The sadness in his eyes when he turned to look at her plunged an arrow of alarm into her heart. He lay a hand atop hers in an unusual open display of physical contact, yet his warmth failed to allay the cold dread knotting her belly. “What is it, Magnus?”
He averted his eyes. “I am concerned about the annulment, of course, but there is something more, Judith. I prefer not to discuss it here. Come to Bastian’s chamber tonight, after everyone has gone to bed. I’ll meet you there. We must talk.”
Judith was aware of chambers in the fortress that were unused while Magnus’s three brothers were away, but which belonged to Bastian? Beatrice had urged her not to keep the assignation, and as she crept stealthily along the dimly lit corridor she’d never been in before she wished she had heeded her maid’s advice. There were several doors ahead, but light glowed beneath only one. She put an ear to it, startled when it was thrust open.
Magnus stood on the threshold, looking agitated.
“Thank goodness this is the right chamber,” she babbled breathlessly.
He put a finger to his lips and pulled her inside, shutting the door quickly.
He blew out the flame of her candle, leaving them in the diminished light of the one candle he had apparently brought.
The intimate atmosphere and the pleasing aroma of beeswax made her nervous. “If you’d chosen yours I’d have known where to go.”
The suggestive nature of her words struck her immediately. “I didn’t mean—”
He chuckled and gathered her into his arms. “Hush, Judith, let me kiss you.”
Every coherent thought fled when his lips touched hers. She had feared his ardor had dimmed, but his kiss reassured her. He growled his longing as his tongue traced her teeth and then mated with hers.
She pressed her body to his, relishing his solid strength. He tasted of apple brandy. The memory of their first meeting and his kindness and concern filled her heart. He’d cared for her though she was his enemy’s sister. And suddenly she knew.
She rested her forehead against his chest, dreading the answer he might give to the question she had to ask. “You’re afraid I will betray you,” she whispered.
He stepped back, confirming her suspicion.
“I believe you love me, Judith, but we have never discussed what will happen if your brother agrees to pay the ransom.”
“I won’t go back,” she replied.
He averted his gaze.
When he didn’t reply she was compelled to fill the silence. “Arnulf will not pay the ransom. I’m not important to his goals. My betrothal to Theodoric is proof of it. He’s more interested in Montreuil than in me.”
Some of the warmth returned to the room when he put his arms around her again. She rested her head on his chest, comforted by the steady beating of his heart.
“Arnulf of Flandres is a formidable foe,” he rasped. “You are valuable to him, whether you realize it or not. You are right he still covets Montreuil, and he won’t be happy if he knows you are to be my wife.”
Judith’s heart careened around in her chest. “Your wife?” she whispered.
He tightened his hold. “Don’t you understand I want to wed you? I will never let you go.”
She closed her eyes, basking in the glow of his love. “I have dreamt of our marriage, but such dreams can break a heart when there is a real danger they won’t come true,” she replied.
He kissed her again. The chamber was suddenly too hot. Desire throbbed where his arousal nestled against her mons.
Without warning, he scooped her up and carried her to the big bed in one corner, but didn’t put her down. She clung to his neck, fearing her heartbeat might deafen him. Their eyes locked.
“Will you wed with me, Judith of Valognes?” he said, his voice deep and husky.
“Willingly, when I am free,” she murmured.
“No,” he growled, blowing out the candle and plunging them into darkness. “Now. I want you now.”
Magnus had the skills to navigate a lethal swirling maelstrom, yet was completely at sea with Judith. He’d only to smell her fragrant female scent and set eyes on her tempting curves for his body to respond fiercely, rendering his brain witless. Over the past few sennights her smile alone had been enough to fire his blood. How else to explain the insistent need driving him to demand an act they would both regret.
Her assertion she would never betray him had been heartfelt and genuine, he was sure of it, yet the uncertainty in her eyes broke his heart. He was the cause of it. He sat on the edge of the mattress and cradled her to his chest. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”
He kissed her forehead. “I understand you cannot surrender to me yet, and much as I long to spill my seed inside you, I want us to be wed when we join our bodies. A beautiful bride should give her maidenhead to her husband in his bed, not his brother’s.”
She cuddled into him, pressing the tempting curve of one breast against his chest. “I long for you to teach me the pleasures of the flesh, Magnus. I wish there was some token of my commitment, but—”
It was evident from her sharp intake of breath that she believed the words she had uttered were wanton, but he recognized the signs of female arousal. “Your skin is warm,” he murmured, stroking his fingers from her chin to her throat.
“I am too hot,” she whimpered.
He nibbled her earlobe. “You smell wonderful,” he rasped.
She frowned. “I wore no perfume.”
“It’s the aroma of a woman who longs for a man’s shaft between her legs,” he whispered.
She held her breath. “I am wet there,” she admitted. “You can tell?”
He silently thanked Freyr for bringing this passionate innocent into his life. He lifted her off his lap and sat her next to him, then took her hand and placed it on his erection. “My manhood can tell,” he growled, elation soaring through his veins when she explored him, pressing gently.
She gasped when he brushed the backs of his fingers over a rigid nipple. “Magnus,” she breathed. “We will be forever damned.”
