Viking

by Fabio

  "Dammit!" Viktor surged to his feet. "Will the little hellion never cease her defiance? Enough, then!"

  Viktor stormed out of his longhouse and down the path to Reyna's prison. He spotted Sibeal waiting outside the stone hut, a tray of food at her feet. She was wringing her hands.

  "Jarl, I am worried about my mistress! She was in such a rage that Canute and I were forced to flee her presence. I am distraught because she will no longer eat or even drink!"

  Viktor was too furious to be concerned. "You are distraught? I'd advise you to save your concern for others far more deserving! Reyna has practically been the death of us all! It is time for that little, spoiled brat to be taught a good lesson—and do not attempt to stop me, woman!"

  Sibeal stepped back, biting her lip.

  Viktor ripped off the bolt and kicked open the door. He glanced inside warily, expecting the Valkyrie to leap out at him. Then he spotted her on her pallet. She sat up slowly, but, given his temper, Viktor did not immediately note her sluggish reactions.

  "You," he thundered, shaking a finger at her, "are about to be taught some manners—a painful lesson for you, and a pure pleasure for me!"

  He stalked across the room, knelt, and grabbed her. She did not resist. He started to throw her across his knees, then at last noticed how red and drawn her face was. He scowled and instinctively pressed a palm to her forehead.

  "My God, woman—you are burning up with fever!" he cried.

  NINETEEN

  In the next moment, Sibeal rushed inside the hut. While still holding Reyna, Viktor demanded over his shoulder, "What ails your mistress?"

  Sibeal knelt beside them. "I tried to tell you, my lord. She has stopped eating and drinking entirely—and the room is overwarm."

  Glancing at the fire in the pit at the center of the small hut, Viktor realized Sibeal was right. "It is too hot in here, and if Reyna has stopped drinking, she may be dehydrated."

  Sibeal gasped in alarm. "What is this dire malady?"

  "She may be drained from the heat and from no drink or nourishment," Viktor clarified. "We will pray she is dehydrated and not actually ill—or I don't know what I will do."

  "Nor I, my lord," said Sibeal.

  "Bring drink," Viktor commanded.

  The woman rushed outside, returning momentarily with a tankard of mead. Viktor pressed the cup to Reyna's lips, only to find they were tightly closed as the girl glared up at him in relentless mutiny.

  "Did I not tell you, my lord?" asked Sibeal. "My lady will not cooperate."

  "She will," replied Viktor obdurately. To Reyna, he said with soft menace, "Little Valkyrie, you will open your mouth and drink all of this—now—or I will summon Rollo, Orm, and Canute to hold you while I pour it down your throat— whether you choke on it or not. In any event, my kinsmen will be witnesses to your total humiliation. Well, what will it be?"

  Reyna opened her mouth and began to sip slowly, still glaring at him.

  He smiled at Sibeal, then glanced at Reyna's ragged, filthy garment and hoyden hair. "She is so filthy.'

  'This hut is not a fitting abode, my lord," replied Sibeal. "My lady's bed is on the floor, which is itself no better than caked mud."

  "I agree," said Viktor. "I will move her to my chamber at the longhouse. But first, I will take her to the hot spring and bathe her—"

  Sibeal's hand flew to her open mouth. "My Lord, you must not! "Tis not fitting for you to attend my lady!"

  Viktor stared from the appalled Sibeal to Reyna, who appeared equally aghast at his intentions. "I must see to the task myself. After all, Reyna is to become my bride. And if I trust her with a woman such as you, you know she will escape."

  Sibeal sighed. "Yea, my lord, you speak the truth. Verily, my lady has brought this calamity on herself through her defiance. Go see to her cleansing, and I will go to your long-house and bid your housekeeper find milady a suitable garment."

  Sibeal swept out. As soon as Reyna had downed all the mead, Viktor stood with her still tightly clasped in his arms. He left the small hut, proceeding through the frigid night toward the bathhouse.

  "You little fool," he muttered under his breath. "Now I must save you from your own recklessness."

