by Sandra Lake
The height and the breath of the horse were impressive. He snorted and stomped a curious greeting to Lothair. After a few quiet moments, a black nose pushed against Lothair’s arm. He slowly reached for the bridle and rubbed the beast’s forehead. “Big, grand fella like you won’t bite me, will you?” he whispered in Saxon.
Lothair slowly slipped into the enclosure, which he suspected was reserved to keep the troublesome beast from picking fights with the gentler stock. He offered an apple and was rewarded with a soft nudge to his shoulder for more. “You are a beauty, aren’t you?” He stroked down the horse’s front quarter, hopefully building enough trust that he could venture a ride without spooking the fine creature.
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Katia said softly. She had appeared in the closed stall without a sound.
He twisted, looking around the high-walled pen. The gate was still latched. She must have scaled the sidewall without him noticing.
“His name is Thunder. Did you know I was the first to ride him?” she said, smiling at Lothair. “The Mogador tribe that held him whipped him and he could not look at a man without a desire to take a chunk out of his shoulder, but I saw through his ill-temper and loved him straightaway.” Thunder stomped his front hoof, jerked his head up, and let out a loud high-pitched neigh of agreement. Katia laughed and stroked the horse, calming him back down.
“You should not be here,” he whispered, looking over the half wall. “Your father would not approve of you alone with a strange man in a closed stall.”
She kept smiling at him, the wrong kind of smile. The kind of smile that told him she was happy and truly excited about something.
“You are not a strange man. You are Lothair, my . . . friend.” She bit her lip and stepped closer to him.
“I’m too old for you.” He raised his hand in warning and stepped back.
“Yes, four years older, you’re practically ancient. You also have two sisters that you adore and your first love will always be the sea.” She raised her brow in a challenge.
“Who told you that?” Someone had betrayed his confidence.
“You did mostly, don’t you remember? Last night sitting around the bonfire with Tosha and Lars . . . you did drink quite a lot of my uncle Hök’s brew.”
“What did I say?” He swallowed hard, trying not to panic or turn red in front of her. He honestly had no memory of the night before.
She giggled at him in her soft, unnerving way. “Just your sister’s name and the sea part. I figured out your age the first night you were here.” She leaned against the wall, not looking like she was going to leave anytime soon. “I saw your match this morning. I think your competition may have still been drunk.”
“What did I say about the sea?” He closed his eyes, trying to remember.
“Nothing really, just that you are never going to wed anything but your ship. I was relieved to know that there will always be at least one ship out patrolling for pirates, keeping us all safe.” She dropped her smile and became suddenly more serious. “Truly, Lothair, I think you should tell my father about your passion. I know you think he is just like the rest of them, bent on power, but I swear he is not. He cares more about one tradesman than he does a castle of dignitaries. The lives of his merchants and craftsmen are as dear to him as any of his noble relations. He wants wealth, yes, but it is to better protect and serve his people of Norrland. I guarantee that if you ask him for a commission to sail one of his ships in order to protect the Baltic traders, he would be the first to sign on.”
“Katia.” Her name caught in his throat. It sounded too intimate. “I never said your father was not a righteous man. He has a fair reputation. Still, his father did not, and there are thousands of his countrymen that do not. This is the land of Viking bloodlines. I wouldn’t expect your father to put up steel against his own.”
“That is where you are wrong.” Her eyes sparkled with trust and eagerness. “If trade ships are under attack, he will want to do the right thing.”
“Supporting the duke’s trade agreement is the first step.” Lothair could not help but grin down at her bright face, flushed pink from her innocent enthusiasm. He knew of few maidens, certainly none in Saxony, who took an interest in politics. But the jarl’s daughter was no typical maiden, was she? Her delicate form contradicted her strength and her sharp tongue was masked beneath virtuous femininity. If she hadn’t been born female, he guessed he would have been able to classify her among his closest friends. Nevertheless, she was a beautiful young maiden and their paths were set—they could never be friends. Both his father and her father would surely flog him within an inch of his life for even imagining a friendship with the innocent princess.
