The Viking's Heart

by Jacqueline Navin

  It was, in fact, what she had been counting on to absolve her from her obligation to the betrothal. Robert’s announcement swept away that hope.

  She felt her shoulders sag. With Robert’s magnanimous pardon, nothing had been altered since she had fled.

  Ah, nay—everything had changed! She was now more determined than ever to be free. She wanted Agravar. She had risked everything to come here and fight for a future with him.

  Hilde was saying something. Rosamund vaguely registered the praise the portly maid was gushing for the lord of Berendsfore. Alayna was on Rosamund’s other side, gently prodding her to finish her toilette.

  It seemed strange, Rosamund noted as she finished binding her hair, that Veronica was remote. Almost sad.

  Agravar sat in the hall, hunched over his cup and staring at a pile of rushes on the floor. He had a million questions and no way for answers.

  Namely, why had she come back?

  How frustrating that he had no right to demand to know. He had to sit here, as if she were nothing to him. God, that pierced him to the core. The falsehood, the pretending—that was the worst of it.

  He tested the ale and grimaced. It was tepid and sour. The shock to his tongue convinced him he had sat here long enough.

  Pushing away from the table, he observed that the place was filling up with people. The servants were setting up the trestles. It must be near supper. Had he been brooding all day?

  Looking for a purpose, he went to the stables, but his horse was well tended, so he wandered to the lists. No one was about, which was to be expected at mealtimes. In the outer wards, a few merchants and yeomen were hurrying to get their business done in the castle so they could exit the barbican before the portcullis was lowered and make it home to their humble suppers and waiting families. A typical day. Yet it seemed so vastly empty.

  When he walked past a row of houses, a woman caught his eye. She immediately leaned back against the wall so that her breasts jutted out and she gave him a sly kind of smile.

  She looked familiar, he thought distractedly, then remembered she was one of those dratted blondes who dogged him with their blatant invitations and cunning looks.

  He climbed to the ramparts and watched the sun disappear into the western trees. With its departure, the air grew cooler.

  He would not go back to the hall. Rosamund—if indeed she had come down to the meal and not taken food in her room—would be seated with Robert. So he stayed on the ramparts until darkness had descended in full.

  A guard passed him on his nightly rounds. “Chilly out, Captain,” he commented, stopping to chat.

  “Aye,” Agravar answered distractedly. He didn’t say anything more, didn’t even turn around. The guard’s friendly smile turned into a perplexed expression, then a shrug as he continued on his way.

  Agravar climbed down the stairs and headed for his chamber.

  Just outside his door, a figure stepped from the shadows and into the illuminated pool cast by one of the torchlights. He froze. Rosamund.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded, surprise making his voice gruff.

  She smiled, and the bottom dropped out of his heart. “I had to.” Holding up her left hand, he saw she held a shoe. He recognized it immediately. He still had the other, the only keepsake he possessed. It was in a secret place in his chamber so that even the servants who swept and dusted would never see it.

  Dangling the slipper from one finger, she said, “What was I to do with this? ’Tis no good without its mate.”

  He moved. She came to him and he crushed her against him, burying his face in the elegant curve of her neck, breathing her scent.

  “My God, I never thought I’d feel you again in my arms.” He grabbed fistfuls of her hair and tugged gently. Her head fell back. She was laughing giddily. “Jesu, woman, how I’ve missed you.”

  “And I you, you wretched Viking.” She was nearly breathless, smiling while unshed tears glistened in her eyes. “You haunted my every thought. Why, all the while as I was prowling the crumbling forums of Italy, I kept seeing you. You went to a sorceress and had her bewitch me, admit it. All to drive me back here.”

  He laughed, too. “If you caught sight of my face when you came through the door, you would know I had no inkling you would ever set foot inside these walls again.”

  “I assure you I had eyes for no other face but yours. I waited far too long to see it.” She leaned in closer. “To see you and to kiss you. Would you have me wait longer?”

