The Outlaw Viking

by Sandra Hill

  “Don’t be so sarcastic.”

  They had almost reached Ella’s shop, and Selik was about to open the side door when he asked, “So, what was the message? Does he want me to do penance for plowing the virgin fields of one of his angels?”

  Rain shook her head as if he was beyond hope.

  “What God said, honey, was, ‘Tell that bad boy, Selik, to hold on to the seat of his pants because I’m sending the love boat his way.’”

  Selik burst out laughing and put an arm around her shoulders, hugging her warmly against his side. Rain couldn’t resist wrapping her arms around his waist and joining in his laughter.

  When they both turned forward, Ella and all the workers in her shop were staring at them with wide eyes and gaping mouths.

  “The priests are huggin’ each other. Oh, holy Lord!” one freckle-faced young woman exclaimed, making the sign of the cross.

  “Gawd! No doubt, the Almighty will send a pestilence down on this shop fer harborin’ such doin’s,” another woman exclaimed. “Frogs, no doubt. The Lord has a partiality to frogs fer punishment, I hear tell.”

  “I will have no such perversions in me shop,” Ella declared vehemently, advancing on them with a broom in hand. It was only as she got closer that Rain saw the recognition in her eyes. She was putting on a show for her workers. “Come into me side room and tell me yer bizness. Then begone with ye—ye sodomites.”

  When she closed the door behind them in her primitive “office”, she turned on them angrily. “Are ye daft? Do ye want to put me out of bizness? If the townsfolk hear I condone such depravities, they will shun me like maggots on a Yule pudding.”

  Selik pushed the hood down off his head and sat on a high stool, grinning at Ella.

  “Do not think ye can turn me with one of yer winsome smiles,” Ella grumbled. “I am well past the age fer carin’ whether a man be bow-legged or ungodly handsome.”

  “Ungodly handsome, am I?” Selik asked, fluttering his long eyelashes at her.

  “Nay, I was referrin’ to yer being’ bowlegged, you fool.”

  “Ella, did you tell Ubbi that I would give him to you if you helped me?” Rain asked.

  Ella’s face grew pink. “Well, and what if I did? I got tired of waitin’ fer you to fulfill yer promises.”

  “I said I would put in a good word for you, not deliver him on a silver platter.”

  “I will take him without the silver platter, thank you very much!”

  “When you two wenches are done bickering, could we get our business completed so we can get back to that madhouse afore dark?”

  They spent an hour picking out lengths of warm wool fabric for the children’s tunics and mantles, linen for tiny chemises and loincloths, yarn to be knitted into hose, and even some fine silk from Damascus that Selik insisted be made into garments for Rain. Ella also agreed to have a nearby leather worker make up a dozen pairs of children’s shoes. They would all be delivered in a few days.

  “And who is goin’ to be payin’ fer all these goods?” Ella asked craftily.

  “I will,” Selik said, without question, and pulled out his almost depleted sack of coins. “By the by,” he said, stopping in his counting out of the money, “did you ever pay Rain the money you were holding for her mother when she left unexpectedly?”

  Ella’s face turned bright red and she shifted nervously from foot to foot.

  “You see, Ruby invested money in a business Ella started years ago,” Selik explained to her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “No doubt Ella forgot to give it to you.”

  Rain turned to Ella. “Is that so?”

  “Yea, well, ’twas a small amount. About—”

  “One hundred mancuses, at least,” Selik finished.

  Ella sputtered with indignation. “Nay, ’twas more like fifty.”

  “Well, I’m sure you will give it to Rain as soon as possible,” he added, patting her hand indulgently.

  Ella shrugged his hand away with chagrin, telling him not to rush back. She could do without his kind of business, the coins he had handed her being far less than the fifty mancuses she would have to give Rain now.

  Rain and Selik were both laughing as they left the shop. Rain wished time could stand still just then, that they could stay as happy and carefree as they were at that moment.

  But their peace was shattered immediately with the emergence of Gorm from a nearby alley. He motioned them off the city street, and they followed him into the doorway of an abandoned building.

