A Heart of Fire (20 page)

He
seemed amused, but Finna narrowed her eyes on her husband. Though she could
breathe easier now, her body ached strangely from his absence. She stared at
his back a long moment, wondering what it was about him that drew her, yet
rejected her at the same time.

He
shifted toward her only slightly, glancing at her before he looked back into
the flames. "Turn down the bed, woman."

Finna
stilled, her eyes darting between Valdrik and the bed. It was a large bed with
a carved, massive headboard. White pelts had been sewn together to form a covering.
Above the bed were two crossed swords, and above the swords hung a bright,
golden shield.

Finna
swallowed hard.

It
was only then she realized just how big a man her husband was to need such a
large bed, and she wondered if his height and bulk had any bearing on the size
of his manhood. She hesitated at the thought. Her mother said the bedding would
hurt more if he were a larger man.

"Do
you wish me to undress, too?" she asked, blushing at the quiver in her
voice.
Her
voice never
quivered
. She gave a gusty sigh,
insulted by herself. She felt ridiculous, yet her mother had instructed her
that undressing was what he would want.

He
looked up to her, still holding his hands outward toward the fire. Slowly, he
raised one brow above the other, and this time it seemed it was he to have
trouble breathing. "Only if you wish to." His eyes skimmed her body
with barely restrained desire.

Finna
pursed her lips tightly and narrowed her eyes at him. "I do not care for
you to toy with me, Viking. You are my husband now. Shall you take me this
night or not?"

His
stare sharpened, knifing into her like fiery steel. "I do not wish you to
call me
Viking
again. Call me
Valdrik." He stood, crossing the room in a few giant strides, his eyes
never leaving her as he came to where she stood, rooted near the door.

His
easy glide and hard stare had Finna backing away now, though. Valdrik followed
her, his prowl-like steps rounding as she fled him. She scuttled to the side
and backwards into the room until her bottom bumped into something solid. She
gasped and jerked her head around, only for an instant, to see that the hard
something was a table.

She
groaned inwardly at the position she'd placed herself in.

She
should have just turned down the damn bed without question.

Finna
mentally kicked herself. Why would she suggest undressing herself to this
virile man?

She
panicked, darting her gaze around in search of any way to escape, but he was
too close. At the last instant, she shot to the side, but Valdrik reached out
and caught her by the hips, pulling her back against the table. He leaned over
her, pinning her between his massive body and the flat surface.

She
was trapped. Finna looked anywhere but at him as he stared down on her. Slowly,
he placed his hands on either side of her hips, his palms flat to the table.
Finna wasn’t sure what to do. Unbelievable heat rushed throughout her,
throbbing in her veins, pulsing hotly through her core. A seizing ache began in
her lower belly, moving steadily lower with sharp, pleasurable stabs.

"Call
me husband," he said roughly. The last word was a deep, startling,
passionate whisper that brought her keenly to life and at the same time pushed
Finna into the abyss of the unknown.

So
suddenly, he claimed her lips, shocking her. He swallowed her cry of panic as
she pulled back. Finna jerked from him, pushing at his shoulders. She regarded
him with wild eyes, but he pressed down until her back was even with the
tabletop and he wedged himself between her legs, reclaiming her lips. His kiss
turned bruising with his ardor.

Finna
squirmed in panic still, but her efforts were useless. Valdrik's mouth, his
tongue, silenced her protests and stoked her fire, soothing away her fright.
His tongue flicked at her lips, urging her to allow him entry. At last, with a
sigh, she gave in and opened for him, allowing him to do what he wished.

He
gave a throaty moan at the taste of her. Unskilled at kissing, Finna found
herself moving her tongue against his, tasting him, too. She liked his kissing
more than she thought she would. She liked his hard body against her, between
her legs, warming her until the heat dazed her, leaving her head spinning.

He
kissed her hard, rendering her of breath, so demanding and possessively that
Finna was startled when he pulled away.

"Now,
go turn down the bed as I bade you, woman. Before I change my mind." His
voice was course and deep.

The
implication of his words sent a sharp spike of heat through to her core,
turning her insides to molten liquid, to a mass of pleasurable aches as she
forced herself upward on the table.

His
lips were swollen and moist from their kissing, and the jutting arch of his
cock was plainly visible to Finna, though she tried not to look. Even he panted
for breath as she did. Valdrik looked to be on the verge of losing himself as
he looked down on her. Fleetingly, and mostly to irritate him, she glanced down
to that rise in his leggings.

He
growled at her, completely undone now. With a painful expression, he reached
down and roughly yanked her upward to sitting. He turned on his heel and left
to go back to his seat by the hearth. Valdrik raked his hands through his dark
hair in what looked to be a sharp tug. Perhaps, Finna thought, that hold on his
hair might be the last shred of a grip he had on himself.

She
inwardly laughed with triumph. She liked having some amount of control over
him.

Although,
she supposed, he held the same sexual power over her, too. For only a moment
ago she would have gladly given herself to that barbarian of a man.

Her
cheeks warmed, and she fixated blankly on the wall to the side of the table for
a long moment, gathering herself. Or trying to.

She
gingerly scooted from the edge of the tabletop and dropped to the floor.
Slowly, Finna went to the bed and pulled the bedding down, then sat on the
edge, waiting, absent of any thought.

"Go
to sleep," he said gently.

"You
are not coming to bed at all?" she asked.

"Nay."
He sighed long and hard. "Not this night."