  Staring up at the grim-faced, determined man who carried her, Reyna was feeling astounded by all that had transpired, as well as dizzy and very confused. She wondered why Victor the Valiant had not simply killed her and been done with her. How could he still insist he would make her his bride, as much as she despised him? Why did he treat her with this confusing combination of sternness, gentleness, and humor? Did he not know he could never win her heart, much less her loyalty?

  Reyna would have loved to have slain Viktor now, but she was far too weak. For that she had only herself to blame.

  Sometime during the past few days, she had simply given up and decided that if she could not escape him, she would starve herself and die before she gave in to his demands.

  But even this perfidy Viktor would not allow—he had forced her to drink the mead, damn his eyes. Now she would no doubt live, though the fermented Libation had left her feeling weaker, more defenseless against him than ever.

  And he actually sought to bathe her? Rape her, far more likely! she thought with fear. Thanks to her own folly, she could not stay him if he decided to force apart her thighs.

  Yet Reyna feared something far more than Viktor's ravishment—she feared herself, her own desires. She feared that Viktor, instead of raping her, might arouse her to passion once more with his devastating combination of tenderness and teasing. She feared he would melt her resistance with his pretty blue eyes and the strange, soulful words he sometimes used to woo her.

  By the saints, being close to him this way, with his body so hot and hard against hers, with the night wind chill on her feverish face, was torture enough! One of Viktor's strong arms was clamped under her knees, another braced against her back, and her hip bounced intimately against his hard belly as he strode along. She could smell his male scent, could feel his warm breath tickling her hair and the heat of his body radiating into hers. He was her enemy, yet she felt oddly cherished, held in his strong arms. For the first time in her life, Reyna wondered what it would be like to stop fighting, to turn herself over to a tender warrior who would fight her battles, protect her to the death, and make her his queen.

  Oh, what was happening to her? He must be a sorcerer, this man. Perhaps he had been granted special powers in Valhalla, for he inspired thoughts that could seduce her straight ■into the madness of self-betrayal and surrender, subjugation and defeat ...

  Viktor kicked open the door to the bathhouse and carried Reyna inside. The hut was lit by two whale-oil lamps. Ottar and his younger brother, Tyre both damp-haired and wearing just leggings, popped up from the bench where they had been drying themselves with towels. Both lads stared wide-eyed at the sight of Viktor holding the filthy Reyna in his arms.

  "Jarl!" cried Ottar, staring at the disheveled girl. "What are you doing?"

  "Please leave us and see that no one else disturbs us," came Viktor's gruff response.

  "Yea, jarl,' said Ottar. He and Tyre quickly gathered their gear and left.

  Viktor set Reyna down at the edge of the bubbly pool, so that her toes dangled in the effervescent water. He watched her flex a shapely foot and stare at the bathing pond longingly.

  He plopped down beside her "Why did you try to starve yourself, Reyna?"

  Staring ahead with her jaw clenched, she did not answer. He reached out to smooth down her tousled hair, and she flinched, hurling him a glare.

  "Do you find my touch so loathsome?" he asked.

  She jerked a glance toward him, her bright eyes telling him in no uncertain terms that she did.

  He chuckled. "You may have lost your common sense, but not your spirit, eh, milady?"

  She crossed her arms over her chest and ignored him.

  "The silent treatment again?" he asked. He studied her haughty profile thoughtfully, noting
the slight quivering of her proud chin. "You know, Reyna, you put on quite a show—quite a warlike facade you have. But a true warrior woman would never starve herself, but stay prepared to defeat her enemy. I suspect, then, that you are a little more moved by me than you want to admit."

  Still she said nothing, although her hands curled into tight fists at her sides.

  "You are so fierce, Reyna that sometimes it is hard for me to think of you as feminine, or fragile, or vulnerable," he continued quietly. "But you are all of those things, aren't you? And that's what scares you so much that you want to starve yourself—because in time you are going to be all of those things with me. We will share everything together as man and wife."

  Now he had roused her wrath. She turned to him and spoke with eyes burning and fists raised. "You lie! I will wed Loki himself before I become your bride! And I will yet smite you for your treasonous tongue, Viktor the Valiant!"

  Viktor whistled, then grinned.

  Reyna attacked him with both fists. Viktor grabbed her wrists, easily holding her defenseless.

  "Let me go!" she demanded.

  "You should not battle me when you are so weak, little kitten," he taunted her.

