Her Gilded Firebird: Book Three in the Norse Warriors series

by Susannah Shannon

  Her Gilded Firebird

  The Third Novel in the Norse Warrior Series

  Susannah Shannon

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  About the Author

  Also by Susannah Shannon

  Prologue

  Elin was gasping for breath. The room was cold, and she was naked, but the heat generated by her husband’s fury washed over her in waves. He circled her closely.

  She knew that he expected her to stand in the corner with her head down and listen to what he was going to say. This was difficult, she wanted to argue and plead her case. She had tried that earlier, and her stern husband had listened to her impassioned reasoning, pronounced them excuses and told her to go get ready for a spanking.

  “This has been an issue since before I asked you to marry me, and still, here we are. What’s today Elin?”

  “It is our first anniversary,” she whispered.

  “Do you think this is what I wanted to do today?” Elin stifled the way she was inclined to respond, which was that he could end the proceedings at any time and announce, ”Hey let’s go eat cake!” She, however, as a submissive wife, could not.

  “No, “she answered quietly.

  “What do I do when you lie to me?”

  She swallowed hard. “You spank me.”

  “Yes,” he said taking her elbow and leading her out of the corner. “I do. Apparently, I haven’t made my point though. ” She noticed the paddle in his other hand and began to insist that he made his point, with those previous spankings. Calmly he pressed a finger to her lips. “Hush.” There was a chair in the room with a low back, and he bent her over it. “Hang on to the arms of the chair, I do not intend to have to paddle you over this again, so keep your hands out of my way.”

  She thought she heard him draw back the paddle and without intending to, she twisted her knees to move her bare ass out of its way. In an instant, his left hand was on the scruff of her neck pressing her all the way over. She was on her tiptoes with her weight on her elbows. She clung to the edge of the seat of the chair for balance. The coolness of the paddle rested against her upturned bottom. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to imagine how an actual strike of that paddle would feel. A few seconds later she discovered that she had vastly underestimated how much it would hurt. She let out a loud yell and had to be reminded to get back into the correct position. The second swat landed a wee bit lower, closer to the tops of her thighs and again she jerked out of the way. Gunnar would not tolerate that. He put her back, bare ass up over the crest of the chair. This time he stood right beside her with a strong arm tucked around her, preventing any squirming. He began to administer hard swats, and all she could do was tap her toes against the floor. Her arms couldn’t reach around his to cover her poor, vulnerable bottom and a sob flowed out of her throat. She was crying loudly, offering no more excuses, just responding to his firm punishment. He paused the paddle and he loosened his grip on her torso and rubbed her back. “I am nowhere done young lady.”

  This caused a louder eruption of sobs. He touched sweetly, but offered her no reprieve. “Do not move,” he warned, crossing the room and pouring her a mug of water.

  He allowed her to stand and sip the cool liquid. When she was finished, he set the cup on the shelf.

  “Back down,” he said sternly. He ran a hand over her scarlet flesh. “Such a pretty bottom, too bad it's on a girl who lies to her husband.” Elin couldn’t argue, partly because she didn’t want to make things worse for herself and partly because he was correct. He patted the paddle lightly on upturned, already red ass.

  “Now after every swat, you will say, “I know better than to tell lies.”

  She wiped her eyes with the palms of her hands and then went back to gripping the chair, “Yes sir.”

  It took her a second after the paddle landed to find the breath to say, “I know better than to tell lies,” but she did.

  “Good girl,” he said and repeated the action. The paddle swats overlapped and soon her bottom felt like it was a throbbing, burning ember. Soon she was crying too hard to say “I know better than to tell lies,” thankfully, Gunnar didn’t insist. Her throat was raw from crying. Gunnar laid the paddle on the bed and returned to gather his wife up in his arms. He rocked her while she cried herself out. “I would prefer to not have to spank you so hard,” he whispered.

  “Me neither,” she responded, her breathing still uneven from sobbing.

  He placed a finger under her chin and raised it so that she could not hide from his eyes. “But I will do it every single day if I have to, do you understand me?”

  She answered that she did know that.

  “What I would like to do is tenderly make love to you all night, but I can’t,” he said.

  “Why not?” she asked thinking that it sounded wonderful.

  “Because it has to wait,“ he stood and helped her stand too. He strode over to her chest and pulled a new dress from it. It was pink, just like her wedding dress had been. He rustled further in the trunk, “What else do you need? I will never understand the mechanics of dressing a woman.” She laughed and pointed, “I need a chemise, no, no- look on the other side, there it is.” He held it up in triumph. “And some stockings,” she continued. “I could put on a pair of pantalettes.”

