Her Heart's Desire (12 page)

“Aye. How could I not?” She ducked her head. “My heart belongs to you. Even when I'm angry, it's yours.”

“No more fortunate man lives in Northumbria or all of Briton than me.” He put his hand beneath her chin to lift her face. “My heart is yours as well, Idunna.”

A thrill charged through her body. “Truly?”

He nodded.

The gods had given him back, although their situation fell far from perfect. They were together and nothing else mattered. She would face whatever came at his side.

“There wasn't time to tell you how much I missed you.” She reached up, then pushed her hands through his hair. “To express my happiness over your return.”

The furs beckoned. His naked skin brushed the soft linen of her apron. Behind the cloth, her nipples perked into hard points.

“I should like to kiss each of your battle wounds, my chief.” Her fingers brushed the near-healed scrape on his cheek. “To show my appreciation for your bravery and service to the king.”

“If you must.” Affection softened his ice blue gaze. “It would be inconsiderate to refuse such attention.”

“Oh, aye.” Idunna stretched on her toes. Her lips touched the rough scrape. Slowly, she pressed kisses to his neck, along his collarbone, but hesitated over his bruised shoulder. “We should tend this.”

“Later.” Eyes half hooded, he forced the word through his teeth. His muscles coiled and behind the shield of his trows, his erection strained for freedom.

The scar from the arrow wound rose through the bruises. “Are you certain?”

“My head fared worse than the rest of me, but you make me suffer now by forgetting what you began.”

“Unveiling the hurts you sustained pains me.” Her vision blurred, but she wiped at her eyes, trying to dash away the sadness.

“Ah, wife, don't cry. There's nothing here that will steal me away from you for good.”

He pressed his mouth to hers. Under the wood smoke scent he carried on his skin, he was salty and musky. All the nights he'd been gone, she feared she would never feel him touch her again. Now they were alone and he was all hers.

She should let him rest, for they'd come far and faced ever stranger circumstances. Her pulse quickened when he grabbed her hips.

He kissed a tear from the outside of her eye. “You're a strong woman. Let there be no more tears today. Our reunion is not what we planned. Make the best of it.”

The intensity of the heat in his gaze left her shaking. She'd ached for this moment, but like a newborn sheep, she stumbled on her way to their bedding.

“You were less nervous as a maiden.”

He laughed, a great throaty rumble that warmed her pebbled skin.

“It's drafty here,” she protested.

“You won't notice it in a while.” His trews tumbled around his ankles. “I will keep you warm.”

The entirety of the tiny village had probably heard their argument. No doubt they'd listen to the mending of it as well. She shed her clothing as she tried not to imagine Saxon ears pressed to their door.

New scars crossed the old on Eoghann's flesh, but he moved unhindered toward her. Proud and erect, his shaft led the way, bumping her stomach when he swept her into his arms for another blood singing kiss. His tongue caressed hers as his hands cupped her bottom.

Idunna's core throbbed. She slid her fingers between them, then grasped his rod. His member lay hot against her palm.

He thrust his hips at her as she squeezed.

“I have missed this,” she whispered. “Too many nights have passed since I welcomed you in my bed. But another moment or two to welcome you between my legs won't matter much.”

“What have you in mind, wife?”

“Lay down, if you please, my chief.” She released him. “I promise you will enjoy my attentions.”

He complied without complaint. Stretched out on the furs before the fire, he seemed less commanding, a more gentle man than the warrior who'd strode into the village a short time ago.

She kneeled next to him. Small, crisp hairs dotted his long legs, trailed up to his stomach, then spread out again at his navel. Thick thighs led up to his lean waist and broad chest. Rough and ragged though he was, she'd never admired a man's form as much before.

“Have you forgotten your intentions?”

His deep voice cut into her thoughts.

“I lost myself in your magnificence, husband.”

“Days of road dirt must be fascinating. Alas, I forgot to bring the enemy head you so desired.”

“You brought back enough.” She skimmed her fingers up his leg.

Eoghann's cock jumped as though he'd been stung. “Your touch—”

“Yes? What about it?”

“You drive the thoughts from my mind with it.”

