The Peacemaker

by Jianne Carlo

  “I vow I will never use that poky tub again.” She threw her arms around his waist. “You must teach Leofric how to build this. I swear Mama will swoon with happiness.”

  His warrior was back.

  Bemused, he smiled, cert he looked foolish standing there garbed in armor and boots.

  “Njal.” She swatted his shoulder. “Your hauberk will be ruined. We must get it off. I will play squire. But you are too tall.”

  And she seemed so small and so precious.

  “There.” She pointed to a low boulder whose surface rose above the water. “Sit.”

  He obeyed her command and she knelt to unlace his boots.

  “I have tried. Truly. More than a sennight has passed and I have not asked a single question. I have waited and waited. And waited more.”

  Tugging the boot off, she glanced up at him. “I cannot be thus.” She threw the boot to the packed earth and began working on the other. “I may indeed be the country lass you cannot take to court. For I have no patience with wanting to know and not being able to ask.”

  His mouth curved when she fair pelted the other boot and her lips flattened.

  “I wish not to live in an abbey or convent.” She scooted between his thighs and worked on his hauberk. Her hair smelled of hazel mixed with must. “I want a babe, mayhap not a girl. A son or a few sons.”

  He could stand it no longer, and hauled her into his lap and cupped her chin. “Will you always be contrary, wife? For I find I yearn for a female warrior babe. One who will make me tear my hair out, worry me to an early grave, and be as spirited and as smart and as fiercely loving as her mama.”

  His belly clenched when the tears began to stream down her cheeks, cleaning streaks in the mud film dusting her flesh. “I believe I have loved you from the start. ’Tis not easy for me to say the words.”

  “’Tis easier and easier with each saying. I love you, warrior wife, and I want you as you are. Pepper me with questions, bristle at me, defy me.” He kissed her nose. “Now, wife, I needs be inside you.” He attacked her clothing, she his, and in no time at all, they swam naked and clean in the small, heated pool.

  “Come.” He crooked his finger and pointed at the rock where he had sat. “Sit.”

  “But I have no garb to divest,” she protested yet clambered onto the rock.

  “Ah, but I seek not to unclothe you but to satisfy my hunger.” He helped her to lie on the flat surface and nudged her thighs apart. He sucked in his breath when he caught her wearing the bold wench half-smile that spoke of wickedness and pleasure. Caressing her belly, skipping his fingertips over her soft, wet flesh, he watched for the change from restlessness to dreamy.

  Then he sank to his knees and feasted his gaze on her folds, inhaled the spice of her sex, before toying with the hood covering her pleasure nub. She gasped and cried out his name when he fixed his mouth there. She tasted of honey and cream and spice, and found her pleasure the moment he thrust his tongue into her puss, locking her thighs around his head.

  By Odin he couldn’t get enough of her puss, burying his nose in her folds, lapping at her juices, inhaling her woman’s musk, and growing sotted on her taste. She climaxed again and again, and began pleading with him. “Njal, please, I beg you. Fill me.”

  Digging her hands into his hair, she tried to draw him up her body. When he resisted, she drummed her heels on his back and growled, “Put your cock inside me, husband.”

  His control fractured, he lurched to his feet, cupped her bottom, and drove into her.

  Her sheath gripped him like a vise, sucking at his flesh, clamping and releasing as she found her pleasure yet again. His seed gathered hot and wild, his balls banging her folds as he blasted into her, pulsing fire. Blood raced to his groin. His skin became too tight to contain the building explosion, and he roared her name when his climax erupted. His seed jetted and jetted into her, the hot surges continuing as her puss milked him, squeezing and fisting, keeping his prick as hard as sword steel.

  He sank into the shallow water to the side of the rock, holding her so she straddled him, and they could both enjoy the persistent aftershocks. Never had Njal felt so content, so complete, savoring the way she surrounded him, unable to stop stroking her spine, kissing her shoulder, the tip of her ear, nibbling at her temple.

  “Njal.” She trailed a finger over his bicep. “I love you.”

  Every muscle in his body tensed.

  “I love particularly your man part.”

  “You said cock before.” His prick had flexed hearing her say the wicked word.