  “Eirik sent word from Athelstan’s court at Winchester. Steven is in Frankland, visiting his Uncle Geoffrey in Rheams.”

  Selik nodded grimly.

  “Oswald and his soldiers patrol Jorvik like bloody scavengers, killing and maiming any who even resemble Danish men of fighting age. We should leave Northumbria with haste. ’Tis only a matter of time afore they discover yer whereabouts.”

  “Yea,” Selik agreed, and Rain’s heart dropped to her toes. “Meet me tomorrow night with as many of my men as are willing to risk their fortunes with me. Come to the farmstead, and we will leave from there.”

  “On horseback?”

  “Yea, bring Fury with you.”

  When Gorm left, Selik turned to Rain and put a fingertip to her face, wiping the tears that seeped from her eyes. “Shh, dearling,” he said softly, taking her into his arms, “you knew ’twas only a matter of time.”

  “But it’s too soon,” she cried. “It’s too soon.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The sun dropped below the hills and the autumn wind picked up as they walked back to his homestead, a dreary backdrop to the silence that formed a rigid barrier between Selik and Rain. Ever since they left Jorvik, Rain had avoided his eyes. As if he could not see her tears!

  A frigid blast of air stirred the dry leaves under their feet, and Rain shivered. Despite their wool mantles, the coming winter seeped beneath their monkish garments, reminding them of the pending change of seasons.

  Where will I be come Christmas? In truth, where will I be next sennight? And how will I survive now that I have known Rain?

  The chattering of her teeth jarred him from his deep thoughts, and he pulled her under his mantle, despite her rigid shoulders. He should have bought her a fur-lined cloak in Jorvik. Now there would be no time. He should have done many things, now that he thought on it, but as had happened so often in his life, opportunities slipped through his fingertips like sand, sealing his fate.

  Tell her you love her.

  Selik closed his eyes momentarily on that painful advice from his inner voice. I cannot. There is no love left in me. Besides, she should go home—to her own country, her own time. ’Tis safer there. I saw what a good physician she was today. Her healing skills would be better served in another world.

  Tell her. Trust me, you should tell her.

  “Are you putting these voices in my head?” he asked suddenly.

  “No,” she snapped, looking at him through red-rimmed eyes, swiping at the tears on her blotched cheeks. “Are you putting them in my head?”

  “You look awful.”

  “Thank you for sharing that information,” she retorted, raising her chin proudly and stomping off in front of him.

  He smiled and stepped on the hem of her monk’s cassock, pulling her to a jarring halt. Before she had a chance to spit out the venomous words that obviously hovered on her sharp tongue, he steered her toward a nearby cow byre on the outer edges of his land, little more than a three-sided shelter. “Come. Let us warm up a bit afore continuing.”

  She complied stoically, then walked to the far corner, away from the wind. And from him.

  “Rain, do not turn from me,” he pleaded softly, feeling a painful constriction in his chest. “There is so little time left.”

  Tell her. What do you need to convince you, a clap of thunder? Tell her.

  She kept her back turned to him, but he saw her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Despite his best intentions, his feet had a
mind of their own. They moved one step closer to Rain and the danger she represented to his bleeding heart.

  Tell her.

  Something deep inside, long hidden, melted and exposed a part of him so vulnerable, so open to pain, he could not bear to think on it. And he moved another step closer.

  Tell her.

  “I love you,” he whispered, so softly she could not possibly have heard. Still, the words burned his lips and made his hands tremble.

  And she turned. “What did you say?”

  He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. And moved another step closer.

  “Tell me, dammit,” she cried out, a sob catching her unsteady voice. Then she whimpered in a low plea, “Tell me.”

  “I love you,” he groaned out. “God help me…’twas He, no doubt, who brought you into my life…but I love you. I do.”

  He thought he heard a clap of thunder in the distance and rolled his eyes upward. That was not necessary.

  Rain lurched into his arms, jolting him backward and almost knocking over the ancient walls of the byre with their combined weight. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she alternately hugged him tightly and held his face between her two hands, kissing every bit of skin above the neckline of his monk’s robe, the whole time saying, “I love you, too. Oh, God, how I love you! IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou….”