He shook his head. “We can bring pleasure one to the other. Your maidenhead will still be intact when we’re done, but we will both feel better.”
The movement of her fingers on his flesh ceased, but she didn’t remove her hand. He sensed her indecision. “Do you trust me?” he murmured into her mouth as his lips brushed over hers.
“Yes,” she said hoarsely, her tongue welcoming his into her sweet warmth.
Savory And Sweet
A lunatic urge to tear off her clothes seized Judith, but she soon realized letting Magnus slowly and deliberately unlace the front of her gown and peel it off her shoulders was very arousing.
She had never given much consideration to the effect breasts might have on a man, but now she suddenly wanted Magnus to see hers. She arched her back and helped him push the gown and chemise down to her waist. Released from the confines of the fabric her breasts popped out. Even in the semi-darkness they seemed bigger than usual, the nipples hard and swollen. Perhaps she’d been hasty in baring them to his gaze. “I fear my breasts are too big,” she whispered.
He chuckled. “Trust me, they are not too big. You are more lovely than I dreamed,” he rasped.
For the first time in her life Judith felt desirable. “I’ve never considered myself beautiful,” she murmured, gasping when he swirled his tongue over one nipple and liquid fire surged up her thighs. She pressed her fingers to his scalp as he suckled her. Desire blossomed in her most private place. “I feel it between my legs,” she whispered. “And…further up, inside. It’s hard to explain.”
He put her hand back on his male part. “Don’t worry, I understand what you mean. The same is happening inside me.”
She peered into his eyes. “And outside too. You seem to be getting bigger,” she said. “Can I see?”
His breathing became labored. For a moment she was nervous he might pounce on her, but he inhaled deeply and said, “Soon. First, I want to dip my finge
rs into your wet heat.”
Her lungs stopped working as he gently pushed up her skirts and then let his hand wander up her leg, his fingertips brushing her flesh. She opened her legs without a second thought.
“That’s my girl,” he growled, his husky voice echoing inside her.
His warm breath caressed her nipple at the moment his fingers touched her nether lips. He’d told her the legend of Thor the Norse god of war and his thunder and lightning bolts. In a golden haze, she conjured an image of the god’s glee as ecstasy flooded her body. She plunged headlong into bliss when Magnus’s finger found a magical spot and then slid inside her. He murmured endearments in between licks, his teeth grazing her nipple, his husky voice adding to the incredible sensations flowing through her.
She had lost control of her hips, her pulsating sheath throbbed. “I need…” she babbled, scarcely able to breathe.
Magnus knew exactly what Judith needed as she writhed with pleasure. Overheated, he hastily pulled his tunic off over his head and undid the laces of his leggings. His swollen cock sprang free when he rid himself of the garment. He wanted her to see his body, but it was as well he’d blown out the candle. His size might have alarmed her.
With both hands he eased her clothing down over her hips and legs, tossing the garments to a corner. He shook with need when she reached out to touch him.
“You are beautiful,” she whispered throatily.
Was it his imagination or had her voice become sultrier? He had an urge to light the candle and strut under her admiring gaze but another urge was more pressing. He climbed atop the mattress, knelt astride her thighs and loomed over her, supporting his weight on his hands. The delicate brush of her thumbs on his nipples sent more blood rushing to his groin. He tried to read what was in her eyes, hoping his actions wouldn’t appall her. “One day, Judith my treasure, we will join our bodies and I will make you mine, but tonight I seal our union in the only way I can.”
He lowered his body, trapping his happy tarse between them, his weight now on his forearms. She put her arms around his waist and held onto him as he rocked back and forth, back and forth. He doubted she understood what was happening, yet her breathing matched his, her grip on his body tightening as he neared euphoria. The silkiness of her warm skin on his cock and the swell of her breasts beneath his chest hastened his release.
“Judith,” he growled when his seed erupted from his body and pure joy sapped his strength. His arms gave way and he collapsed on top of her, trembling and breathless with the power of the sensations flooding his body.
Floating in a haze of contentment, his face nestled into her neck, he gradually became aware of her fingers tracing patterns on his back. He rose up on his forearms again. “Sorry. Too heavy,” he rasped.
“I love your weight on me,” she murmured.
Interest stirred anew in his manhood when she glanced down at her belly and dipped a finger into the sticky wetness. She half closed her eyes and touched the tip of her tongue to taste his essence. “Salty,” she whispered like a child savoring a new treat. Then she blinked them open. “And sweet,” she added with a smile that had his heart beating too fast.
“When we are wed,” he said in a scratchy voice he barely recognized, “my seed will be salting your sweet sheath.”
She grinned. “Kiss me again,” she said.
The tang of his seed on her lips got the better of him. “One day I will taste your essence, my lady love.”
She frowned, until he eased back onto his knees and touched a fingertip to her nub. “This is the diamond of your desire,” he rasped, his body heating as she closed her eyes, “and I cannot wait until I lap your juices.”
She moaned, pressing her legs against his thighs in an effort to open them wider.
Her eyes shone in the darkness when he chuckled. “I believe the woman I plan to wed has a wanton side.”