  “No, no you cannot, partly because I want as little padding between this punished bottom and the wood of the chair as possible, and because,“ he bent to nuzzle her shoulder, “I want to imagine your red-hot bottom and your sweet little pussy being available to me.”

  “It is,” she whispered in response, turning to press her lips to his. “Where are we going?”

  “To the great hall, there is an anniversary party for us.” She was pleased, although the thought of hours sitting on a hard bench was not a happy one.

  “And when we get back, I will show you just how nice it can be to be my very good girl.”

  “I hope it’s a really short party.”

  Chapter 1

  The buckets were too heavy for her. Her mother had been right; her father had been right. Elin had no intention of ever letting them know. She had allowed them to think that she used the pulleys on the bridge to draw up buckets of water. She did not, it seemed faster to her to skitter down to the river’s edge and just dunk her buckets under the swift current. The snow had recently melted and had left the river higher than usual. It made getting up the bank a challen
ge. As she adjusted the yoke over her shoulders, the cold water sloshed all over her skirt. She considered tipping out some of the water and then making two trips, but it was a long way to the river and seeing as she was already drenched and shivering, it seemed better to just struggle home. Setting the buckets down, Elin leaned against a tree, careful not to be seen.

  She was eyeing the home of the new bachelor in town. The village of Visby wasn’t the sort of place that attracted new people. It had been big news when Old Bruhn (as he had been known) had sold his forge and moved away to live with his married daughter. He had left a pleasant homestead. There was a stone house with four windows, a well-tended garden, and the forge itself which was open on one side. The new blacksmith was a giant, or as close to one as Elin had ever seen. Her father was well over six feet tall and the new blacksmith towered over him. He was clearly strong as an ox. His muscles could be seen through his shirt, and his shoulders couldn’t fit through some doors. She noted that he was not at work in the smithy, it looked oddly empty without him working over the fire. A door being opened caused her to step back even further into the trees.

  The man had been in his sauna. He paused, looking around for a second and then strode out towards the river, naked and gleaming with sweat. Elin clapped a hand over her mouth to avoid making a sound. She had never seen a naked man before and was too nervous to look below his chest. HIs hair was cut very short, and she could see the width of his neck which met his bulging shoulders. His broad form tapered down to a trim waist. Once he was past her, she allowed her eyes to wander, and was immediately struck by how muscular his ass was. She had never thought much about how magnificent a naked man’s ass could be, but there was no missing it now. His legs were long, it took him only a few strides to get to the boulders that edged the river. He didn’t slow down and dove straight into the rapidly moving water. Elin briefly considered staying where she was hidden long enough to see him emerge, but that was an intimidating thought, and it was best to get back on the trail while he was safely underwater. Lifting her too heavy buckets, she tried to navigate out of the woods and onto the path. She had to tug one of her buckets out from behind the tree it had become wedged against. Inwardly as more water sloshed from the bucket. Yanking it free caused her to step back. Her foot rolled over a fallen branch, and she was sent tumbling. She grabbed at a tree branch as she hurtled past There was a moment’s reprieve as it held, and then it cracked, sending her plummeting into the bushes below. Her fall halted, she took a deep breath. She had many scratches, but she didn't think anything was broken. Her buckets were caught on branches. Elin gave one of them a tentative tug to see if she could loosen it. Immediately she was sent tumbling into the river.

  The water was very cold, but not freezing. Elin was a reasonably strong swimmer after summers spent with her papa who had been determined that his girls would be safe in the water. Her only real fear was the naked giant she had been spying on. Elin had to surface to get her bearings, and she hoped to bob up, see which way she needed to go and skedaddle to the shore. Her furtive head lifting brought her face to face with Gunnar’s wet and very very bare chest. The tattoo that marked him as having completed his apprenticeship snaked along his collarbone. She quickly looked away, making a point of looking sideways and not down.

  “Oh, hello,” was all she could think to say. He did not step too close to her but did reach out and grab her elbow making sure she stayed at the water’s surface.

  “I can swim,” she said.

  “Where did you come from?” he asked. One of her buckets dropped from the branch it had caught on and landed in the water.

  “Oh, I was just walking by, and I must have tripped,” she tried to laugh. “Silly me.” He gave a quizzical look up, and down the river, there was nowhere that she could have filled her buckets without him seeing her.

  To her horror, her second bucket worked itself loose and landed between them.

  “I’ll just grab those and get home,” she babbled.

  “If you swim to the edge can you get yourself out?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said mortified.

