The Viking Takes a Knight

by Sandra Hill

  “That, too,” she said. “Nay, I was thinking of you in that beekeeping veil…and nothing else.”

  “Mayhap we can arrange both our desires,” he murmured against her neck, having tugged her into his embrace, which she did not fight, thank the saints! Cupping her face in his hands, he studied her face. “You are beautiful.”

  “’Tis lust speaking,” she replied, linking her arms around his neck. “But thank you just the same.”

  It was unclear where her insecurity about her appearance came from, but she was wrong if she thought herself less than comely. “Thank you for one of the most memorable nights of my life.”

  “Truly?” She kissed the side of his mouth gently and was about to pull back when he yanked her back for a more thorough kiss. God, he loved kissing her. Each time he discovered a facet he hadn’t expected. A surprise, that’s what she was. A sexual surprise.

  “Truly,” he finally answered.

  “Even without…?”

  “Intercourse?”

  She nodded.

  “I will not deny that it could be so much more, but you gave me immense pleasure. I wish I could give you more.”

  “I cannot imagine more,” she said. “Was I too…wanton?”

  He chuckled. “A woman’s ardor is a man’s delight,” he assured her.

  The whole time they were talking, he was un-pinning her apron, which puddled at her feet, and lifting the hem of her gunna.

  Cupping her bare buttocks, he whispered, “Wrap your legs around my hips.” Then, even as he kissed her hungrily, he walked to a far wall, where he braced her in place. With loosened breeches about his knees, he arranged his now exposed cock along her cleft.

  “You are wet,” he said, raising his head with surprise.

  “I have been thinking about you all morning,” she confessed. Scarlet stains colored both her cheeks. After all they had done, she could still blush. Amazing!

  “Ah, Ingrith!” he sighed, beginning to thrust between her slick folds. At the same time, with one hand holding her around the waist and the other massaging a breast through her wool gown, he kissed her deeply and thoroughly, as if he could sink into her, make them one.

  Then he stopped and took his cock in hand, using the knob to stroke the raised bud at the top of her channel.

  She began to beg, “Please, please, please…”

  He resumed his thrusts then, matching his tongue thrusts to the same rhythm, and they both peaked together. To his embarrassment, he had not pulled away quickly enough, and he’d soiled the back of her gown.

  “I am sorry,” he said.

  She put a fingertip to his mouth. “Shhh. I will arrange my apron over it before going to my room and changing. Truly, ’tis no problem.”

  He blinked at the sudden burning in his eyes. “I have felt like a cripple, Ingrith. You make me feel whole.”

  She had been straightening her clothing, as he had been, but she stopped and cradled his face in one hand. “I am the one who has been crippled, without realizing what I had been missing. For the first time in my life, I feel like a woman.”

  They stared at each other for a long time as something frightening sizzled between them.

  “I wish I could give you more.”

  She shrugged. “I wish you could, too.”

  “I still will not marry you,” he said, and could have bitten his tongue.

  She flinched, and walked away.

  Even if it was true, the words did not need to be said aloud. Not at this time. He felt lower than dragon piss.

  What could he do to make it up to her?

  Skinheads aren’t all bad…

  Ingrith was in her bedchamber, changing her gunna, when she heard a rustling sound under the bed. At first, she thought it might be mice among the rushes, but soon discovered in was Henry.

  His tear-tracked face was woeful when she dragged him out.

  “What are you doing under there?” she asked as she wiped his wet cheeks with the edge of her apron and took him onto her lap.

  “I doan want my head lopped off.”

  “What?”

  “I heard Lord Hawk and Ordulf talkin’. They say my father wants ta kill me.”

  “That is not true, Henry. He wants to meet you, but the men who surround him might do you harm. That is why we are hiding for the moment. We will protect you, though. Do not doubt that.”

  “But what if…”

  She shook her head. “I promise, you are safe, as long as you do as you are told. You must pretend to be Samuel, and we must keep your hair shaved. But only for a little while, until matters are resolved. Do you understand?”

  He nodded, but she could tell he was still scared. Therefore, she did not chastise him when he nipped at her heels for the rest of the day. And, truth to tell, she needed a diversion to keep her mind from dwelling on John’s hateful words at their last parting.

  Oh, she knew he would not…in his mind, could not…marry her, but his timing had been cruel. Could he not at least pretend affection for her?

  She would like to think that she would avoid him now. That she could stop the sex play. But she knew herself too well. Now that she knew what lovemaking entailed, she wanted to experience everything. Even if it was only for a short while.

  So, that evening at dinner, when she sat down next to John and he tried to apologize, she raised a halting hand and said, “Nay. No regrets. I knew coming into this that it was not to be permanent. If you think that you are using me, do not. I am using you.”

  “What?”

  “By the time I leave Hawk’s Lair, I expect to be well-versed in the love arts. Mayhap I will be more receptive to men’s attentions now that I know what I was missing. Mayhap even one of the suitors my father has presented will do. Or else I will become a courtesan of sorts. A Viking courtesan. I like the sound of that.”