  “’Tis not the word a lady uses.” Her fingers sank lower and his belly rippled when the tip of one rimmed his navel.

  “’Tis one of the words a warrior wife should say oft.” He bit her shoulder, then licked away the hurt.

  She pushed off his chest and met his gaze. “I do believe, peacemaker, that your cock is not yet satisfied. Pray tell me, does a warrior wife suckle her husband’s cock? It seems only fair return.”

  ’Twas dawn before they collapsed in exhaustion, skin too wrinkled to seek the water, but Njal had stacked blankets near the rocks. Cocooned in the warm fabric, Bettina lying on his belly, his cock half-hard inside her, he kissed her forehead and said, “Ask me why I was furious.”

  “Because I disobeyed you?” She wrinkled her nose and glanced up at him. “’Tis obvious.”

  “Nay. Because I demanded the impossible.” He felt her tense and stroked her spine until she relaxed. “’Twas natural for you to be anxious for your mother. I should have taken you to see her and appeased your concern. Instead of forbidding you to step out of Arbroath, I should have explained that until Mordred was contained, you were in danger. And most damning of me, I should never have allowed you not to ask questions.”

  She rested her chin on his chest. “What say you, Njal?”

  “I say I erred.” He traced her eyebrow. “I say naught is forbidden ’tween us. I say we speak plainly, and when we quarrel, we talk.”

  “Had I known ’twould be so agreeable to marry a peacemaker, I would’ve spoken more oft.”

  “You needs know all that has happened.” Njal told her of his agreement with King Máel Coluim.

  “’Tis what you did yesterday.”

  “Aye, but we had not anticipated Petalia warning Hal. ’Twill not be a mistake I repeat. You and I will each speak with all who live in the keep. If needs be, we will hold a formal oath swearing and a feast.”

  “What happens to Mordred’s keep?”

  “Methinks Máel Coluim has already decided to whom he will gift Laufsblað Fjǫllóttr.” He shrugged. “But he has ordered me to give him my recommendations.”

  “What will you say?”

  Epilogue

  “You limp no more, Luca.” Bettina wanted to hug the boy but he had grown, now bore chin fuzz, and avoided any but the male affection of cuffs and backslaps.

  “Aye, my lady.” He stretched his healed leg to the fire. “’Tis your move.”

  Bettina sighed. Fox and Geese had become the rage at Arbroath during the long winter and the keep now boasted over a dozen game sets. She glanced to the doors when the sound of hooves thundering over rocks reached her ears.

  Luca lurched to his feet. “’Twill be the lord and his brothers.”

  But ’twas her mama and Leofric who strode into the hall afore they had packed away the game. Bettina dropped the four geese into a bucket and sprinted across the hall to hug her mother. “Mama. How do you feel?”

  She drew back to study her mother’s flushed cheeks. “All is well?”

  “Aye.” Lady Gwen cupped both hands over her rounded belly. “The babe grows and I am hale.”

  Leofric slipped his arms around his wife’s expanded waist and tugged her back to his chest. “And how fare you, daughter?”

  Gwen had almost lost her babe twice and Leofric had not let Gwen travel before.

  “I am well. What has happened? Why are you here?”

  Leofric kissed the to
p of Gwen’s head. “My wife insisted on one last visit before her lie-in. Wouldst you believe she wanted to ride? She seeks to drive me senseless with worry.”

  “Pah, husband. Stop your incessant hovering. The worst is behind me.” Gwen rolled her eyes. “We travelled by cart. He drove so slowly I wanted to scream. We left at dawn. ’Tis noon.”

  Suppressing a smile that the journey took thrice the normal length of time, Bettina said, “Your old chamber is prepared. Pray spend at least this night with us. Njal will want to speak with you about the treaties when he returns, and I have not seen you in ages, Mama.”

  Leofric shook his head. “We stay three days at Arbroath, no longer.”

  “Who arrived then on horseback if you came by cart?” Bettina glanced at the door.

  “Your husband and his brothers galloped to the stables afore we entered the castle.” Mama kneaded the small of her back.

  Leofric grunted, scooped her into his arms, and strode over to a chair in front of the fire.

