The Viking Hero's Wife

by Catherine DeVore

  The Viking Hero’s Wife

  Catherine DeVore

  Copyright 2012 Catherine DeVore

  All Romance Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to www.allromanceebooks.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Edda dropped her wash basket into the dirt as a cry went up in the village. Such a racket could only mean one thing: the dragonships had returned. Uttering a little cry of her own, Edda hiked up her skirts and ran for the shore as though she were a girl and not a woman married.

  As she neared the waters, she saw the prow of Valgard’s ship, the Odinsvolk, not carved as a traditional dragon as the rest, but rather as a mighty, snarling wolf. Valgard’s first great deed had been slaying a mankilling wolf at the tender age of 8. He had done much else since—Valgard Thorson’s name was sung throughout the land as a great hero—but people still told the tale of Valgard and the wolf in the hushed tones reserved for legend.

  Edda dropped the hem of her skirt as she neared the crowd welcoming their warriors home. It wouldn’t do for a woman of high standing to be seen so undignified, she thought, with a soft snort to herself. No matter that all she truly wanted at this moment was to throw herself into Valgard’s arms.

  “And for you, little Sveni, your man Harald has brought you back wine so sweet that even his face will be a pleasure to look upon once you drink of it!” boomed a deep baritone voice that sent chills down Edda’s spine. “Say nothing of the jewelry. I had thought perhaps to put it upon your husband to improve his countenance further. No need to thank me!” A roar of laughter went up as Harald, plain of face and kind of heart, lifted both his chest of spoils and his slight wife and set single-mindedly off for their home.

  Edda pushed through the merry, laughing crowd, impatient to see her husband. Her heart constricted in her chest as she spotted him, tossing treasure from the decks of his ship down to his faithful friend Thialfi Arnlaughson. When he laid eyes on her, Valgard let out a great whoop of joy, leaping down from the prow. Edda winced, not eager to see her husband’s leg broken within minutes of their reunion, but Valgard landed nimbly as a cat and charged toward her, spinning her around.

  “My beautiful Edda!” He laid a passionate kiss on her lips, much to the amusement of the onlookers. “For weeks I have thought my eyes were growing weak as I gazed on the ever-graying shores of the Picti, until at last I realized they simply thirst to see your face again.” She buried her face against his chest, smelling Valgard’s familiar scent. As she pressed her body to his, Edda felt heat building deep in her groin. She was separated from Valgard’s muscled chest and leather armor by only a linen shift, her nipples pricked and hardened, reminding her that it had been a long time since she had been with her husband.

  Much to her disappointment, he pulled away slightly. “Soon, my love,” he murmured in her ear. “You know I must see to duty first.”

  Edda sighed, crossing her arms over her breasts to hide her arousal. Though Valgard was well-respected and well-liked, he was not the village headman. Edda secretly thought that if Valgard were to challenge old Jonakr Agmundson for the role, the people would welcome him as their leader with open arms, but Valgard refused to try, saying only that he preferred the freedom to come and go as he would. Edda was sorry for it, both because she would like for Valgard to stay by her side, and because Jonakr was no great leader.

  He and Jonakr had butted heads two years ago when one of Valgard’s fighters had died, leaving a young widow and son behind. Jonakr had craftily insisted that the widow could not inherit her husband’s treasure without wedding a new husband first, suggesting that he himself might make a good match for the comely young thing. Valgard, perhaps seeing the horror in the young woman’s eyes at the thought of being second wife to such an old man, had intervened, although he had no authority to do so. The woman, he argued, would be better-suited to a man who had no sons, so her son would not be forgotten as an heir. When a young warrior had volunteered, swearing before Odin that he would raise the boy as his own, Jonakr had no choice but to back down. He’d never forgiven Valgard for the offense.

  Lifting the largest chest of treasure from the heap, Valgard strode proudly through the village towards the longhouse where Jonakr held council. Swinging the great oaken door open, Valgard approached Jonakr’s chair. The rotund man’s eyes glinted at the sight of the chest, but he made no move to greet Valgard. His wife, a gray ghost of a woman called Idonea, stood by his side with a horn of ale.