  “Your invitation is too pretty.” He began to dip his head, then stopped and cast a look about him. “Nay, not here. We might be spotted. Come here, into my chamber.”

  They stepped inside, and once the door was shut behind them, he grasped her arm and swung her into an embrace. “Now, allow me to make amends,” he murmured, and his lips came down over hers.

  Hot sensation, a consuming hunger, grew greater as the kiss deepened. She opened her mouth readily to him, reducing his legs to water with the sweet, timid touch of her tongue. Bolder than she, he delved into her mouth like a ravenous man. His hands slid up and down her back, molding her shape, pulling her more tightly to him.

  As he feathered light kisses across her forehead, she said, “Every night without fail, I dreamed of being here with you again.”

  “I had to banish you from my thoughts.” She made a small sound. He explained. “There are differences between men and women, Rosamund. My thoughts, when they are of a certain woman with hair the color of the golden sun just before it sets and eyes deep and dark as raw honey, are rather…noticeable. ’Twould be unseemly if I were constantly walking about the castle in such a state.”

  He smiled and she bit her lips. Through the meager moonlight, he could see small, white teeth clinging to the plump flesh, and he had an overwhelming urge to feel the contrast of hard and soft with his tongue.

  Instead, he took a taper and went just outside his door to catch it afire on the wall sconce, then returned to light the torches mounted on either side of his small window. “Do we need a fire?”

  Standing with her arms wrapped around her, she shook her head. “I do not think I shall be cold.”

  He grinned. “Come, sit with me,” he said, leading her to the bed, the only place to sit in the small chamber.

  Giving him a baleful glance, she hung back. “You are not so clever as you would like to think, Agravar, if you plot to catch me with that feeble ruse.”

  “Rest easy, for I am ready for answers first.”

  Coming to his side, she sat close. Very close.

  Agravar drew in a deep breath and observed, “’Tis the first time I ever told you to do something and you did it.”

  “Surely not the first. I give everything you say to me great weight.”

  “I remember telling you to untie me and you refused.”

  She demurred. “Well, there were circumstances…”

  “Which were?”

  “You were fouling up my plans.”

  “Thus you felt compelled to whack me on the head and truss me up like a stuffed goose.” His hand in her hair was tender, nearly reverent.

  “Are we on that again? I told you, ’twas Davey who gave you the whack.”

  He smiled softly. “I see you do not deny the trussing.”

  “Aye. I helped,” she admitted grudgingly. “But I was very gentle. And I returned to you and nursed you to health.”

  He leaned back. His arm went behind her and she angled into it. He said, “’Twas the least you could do.”

  “As I recall,” she replied, “there was more to it than that. I believe I paid the debt in full.”

  “Aye, ’tis true. In full and more.” Her heat along his side was torture, like a drop of water to a parched man.

  His voice lowered. “Tell me, Rosamund. After all you did to be free, why did you return?”

  “I had to come back. You see, I am very like my shoe.”

  “Your shoe?”

  “No good without i
ts mate, remember? Nothing was any good without you.”

  “Just for me?” he asked.

  “I love Gastonbury. I love the people. But in the end I knew I had traded one misery for another. I would never be content without you. I love you. I thought I had been quite clear on that matter when last we were met.”

  He bowed his head, absorbing words. It felt glorious and strange at the same time. He, who had never had anyone, save Lucien, care a whit about him. “I cannot think Davey was very happy to bring you back.”

  “Davey grew…difficult, but I was not about to answer to him as if he were Cyrus. When I insisted to be brought back to England, he reluctantly agreed, but said ’twould be the last service he ever did for me. He would not speak to me during the entire journey home. He promised he would see me safely through the gates. You will probably find him already gone.”

  “And what of Robert? Did you know he would be here, ready to claim you again?”

