Dark Viking (14 page)

Rita should discuss this with Steven but decided not to seek him out. He would show up soon enough.

In the meantime, while Sigge went off to do her herb gardening, having nothing to do, and knowing Steven probably wouldn‟t appreciate her showing up on the archery fields, she gathered up some of the young children who had been annoying the men erecting the tents.

She led them to a grassy meadow beyond the castle yards to tell them some stories.

First off, she tried interactive ones like “The Itsy Bitsy Spider,” “Pat-a-Cake,” “London Bridge Is Falling Down” which was coincidentally based on some Viking takeover of London, “Ring Around the Roses,” and “Knick Knack Paddy Whack.” After that, she convinced them to sit down around her for some quiet time, and she searched her brain for children‟s stories she might remember. Their favorites soon became “The Three Little Pigs,” “Jack and Jill,”

“The Old Lady Who Lived in a Shoe,” and “Humpty Dumpty,” the last of which caused them to roll over with laughter. Like children everywhere, if they enjoyed something, they wanted it repeated over and over.

She was just finishing up another telling of “Red Riding Hood,” where she described the wolf as looking a lot like Steven, and Red Riding Hood a lot like herself, when she glanced up and saw Steven leaning against a tree, staring at her. She couldn‟t tell by the expression on his face whether he was annoyed or amazed at her activity. Probably both.

“Go to your mothers,” she directed the children, who groaned at their playtime being interrupted. “If you‟re good, I‟ll tell you some different stories tomorrow.”

“Nay, the same ones,” several of the children yelled.

Within moments, they had scattered like seeds on the wind.

Looking up at Steven, she sighed. “Okay, what did I do wrong now?”

Kiss me once, and kiss me twice, and kiss me once again . . .

Steven had left the keep in a rage when he had discovered Rita was missing, his first thought being that she had somehow popped herself back to the future. Not that he believed all that time-travel nonsense. Still, he had panicked with alarm when he had thought her gone. First place he had searched was the area down by the fjord, figuring that if she came here from water, she would return the same way. No one working on the longboats had seen her.

But then he had discovered her here in the meadow, surrounded by little ones . . . one on her lap, two leaning on her shoulders, the others at her feet . . . and he could only stare. What was it about her that she could charm children as well as full-grown men?

“A wolf with black fur and silver gray eyes? Red Riding Hood of the short blonde hair?” he inquired as he sank down into the grass beside her.

“A good storyteller has to picture her different characters.” Her face flushed prettily with embarrassment at being caught making mock of him.

“And now you are a storyteller, as well as a sea siren, soldier, and stunt person?” He picked a piece of grass from her hair and flicked it away.

“Don‟t be so picky. I was just telling the children stories I recall from when I was little. Is that a crime?”

“Nay, but telling all the women in my keep that they should wear chastity belts 
is
 creating turmoil amongst my men.”

“Give me a break. I don‟t even know how a chastity belt works, let alone how to make one.”

“You did tell them that they must cover their arses.”

“I 
never
 told anyone else that they should wear panties. I just used some old scraps of cloth to make some for myself. Where I come from, women . . . men, too . . . wear undergarments.

It‟s sanitary.”

“Actually, I concur. Even the bed furs need airing out on occasion. A woman‟s pelt more so.”

“That was crude, even for you.” She shook her head at his hopelessness. “Are any of those children yours, by the way?”

His head shot up with horror. “Nay! I have no children.”

“Kind of hard to carry on your lordly line without heirs, isn‟t it?”

“Lordly line?” He chuckled. “When the time comes, I will do my duty . . . reluctantly. I have seen firsthand, through my brother Finn, what having a babe . . . and losing it . . . does to a man‟s soul. I would as soon avoid that kind of attachment to another being.”

“Well, that‟s a great way to live. Not! Besides that, you already care deeply about someone .

. . your brother.”

He nodded. “And his death has cut deeply.”

“Good luck with the no babies rule. I assume you have normal male urges, and as far as I can tell, birth control doesn‟t exist at this time.”

“Coitus interruptus.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I spill my speed outside the body to avoid planting my seed.”

She began to laugh.