***
Katia’s heart pulsed in her throat. Her body hummed with anticipation, as it always did in Lothair’s company. He was so close to her, yet so far away. She longed to reach out and trace her finger down the bridge of his long, straight nose, or run her fingers through his silky-looking hair. She stared unashamedly into his lovely green eyes, and heat rose up from her chest and spread across her cheeks.
Blushing was becoming a common occurrence lately, and her pale skin highlighted the insuppressible reaction. Katia had given up dwelling on it. She swallowed the tumultuous emotions welling inside, biting her lip to help keep them locked in. She was having a difficult time remembering what they were talking about. She should say something smart and well thought out, but couldn’t think of anything. He was staring at her and so her mind went blank as she stared back, memorizing the small jagged scar that curved down into his brow. It was the most perfect and interesting brow she had ever seen.
He raised his hand and gently brushed back her hair. His hand came to rest on the nape of her neck. He cradled her jaw, carefully tipping it up, and his face inched toward hers.
Bless every star in heaven, her mind shouted. He is going to kiss me! At last. Praise be to all the angels of mercy!
They had come so close to kissing last night at the bonfire—not that he knew that. She had considered just pouncing on him, but then thought it may be wrong of her to take advantage. Last night didn’t matter. This moment was much better. For a start, neither one of them was drunk, and they both would remember this perfect moment forever and always. She closed her eyes, leaned in, and felt the radiating warmth from his skin.
His lips would be pressing into hers any moment. Hers were dry so she quickly licked them. He was so close, the whisper of his breath mixed with hers. She was ready and waiting—and waiting. Why was he dithering?
She cracked her eye open to check.
Lothair was stiff and silent, not retreating but not advancing. He seemed stuck, staring at her mouth.
She sucked in the heady mix of his warmth and cedary scent. It was all the fuel she needed to do what must be done. Before he could retract the small ground she had gained, she leaped up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.
Score! First point goes to Katia! She could hear shouts of triumph from the backbenches of her mind. As her heart took its victory lap, her mind struggled to register every sensation that she was feeling.
She took it as a good sign that Lothair did not push her away. His mouth softened, and he raised his hand to her face and stroked her cheek with the tips of his fingers, igniting a fire with each light touch.
Suddenly, they were moving, and her back was pressed into the wall. His hips pushed into her belly softly and his lips moved with more urgency. She was desperate for more. More of what, she didn’t fully understand—just more. It was all so wonderfully exciting, and she was ravenously hungry for a sensation for which she had no name. She clawed her hands into the fabric of his tunic but it wasn’t enough.
He clasped her face between both of his large hands and pressed harder onto her mouth, prying apart her lips and thrusting his tongue into her mouth. Her startled cry was swallowed up by hi
s powerful mouth, which was devouring hers in a fierce, primal motion. He groaned, sending a shiver to her toes and her knees went to water. His kiss became more eager, twisting her head to partake from the other side of her mouth. She pulled herself into him more, wanting more, feeling more of everything but not feeling enough of something . . . something was missing. She pressed her hips into his thigh.
Katia thought her body would burst into flames with the growing sensation of excitement. A throb in her belly had started, spreading lower, making her feel strange, urging her to wiggle her hips more. His lips never stopped devouring hers, tasting her with insatiable hunger.
Without warning, he jerked her head up, shoving her face away, and bumping her head into the wall.
Her mouth hung open, instantly cold and throbbing. He was staring at her, his chest rising and falling as if he were fresh from the sparring ring. He looked fierce with his brows pinched together in pain and frustration. Something had gone terribly wrong. Tosha had told her she should practice kissing on some stable lad before trying it with a boy that mattered. Perhaps Tosha had been right, and Katia had just spoiled her chance with Lothair by not knowing how to kiss properly.
