Twin Passions

by Miriam Minger

  His strong hands were everywhere, teasing, stroking, until her skin felt warm and tingling from head to toe. His fingers explored the moist core of her, while his mouth, hot, insistent, suckled hungrily at her breast, occasionally nipping her gently with his teeth. She moaned in ecstasy, overwhelmed by the heated torrent of his desire, as he trailed a fiery path of kisses down the curved indent of her belly to the soft silver-blond mound of curls between her silky thighs.

  Gwendolyn gasped in surprise as his mouth found the bud of her desire where his fingers had been only moments before. She tried to pull away from him, but he held her fast, his hands supporting her hips. Thrilling to this new sensation, she gave in to the heady waves of passion that coursed through her body like flickering tongues of flame. She moaned with wild delight, arching her back.

  Suddenly Hakon drew himself up over her, his startling blue eyes ablaze with desire as he slowly entered her. Supporting his weight with his arms, he held back for a moment, watching in fascination as she writhed beneath him. She reached up and wrapped her arms about his waist, then pulled him to her.

  Hakon could wait no longer. Inflamed with an urgency borne of the burning need to possess her completely, he plunged himself into the warmth and softness of her body. She cried out his name, over and over, her legs gripping him tightly, as he thrust deep within her to the hilt of his manhood.

  Gwendolyn met him with a passionate fury that equaled his own. Panting, breathless, they raced together to that apex of desire. For one blinding moment it seemed that the world had stopped but for the fusion of their bodies into a throbbing, shuddering whole.

  Hakon collapsed against her, nuzzling her neck with gentle kisses as their breathing returned to normal. Afraid that he might crush her with his weight, he gently rolled over to one side and pulled her to him, cradling her head against his shoulder. Holding her close with his strong arms, he felt a numbing sense of contentment wash over him. He knew this was how it was meant to be between them . . . forever. He chuckled deeply as her fingers played absently with the golden curls on his broad chest.

  "Yea, I believe 'tis time I took a wife," he stated softly.

  Gwendolyn started in surprise. "My . . . my lord?"

  "Perhaps a wench with silver-blond curls and emerald eyes the color of the sea." He smiled, his teeth a flash of white as she looked up at him in astonishment. He suddenly brought himself up on one elbow, his hand tenderly caressing the silky skin of her cheek. His eyes burned into hers with piercing intensity.

  "I love you, Anora."

  Gwendolyn gasped, but he gently touched his finger to her tender lips.

  "Yea, and when I came so close to losing you this night, I finally realized that my life would be naught without you.

  Never again shall it be said during a feast that 'tis a pity you are a slave. When I return from Trondheim, you shall become a free woman, and my wife."

  Bending his head, he pressed his lips to hers in a breathtaking kiss that seemed to echo his words over and over . . . I love you . . . I love you.

  Tearing his lips away from hers at last, Hakon gathered her into his arms. "We must rest now, my love. The morn will come only too soon." Sighing contentedly, he lay his head back against the eiderdown pillows and closed his eyes. He knew his revelation had startled her, and, he hoped, had pleased her. She had given him no response, though he had not really expected one. He knew such a fragile thing as love could not be forced. Yet he felt sure that one day Anora would return his love. Why, even tonight there had been more than passion and desire reflected in those deep, emerald depths. Yea, something more . . . perhaps a smoldering ember of affection that could one day flare into a raging love that would match his own.

  It was not long before the steady rhythm of Hakon's breathing told Gwendolyn he was asleep. She looked up at him, her heart in her throat. Slowly, and ever so softly, she traced her finger down the high-boned planes of his face and across the sensuous curve of his mouth. Suddenly she shuddered from deep within her, and would have cried out but for fear that she would wake him. She felt as if she were being torn in two, her soul ripped asunder by the conflicting emotions that warred within her. The feeling that had plagued her, tearing her apart and destroying her resolve, had at last found a name . . . love.

  Aye, she loved him, more than she wished to admit to herself. Hakon, the Viking warrior she had sworn to hate and defy until that one day when she and Anora would escape from him forever.

