The Pirate Bride

by Sandra Hill

  He motioned to Bolthor and Finn to make themselves scarce. Medana would not enjoy an audience to her nudity, or what he was contemplating. The two men laughed as they moved away.

  He knew the instant she realized how close he was, and how aroused, because her eyes widened, her wantonly full lips parted, and her entire body stiffened. Quickly, he cupped her buttocks with his big hands and drew her flush against his body, giving her no means of escape.

  She gasped.

  He gasped.

  Then he smiled and nipped at her lower lip, pulling back quickly before she did more than nip him back with her own teeth.

  “It feels good, doesn’t it?” he suggested against her ear as he moved his shoulders back and forth so his collarbone would brush against her nipples.

  “It does not feel good,” she protested, and tried to wriggle out of his grasp, which only caused her nipples to get more abraded.

  To his immense satisfaction, he noticed her eyelashes fluttering. She lied. It did feel good to her.

  Giving her no time to contemplate his next move, he brought his mouth to hers, slanting his lips this way and that, creating a moist, warm path of carnal pleasure. At first his kiss was soft and coaxing, but when he deepened the kiss, demanding more, she moaned softly, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue inside her mouth and, pray gods she would not bite off the tip.

  She didn’t. Instead, she moaned again and opened wider.

  Not one to waste an opportunity, Thork thrust deeply, in and out. Wet sounds of arousal were created by both of them. At first, Medana was tentative in the deep kissing, as if unfamiliar with that carnal exercise, but soon she was participating fully, giving as good as she got.

  His manpart was getting equal exercise, between the tight space between her lower thighs. It wanted desperately to be somewhere else, up higher, and tighter.

  He drew away slightly to look at Medana. She stared back at him, as if stunned. “What are you doing to me?”

  “You know what I am doing, sweetling. You are no virgin.”

  He realized his mistake immediately, even before she flinched as if he’d struck her, and said, “That was crass, even for an ass such as you.”

  She’d claimed to have been raped. Perchance that had been her only sexual experience. Under those circumstances, his remark had been crass. Cruel, even.

  “I apologize, Medana,” he said as quickly as he could get the words out.

  She turned away when he attempted to kiss her again. Opportunity lost! For the moment. He hadn’t even touched her breasts. Yet. Or other intriguing body parts. But he would. A seasoned warrior knew when to retreat and when to advance. This was retreating time.

  He reached a long arm over to grab a square of hard soap sitting on the pile of garments and sundry items he’d brought with them. It was not the harsh soap made of lye and wood ashes suitable for laundry, but a unique scented soap perfected by women of Thrudr for sale in the markets of Hedeby, Birka, Kaupang, and Jorvik. This particular one smelled like honey. Others were flower, fruit, pine, oats, even butter scented.

  “Come,” he said, taking her hand and beginning to swim away from the edge. It was then he noticed that, rising in the middle from the already receding waters of the pond, was a large, flat boulder. “You could have told me of the hazard, Medana,” he admonished. “ ’Tis fortunate that I did not dive in and crack my head open.”

  “Yea, ’tis fortunate,” she replied.

  “That was a poor jest.”

  “What makes you think I am jesting?”

  “Sarcasm, then. Not a trait best suited to women.”

  “Blather, blather, blather,” she said, and swam away from him, thus proving that she could, in fact, swim. And swim well.

  He placed the soap on the boulder and followed her lead. Swimming under water as long as his leather lungs would hold, he burst up several times like a sea dolphin, spurting water. He saw her smile one of those times, and found himself pleased that she was no longer offended by his ill-chosen words. Not that she had not engaged his wrath aplenty in many regards, but stabbing her in such a vulnerable spot was unconscionable. What would his mother think? My mother! I am nude with a woman who is nude, and I am thinking about my mother. Truly, Mother is becoming a thorn in my conscience. He was the one smiling now.

  The water was a cool contrast to the warm night air. Enjoyable.

  Floating on his back, he stared up at the clear, starry skies. “Have you ever studied the stars, Medana?”

  “Not really,” she answered, treading water some distance away.

  “There was an old seaman that worked my father’s trading ships for years, and he told me and my brothers how sailors used the stars to navigate their ships. But mostly, my brothers and I would lie in the fields at night and pick out various figures in the sky. A bear. A fox. A fish. What seemed to be a milky pathway. A woman’s arse.”

  “Oh, you!” she said, and swatted water at him. “Little boylings do not think of such things.”

  “You would be surprised. Young males, with no access to the real thing, can conjure up plenty. Like randy dogs ready to hump the nearest leg, or tree, or any standing object. When I was twelve, young Brokk’s age, I was already rearing at the bridle to try my charms on whichever maid was willing.”

  “And I’ll bet there were plenty.” She leaned back to float as well, but when she realized how visible her breasts and nether hair would be to a lecherous fool such as himself, she swam over to the boulder instead, and holding on, she craned her neck upward.

  “Now see what you have done! All I can see is a male body part. You put that wicked idea in my head.” She was smiling as she spoke, and he rather liked her teasing him.

  “Is it big? The male part in the skies? If so, it must be mine.”