  “You cannot do that!”

  She frowned at him. “Why not?”

  “Because…because it would not be right.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “What I am teaching you is for us alone.”

  If it were any other man than John, she would swear that he was jealous. Was that possible? Hmmm. She decided to test the waters. “The only man who can make such a demand on me is my husband, and you will ne’er be that, by your own proclamation.” She patted his hand, which rested on the table. “Not to fear. I will be in your bedchamber tonight. I have much to learn yet.”

  His face flushed. Even his shaved head had heightened in color. He is jealous, Ingrith concluded, and smiled to herself. She would decide later how to best use that information.

  “Think I am funny, do you?” John prepared to stand and no doubt stalk away, but Bolthor put a hand on his shoulder and shoved him back down.

  “Wait. You must hear my latest endeavor,” Bolthor insisted.

  Katherine, leaning forward so that Ingrith could see around both Bolthor and John, pointed to her husband, then to John, and winked.

  Oh, good gods! What would the skald say now?

  “This saga will be called ‘Ode to Shaven Heads.’”

  Ah, that wasn’t so bad. John was to take the brunt of Bolthor’s warped humor. She was to be spared.

  Or so she thought.

  Men are vain creatures

  So aware of their features,

  Like smoldering eyes,

  Or muscled thighs,

  A manroot of immense size,

  Charming tongue to romantize,

  All to gain the woman prize.

  But what if they lose their hair?

  From bedsport will bald heads scare?

  Or will those bare-skinned heads

  Lure more women to their beds?

  Mayhap a bare-skinned roof

  Will permit a sex play that is foolproof

  One which lets a woman peak,

  And peak, and peak, and peak.

  Tell us true, Ingrith and Katherine,

  Did bald heads worship at your shrine?


  And did it feel like a porcupine?

  “This is all your fault,” she said to John, and stood.

  “Me? I am as much a victim here as you are.”

  “You have honey enough for your experiments. I have decided that I do not want to be one of your subjects.”

  “Subject?”

  “Bedplay experiment.”

  “Ingrith! Where do you get these ideas? You know I…oh, what the bloody hell! Go if you must! I do not need you.”

  Her heart cracked a bit at those word-arrows. “You have made that abundantly clear from the start.”

  As she lay in her lonely bed that night, she wondered if this was what they meant by cutting off your nose to spite your face. Except that it wasn’t her face that was suffering, lest it referred to her pride. Yea, losing face had become too important to her.

  She buried her head under her pillow and tried to sleep. Forget about counting sheep. She counted bees.

  Would you like to see my…garden?

  John resisted his base inclinations until the following afternoon.

  After a sleepless night, which ended in a most unsatisfactory self-pleasuring; after a morning in which his men snickered behind his back; after an hour in his honey shed, where he was unable to concentrate, he stomped into the kitchen, surprising Ingrith, Katherine, and a half dozen maids, including the woman Ingrith was presumably training as her replacement cook. Oh, that there could be a replacement lover! But, woe to him, there could never be another Ingrith, he was fast discovering.

  “What are you doing?” Ingrith asked as she paused in the midst of stuffing some bird…a pigeon or sea bird or small chicken, he could not tell. No matter! She wiped her hands on a damp cloth and followed in his wake through the kitchen and into the pantry.

  He was tossing various items into a leather saddlebag. A wedge of hard cheese. A circle of manchet bread. A hunk of smoked ham. Two apples. A flagon of wine.

  “John, I asked you what you are doing.”

  He turned to confront her. “Do you care?”

  “Care what? That you are messing up all my shelves?”

  Her shelves? He grinned and proceeded to make an almighty big mess, tossing fruit, jars, spices, and various other foods onto a table in the middle of the room. “We are going for a ride.”

  “We?”

  “You and I.”

  “Why?”

  “I have something to show you.”

  “Methinks I have already seen it.”

  “Not that, sweetling.”

  “Do not call me sweetling.”

  “Why…sweetling?”

  She bared her teeth at him and growled.

  “You are getting quite good at that.”

  She blew out a breath of frustration. “What am I getting quite good at?”

  “Snarling at me.” And other things. He put an arm over her shoulders. “Will you come with me for an hour or two? I would like to show you a special section of Hawk’s Lair. It will give us privacy to talk.”

  She hesitated, then nodded. “As long as talk is all you have in mind.”

  “Of course.” Ha, ha, ha!

  With Ingrith perched on the horse in front of him, John had the opportunity to tease her at will. A forearm brushing against a breast. A hand inadvertently touching the delta of her thighs. His raging enthusiasm pressing against the crease of her buttocks.

  He had been taking it as a sign of her receptivity when she didn’t protest…until she raised her rump and sat down hard on his bulging enthusiasm, which was instantly no longer bulging. “Oops,” was all she said. It was enough.

  They finally arrived at their destination, and he helped her dismount.

  “Oh, my! The scent is fantasic here. What is it?” She visibly sniffed the air. “I know. Roses.”