  “Jonakr Agmundson, my headman,” Valgard proclaimed, his voice echoing through the hall. “My warriors and I have returned from a successful raid, bringing the wealth of the Picti back with us.” He spilled the chest open on Jonakr’s table, revealing gleaming chalices, torques, coins, and other fine riches. “This, I offer to you as a token of my loyalty.”

  “We are glad to see our brave warriors return triumphant, as always,” Jonakr said in that oily voice of his. “Let us hope that you might stay amongst us for longer this time.”

  Something about the tone of his voice raised the hair on Edda’s neck. She’d never liked Jonakr, but surely it was just her bias on Valgard’s behalf.

  “That’s my hope,” Valgard said merrily, his muscular arm encircling Edda’s slim waist. “I’ve missed my wife and my home fiercely. And on that note, if you’ll excuse us...”

  Jonakr waved a dismissive hand. Edda breathed a soft sigh of relief as Valgard ushered her back out, strong hand on the small of her back.

  “I hate that man,” she muttered to her husband as they strolled back towards their plot of land. Valgard laughed, hugging her close. Edda’s heartbeat raced as she pressed herself close to him.

  “Let’s forget Jonakr right now,” Valgard whispered into her ear. “I had other things on my mind.” Edda squealed as he scooped her up in his strong arms, striding quickly across the village commons. Friendly shouts followed in their wake as Valgard swooped down the path leading to their home. “What about your share of the treasure?” Edda asked suddenly, recalling that he hadn’t taken any of the chests.

  “My men will save it for me,” Valgard said indulgently. He kicked the door to their house open, tossing a giggling Edda onto their bed and slamming it behind them. “I am far more interested in reacquainting myself with your ample charms!”

  Edda watched with hungry eyes as Valgard stripped off his tunic and jerkin, revealing the muscular planes of his chest and stomach. Edda ached to trace the lines of his scars. Suddenly desperate to feel his skin against hers, Edda wiggled out of her linen tunic, shivering a little as her bare skin was exposed to the cool air. She flushed with heat again, though, as Valgard’s eyes raked over her body, nearly predatory in their intensity.

  “You may not believe me,” he said huskily as he lay beside her in the bed, “but I have not been with another woman since we were wed. Many of the other men take their pleasure where they will when we are away, but I cannot, knowing who is waiting for me at home.”

  Edda cried out softly as his rough, sword-callused hands stroked her breasts with surprising tenderness. Her soft, pink nipples began to harden immediately under his caresses. Edda rolled on top of Valgard, urgently pressing her lips to his. Their tongues lashed against each other as Valgard’s hands stroked up the backs of her thighs and under her skirts, pushing her against him as he gripped her buttocks firmly.

  Edda squirmed against Valgard
’s growing bulge, feeling the slit between her legs grow wet. She, too, had been faithful to him over the long weeks—there had been oblique offers, certainly, but Valgard was not only her love but her hero, her savior. Edda would sooner cut off her own arm than betray him.

  Valgard, though, was maddeningly patient. Hoisting her up slightly, his hungry mouth found the taut pink nubs of her nipples, first teasing with a clever tongue, then nipping gently. Each tiny bite sent shocks of pleasure tingling through Edda’s body. Helpless to defend against Valgard’s skill, Edda gripped his shoulders and moaned desperately.

  Even as he teased her breasts, Valgard rubbed against her just so, pressing his erection against her aching slit. She reeled with need for him, marveling at his control. Valgard was breathing hard, and it felt as though his cock were practically straining through his pants. His greedy eyes were on her, watching her reactions, waiting until she was wild with need to take her.

  Edda gave in to Valgard’s caresses, molding her body against his. She felt as though she were melting, liquid heat spreading across her skin. As Valgard stripped away his trousers and hiked up her skirts, it was nearly impossible to tell where their bodies separated save for the deep, greedy ache deep within Edda’s core. She heard words falling from her lips, pleas for Valgard to enter her, and she was helpless to stop herself.