  “For the Lord’s sake, Leofric, I am carrying a child. I have not lost the use of my legs.”

  “Your back aches. You will rest. Have you a warm blanket?” Leofric growled, glancing at Bettina over his shoulder.

  “Luca, pray fetch a blanket.”

  “At once, my lady.” Luca retrieved a woolen throw from an alcove and gave it to Leofric, who arranged the cover over his wife, tucking the cloth under her feet and shoulders.

  Bettina’s lips twitched when Mama swatted at her hovering husband. How will Mama react to the news of our babe? Though she knew there would be those who frowned on mother and daughter carrying babes at the same time, she liked the idea of their children playing together.

  She had not even been aware of her missed courses until Njal left to meet the king five sennights afore. Had she not caught the cook and her new maid discussing the matter, why even now she might not have realized her delicate condition. In truth, she felt not a difference save her appetite had increased threefold or more, for her belly growled and rumbled the moment she sniffed food cooking.

  The hall doors banged open and a smiling Njal strode into the great hall. He tossed his helm to a squire skipping to keep up with his lord’s long legs. Behind Njal, Bettina spied Jarvik and Magnus. She frowned and studied the two brothers, wondering why Jarvik sported a wide smile while Magnus wore a scowl that would strike fear into a warrior, far less a page or maid.

  Though she tried to wait patiently for Njal to reach her side, Bettina surrendered and ran to him.

  He opened his arms wide and she crashed into his chest. He smelled so wonderful, of leather, horse, and Njal.

  “I missed you so, warrior wife.”

  “And I you.” She drew back to meet his gaze.

  “Soon. Soon, Magnus, you will be enjoying the fruits of such wedded bliss,” Jarvik’s booming voice cracked the quiet of the chamber.

  Bettina blinked. “Magnus?”

  “Aye.” Njal’s mouth twitched. “The fate of Laufsblað Fjǫllóttr has been decided.”

  “King Mael Coluim has gifted Magnus with a Highland princess.” Jarvik grinned like a fox sighting a gaggle of geese. “Laufsblað Fjǫllóttr is to be his once he marries.”

  “Are you pleased, husband, to know your brother will be our neighbor?” ’Twas long after the evening meal had ended and Bettina and Njal had retired to their bedchamber. She did not want to bleat out her news, but tell him of their coming babe the way a woman of the court would.

  “Aye. Though Magnus has oft declared his intention not to wed and I fear he is not pleased by the king’s order.” Njal sat on the bed unlacing a boot. “Your mother fair glows as the babe grows. Leofric is beyond himself with worry. ’Tis amusing the way he hovers.”

  Bettina shrugged off her cyrtel and tossed the garment into a basket.

  “Nay.” Njal’s arms enfolded her from behind, and he stayed her fingers on the chemise’s ribbons. “For five long senninghts I have waited for the pleasure of disrobing my wife. Think you to deprive me?”

  She twisted around, locked her arms around his neck, and nuzzled his bare chest.

  “I would not let the maids launder your tunic, but slept with my nose buried in it. I know not which part of you I love the most. Your smell.” Sniffing his neck, she continued, “The feel of your hands on my breasts.”

  Emboldened by the heat radiating from his steeled muscles, Bettina led his cupped hands to her bosom, and closed her eyes when his thumbs grazed her nipples. “’Tis amazing that you touch me there and my womanly parts catch fire.”

  When she lifted weighty lids and met the roaring desire in the darkening of his blue eyes, she tiptoed, resting her palms on his shoulders. “Or is it the taste of you I love the most?”

  He growled when she licked the seam of his mouth, and he gripped her bottom cheeks as she suckled and nibbled on his lower lip. His arms tightened and he crushed her to his chest, flattening her breasts, deepening the kiss, tangling his tongue with hers.

  “Nay.” She jerked back. “Wait. Njal.”

  “Bettina—”

  Pressing her hand over his mouth, she smiled. “Nay. I have a surprise planned for you. ’Twill please you, on my oath.”

  “I know not how long I can wait. My seed e’en now gathers.”

  “I am with child,” she whispered and the words pricked her eyes.