That irritated him. “What is so funny?”

“If you only knew how unreliable that method is!”

“Dost have an answer for every bloody thing in the world?” he griped. “Besides, I am in a rare good mood today.” Leastways he was now that he had found her. “Do not spoil it for me with talk of babies.”

He leaned back on his elbows and studied her. She was wearing Viking attire today . . . the red gunna covered by a blue, open-sided apron that was rumpled and grass-stained. Her face had a light golden color from the sun. And his heart was racing like a warhorse afore battle, just perusing her. “Show me,” he urged in a voice husky with sudden lust, waving a hand toward her nether region.

“No way!”

“I will see eventually.”

“I am not going to lift my gown and show you my panties, so just forget about it.”

“As you say,” he agreed . . . way too easily, if her suspicious eyes were any indication. “I will put aside my wish to see your pant-hes.” 
Believe that, and I have a fjord to sell you in the
 
Arab lands.
 “Still, you owe me a boon,” he said, changing the subject. ‟Twas always good to keep women on their toes, ne‟er knowing what you would do next.

“For what?”

“Sleeping with you without tupping.” 
My ballocks are no doubt blue today from lack of
 
release.

“Jeesh! What am I? A barrel or a keg to be tupped?”

“ ‟ Tis just another word for—”

“I know what the word means. Anyhow, your restraint is admirable, but I wonder how you took my clothes off without touching me. Hmmm?”

“With great skill.” 
With great pleasure.

“I am not showing you my panties in exchange for your not 
tupping
 me.”

“Why so shy? You are not a virgin, are you?”

She made a tsking sound. “I‟m twenty-eight years old, and I‟ve been married.”

That got his attention . . . and his anger. Steven did not have many scruples when it came to bedsport, but one hard-and-fast rule was not to stray onto another man‟s property. “You are married?”

“No, I‟m not married. I 
was
 married. I divorced the jerk three years ago.”

Divorce was rare, though not unheard of in Viking society. “You divorced him? On what grounds?”

“That he was a serial adulterer.”

“Ah,” he said. Infidelity was a hard nut to swallow for men as well as women. He waved a hand dismissively. “Back to your pant-he display. Not to worry. I had another boon in mind anyway.”

“Why am I not surprised?” She arched her brows at him.

“A kiss.” When she shook her head as if he were a hopeless lackwit, he added, “A mere kiss, that is all.”

She snorted her opinion.

Did she not know that snorting was not an attractive female trait? Not that he was dumb enough to tell her.

“Steven, there is nothing 
mere
 about your kisses, and you know it.”

Of course I know it. Did it not take me years to perfect my techniques?
 “Oh, really?”

“I‟m still tingling from your last kiss, and—”

“You should not tell me such things. I will use it against you.”

“You could try. I‟m still determined not to be attracted to you, so keep your—”

Before she could finish her thought, he grabbed her by the waist, flipped her over onto her back, and was leaning over her with his lips nuzzling the curve of her neck. “You were saying?”

Instead of shoving him away, she arched her neck for his better access and moaned, “I swear you are more tempting than a Krispy Kreme doughnut.” Steven had no idea what a doughnut was, but the moan was what sealed her fate, as far as he was concerned. That, and the fact that she had arched her back up so that her breasts brushed against his chest. Even through their layers of clothing, the friction felt like wildfire igniting his senses.

He gritted his teeth at the sheer ecstasy, and his blue ballocks nigh burst with anticipation.

He had not even kissed her yet, and he was as aroused as an untried youthling.

“Heed me well, wench,” he advised, nipping at her bottom lip. “She who puts her head . . .

or other body parts . . . in the wolf‟s teeth must proceed carefully.”

Did she heed his warning? Nay, instead she used the tip of her pink tongue to lave his lips from side to side, bottom and top. “Kiss me, you tempting wolf,” she ordered, her warm breath fanning his face.

He was about to protest that he was the one in charge here, but then he decided it did not matter. In truth, he liked her taking charge . . . in this matter, leastways.