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk!” she said, still with a smile in her voice. “You mentioned your brothers. How many do you have? And are there sisters, as well?”

  “I am the oldest of four brothers. No sisters.”

  “I have only brothers, too, but brutes they are, always had been. We were never close. Are you close to your brothers? Do you see them often?”

  He swam over to lean against the boulder beside her. But then he picked up the soap, lathered his head and face and shoulder, and went down deep to rinse off his upper body and soap the lower regions, front and back. It would be nice if Medana did it for him, but he knew enough about women to recognize that it was too soon. He came spurting up beside her and began to soap her hair before she had a chance to protest, which she did.

  “I can do it myself. Stop that.”

  Not only had he soaped her long tresses but he was working the soap into her shoulders and neck, massaging the tight muscles. She reeked of honey, in a good way. “I know you can,” he replied huskily, “but I can do it better.”

  “Be that as it may . . .” She grabbed the soap out of his hands and went off a short distance to take care of her own cleansing habits. Unfortunately, he was unable to see clearly, despite the full moon. Mostly, she did her soaping under the water.

  When she returned with her hair finger combed behind her ears, she set the soap on the boulder and said, “I asked about your family. The fact that you have been gone so long . . . Were there problems before you left home all those years ago?”

  He shook his head. “We were a close family. Not just my brothers and me, but my father and mother, too. I had a good home, growing up. Now that I am older, I realize that I took for granted what many children do not have.” He shrugged. “I have not seen my mother and father for five years, and because of the estrangement from my father, there has been little contact with my brothers, as well.”

  “What went wrong?”

  “Nothing went wrong, precisely. My reputation for being wild was earned long before I left home, if you must know. My mother, Lady Alinor, claims I came stomping out of the womb ready to raise trouble. Mischief was my motto. And, truth to tell, my father was said to be a bit wild h
imself afore he married, so he has no right to condemn my wicked ways. Still, I had decided to reform and was going back to Dragonstead when . . .” He let his words trail off.

  “When you were captured by female pirates,” she finished for him.

  “As you say.” He was deep in thought for a long moment as memories assailed him. “Starri and I were the closest, him being only two years younger. Starri most resembles my mother with his red hair and freckles. Guthrom came six years after Starri and is eight years younger than me; and then Selik was not born for another four years; so there is a twelve-year difference in our ages. Selik was always trying to keep up with the rest of us, even as a toddler scarce out of his swaddling clothes. He is still at home, I believe.”

  “And the others . . . where are they?”

  “Last I heard, Starri was handling my father’s merchant vessels with a base in Jorvik, whilst Guthrom was soldiering in the king’s service. Starri married young, to the daughter of a neighboring jarl. Dagne was her name, and Starri was smitten from the first time he saw her. She died two years past of a wasting disease. Supposedly, he still grieves mightily and vows ne’er to wed again.” He glanced over at Medana, wondering why he was talking so much of personal things he usually kept hidden. Well, not hidden. Just not brought out to examine like a running sore.

  She stared back at him. “Thork, you need to go home. You need to make amends with your father. Methinks your brother Starri needs you. And mayhap you need him, too.”

  Way too perceptive the wench was! “That is precisely what I intended to do,” he reminded her.

  “Oh! Do not place all the blame on me. You have had five years to return.”

  “Well, too late now.”

  “It is ne’er too late.”

  He shrugged. “For now, we must get out of this water before we are shriveled up into an old codger and an old crone. Unless . . .” He let his words trail off.

  “Unless what?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Unless you would let me lick your skin to see if it is as honey sweet as it smells.”

  “Lick yourself. You used the same soap.”

  “You are cruel, wench. Cruel.”

  She smiled again, and he was coming to love her smile. Nay, not love. Appreciate.

  “Before we go, Thork”—she swallowed visibly as if to gain courage—“you mentioned taking our longship. You cannot do that. Without Pirate Lady, we cannot survive here.”

  “Then return to your various homelands.”

  She shook her head. “I would face trial by Althing and death, for a certainty. But I am not concerned about just myself. There are thralls here who have fled from cruel masters. Wives who could no longer bear their husbands’ vicious second and third wives, not to mention concubines. Orphans and the disgraced. Women who no longer fit in regular society . . . if they ever did.”

  “You should have thought of that . . .”

  She put up a halting hand. “I need no more reminders of what I have done or not, as the case may be. Please, Thork, is there naught I can do to change your mind?”

  Oooh, she should not have said that. Not when he was nude, and she nude, and she had those pretty little nipples, and his staff was the size of a lance, and she had seen a male part in the skies, and he had been celibate for three whole sennights. It would be conniving, not chivalrous, his mother would say. But his mother was not here. And chivalry be damned! Thork was tired of trying to be good.

  “If you shared my bed, as a woman, I might be willing to negotiate.”

  Medana surprised the spit out of him by not even hesitating to answer, “Agreed!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  It wasn’t the tunnel of love, but it might lead there . . .

  Thork sat on the grassy area beside the pond for several hours with Bolthor, Jamie, Jostein, Alrek, and Finn, passing a skin of mead betwixt them.