  His face lost all color. The hold of his embrace loosened, then tightened, the blue of his eyes disappeared, and little beads of sweat appeared at his temples. “You are with child?”

  “Aye.”

  “By Odin, why are you standing?” He scooped her high against his chest. “You raced across the hall to greet me this eve. Have you no care for yourself or the babe?”

  Bettina went giddy as he paced furious circles in front of the roaring fire, first in one direction, then the next.

  “No more riding. We must find a food taster. You cannot ingest soiled meat. Queen Emma will loan us her midwife. She is much learned.” He halted, laying her down on the straw mattress with such care she couldn’t help but smile. “Your face has good color. Are you eating? Do you have the babe morn sickness? You need wool cyrtels, mayhap a dozen heavy shawls, more bed furs—”

  Placing two fingers to his lips, she said, “And you are the same man who finds Leofric’s hovering amusing?”

  “Nay. The man is clearly out of his mind. Think you I will allow you to travel at all from this moment—far less in a rickety cart?” Njal shook his head. “Nay. In my embrace, ’tis the only way you will travel henceforth.”

  She knew of only one way to distract him.

  “Do you not want to hear of my other surprise?”

  His complexion took on a greenish cant. “More?”

  “Aye.” She jerked her head to the clay pitcher standing on a table not three inches from her head. “Leofric procured for me the Danish court’s coca you so love. I had thought to dunk your cock into the warm coca and then lick it off.”

  Njal’s gaze jerked to the jug, to his groin, then to her breasts. “Nay. Nay. I will not let you distract me from keeping you safe and healthy.”

  Bettina dipped her fingers into the warm coca, painted her nipples with the sticky liquid, and glanced up to meet his gaze when he groaned. Heated languor sank into her veins, and the hood between her folds drummed. A delicious wicked tingling curled her toes, skittered up her legs, and had her breasts throbbing and pulsing.

  She slanted him a half-slotted look, drew her fingers up the center of her sex, and coated the flesh ’neath her reddened hood a deep, rich chocolate.

  Njal hissed out a breath, his nostrils flared, but his eyes never wavered from her parted legs, the slick folds stained dark with the coca.

  “Do you not need a sweet before you sleep, my lord?”

  “Warrior wife.” Njal ripped off his clothes, sending his tunic one way, breeches another. “Know you, ’tis the last time I will allow you your way.”

  Ah, but Leofric had pro
cured not only the coca, but an aphrodisiac oil to keep a man hard and erect for hours, and a potion ’tis said drew a man to his mate the way the sirens drew ships to rocks.

  When Njal put one knee on the mattress, Bettina grasped his engorged manhood between her coca-covered hands. She rimmed the purpled head, sent him a sideways glance, and before her mouth covered his cock, murmured, “I love you, peacemaker husband.”

  ~ End ~

  ~ About the Author ~

  I’m an Iron Chef America and Law and Order addict who loves to cook, eat, and read. I wish you could burn a ton of calories being sedentary and eating. Don’t you?

  Married for thirty-four years to an amazing man who still astounds me every single day, I’m also the proud mama of three fantastic sons, all of whom are now of legal age. If only they’d stop changing majors in college…

  I grew up on the Caribbean island of Trinidad where the population is representative of almost every race and nation on the planet, so multiculturalism oozes from my pores. Though I attended an all-girl Catholic school run by nuns, we were taught all religions, Hinduism, Muslim, Buddhism, and celebrated all the holidays associated with those religions. Did you know many delish foods go with religious holidays?

  Alpha males, strong heroines, exotic locations, and cultural differences are my forte. And from Monaco, to Trinidad at Carnival time, to rural Washington, to Denali National Park in Alaska, to Sleeping Dog, Texas and Norway in 1028 AD, I’m travelling the world through my books, and sharing my view of it with readers.

  My writing career began in 2008, and since then I’ve been lucky enough to have nine books published. Two more, including my first historical, will release at the end of 2010, and I currently have six manuscripts in progress.

  One of the most rewarding aspects of writing is hearing from readers, and nothing makes my day more than an email from someone who’s read one of my books. I love to hear what tickles someone’s fancy. So far, I’ve heard from readers from almost every continent on the planet. Almost…