“You are too young,” Lothair said in a low, raspy tone. “You are the jarl’s daughter. I do not want a wife.”
“Who said anything about a wife?” She blinked rapidly, trying to catch her breath and figure out what she had done wrong.
“You’re no more than a child.” He jammed his fingers into his hair, looking up to the rafters of the stable. He looked like he wanted to pull his own hair out by the roots.
“I am not a child! And you want me. You like me. I can tell you do by the way you look at me.” Her fingers tingled. They were cold and longed to reach out and touch the radiating heat of his chest.
“What would you know? You’re naught but an innocent,” he said with mounting anger. Katia was defenseless to this blow. He was saying something that was actually considered an honorable truth by all, so why did it pierce her heart so keenly? Her eyes stung and the embarrassing urge to cry swept over her.
Lothair must have seen this because he quietly said, “Flickas like you believe in love. It is a stupid notion, love. It is not real. Only lust is real. This”—he pointed his finger back and forth between them—“this is lust. This is not lasting. It soon fades. Trust me.” His face softened, and he appeared somewhat regretful for his harsh tone. He kept the distance between them, but reached out to her, smoothing her hair behind her ear. “I say this not to be cruel. You should learn this lesson while you are still young. It will save you a lot of wasted time later. Especially when your father takes you back to the king’s court to put you on the market. Beware and heed my words, Katia.”
Katia was dizzy from his rapidly changing demeanor, but she understood he was confused and probably a bit nervous. Boys tended to act angry when it was truly fear they were feeling.
“You’re just a little scared, is all,” she said. “I completely understand. I used to be repelled by the thought of wanting a beau. You’ll change your mind. I did.”
His fingertip rubbed gently behind her ear as he carefully secured her hair in place. She was breathless from his small touch, but continued. “I once swore I would never wed, but I now confess, I am warming to the idea. Being a wife isn’t as bad of a notion as I once thought it to be.”
Shaking his head, he took a step back. “Go then. Go wed some Norwegian prince and bear him lots of little princes and princesses.”
“I don’t want to wed a prince.” She frowned with at the revolting notion. “I don’t want to wed just anyone.” Being a wife had never appealed to her but . . . she wanted him, and she wanted him to want her. She wanted him to look at her and change his mind and want a wife. A heavy rock landed in the pit of her stomach. She knew that if he were to wed any other maid, Katia would hate that lucky girl with a violent passion.
The truth of her feelings for Lothair wanted to rush out of her like steam from the kettle. She may not get another chance to be alone with him. She loved him, or at least she thought she did. This must be what love felt like. She summoned all her courage and looked up. “But if I have to wed, if I must one day be attached to a man, I want to wed someone that matters. Someone that wants to make a difference.”
“No. Don’t look to me,” he said flatly, pointing his angry finger at her. “Go find someone else to set your scheming smiles upon. I’m never taking a wife. Wives are for politicians. I want none of it. No responsibilities, no one to hold me back, no one depending on me.”
“I do not wish to hold anyone back. I don’t need looking after by any man and especially not by a husband.” He had kissed her with his tongue—he may have said he didn’t want a wife, but that did not erase the fact that his tongue had been inside her mouth, proof that he did want her, or at the very least, his body wanted her, in a wifely kind of way. “Don’t you see, Lothair? This is exactly why you would be perfect for me.”
***
Lothair glared down at the troublesome, beautiful girl. “Not perfect. Nowhere even close to perfect. I’m a bastard, Kat. My life is a lie.” He blurted out the truth with the intention of scaring her away. It was dangerous to spill the duke’s secrets but he had no other choice. Katia was the most stubborn and determined girl he had ever met. He took in a sharp breath and prepared to do battle with her. He would need to wound her if necessary, though he already knew he would hate himself for it the moment it was done. He had let this . . . attachment go too far. “I need no other burdens to weigh me down.” There, he’d said it. She’d shrink away and find someone else to smile at now.