  She screamed deprecations and tried to wrench her hands away, but ultimately ceased struggling against his superior strength, although she continued to glare at him.

  Only then, with another chuckle, did Viktor release hen He casually pulled off his tunic and smiled as she stared wide-eyed at his naked chest. He caught her glancing downward, at the outline of his aroused manhood straining against his leggings. He winked at her. Her face flamed and she hastily glanced away.

  Still, Viktor couldn't resist commenting on her delicious lapse. Leaning toward her, he whispered intimately, "Don't worry, Reyna. You will have it. I'm hoping it will soon become your most treasured plaything."

  She tried to glower at him but could manage only an uncertain frown, and he noticed to his delight that her eyes had gone beguilingly wide.

  He spoke in low, firm tones. 'Take off your shift. I'm going to bathe you now."

  She was horrified, her spirit recovered. "Nidhogg take you, Viking!"

  But Viktor was not about to be thwarted. Without warning, he grabbed Reyna's wrists and wrestled her down beneath him at the edge of the pool. Again he easily subdued her.

  "Let me go, Viking!" she screamed.

  "Nay, Reyna, not while you're still this filthy."

  Restraining both of her wrists with one of his hands, Viktor drew out his dagger. As she gasped, he made a neat slit in the top of her garment. He replaced the dagger in its sheath, drew back, and rent the cloth from neck to waist.

  Reyna stared up at him in appalled silence.

  He gazed unabashedly at her body—at her lovely, firm breasts falling and rising, at her quivering belly. "You are so beautiful," he murmured, his hand touching the side of her breast through the ragged edge of cloth, and straying dangerously close to her taut nipple.

  Reyna cried out incoherently at his daring touch; when she tried to bolt away, he rolled his hip over hers to stay her. A wince of shock and desire escaped her, and she found she could no more summon the will to fight him. Viktor felt so solid, so crushingly good against her, and his intense blue eyes were wreaking havoc with her heartbeat, her emotional equilibrium, even as the heat of his hard arousal on her pelvis pushed a powerful, raw pulse deep between her thighs. The throbbing need was exquisitely pleasurable, and more potent than ever before.

  "You shame me, Viking!" she cried.

  "I do not," he replied fiercely. "There will never be shame between us, Reyna. I will know your body, and you will know mine, and we will both glory in the intimacy and discovery."

  Hearing his words, Reyna struggled to control her own ragged breathing as she very much feared he had spoken the truth.

  He caught her face between his hands. "Do not try to convince me that you do not feel what I feel, Reyna. We know each other already."

  Reyna felt confused and traitorously touched by his words and me emotion in his gaze. He was regarding her with a strange reverence, not the lust or brutality she would have expected from any other Viking conqueror. And just as she had feared, having Viktor behave with such gentleness toward her was far more devastating than bearing the brunt of all the savagery his magnificent body could have unleashed on her.

  "What say you, Viking?" she asked warily.

  He spoke in a mesmerizing whisper. "I am saying we are linked, Reyna. Linked in our souls. You must feel it, because you are part of me. Our being together is preordained, inescapable."

  "Destiny," she murmured with a pensive frown, remembering Sibeal's usage of this word.

  A smile lit his eyes. "Yes, destiny. I am saying I know you, Reyna—and you belong to me." He lovingly swept his hand down her side, curling his fingers around the sleek curve of her hip. I know this body." When he glanced back up at her, his smile grew very sad. "It's strange to feel you are mine, yet have you denied to me by your will."

  "Why say you I am yours?" she asked quietly.

  He was silent for a long moment, then whispered, "Because I have loved you in another life."

  Reyna looked up at him in utter awe, her stunned words barely audible. "You have lived another life, Viking?"

  When he stroked the curve of her jaw with his fingers, she did not pull away. "Lived it—and loved you there."

  Despite herself, Reyna was fascinated. "Did you live this life when you went to Valhalla?"

  After another hesitation, he replied, "Yes."

  "And I was there with you?"

  He leaned toward her until his lips almost touched hers. "You were in my arms, in a tub very much like this, and I was inside you. Very deeply inside you."

  She gasped, her cheeks very hot, but not from fever.