  Gwendolyn's agonized thoughts swirled about in her mind. What could she do? Tell Hakon the truth, that she had adopted the guise first of a boy, then of Anora, to protect her sister's virtue? He was in love with the women he thought was Anora, not her! Would he release her sister, and allow her to return to their homeland if she stayed with him in Norge? Nay, she could not be sure. Perhaps he would have them both! She knew that many Vikings had more than one wife!

  She shook her head fiercely. Nay, their love could never be! She would play the part, whether it be of Garric, or wife to Hakon Jarl, until that day when she would make good her vow to Anora, and escape from the Viking and the love that would capture her heart forever.

  Unable to keep her eyes open any longer, Gwendolyn at last fell into a tormented sleep.

  Chapter 29

  Gwendolyn awoke with a start to find she was alone in the wide bed. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and looked about the room. It was clear that many of Hakon's things were gone—his silver coat of mail, the conical helmet, several weapons—and the lids to the heavy, carved chests were open, as if he had not wanted to disturb her slumber by closing them shut.

  Sweet Jesu! What if they have already left! Gwendolyn bounded out of the bed and ran to the nearest window. She tore aside the leather shade and peered outside. The sky was overcast, laden with gray clouds that foretold a coming snowstorm. It was so dark that she could not tell what time of morning it was, though she had an awful feeling it was late. She could see many Viking guards walking about the nearby longhouses, but this side of Hakon's hall faced away from the fjord. She would have no way of knowing if his longship was still moored at the docks until she walked from the main entrance.

  Turning back into the room, she hurried over to the ornately carved chest that held her clothing and threw back the lid. Hastily she donned a plain linen chemise of pale yellow and a mantle made of gray fustian, a strong cotton cloth. Her fingers shook as she quickly fastened two silver filigree brooches to the shoulder straps of the mantle. Her eyes darted about the room in search of her leather, fur-lined slippers.

  "God's blood! Where are they?" she cursed impatiently, her heart pounding against her chest. Finally she spied them near the bed. She ran and picked them up, hurriedly slipping them on. Grabbing her fur cloak from the hook, she wrapped it about her shoulders and ran from the room.

  The main hall was dark and cold. Even the glowing embers in the central fireplace lent little warmth to the large room. Gwendolyn hurried across the hall, gathering her cloak about her, and pushed open the massive wooden door. She could scarcely breathe, dreading what she might find. If Hakon's longship was gone, all was lost.

  Relief flooded her body as she caught sight of the long-ship, still moored at the dock. Already some of the crewmen were taking their seats at the oars, and she could see Hakon on the deck, directing what appeared to be the last load of supplies into the cargo well. His voice, deep and resonant, carried out over the din of commotion that surged around him.

  "Yea, put that over there, man! Olav, if all is ready we will sail shortly. The wind is picking up, and from the looks of the sky it does not bode well for good weather. We must sail soon if there is any hope of reaching the mouth of the Sogn by nightfall."

  "Yea, my lord!" Olav replied heartily from his place at the helm of the longship.

  Gwendolyn felt a tingling sensation at the sound of Hakon's voice, remembering the words he had said to her the night before. But she shook her head. Nay, there would be plenty of time
to think of that later, she chided herself. Now, she had to find Anora.

  Anxiously she hurried along the path toward the stable. What if Anora was no longer there? She had not seen her aboard the ship, but perhaps Hakon had sent her on some errand elsewhere in the settlement. She shivered, her cold lips mumbling a quick prayer that she would find her sister yet in the stable. Her eyes darted about, noting the swelling numbers of Viking guards now manning various posts at each of the longhouses. No doubt many of them had arrived during the night, while others even now were riding in from various settlements across the valley.

  She was not surprised that none of the Vikings harassed her or even tried to speak to her as she made her way to the stable. She could see several of them watching her closely, their heated glances frank and appraising. Yet she suspected that they had already been warned to stay away from her. Berta had told her that Hakon made it known he would kill any man who touched her.

