunk of soap cupped in her palm, Chessa washed her neck and shoulders, pulling handfuls of wet hair out of her way to reach her back. Next, she soaped her stomach and legs.
Pleasure of His Bed Page 17