“Good, for I wish you to think only of me.” She brushed her lips over his knee. “Nothing lies beyond this shelter. Only us, here, now.”

“Agreed.”

His voice came out as half a groan when she kneaded her palm into his thigh. Beneath his skin, his muscles were tense. Idunna pressed her hands into them to release the knots.

“How did you stay a-horse so long, tight as you are?” Little by little, he relaxed under her touch.

“I did what must be done.”

The muffled way he said it suggested he'd always done so. Eoghann's life had been a series of whatever was necessary to survive. Including marrying her.

“My poor husband.” She slid her body up his. “I pray there will be time for you to cast aside the worst of your cares while we reside here. You appear so weary.”

“It comes with sympathy from a beautiful woman. While taking refuge in our own room at Solstad would have made a better reward, I cannot say I'm not relieved to be somewhere safe, with you.”

She traced his lips. “How lucky I am that you returned.”

“Luck.” He snorted. “Aye, so fortunate to ride through the cold into the wilderness where Britons, or Saxons, or an angry mob of Scots might find us and slit our throats for entertainment.”

“They didn't. We arrived safely under your guidance.”

He closed his eyes. “By some miracle.”

“Hella trusted you. He knew you wouldn't allow your sister or nephew to come to harm. And he was right to do so.”

Eoghann grabbed her hips, then slid her over his pelvis. “He would have been forced to enlist some other man if he'd not given me permission to bring you.”

She adjusted herself, allowing the head of his erection to sit at her opening. “I am small in stature, but fierce. He knew if I learned you'd left me behind, I would have followed. Or perhaps gone to Ofan myself to have words with him.”

“Indeed.” He pushed up into her. “He couldn't have that.”

“I missed you. Missed this togetherness.” She arched her back and closed her eyes while his hips rolled beneath her.

Rough palms cupped her breasts. The pads of his thumbs brought her nipples to tight peaks. “I dreamed of it every night. Sheathed by your warmth. It's a wonder I didn't wake curled with some wild animal.”

Laughter spilled from her throat. “I hope you don't suggest they might be more affectionate than your wife.”

“Not a bit.”

She rocked with him, biting her lip as he pierced her deeply. Thank the gods he was safe and they were able to join as man and wife again.

Eoghann shifted, rolled them to their sides, then again so she lay on her back. He plunged into her. Desire darkened his eyes.

She raised her head to kiss him. His tongue met hers, hungry and searching.

Legs wrapped firmly around him, she didn't allow him to pull away much as she clung to his warmth. A little cry escaped her when he lifted his mouth from hers. A fierce grin replaced his serious expression.

“Beautiful Idunna.”

She arched her back as climax rolled through her. His hands touched her face, caressed the top of her head, his lips grazed her forehead. And all the air left the room as she closed her eyes and let pleasure have her.

Chapter Twelve

“Cyneburg tells me your wife is a beauty.”

Eoghann no more set foot outside the hut than Blanid spoke.

Her sightless eyes wandered over the frosty morning. “Is she with child yet?”

Forward. He grunted. “We hope. It's too soon to be certain. She may begin to suspect if her courses don't arrive as usual.” He knew little of a woman's time and didn't care to. He drew his mantle around his shoulders. “Shouldn't you be tucked away somewhere warm?”

Blanid snorted. “The cold steals the night's thoughts away from my head. It makes me gladder of the fire when I return to it. I endure winter's strengths to bring more appreciation to things I like better.”

He nodded, though she couldn't see it. “Many's the night I sat in the darkness and wished for a fire.” He glanced at the tumbled, scarred stone of his father's hall. “What happened after...”

“The Kentigern was
murdered?
”

“Aye.”

“Those of us fortunate enough to escape lingered in the forest a while. After the
vikingrs,
lesser thieves came to sift through the ashes and take whatever wasn't ruined. They didn't get much.” Blanid's white brows drew together. “There was talk of going south to Edinburgh or some other settlement, but we patched this rough village together instead. It's what the Kentigern would have wanted.”

“You think so?” Eoghann scuffed the toe of his shoe across the frozen mud. Diarmaid had believed their father would prefer them to ally with Cuthberht. “He was a hard man.”