  The door of the stable was ajar. With her heart in her throat, Gwendolyn stepped into the dark, musty building, her eyes peering all about. She saw no one. The only sound was the baaing of the sheep and the cackling of chickens. She felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she turned and walked back to the door. God's blood! She was too late! A sudden wind blew in through the open door, swirling the dust from the hay into the air. It tickled her nose, and she sneezed violently, startling Anora, who was just returning from the storerooms with a small bag of dried corn for the chickens.

  "Gwen—Anora!" she exclaimed, dropping the bag of corn, her eyes wide. She picked it up quickly, looking furtively about her, then pushed Gwendolyn back inside the stable and pulled the wooden door shut firmly behind them. Her voice was almost frantic.

  "I hoped you would come, Gwendolyn, but when it grew so late I was beginning to think I would not see you before I left with Lord Hakon!" She gripped her sister's arm. "What am I to do? I know naught of serving as a page . . . I shall be found out! I do not want to sail with him, Gwendolyn!"

  "And so you shall not," Gwendolyn replied hastily. "Quick, hand me your clothes, Anora. We shall exchange places once again!"

  Anora quickly obeyed, her hands shaking as she pulled at the leather belt at her waist, while she kicked off the boots on her feet. Shrugging off the fur-lined jerkin that had so successfully camouflaged her small breasts, she stripped the woolen shirt and breeches from her slender body and threw them toward Gwendolyn, who was pulling the pale yellow chemise over her head. It was just a few more moments before they were once again dressed in each other's clothes.

  A faint smile curved Gwendolyn's lips as she adjusted the leather belt about her waist. It felt so good to be dressed in breeches again! Though the silken garments had been a delight to her skin, she had missed the freedom of movement only a man's clothes could afford.

  "These are so much finer than the plain shifts I wore in the cooking house," Anora murmured, rubbing the soft linen sleeve of the chemise against her cheek.

  "Aye, so they are," Gwendolyn agreed, "as befits the favored concubine of Hakon Jarl."

  Anora gasped. She had been so caught up in admiring the garments that she had forgotten how they had come about. She blushed, her eyes downcast.

  "Listen to me, Anora," Gwendolyn whispered, ignoring her sister's discomfort. Her eyes were intent, searching. "You must remember to act the part of mistress of Lord Hakon's household while I am gone. I have told you of many of the duties Berta has taught me. You must do them just as I would, and give her no cause to think that aught is amiss." She smiled reassuringly. "I am sure you will have no trouble with the loom. Just mind that you do not appear too proficient. You know how I am when it comes to such tasks!"

  "Aye, Gwendolyn, I will not forget." Anora nodded.

  "And one other thing," Gwendolyn murmured, then hesitated. She had to tell her about the night before with Hakon, so she would know how to respond to him this morning. If she were too cold, too aloof, surely he would think something was strangely different about her. But how could she tell her of the passion they had shared, and his words of love, without giving her own feelings away?

  Gwendolyn shook her head. Nay, she would not think of her own feelings now. If their guise was to succeed, Anora had to know that Hakon planned to take her as his wife. She took her sister's hand in her own.

  "Anora, I do not know if you have heard any talk of this yet, but last night Hakon's brother, Rhoar Bloodaxe, stole into the settlement during the Yuletide feast. There is not time to tell you all of what happened, but I was nearly abducted by him when I left the hall for a short while to get some fresh air."

  Anora gasped, her eyes wide with concern. "Did he hurt you?"

  "Nay, but he could have. Rhoar is a fearsome man," Gwendolyn replied. She shuddered, remembering the cold look of hate in his eyes. "Fortunately, Hakon heard me scream, and Rhoar released me, but not before he swore that one day I would be his. I tell you this only because you must know, Anora. Last night, after Hakon and I . . ." She paused, blushing under her sister's gaze. Then she continued: "When we lay in each other's arms, he told me that he—"

  "Garric!" Hakon pushed open the door of the stable. "Come on, lad, 'tis time to sail. Leave the rest of your chores for—" He stopped in mid-sentence, gazing in surprise at Gwendolyn and Anora.