  Her shoulders sagged as she sighed. “I admit, ’twas a shock to see him when I arrived, but I knew I would face him soon enough.” The convulsive way she swallowed belied her worry. “He…he is a very kind man, a good man. I realize I need have no fear of him. So many gifts you gave me, Agravar. I know now that every man is not like Cyrus, because of what you taught me. I will speak to Robert. ’Tis my hope he will have no desire for an unwilling bride. I shall tell him the truth, that is all.” She stopped, tilted her head to the side and added, “Perhaps not the entire truth.”

  “Come here,” he said roughly, and pulled her to him to be kissed. She came willingly. Her momentum tipped them gently back onto the bed.

  Pulling back, he looked at her closely. “You are certain you can do this—speak to Robert?”

  “Aye. I must be honest with him. ’Tis what the Lord says will set us free, after all. Truth.” Her lashes lifted and their eyes locked. “And then I shall have to go about trying to find myself a husband. Do you know of anyone who would be willing?”

  His hands slid down over her hips. “How would you fare as the wife of a bastard Viking with no property and a tragic allegiance to a dour, sour-faced lord who you happen to dislike?”

  “You do not have to make it sound so…unsavory.”

  His chest felt as if his heart might burst right out of it. “Did I? How clumsy of me. Especially when ’tis what I wish you to do.” His voice was hard and hoarse. “Rosamund. You are my life. Do you understand what I am telling you? I am nothing without you.”

  “Then be something with me. Be my love,” she murmured.

  “Aye. Always.” His gaze fastened on her lips as she drew closer. He couldn’t stop himself. His body burned. She moved her slender frame over his. Whether or not she was aware of the fact that her breasts brushed against his chest, or that her hips were flat against his belly, he didn’t know. But he was aware of all of it and more. Of the way her hair fell over them, cocooning them in dark gold. Of the soft pressure of her caressing fingers on his neck, touching his ear, tracing the line of his jaw to his chin. Of the delicious feel of her mouth over his.

  “I came back to you, Agravar. Only for you.” Taking his face in her hands, she stared hard into his eyes. “I said it once, and it has remained unchanged—I belong to you.”

  His hands would not be still. He wanted to take all of her in, the feel of her, each taste, each texture. And she was his—his. Had she not just said so?

  She pushed at his shoulders, so he moved aside and allowed her to stand beside the bed. Just about to ask her intention, his breath caught as her hands lifted to the shoulders of her gown and slowly began to peel it off.

  He rose up on his side to watch, his body growing unbearably tight. She removed her gown, then her shift. Stepping forward, she made to come back to his bed.

  Holding out his hand to stop her, he let his gaze wander, taking in every inch. Where his eyes touched, his hand followed lightly, almost casually. Her skin glowed in the light. Her nipples were already tight, and her abdomen rippled when he passed his hand over it. Between her legs, the soft curls guarding her folds beckoned.

  “Move over, you Viking beast,” she said. Kneeling beside him on the bed, she took up the pointed ties of his shirt. Impatient, he tugged the thing off and cast it aside.

  “’Tis still not fair,” she commented, her fingers tugging at the waistband of his leggings.

  “You have become insufferably bossy.”

  She bit her lips to keep from smiling. “Why thank you. And I owe it all to you. Now undress.”

  “I would not dream of denying you.”

  When he had discarded the remainder of his clothes, she pushed him back. Her hands went to his side to inspect the healed wound.

  “It knitted clumsily. You have a scar.”

  “There are many others to keep it company. If you ordered me naked just to look at them, I shall be sorely disappointed.”

  She laughed, and to his utter shock, stretched out full on him. “This is how I dreamed of being with you.” She breathed across his chest, raising gooseflesh and tiny, exquisite tremors. Her skin was hot against his.

  Hitching in a shaky breath, he managed to say, “I see you gave the matter a great deal of thought.”

  “Did you never think of me, as well, Agravar?”

  “From time to time. When boredom arose.”

  Her small fist pounded his great chest once.

  “Allow me to elaborate. I was bored much of the time.”