  He smiled at her correct guess. Tethering the horse and grabbing his saddlebag and blanket, he said, “Come.” With their fingers laced, he led her up to the top of a rise.

  She gasped at the sight below.

  Rows and rows of roses of all colors from white to darkest red provided a spectacular picture over more than a sulung of land. Six beehives were arranged in the midst.

  Turning to him, she said, “It is like a painting. Almost too beautiful to believe.”

  “I bring back rose cuttings from wherever I travel, even when fighting for my king in other lands. My family members do the same. Not all roses thrive in this climate, but many do.”

  He walked to one of the nearest bushes and used his knife to cut the stem and clip off the thorns.

  When he handed the bloodred rose to her, she seemed overcome with emotion. “Thank you for sharing this place with me.”

  “Am I forgiven?”

  She pretended to be unsure, but then she squeezed his hand. “Of course. I was at fault as well for losing my temper.”

  He spread the blanket and emptied the food out of the saddlebag, handing her the flagon of wine to pour into two small cups. Once he’d arranged himself in a reclining position where he could view the flower fields and he’d taken a sip of the red wine, he glanced over at her, in a similar position.

  “I missed you last night,” he told her.

  She turned on her side so she could see him better. “I missed you, too.”

  “I had every intention of seducing you here today, but I have changed my mind. I will not be making love to you.”

  “Oh, please! You are not going to start the ‘I will not marry you’ nonsense again!”

  He smiled and tapped her playfully on the chin. “That is not what I was going to say. I am proving to you that you are more than sex to me. Not an experiment, as you said.”

  “And by doing so, who are you punishing? Me or you?”

  He chuckled. “Not a punishment, you willful wench. If I had set about a seduction, you would have protested that, too.”

  And so they ate the food and drank the wine and talked about inconsequential things. His goals for the honey experiments. Her plans for the orphanage. Funny stories of his being a Saxon growing up in a Viking keep. Funny stories of five Viking sisters being on the run after killing a villainous earl.

  There was not even one kiss or caress. Even so, John knew that he treaded dangerous territory. He was falling in love with a Viking princess.

  When he yawned widely, and she followed suit, he lay down on his back and pulled her to his side with her cheek on his chest and his arm around her shoulders. Under the warm, summer sun, the previous night took its toll, and they fell asleep.

  In his dream, John was making love to Ingrith. Really making love. And it was wonderful. Except…

  Cough, cough, cough!

  He was about to thrust inside her dream body.

  Cough, cough, cough!

  Only gradually did he realize that it was not Ingrith coughing, or him. He slowly opened his eyes to see an amused Hamr standing over them.

  Immediately, he set a drowsy Ingrith aside and stood up. “You are back.”

  “Obviously.”

  “And?”

  “Loncaster was at my back. I expect he will be here by nightfall.”

  “Whaaaat?” Ingrith shrieked, jumping to stand at his side. Addressing Hamr, she scolded, “You stand there like a fig tree taking all the time in the world. Do you not recognize the danger?”

  “All is well back at the keep. Bolthor and Ordulf have the children in hand. They’ll pretend everything is normal. And you two…well, there will be no doubt in Loncaster’s mind that his affections for Lady Ingrith are not being returned.” He stared meaningfully at the mark on her neck and their rumpled clothing.

  When they got back to the keep, everything was surprisingly calm. They dismounted in the stables, and Ingrith was about to rush off when John grabbed her forearm, pulling her into a hug.

  Against her ear, he whispered, “Loncaster will not prevail. This I promise you.”

  She leaned back to gaze up at him. With tears in her eyes, she stunned him with those most
unwelcome words: “I love you.” Once a woman uttered that declaration, it was the beginning of the end for him…although he hadn’t had much of a beginning yet with Ingrith.

  “Ingrith,” he chastised. “We agreed.”

  She waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, do not get your braies in a twist. Besides, I told you…um, that before.”

  “Nay, you did not say that. What you said was, ‘I think I have fallen in love with you.’ There is a vast difference.”

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  Probably.

  “The words just slipped out. Forget I said them.”

  Hah! Not bloody likely. “Those are words that cannot be unsaid.”

  “Let me modify them then. I want you.”

  “I want you, too.” More than you know. “Does that mean you will do that one thing I told you they do in the Arab lands? The one with the marble wand.”

  “You are being unnecessarily loutish. Let me modify my words even more. I do not want you. In fact, I wish I had never come here. Go away. I have better things to do than prattle with you.” She threw the rose he had given her at his chest.

  I could have handled that better.

  Before he could respond, not that he had anything to say, she was off to organize the world, or leastways his keep. You had to love a woman like that.

  He only wished he could.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The terrible trouble arrived…

  I am pitiful.

  Ingrith came to that conclusion immediately upon having blurted out those three words that she knew shocked John into speechlessness. He had made it more than clear from the beginning that her softer affections would be unwelcome; so, he must view her declaration as a betrayal of sorts.