  Gwendolyn's heart leaped at the sight of him, standing so tall and powerful just within the door. But she quickly looked at her feet, shifting uncomfortably. It would not do for Garric to gaze so upon Hakon Jarl! She cursed under her breath. Now, Anora would have no way of knowing the intensity of Hakon's feelings for her. Well, there was aught she could do now, only hope that Anora would not spurn him too harshly.

  "I was about to return to my hall to bid you farewell, Anora," Hakon said softly, walking to her side, "but I see you had the same thought for your brother."

  "Aye, my lord," Anora replied, her gaze steady as she looked up at him. "I shall not see him for many days. I only wanted to wish him godspeed."

  "I, too, will be gone for many days," Hakon murmured. "Come, I will walk with you back to the hall." He took her arm and led her from the stable. "Garric, gather your things and see that you are aboard the ship before me!" he called out over his broad shoulder, with scarcely a backward glance.

  Gwendolyn shook her head in disbelief. Hakon was jealous of her . . . of Garric, that was! Aye, there had been no mistaking the angry flash in his blue eyes when he saw her and Anora together. For some reason the thought gave her a rush of pleasure, but she quickly shrugged it off. If she was to be Garric again, she would have to act the part. She only hoped her eyes would not betray her. She bent down and picked up the roll of clothing Anora had prepared for the journey, then hurried from the stable. With the wind at her heels, she ran down the hill toward the longship.

  Hakon did not say a word to Anora as they walked down the path to his hall. He did not know why it angered him so to see the two of them together . . . after all, Garric was her brother. He shrugged. Perhaps he did not want to share her with anyone! Suddenly he noticed that she was shivering despite her fur cloak. He drew her closer to his side, his arm about her waist.

  Anora stiffened, then forced herself to relax. It would not do to anger him further before he left, she thought, at least for Gwendolyn's sake. He might vent his feelings upon her once he was aboard the ship. She ventured a look up at him, and found him regarding her with heated intensity. She turned her head away, blushing, and did not look at him again until they had reached the entrance to his hall.

  Hakon paused at the door, then drew her into his arms and crushed her to him. "I must leave you here, my love, though I would like nothing more than to carry you into my chamber and repeat what we shared last night!" His lips brushed against her forehead, then sought her mouth. He started. Her lips were so cold. He kissed her deeply, warming her mouth with his own, but the passionate response he had expected was not there. Drawing back from her for a moment, he gazed into her eyes. He did not see desire
reflected in those emerald depths, only a hint of fearful resignation.

  How strange, he thought. It was as if he held a different woman in his arms. Olav's hurried approach suddenly interrupted his dark thoughts.

  "My lord Hakon, we must sail at once if we are to escape the storm that is approaching from the north! If the snow begins to fly too heavily, we will be forced to wait another day." Olav looked away, embarrassed that he had disturbed his lord in the midst of such a private moment. But there was no help for it. What was now a gentle snowfall could turn into a blinding squall in only a moment's time.

  "Yea, Olav, you are right." Hakon sighed, his eyes never leaving Anora's face. He bent and whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her neck. "Remember my words from last night, Anora. As soon as I return from Trondheim . . ." He kissed her again, but lightly this time. Already his mind was on the voyage ahead. "If you would like to begin preparations early, Berta will help you with anything you need. Farewell, my love." With a last fervent embrace he was gone, striding quickly down the path to the dock with Olav at his side.

  Anora watched as they boarded the ship. She could see Gwendolyn's small form sitting at one of the rowing benches and she waved her hand, a smile lighting her face as her sister quickly did the same. But she could also feel Hakon's eyes upon her. The smile faded from her lips, and she looked away.

  "Oars down!" Hakon's sharp command echoed about the settlement. The oars on the starboard side of the ship hit the water with a resounding smack, while the crewmen on the port side used their oars to push away from the wooden dock. Soon the longship had cleared its moorings, sliding like a serpent over the calm surface of the fjord.

  Anora's eyes followed the longship until it disappeared around the bend in the fjord. She shivered, gathering the luxurious fur cloak closer about her body. What had the Viking meant, preparations? Shaking her head, she stepped into the hall.