  He brushed her lips tenderly with his, then pulled back. "As I said, it is destiny. You can fight it, Reyna, but you can't win."

  She was silent, yet appeared very intrigued. She started to say something, then evidently thought better of it, clamping her mouth shut and regarding him warily.

  Viktor felt a stab of disappointment at her emotional retreat. "Likely I should not have told you that, should I?" he asked with a trace of bitterness. "Now you will use the knowledge as a weapon against me, won't you, little warrior?"

  "Not that," she admitted, surprising him. "I would not."

  He stared deeply into her eyes. "Why wouldn't you?"

  She met his searching gaze fully. "Because such a gift from the gods is most sacred. And because—w

  He leaned closer, until she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. "Yes, Reyna?"

  Shocking even herself, Reyna admitted breathlessly, "Because your eyes were sad when you told me, Viktor the Valiant. I know of such sadness."

  "Do you?"

  Pride flared on her lovely face, and Viktor could literally see Reyna marshaling her defenses, pulling up barriers to shield herself from his further probes into her soul.

  "But that does not mean I will be yours—ever, Viking. Or ever trust you. Or ever ..."

  "Yeer. " he prodded.

  "Be wife to you!"

  "Even if it will stop the bloodshed?" he asked passionately.

  She raised her chin. "I have no desire to stop it"

  Hurt and determination tightened his jaw. "Fair enough. Then I'll simply have to change your mind, won't I?"

  She did not comment.

  He tugged on her garment "For now, I'm going to bathe you."

  She clutched the ragged edges for dear life. "You will not. "

  "I will."

  Viktor slipped down into the pool. Reyna made a token fight as Viktor hauled her into his arms. But all her resistance faded the instant she was enveloped by the bubbly warmth. The water felt effervescent and marvelous; the strength of 'Viktor's body surrounding her felt even better, she had to admit.

  Gaining the advantage of her brief lassitude, he pressed his mouth to her ear. Take off your
shift, Reyna."

  That titillating remark propelled Reyna from her lethargy. She squirmed out of his embrace, sinking into the chest-deep pool, her toes contacting the rocky bottom. Facing him defiantly, she cried, "Nay!"

  "Nay?' he repeated, lifting a brow. "You say that word much, milady. I may just have to kiss a few more 'nays' out of you."

  "I will not give up my garment!" she retorted, again clasping the frayed edges. "Even though you have ruined it, Viking."

  Viktor laughed. "Reyna, quit being such a stubborn chit Your servant is bringing you another dress. You cannot put it on until you take off that rag—and why not get yourself really clean in the meantime? "

  Reyna was silent seeing 'Viktor's logic but stilt afraid to trust him—or herself—once the garment was removed. She very much feared that once she abandoned her shift, she would abandon what remained of her inhibitions as well.

  As she continued to hesitate, Viktor reached for the cake of soap the others had left on the stone ledge above them. With determination he moved toward her; she gasped as he easily tugged the shift from her shoulders with his free hand. Even in the warmth of the pool, gooseflesh convulsed Reyna at his bold touch. She felt very vulnerable standing next to him in the water, now totally nude, his splendid, muscled chest and arms also bare—and so temptingly close.

  He reached out to smooth the soap across her shoulder—

  Reyna flinched, as if burned. "Please," she pleaded.

  "You do not want to be clean?" he teased tenderly.

  "I will see to the task myself.'

  He chuckled, placing the cake of soap in her hands. "See that you do, Reyna."

  Relieved, she caught a sharp breath. He moved off a few paces, crossed his arms over his chest, and stood watching her audaciously. Lathering her hair and running the soap over her body, Reyna wondered what was worse—having Viktor touch her, or having him devour her with those bright blue eyes as he was doing now. When he had slit her gown, she had fully expected him to ravish her. Instead, he had touched her with kindness, respect even, and despite her claims to the contrary, she had not felt shame. Indeed, damn her traitorous desires, she had gloried in it, especially when he had spoken his soulful words and looked at her with such painful longing. She had actually felt the link between them then, just as she felt the potent physical need for him in her breasts and deep between her thighs. Had she let him bathe her, she doubtless would have freed that nice bulge in his leggings and made her own disgrace and treachery complete.