Chapter Sixteen

Finna
jerked awake with a start, sitting up in bed. She took in the room at a glance,
pulling the covers tight to her chest. The snatch of her dream clung in her
mind. It was almost the same as usual, only she was not leaving for a raid
today.
And
, this time, she could see
the woman.

Alice.

Her
nursemaid had been holding her, not her mother.

Finna
wiped her brow with the back of her hand and turned in bed to see the rest of
the room.

Valdrik
was not there, and somehow she had the feeling she had slept far too late. Her
stomach seconded the notion, rumbling and pinching with hunger.

Finna
smiled, tired but triumphant, as she had survived her wedding night. She swung
her legs over the side of the bed, but stopped there and frowned at the small
trunk on the fur rug. It had not been there the night before.

Finna
leaned forward and lifted the lid with one finger, just enough for a peek. To
her surprise, her new clothing was folded neatly inside. She had thought Geera
would need several more weeks to finish the kirtle and dress. She scooted from
bed and came to crouch over the trunk and flipped the top of the chest back
further to rummage through the other articles of clothing. She pulled out the
new dress and stood, letting it straighten to its full length. It was
beautiful, and just as she'd asked. Geera had indeed outdone herself on the fine
embroidery along the sleeves and neck, elegant light green leaves spiraling
along a vine against the soft blue material Valdrik had given her not long
after her arrival.

Finna
tossed the dress over her shoulder and peered down into the chest to see what
else was there.

She
sucked in a breath and lifted a familiar garment. Though she had her boots, her
leggings and tunic had disappeared her first day here, and she was greatly
surprised to find them cleaned and secreted away at the bottom of the trunk,
covered only by the kirtle her mother and sister had been working diligently
on.

Finna
twitched her nose at the garment. She wouldn’t deny that she was unaccustomed
to kirtles, but it was a fine piece and necessary for the new dress. She pulled
the white linen, long sleeved undergarment from the trunk and held it out for
inspection, only then to notice the other article beneath it, similar to the
kirtle, but not nearly as bulky. Curious, Finna balled the kirtle and dress
under her arm and picked up the other garment, sucking in a sharper breath as
it fell to its full length. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of wearing it and
what Valdrik's reaction might be.

The
nightdress was fit for a queen, sewn from the silken material Valdrik had given
her, too. A material he had told her he had brought back from a raid across the
sea to the east.

Her
mother and sister had done a fine job. The nightdress laced up in the front,
the opening dipping very low, and the sleeves were hardly existent, only thin
strips. Finna looked down at the flowing bottom, and back to the top. So thin
was the lilac hued material, it was nigh transparent.

What
was she thinking? She could never wear this. Finna hurriedly tossed the dress
into the trunk and slammed the lid closed, as though she were banishing the
thing into another world altogether. The mere suggestion she disrobe herself
had sent her husband over the edge, so she couldn’t imagine what
that
might tempt him to.

She
swallowed at the memory, casting her gaze to the rafters. Finna took a shaky
breath.

"Idiot,"
she whispered at herself.

Finna
quickly removed her wedding clothing and dressed in the kirtle and then layered
the dress over the top. She picked up the woven leather belt she'd been wearing
and looped it around her middle to fasten the soft blue garment close to her
form.

Instead
of wearing the slippers as before, she put on her boots. If he would deny her
the pleasure of keeping her feet warm in the cold of winter and expected a
happy marriage, then he had better think again.

She
dropped the dress into place and tromped across the room. Finna left Valdrik's
dwelling then, and just as she closed the door, it hit her that this was to be
her home now, too. Strangely, she still only thought of it as Valdrik's home.
Finna started for the longhouse. It was only a short distance from Valdrik's
dwelling. Fresh snow had fallen during the night and crunched under her boots
as she started out.

When
she entered the longhouse, Finna scanned the main room and found her father and
husband talking quietly by the fire. She turned before they noticed her and
went to the kitchens. She was near to starving and hoped her late coming to the
morning meal would not hinder anyone.

She
entered the small area and paused, glancing among the thralls working there.
They stopped what they were doing to stare back at her. The oldest woman held a
fat goose by the neck in one hand and a sharp blade in the other. There were
two younger women preparing vegetables, and all wore grim expressions and did
not seem pleased with her presence.

"May
I have a trencher?" Finna asked.

"Morning
meal was a long time ago," the old woman said and slammed the goose down
onto the table, causing Finna to flinch, and then the woman swung the blade up
before she brought it down with a heavy
whack
onto the goose's neck.

Finna
did indeed jump back then, and the moment the blade met with the wooden table
underneath, something very odd hit her. Her head instantly began to throb, and
Finna brought her palm to her temple, pressing to alleviate the pain. A memory
flashed through her mind, a man with a red beard. He looked ferocious.

Finna
gasped.

It
was Aldar.

Her
senses were scattered to the winds, and her breath wrenched in her lungs. It
was as though her body and soul had been separated and left her dazed for a
moment.

She
had been here before.

In
this very room.

Finna
stared at the far wall a long moment, maybe longer than she realized she had
been. A baby wailed, and she clutched her head again, shaking it.

A
voice startled her then, and Finna jumped at the meek sound, frowning down at
the girl it belonged to. The girl Valdrik had pulled into his lap.

Willow.

Finna
looked at the girl's outstretched hands, lost in a sea of bewilderment, as
Willow lifted the trencher to her.

"Forgive
me," Finna mumbled. She took the food and turned, hurrying for the hall to
find a seat. She glanced behind her to find the old woman, Willow, and the
other woman looking at her curiously. Finna blushed at how strange she must
have seemed to them.