  “Get out of the water and go into my sauna.”

  “Oh, you have a sauna near here?” she said with what she hoped was an indifferent, casual tone.

  He eyed her skeptically, “I bet you can find it,” he said. “I’ll get your water buckets, and we’ll somehow get you dried off and home.” There was something in his tone that brooked no argument. She had no doubt that he knew she had been spying on him. She considered apologizing, but her mortification was simply too great. The water was not warm enough to linger in.

  “Go on,” he said firmly. She appreciated that he was allowing her to get out without having to acknowledge his (very, very) naked body. She swam to the edge, shivering all the way. It was not easy to haul herself out of the river with her heavy wool wet clothing, but afraid of him coming closer to help her, she used every bit of her strength to get herself onto dry land. There was nothing graceful about the way she flopped onto the dirt and scrabbled with her toes to get herself up to the path, cold water streaming off of her. She shivered in the shade of the path and hurried to the small outbuilding. The sauna was nice and warm. She wrung out her skirt as best as she could, but she was still dripping wet. There was a knock on the door. “You can come in,” she said.

  The giant had pulled on a pair of breeches. He handed her a tunic. “Get your wet things off, put this on, and we’ll get you home.”

  Chapter 2

  She did not want to do this but didn’t have a better idea. He did not wait for her to reply, apparently assuming she would obey him, and he shut the door after him, leaving her alone. Her fingers had grown stiff and clumsy from the chill. It took her a few moments to unfasten her dress. Elin was grateful that the sauna had a stone floor, as her sopping and heavy clothes dropped off of her. Stepping out of them, she arched her back and spread her arms wide, welcoming the searing warmth. She ran her hands over her breasts and then lifted her wet hair off of her neck. She held her hair away from herself and twisted it, allowing the water to spill onto the floor. Perhaps it was the cold water, followed by the heat of the sauna, maybe it was being in the vicinity of the giant, but she could feel her blood pulsing under her skin. She felt very alive, every sense was alert. Low in her belly, between her legs she felt an unfamiliar throb.

  Sensing movement outside of the sauna, she hurried up and pulled his tunic on.

  HIs shirt came past her knees, it was not at all proper, but it was not indecent. Hopefully, they would make it back to the farm without anyone but her family seeing her. She gathered up her sopping things and left the warmth of the sauna.

  The blacksmith had left a basket in front of the sauna. Dropping her things into it, she found that he had filled her buckets and retrieved her yoke.

  “Thank you, “ she said formally, although she didn’t see where he had gone. “I will make sure you get your shirt back.” She lifted the yoke onto her shoulders and finagled the basket onto one elbow and began her awkward way home.

  The blacksmith poked his head around the corner of his shed, “Those are too heavy for you," he said, which was most unhelpful. Elin had to grit her teeth to not be rude. Instead of arguing with her, the enormous man quietly walked over and lifted the yoke off her shoulders. Not bothering to put it around his neck, it was doubtful it would fit anyway, he carried the buckets, one in each hand with the yoke sort of dangling beneath them. She seriously considered protesting, but there was something about the man that stilled her tongue. Allowing herself a sideways glance she realized just how massive the man was. He easily stood a foot over Elin, and she was not especially petite. He carried the two large full buckets the way that she would take two spoons to the washing up bowl.

  "It's too cold to be out here wet. Next time," he didn’t get to continue his sentence.

  "I know, I know, I will just have to take two trips," she interjected with a sigh.

  "I was goin
g to say, 'Ask me to help you.' Why are you always in such a hurry?"

  Elin was always in a hurry because there was more to be done on a dairy farm than could ever be done in one days’ time. "My mother isn’t feeling very strong. She's taking a long time to recover from our most recent baby, and someone has to oversee the milking."

  "I heard the new baby is healthy, the Gods were kind,” he said.

  Elin gave a sort of awkward nod of agreement, sure that soon he would say what people inevitably said, “Too bad it was another girl."

  Eight girls were a catastrophe for a farmer. Everyone knew it. Her father was pitied in the public houses, and it stuck in Elin’s craw. The family had managed to turn this undesirable turn of events into a profit-making exercise. Dairying was women’s work, and he had plenty of hands for that. Still, Elin knew how exhausted he was after every day of near constant physical activity and was determined to help any way she could.

  "What's the new baby's name?" the blacksmith said by way of conversation. “Has it been long enough?"

  A baby wasn’t usually named until a full cycle of the moon had passed, the better to confuse spirits that might be looking for a foundling. Elin found herself trusting the considerate giant.

  ”It’s not official yet, but we call her Gertie."