  She angled a coy glance at him. “Is that so?”

  “In fact, all the time.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Why are you not kissing me?”

  “A deplorable oversight,” she agreed.

  “Shut up,” he said with a sultry grin, cupped the back of her head and brought her head down hard so that her mouth was crushed up against his.

  That languorous feeling swept over him again. “I have waited too long for you,” he murmured. “Later we shall take our time, but I must have you now.”

  She seemed drugged, nodding and whispering, “Aye.”

  Reaching down, he pulled her knees on either side of his hips. She braced her hands on his shoulders. He placed a palm on the small of her back and shoved her upward until a taut nipple was within reach. He touched his tongue to it, then suckled until he heard her cries of pleasure. Running his hands down her hips, he cupped her bottom, lifting her.

  His manhood was hard, swollen with straining desire, but he slipped inside easily. Above him, she arched.

  His hands on her hips taught her the rhythm. She moved silkily over him and he settled back as his pleasure began to mount.

  She was so lovely. Then she glanced down at him and their eyes locked. Her hands twined in his. Thrusting his hips upward, he let his body speak the passions that filled his heart. He was taken over by pure need now, riding it out with her. She arched and writhed with her own pleasure and he thought his body would burst into flames.

  He saw the moment she climaxed and it spilled him over into that delirious oblivion as well. She stiffened and let out a tiny shout. Her teeth caught the meager light as her lips drew back. With long, smooth strokes, he crested the shattering sensation until it crashed around him, exploding and shimmering in waves that pounded him at first, then gentled until they were only tremors washing down his limbs.

  Gradually he came back to himself. Rosamund had curled onto his chest and he gathered her in his arms, kissing her hair, the curve of her ears—anywhere his lips could reach.

  “You see what I told you,” she said, still a bit out of breath. “Nothing else is any good if we are not together. And we are so good together.”

  “You talk too much.”

  “Well, I have been silent and docile all my life. I am finally able to talk and I want to talk.”

  He sighed. “Very well then, talk.”

  There was a small silence. “That was all I had to say.”

  He chuckled and gave her a squeeze. “I love you.”

&
nbsp; “Hmm. I shall never tire of hearing that. Promise me when we are old and our grandchildren are running about, you will still tell me.”

  Smoothing the hair back from her face, he peered at her. “Rosamund…you know I want you. I would take you to wife without another thought—but there is Robert.”

  “I already told you, Agravar. I plan to speak with him. I had thought…I had thought he would not be interested in me after my ‘abduction’ because he would assume my virtue had been compromised.” She giggled and touched a finger along the line of his chin. “Which it was. Only not exactly as he would think. I had thought he would wish to release me.”

  “Robert would consider that dishonorable. He is nothing if not an honorable man.”

  “Aye, I see that now. But surely, being so, he will not wish to force the marriage if I do not wish it. ’Tis not as if he has any affection for me. He has barely spoken a dozen words to me. He is always busy with Lucien or Veronica—he far prefers them. And I cannot imagine the fortune or advantages I bring him are singular. Cyrus has no special influence and my dowry is not large. I was merely a mediocre choice for him. He will be reasonable.”

  “When will you speak to him?”

  “I must wait for the right time. I will not deceive you, Agravar, my brave words go only so far. There is still fear. But ’tis a fear I can overcome. I will not shrink from it as I did before.”

  He kissed her brow, then rested his forehead against it. “Do it as soon as you can. I can barely stand the wait as it is. And if you need me—”

  “Oh, I do need you. But as for this matter, I must do it alone.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  She left just after dawn. It was foolish to have waited so long, but they had talked for hours. She told him of her travels, the things she had seen, the different way of life on the Continent. They had made love again, and then dozed. When she had awakened, she could not possibly have left him without giving him a farewell kiss. This had roused him and they had simply lost track of the world after that. Now, as she tiptoed along the corridors, she took great care not to be seen by any of the early-rising servants.