  Edda cried out as Valgard, satisfied with his dominion over her, pushed the blunt head of his cock against her swollen, slick lips. He parted her and entered slowly, pushing inch by inch. He was a well-endowed man to begin with, but their months of separation had left Edda feeling as tight as a virgin. It was sweet bliss to be stretched out and filled up again.

  Valgard, finally surrendering some of that iron control and thrust deep into Edda’s channel. His groans of pleasure as his thick shaft split her open again and again drove Edda wild. She bucked her hips up against him, wanting to have as much of him as she could.

  “Oh, my love,” he moaned, his member twitching deep within her.

  “I’m so close,” Edda gasped in return, locking her legs around Valgard’s waist. “So close!”

  Unexpectedly, Valgard reached down and stroked Edda’s hard clitoris as he plunged into her. “Good,” he growled, sinking into her to the hilt. “I want to feel you climax on my cock.”

  The shock of his fingers on the most sensitive part of her drove Edda over the edge. Her fingers dug into Valgard’s back as she cried out like an animal, her channel pulsing with pleasure that sparked through her whole body. Valgard, groaning, pumped into her throbbing core only a few more times before Edda felt his hot seed spurt into her, filling her up with warmth.

  They lay together in a tangle of sticky limbs, panting and exhausted. Edda rested her cheek on Valgard’s strong chest, listening to his heartbeat slow down as his breath returned to normal.

  “Do you remember the first time we met?” she asked him, smiling up at him.

  “How could I forget?” Valgard laughed. “I was never so surprised as when you propositioned me, you minx.”

  Edda smiled at the memory. Her appearance didn’t make it obvious, but she had been born into slavery to a Picti kitchen woman at a keep miles from here. Valgard had been traveling through on a quest when he’d stopped for supplies. Edda had been shoveling ashes out of the hearth into a bucket, her long, lank hair obscuring her face, but something about her had caught Valgard’s eye nonetheless.

  “Excuse me, miss, but could you tell me where I can find lord of this keep?” he’d asked, courteous as if she were a lady.

  “He don’t leave his schedule with the likes of me,” Edda had retorted, tossing her hair aside. Valgard had taken a step backwards at the fire in her eyes and the beauty of her features, but Edda mistook it for something else. Usually when men talked to the slaves, they had rather different motives in mind.

  “My apologies, miss,” he said, with a little bow. “I shan’t disturb you any further.”

  When one of the lord’s guardsmen had come to her the next morning, Edda had feared that Valgard had taken offense. She had stood dumbstruck when the guard had removed the shackle from her ankle, tossing it aside.

  “That wandering warrior has purchased you, woman,” the guard grunted, shoving her towards the great hall. “Go see to him.”

  Spotting Valgard at the head of a long table, Edda stalked over. “What are you doing, idiot?” she hissed in Valgard’s ear. “I’ll have nowhere to go, and I won’t be your whore!”

  “I thought you could travel with me until you found somewhere you wanted to settle down,” Valgard said soothingly. “I only bought you so I could free you, nothing else. I swear on Odin’s name. Speaking of, what’s yours?”

  By the time they’d found Valgard’s prey, they’d been wed by a priest in a beautiful grove near a tree that Valgard swore sprang from the root of Yggdrasil itself. Through their marriage, Edda had known peace, prosperity, status, and—most importantly of all—love, in ways that she’d never believed possible as a slave.

  “Six whole years already,” Valgard said dreamily. He kissed the top of Edda’s head with a tenderness that belied his warrior’s prowess. “I meant it, you know. I have not had another woman since we were wed.”

  “And so it should remain!” Edda laughed, punching his arm lightly. Secretly, she was touched. It wasn’t common for wandering warriors to stay faithful.

  “It shall,” Valgard promised, embracing her in his strong arms. “It shall.”

  ####

  “Valgard!” The cry at the door jolted Edda from her rest.

  “Thialfi?” Valgard said muzzily, rubbing his eyes. “What urgent need wakes me from my bed?” He kissed Edda’s hair as he reached for his clothing. His best friend Thialfi stood silhouetted in the open door.