“So you are the duke’s son instead of his nephew. Who cares?” She shrugged.
“Who told you?” he shouted. Thunder snorted and neighed, agitated by the aggression directed at his mistress.
She shushed the beast and said softly, “’Tis obvious to anyone that observes the duke looking at you. His pride and love for you can be seen across a crowded room.”
“Hmph,” he snorted. That couldn’t be true. His father only ever looked at him to find fault. Someone must have said something.
“Did you know that some of my favorite people are bastards?” Katia continued. “The jarl’s brother, my favorite uncle Hök, is a bastard. Five different guardsmen claim Tosha as their daughter, so strictly speaking, that makes her a bastard and she is my dearest friend. I have a half brother in Korski, whom I’m very fond of. He’s also a bastard, and for the first half of my life, some people in Turku called me a bastard, so . . .” She smiled again. This was a new smile, one he had not yet recorded to memory. The corner of her lip twisted up and her eyes sparked with a new flame. “I think I was destined to kiss one. Don’t you think?”
“No.” He wiped any emotion off his face and worked to hold on to his resolve. “I think you need to go up to the fortress.”
“Pff . . . fine,” she said, her temper slipping through her flirtatious grin. “Be that way . . . for now.” Her lips curled into one of her consolation smiles. “I’ll just wait for you to change your mind. I hope you don’t keep me waiting too long, though. I would like to get going and have some adventures of my own—see the world, do important things. But that’s fine. I will wait for you to be ready and change your mind.”
“I won’t change my mind. Do not wait for me. I won’t be back.”
“All right, Lothair. No need to shout and upset Thunder. I heard you.” She tried to grin but the expression washed away too quickly. “Perhaps you want to be the one to woo me? I know some boys are like that. Want to be the hunter instead of the hunted.” She flipped her manner again and winked at him. “No worries. We shall play the game by your rules and see who wins out in the end. We both know who landed the first point in this round.”
Popping up high on her toes, she threw her arms around his neck.
She kissed him with bruising
force, pulling away with a gasp, “That would be my second. You are shockingly slow with your defense, Lothair.” She giggled softly and tugged a hair ribbon from her sleeve. “Throw it away or keep it. I really don’t care.” Bouncing away with a skip in her step, she froze mid-step. Turning back around with a warning glare, she added, “Just don’t give it to another girl.”
She winked at him and Lothair groaned, fully aware of his lack of defense. She was slaying him with her soft smiles, her sweet scent and fluttering eyelashes. If she kissed him again, he would be wed before the farewell feast.
He looked down at the rose-colored silk ribbon. She’d worn it in her hair yesterday. He had no clue how to respond. Thunder snorted with impatience and Lothair looked up to discover Katia was gone. She had disappeared as furtively as she had appeared.
He twirled the ribbon through his fingers. It felt as soft as the skin behind her ear.
Chapter 5
Four years later . . .
Bogolyubovo Palace, Kievan Rus Territory
Markov’s hand shot out and his nails sank into her right bottom cheek. Katia reached for her hidden dagger up her sleeve; she thought better of it and retreated. She meekly slapped the hand of her attacker instead. The pox-marked worm released her with a spank to her bottom, chuckling along with his foul-breathed soldiers, who had all taken their turn trying to grab her backside.
You are a mouse, Katia told herself. Mice don’t stab men in the throat, no matter how much they desire it. She had to have this particular conversation with herself several times throughout the dinner service. Being a spy, pretending to be a submissive servant—was a lot harder than she had imagined only a short time ago. Not to mention the ache and exhaustion of being run off her feet.
Katia hurried down the long corridor toward the kitchen, her wool skirt chafing against her legs. Serving wenches in Bogolyubovo were not given the luxury of an under-tunic or a linen shift. The heedless, unmannered, swine-faced Prince Andrei treated his horseflesh better than his serfs.