He sensed her seductive smile when he pressed her nub over and over, feeling it swell and harden beneath his fingertip.
She stopped breathing as he brought her to release once more. He swore a silent oath to the gods to protect and cherish this precious woman all the days of his life, or may God strike him dead.
The Archbishop's Visit
Magnus was surprised when Archbishop Gonthard halted abruptly upon entering the gallery. His eye roved over the chairs. The cleric wasn’t aware of the feverish activity that had gone on there days before his arrival to put the finishing touches to the altar cloth. Magnus had kissed away the pain of needle punctures on Judith’s fingertips. Sewing well into the night hadn’t been easy, but she had never complained.
He held his breath when Gonthard wheezed, “This looks comfortable,” and eased his corpulent girth into Judith’s chair.
Given the quantity of food the archbishop had consumed during the banquet following the rededication of the chapel, Magnus understood the man’s obesity, but he worried the beloved chair might collapse under his weight. He thanked the gods the women had remained in the hall. Cathryn’s insistence the men would enjoy their conversation in the gallery had carried the day.
A servant offered the cleric a tumbler of apple brandy, then served his master and the other men of the family.
“Montdebryk apple brandy,” Gonthard exclaimed hoarsely. “It’s worth making the journey if only for this.”
He took a sip, swishing the liquid around his mouth loudly before swallowing with a satisfied, “Aaah!” He stretched out his stubby legs. “Do you have a footstool, my Lord Comte?”
Magnus fetched a stool for the portly cleric, suspecting his father’s steepled hands hid a smile. Their guest had already imbibed copious amounts of ale. He feared the man might be stuck in the chair into which he had now sunk deeply.
“What a paradise you’ve carved out of the wilderness here,” Gonthard gushed.
Bryk smoothed his hands over his thighs. “Thank you, Your Grace, it’s been a struggle sometimes, and most of it impossible without Torstein’s help, and the many courageous Vikings who came to this valley. There was much to be learned about building with stone.”
The archbishop chuckled, nodding to Torstein. “You have proven to be a worthy nephew,” he said.
“And of course my sons have carried on the work,” Bryk said, nodding to Magnus and Dag.
“Sons are a great solace to a man, wouldn’t you say, Magnus?” Gonthard remarked.
Bryk, Dag and Magnus exchanged a quick glance. His father and brother were obviously also wondering why the question had been addressed to him.
“Indeed,” he replied cautiously, “though I myself have two daughters.”
Gonthard waved a hand as if shooing away a gnat and took another sip. “Yes, lovely girls,” he said without enthusiasm.
An image of Judith, her belly round with his son, appeared behind Magnus’s eyes. “Mayhap in the future God will bless me with sons.”
The archbishop drained his tumbler and held it out to the servant for more. “You would need to marry again in order to sire legitimate heirs.”
It dawned on Magnus the cleric was in a circuitous way trying to address the issue of the annulment.
However, it seemed his father wasn’t willing to play that game. “Do you bring news in the matter of Theodoric of Abbatis and Judith?” Bryk asked directly.
While the possibility of a negative answer filled Magnus with dread, his father’s direct approach was a relief. He waited.
It was the archbishop’s turn to steeple his fingers. “I have questioned Theodoric at length,” he said quietly. “He remains in Rouen, whereas I consigned Father Innocent to a monastery for the protection of his mortal soul.”
Magnus felt a strange pang of pity for the two men. They would probably never see each other again, and the affection between them was plain to see. Life would be bleak if he lost Judith forever.
He pounded his fist into his palm to jolt his thoughts from these feelings for two wretches who had perhaps done irreparable harm to his beloved.
Father Innocent’s banishment was good news. It meant the archbishop was aware of the men’s relationship.
Gonthard eyed him curiously. “There is something you wish to say?”
Before he answered, his father asked, “What happens next?”
The chair creaked as the archbishop shifted his considerable weight. “The woman involved in the matter must be questioned.”
Annoyance chilled Magnus’s nape. “Her name is Judith of Valognes.”
The cleric put his hands on the arms. “Her name and lineage is of no consequence. Her truthfulness must be put to the test. In Rouen.”
Magnus leapt to his feet. “Why must she travel to Rouen? You can question her here.”
Gonthard gave up trying to extricate himself from the chair. “I am not a physician,” he said with obvious distaste.
Magnus feared he might be sick. Judith’s word wouldn’t be good enough. She would be subjected to a humiliating examination in order to prove her virginity. Shaking with fury, he thanked the saints he had not given into his instincts and made love to her.
“You must travel with Judith,” Bryk said.
Sweat beading on his forehead, the archbishop succeeded in hauling himself to his feet with a helping hand from Dag. “Indeed, everyone will be expected to travel to Rouen,” he declared breathlessly. “Duke Vilhelm has sent word. The missive is in my chamber.”
Magnus wondered what interest the duke might have in these matters. The answer came quickly. “King Louis is invited to Rouen to seal the recent alliance between Francia and Normandie negotiated by Roger of Douai. The duke wants his whole Council present to welcome his Majesty.”
Viking Betrayed (Viking Roots Book 3) Page 16