  “My apologies, friend,” Thialfi said ruefully, averting his eyes as Edda tugged the blankets up higher, covering herself. “Jonakr has called an emergency council.” Indeed, faintly, Edda could hear the clanging bell calling the village together.

  “What emergency could there be?” Valgard asked grouchily, but he began dressing. “Wait outside, Thialfi.”

  Edda reached for her dress as the door swung shut again. “I hope it’s nothing serious,” she fretted.

  “I’m sure it’s Jonakr’s usual wind-blowing,” Valgard said, shaking his head. Edda wasn’t so sure; Jonakr was slimy and sometimes selfish, but he was usually a good headman, or he tried to be.

  Her heart constricted with unknown fear as she, Valgard, and Thialfi hurried across the square. Other warriors, some of them with concerned wives in tow, followed them to the longhouse. Edda noticed with a twinge of amusement that the other men fell naturally in line behind Valgard, cementing him as their de-facto leader. Even through her fear, she flushed with pride.

  “Jonakr!” Valgard cried, striding into the great hall. “What has happened, that you should ring the bell when we are home not a day?”

  “The need was great,” Jonakr replied in unctuous tones. “I have received word from our brothers downstream at Thorsfell that they are under assault by a band of sorcerers. Their losses are already too great. We must send our warriors to their aid.”

  Valgard’s expression was stoic, but Edda could tell he didn’t like this twist in events. “Jonakr, my liege, we have been home less than a day. Many of us bear wounds yet unhealed, and I can speak for myself, at least, that after my first night back to my beautiful wife, I am not well-rested yet, either.” Nervous laughter spread through the longhouse.

  “I know this, Valgard,” Jonakr said, his face the very picture of regret. “Yet unless we wish to consign our closest allies to death, you and your men must sail again tomorrow morning. Have you heard of the fell druids of Loch Arkaig? It is said that the dark clan leave no man alive and no women whole when they strike. Going to our brothers aid is the brave thing—the right thing—to do.”

  Valgard was silent for a long moment. Edda held her breath, hoping he’d finally challenge the headman—
it was dangerous for him and his warriors to journey out so soon when they would be at less than full force.

  “You are correct, Jonakr,” Valgard said wearily. “We will gather gear and supplies and what rest we may today, then ride out on the morrow.” There were no cheers as there usually were when the warriors set out to battle. The whole village knew that this journey would end in many deaths on both sides. Valgard and Edda walked slowly back across the green in silence as the village hastened to restock the longships.

  “How could you do this?” Edda demanded as soon as they were on the path to their home. She was alarmed to find that her voice was thick with sorrow and not angry as she had imagined. “You just returned. You can’t leave me again!”

  “Jonakr is ever looking for a way to discredit me,” Valgard said tiredly. “I must not let him reduce my standing or it is my men who will suffer. I am sorry, my love, I would not have had it this way.”

  Halting on the path, Edda gripped Valgard suddenly. She kissed him so violently that their teeth clashed together, her tongue forcing its way between his lips. “Then you must love me tonight as you never have before,” she demanded. “How else can I let you go so soon?”

  “My pleasure.”

  Edda gave a squeal as Valgard scooped her into his strong arms and set off down the path at a jog. Slamming their door open, Valgard threw her onto the bed, pulling his jerkin off so quickly that the laces popped at the wrists. Edda struggled out of her skirts, overtaken with desperate need.

  “Get on the bed,” she ordered, shoving Valgard down as he stripped off the last of his clothing. Edda was pleased to see that his cock was already rising thick and hard.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, an eager glint sparkling in his eye. Edda climbed on top of him so that her face was level with his hardening shaft, her hand pulling his foreskin down to reveal the sensitive flared head. Edda flitted out her tongue to taste him, stroking it over the slit at the very tip of his cock. Valgard groaned low in his throat, his hips twitching, as she greedily slid his shaft into her throat. As she swallowed his length, his fingers probed at her exposed slit, seeking out the hard nub at the center of her. Edda groaned around Valgard’s cock as he teased out her juices, stroking her swollen lips open.