  Thork had taken a charmingly embarrassed Medana back to the hunters’ hut wearing naught but a thin chemise, and left her there after awakening Brokk and telling him to guard her locked door. She’d gazed at him with confusion before he left, and no wonder. After she’d agreed to spread her thighs for him, he’d put her to bed, alone. He would have joined her there, gladly, but he feared what he might start and be unable to complete to his satisfaction, or hers, when he had so much to do yet tonight.

  “Later,” he had promised her with a quick kiss.

  “Mayhap,” she’d responded grumpily, but she’d licked her full lips as if to get his taste. He took that for a good sign.

  “It really is an amazing feat of nature, is it not?” Jostein commented, calling Thork back to the present.

  “I have ne’er seen such in all my travels,” Jamie added. “Leastways, none that were not manmade like those of the ancient Romans.”

  “Should we go through tonight and examine it further?” Jostein suggested.

  “Yea!” they all agreed enthusiastically.

  ’Twould be an adventure of sorts, Thork thought. “Can you go get two more torches, Alrek?”

  Alrek nodded and was off.

  “How do they get the longship down to the base of the pond and through the tunnel, out to sea?” This from Bolthor, who was casting his head one way and another, trying to figure out how it could be done.

  “Henry says that they use a sledge to get the longship over to the pond. Then they tip the boat downward a bit until one end is sitting atop the boulder, facing the tunnel, with the back end still on the ground. With fifteen women on each side, they carry it through the tunnel. Longships are not all that heavy, as we know.”

  They all gaped at Jamie after he gave this lengthy explanation.

  “How in bloody hell did Henry learn all this when we only found out about the pond and the tunnel this afternoon?”

  “Pfff! Where do you think?” Jamie grinned. “That’s where he is right now. The lucky sod! Off tupping the Lilli pad again!”

  “You are just jealous,” said Alrek, who’d returned with two lit torches.

  Thork could not help but notice the scorch marks on Alrek’s tunic. The clumsy halfwit! Had he not realized that he could have brought the torches here to be lit with the one already blazing from its post stuck in the ground?

  “Henry best be careful or there will be slant-eyed babes aplenty on this island come spring,” Thork said, taking another long draw on the wine bag.

  “Just one babe,” Alrek said. “Lilli is the only one who’s gained his fancy.”

  “That is even worse. The lackwit will be wanting to stay. That is how women trap men all the time. Make them think they are the one and only virile man in the world. Boost their conceits ’til they start thinking their shit is gold. Then they . . .” Jostein’s words trailed off when he saw that they were all staring at him. “I am just saying,” he grumbled.

  “We’ll wait a little while longer, until the water is all out and through the tunnel, but it will be muddy.”

  “I just cleaned my boots,” Finn whined.

  “I’d rather keep mine on,” Bolthor said. “There are no doubt rocks and mayhap even snakes.”

  “I guess I could clean my boots again on the morrow,” Finn said.

  “Do we need to worry about the women blocking the tunnel after us, or stealing their leader back?” Alrek wondered.

  “Are you thinking they could move yon boulder?” Jamie scoffed.

  “Women are wily creatures. You ne’er know what they can do when they set their minds to it,” said Jostein, the cynic.

  “Besides, some of them are witches and could no doubt move it with magic,” Jamie added with a mischievous glint. He was teasing Alrek, who tended to believe everything he was told.

  “The boulder will not be moved,” Thork said with finality, “but there is still the question of whether the women warriors will storm the hunters’ hut to rescue their leader whilst we are gone, and mayhap harm Brokk in the process.” Thork pondered the question a moment. “Nay, I think they realize by now that
their fate is in our hands, whether it be today or in the future. Their only recourse now is to work with us.”

  “Besides, Brokk is twelve years old, almost a man,” Bolthor interjected. “We do not give him enough credit for defending himself.”

  That was probably true. Many a Viking youthling was considered an adult by that age and was allowed to go a-Viking. But not fight alone against a horde of enraged women.

  “There is a more important issue to the women than rescuing their leader. They will not want to give up their longship,” Jamie pointed out.

  “They will have to,” Thork said. Even though he’d inferred to Medana that they would negotiate that point, there was no way Thork and his comrades could get back to Hedeby without the vessel. Whether they would return it to the women . . . that was the question.

  A short time later, they were through the tunnel, which was really not that long—about ten ship lengths—and on to the narrow strip of land that connected Thrudr to Small Island. The tide was down and the waves were breaking far out to sea.

  They stood in a huddle, staring back at the way they’d come, up, up, up to the top of the steep mountainside. There was naught but trees right down to the shore that was a scree of rocks. He could see how uninviting this island would seem to any passing seafarers, and why they might stop at Small Island for water without daring an exploration of the larger island.

  “I am going up to the top of Thrudr again to study the surroundings, now that I am better informed,” Thork said. “And if the gods are with us, we will be taking the longship out to sea tomorrow night.”

  “Not tomorrow night,” Bolthor proclaimed. “Big storm coming tomorrow night.”

  “Bolthor! How can you say that? Look at those stars. Clear skies at night, sun on the morrow.”

  Bolthor shrugged. “Storm tomorrow night. You will see.”

  “Do you feel it in your bones?” Jostein asked snidely.