At first, he just rubbed his lips against hers, shaping and adjusting to get the perfect fit. He could not help smiling as he did so because slowly, his long-dead senses were coming to life, which was a revelation to him. Oh, he had had his share of women during these dark years, before and after Thorfinn‟s disappearance. And he had enjoyed the bedplay immensely, but he realized now that parts of him had been uninvolved, parts that made even the merest lover‟s touch or merest kiss that much more pleasurable.

Which was untenable. An attraction this strong could be perilous. Whoever or whatever she was, Rita was passing by on her way to the gods only knew where. And a kiss did not a lover make.

“This should not be happening,” she groaned.

Precisely!
 He raised his mouth to gaze down at her. As he saw the sensuous flame in her blue eyes, and as there was a sudden tightness in his chest, he thought, 
“Should not be
 
happening” be damned!
 “You are trembling.”

She nodded. “I don‟t understand what‟s happening to me.”

Steven decided understanding was overrated as he reclaimed her lips, this time with a searing hunger. Desire roared in his ears, and his blood thickened. And Rita . . . thank the heavens . . . was meeting his kisses with equal fervor.

Somehow he found himself atop her and was grinding his hips against her womanhood whilst plunging his tongue in and out of her mouth . . . Or was that her plunging her tongue in and out of his mouth? . . . when he heard something other than her soft mewling sounds of desire.

“Ahem!”

He levered himself up on straightened arms and at first was not able to see through the haze of his erotic enthusiasm. When he was able to focus, he saw Oslac standing with hands on hips and a smirk on his face. Steven snarled, “There best be a good reason for your interruption.”

“There is, m‟lord,” Oslac said, the 
m’lord
 an indication that he was enjoying his discomfort.

“Didst settle the chastity belt issue?”

“Not yet. I give you to the count of three to give me one good reason for this interruption.”

“Someone ought to put a chastity belt on you Viking men,” Rita remarked to Oslac. “That, I would be willing to work on.”

“It would have to be a really big belt.” Oslac winked at Rita, then turned back to Steven.

“Brodir has sent another messenger. He wants to attend the Althing.” Steven shot to his feet, a remarkable feat, considering the state of his remaining half erection. “He dares to suggest such! I swear the man is looking to die.”

“Uh, I think I might have something to add to this conversation,” Rita said, rising to stand in front of them and giving them both a little wave to garner attention.

“What?”
 both he and Oslac exclaimed with exasperation, not appreciating the interruption.

“You don‟t have to yell.” She was dusting specks of grass off her rump, which disconcerted him, but only for a moment. “This is man business, Ree-tah. Go back to the keep.”

She bristled at his order. “Sure thing, your lordliness.”

Then she began to stomp away. Over her shoulder she added, “I might have some information regarding Brodir, but, hey, I‟m only a simpleminded woman. Why should you listen to little ol‟ me? What do I know?”

He and Oslac looked at each other.

“It appears as if big ol‟ me is going to listen to little ol‟ her.” 

If women ruled the world . . .

As she walked back to the castle between Steven and Oslac, Rita, still reeling under the impact of her almost-lovemaking with Steven, explained everything that Sigvid had told her, ending with her own personal opinion, “I think you could settle the whole problem by letting Brodir marry your sister.”

Oslac gasped, and Steven‟s face turned red.

At first Steven appeared too stunned to speak. When he did, it was in an even, extra-calm voice. “Go. Away.”

“Huh?” 
Is this steely faced man the same one who was making sweet love to me a short time
 
ago? Talk about morphing from Jekyll to Hyde!

“That is the most lackbrained idea I have e‟er heard. You best go back to the keep and do woman things, because clearly you know naught of the workings of fighting men.”

Yep. Definitely split personality, Mr. Hyde.

“I told you that you should just drop her off a cliff,” Oslac inserted.

Now it was her turn to go red in the face. “It‟s true, I‟ve only been in military training for a year, but every good soldier knows that in the most successful battle no lives are lost.”

“Is that female illogic or time traveler illogic?” Steven ridiculed.

Oslac was grinning as if Steven had told a great joke.

She‟d like to bop them both over the head with a brick to knock some sense into their thick skulls. “Listen, isn‟t it better to prevent a war, instead of waging one without proper planning?”