  Selik smiled against her neck, feeling the wetness of her tears even down near her throat, and he wondered why he had not told her afore. It felt so good.

  “Say it again,” she begged, pulling away slightly so she could see his face.

  He turned her so her back was to the wall, both his arms extended on either side of her head, hands against the wall. Leaning closer sc he could smell the sweet scent of her breath and her Passion on the pulse point of her neck, he whispered fervently, “I love you.”

  “Again.”

  “I love you.”

  “Again.”

  He laughed, a joyous spirit of well-being surging through him, and lowered his lips to hers. “Imlufayahu.”

  At the first taste of her lips, open-mouthed and clinging, a ravaging hunger swept him. Trembling, he kissed Rain with all the pent-up need of a starving man. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and she cried out, shuddering, her senses apparently as inflamed as his.

  Desire roared in his ears like a mighty dragon, and he ground his hips against her womanhood. The dragon’s breath ignited a fire in his vitals, and he surrendered with a low growl to the inferno.

  In a frenzy of savage need, he raised the hem of Rain’s robe and untied the waist cord of the braies she wore underneath for warmth. At the first touch of his hand on her bare skin, Rain cried out as if in climax. How could her skin feel so hot when the air around them was so cold? And, sweet Freya, how could she be so wet with woman-dew when he had barely touched her?

  Quickly reaching between them, he raised his own robe and untied his braies, letting them drop to the ground. He put his hands on her waist and raised her off the ground. “Wrap you legs around my hips, dearling,” he said huskily, then braced her shoulders against the wall with his chest and plunged into her with one long, hard, impaling stroke. Her hot inner folds seared him as they adjusted around him with small spasms of welcome, and she screamed, “Selik!”

  He arched his shoulders and reared his neck, trying to hold on to his control. Still imbedded in her sweet, moist depths, he groaned out, “Do…not…dare…move.”

  But she defied him with an exultant cry as old as Eve and rolled her hips.

  He could not wait. He withdrew, then slammed into her tight sheath. Over and over. In and out. Shorter and shorter strokes. Harder. Harder. Harder.

  The walls shook.

  He gasped.

  She moaned incoherently.

  He cried out her name.

  She screamed.

  His hardness became so huge that he felt close to bursting.

  Rain tried to writhe from side to side in the confines of his embrace, her hips bucking wildly, mindlessly.

  “Let it come, sweetling,” he pleaded in a raw voice. “Let it happen.” He cupped her bottom and tipped her womanhood slightly, then lunged into her one last time.

  Her thighs went rigid and her ankles locked tighter around his waist as her body convulsed in deep, milking clasps on his manhood. His man-seed exploded into her womb, and Selik saw all the colors of the most beauteous rainbow behind his eyelids.

  His knees gave way then and he dropped to the ground, taking Rain with him. Panting for breath, he felt her heartbeat thundering beneath his, and Selik felt so alive he wanted to scream his ecstasy to the heavens.

  A simple thank-you will do.

  Selik laughed and pulled away slightly from Rain, whose passion-bemused eyes gazed up at him with such adoration that he felt blessed by the gods.

  Uh, I beg your pardon. I think you mean one God. Let’s give credit where credit is due.

  Selik gave a short salute heavenward.

  “Now I know what it feels like to ‘make love’,” he said softly as he brushed Rain’s beautiful golden hair back off her face where it had come loose from her braid. “I have experienced naught like this in my entire life.”

  “I love you, Selik. I don’t know what the future holds for us, but at this moment, I love you so much.”

  A short time later, after they had helped each other dress, laughing at the condition of their garments and the pieces of straw found in the oddest places, Rain remarked teasingly, “I wouldn’t be surprised if I have splinters on my behind from your rough treatment.”

  “Oh, you poor wee thing,” he soothed, tucking her under his shoulder as they resumed their walk home. “If you have splinters, I will pluck them out for you. With my teeth.”

  “Is that a promise?” she asked saucily.

  “’Tis a holy vow,” he proclaimed, pounding a palm against his chest for emphasis. “And then I will soothe the broken skin with my tongue, and I will—”

  Rain slapped a hand over his mouth. “Enough! Keep it up and we’ll have to stop at another cow byre.”

  Much to their embarrassment, they had dawdled so long that by the time they arrived at the barn, the wagon driver had already delivered the food goods and was turning around to return to Jorvik. The driver waved a greeting but did not stop.

  “Gawd!” Ubbi spat out with disgust after taking one look at them when they entered the barn. “You two look like you been rollin’ in the hay.”

  “Must have been the wind,” Selik mumbled.

  After they’d removed their monks robes and moved closer to the fire for warmth, Ubbi added, staring pointedly at Rain, “The wind did a good job chafin’ yer lady’s neck and lips, I see.” Then he peered closer at Selik, chortling, “And is that a bite mark on yer earlobe? Yea, I think ’tis. ’Twas a biting wind, no doubt.”

  “Put a hold on your tongue, little man,” Selik warned. “I have yet to determine your punishment for helping to plot my kidnapping.”

  “Nay, I did no plottin’,” Ubbi declared, raising his chin indignantly. “I merely carted yer body out here. And ye must weigh as much as a bloody horse, if I must say so meself.”

  Selik glared at Ubbi, then remarked in an innocent voice, “By the by, Ella sends you her fond regards.”

  Ubbi’s face turned almost purple with consternation and he sputtered for words, “Ye…ye…ye…are not to be meddlin’ in me personal affairs.”

  They all laughed then, even Ubbi.

  Rain relished this brief moment of shared laughter before turning to help the children, who were storing all the items that had been delivered and busily performing the duties she had assigned to them days ago. Because the number of children had increased so, she and Ubbi had decided that each child must share in chores, even the youngest, three-year-old Maud, who was setting the long trestle table with wooden trenchers and spoons.

  The oldest ones, Humphrey, Jogeir, and Kugge—about ten years old—went outside to chop firewood, while the younge
r children carried armloads of logs and kindling inside, and still others stacked it near the roaring hearth. Several of the girls swept up soiled rushes from near the kitchen area and put down fresh ones. Others tended the cow and chickens in the lean-to shed.

  Blanche was stirring a bubbling cauldron over the fire.

  Blanche! “What are you doing here?” Rain asked, walking up and putting a hand on the maid’s arm.

  “Gyda sent me to help with the children,” she explained, shooting a longing look toward Selik. And Rain knew she had ulterior motives for coming to the farmstead.

  Frowning, Rain walked back to Selik, where Adela was tugging on his pant leg hopefully, her thumb, as ever, stuck in her mouth. Rolling his eyes with exasperation, he picked her up in his arms, trying not to appear pleased by her appreciative giggle.

  “Where’s that little bugger, Adam?” he asked her, and she pointed with her free hand to the corner.

  Oh, boy! Rain thought. Now the you-know-what is going to hit the fan. While all the other children worked industriously, seven-year-old Adam reclined on one of the pallets, his head and shoulders propped against the wall, one leg crossed over a bent knee, playing with the Rubik’s Cube.

  Selik set Adela gently to her feet, then stormed over toward Adam. He ignored Rain as she cautioned softly, “Now, Selik, he’s only a little boy.”

  Standing next to the cot, legs braced apart and hands on hips, Selik asked icily, “What the hell are you doing, lying about like a lazy slug?”

  Without moving his body an inch, Adam scanned the room and the busily working children, then peered up the awesome length of Selik’s body until he met his eyes. Fearlessly, he answered, “Overseein’.”

  “Overseeing?” Selik sputtered out. Then Rain saw laughter flash briefly in Selik’s eyes at the boy’s audacity before he hid his mirth. “Your overseeing days are over. Get your arse off that bed and help carry some firewood in.”

  Adam seemed to consider all his options, then decided wisely that he’d best follow Selik’s orders. But he made sure he got the last word in. “Is arse a word the witch allows ye to use? Seems ta me it be on her ‘no-no’ list.”