“At times, though a leader must often be to protect what is his. It's a poor thing that your father died. There were rumors.” She pinched papery lips together.

“Of?”

Her thin eyelids slid over her sightless eyes.

“Diarmaid. And me.” He closed his eyes too. “We tried to win the country for the Saxons. Stood against Picts, Scots, and other Britons who dared defy us.”

“A reign of terror.” Disapproval rang in her tone.

The truth laid bare. Eoghann sucked in a breath of piercingly cold air. “Some would call it that.”

“But you?”

“I did as Diarmaid commanded. Was he not the Kentigern, whose orders should always be followed?”

“He never set foot here as such. Your brother was the Ironfist's dog through and through. Cairbre never waged war unless there was something to be gained from it. He seldom saw the use of fighting. Men respected him for the peace he allowed.”

“According to Diarmaid, we would seize control of Suibhne again. That was our intention. Suibhne and the Ironfist's armies.” They never stood a chance, not against a leader such as Hella.

“Your brother had the mind of a spoiled child.” Blanid rocked on her stump perch. “His life was taken from him and it ruined him as rain warps wood.”

“You shouldn't speak ill of your chief's son.” He couldn't keep the ice from his voice. “I am his blood.”

“Yes, my lord, but you saw it too. Diarmaid was no fit ruler for the subjects of Suibhne.”

“I would have followed him to my death.”

“Had he not tried to kill Ealasaid.” Blanid turned to face to him. Her milk white gaze lifted to his. “Why did you save her, Eoghann?”

A lump formed in his throat. He cleared it. “Does my reason matter?”

“You follow a Norse king these days. I cannot understand why. They ruined our home.” Blanid hung her head, then rubbed her twisted hands together. “Diarmaid was no ruler, though I sense you could be.”

A short bark of laughter left him. “Me? Raise Suibhne from the ground and make it great once more?”

“Why not?” Her mouth slackened and her brow knit again.

“That was Diarmaid's dream. Never mine.” Hella would kill him if he attempted it.

“Yours is to follow the bidding of Norsemen?”

“I swore allegiance to him. If I hadn't...” He rubbed his throat. “I admire him, if you must know. Hella is an honorable man, even for a
vikingr.
You doubt Ealasaid's judgment?”

Blanid shook her head. “She would never have ruled Suibhne, for we've never had a woman ruler. But, yes, I see her guarding her husband's people. She is fierce and loyal, even to a lot of foreigners.”

“Hella will never allow me to stay in Suibhne nor oversee so much as a blade of grass. I am a traitor, no matter that I married into them. No matter that his beloved wife is my dear sister. They cannot trust me. And my only wish is to make my wife happy. This place doesn't suit her.”

“How do you know? You've been here less than a day.”

“She said as much. Idunna does not hide her feelings. I admire her honesty.”

“Your king will change his mind once he comes. Ealasaid will help convince him. The rightful chief has returned and you will take control of your homeland once more.” Blanid lifted herself from the stump. “I'm old, boy, but not ready to take my place among the dead yet. You, however, have already taken your position.”

“I'm no chief,” he muttered. “I have no wish to lift a blade against another man. My father never let his leave his side. I want peace. Warriors and kings seldom invite it in these times.”

“Yet you carry a sword at your side now.”

He couldn't guess how she knew. Perhaps Cyneburg had given her an account of him. “Out of necessity. My nephew's life is at stake.”

“You think like the third son who never believed responsibility would be thrust on him. It's arrived. Take it or step aside and let another man have it. Will you lose your homeland again to a Norse dog?”

“To keep my head, aye. I like it where it is and I think my wife would agree.”

“Your father would be ashamed that he'd raised such a coward.” Blanid spat on the ground. “To think I spoke for you yesterday.”

His blood surged. “Mind your tongue, old woman. I may be no chief, I may be a shame to my father's name, but I won't hesitate to put you in your place.”

“Oh, aye. It's easy to reprimand the old and infirm. It seems difficult to believe Diarmaid didn't offer you as a sacrifice to the Ironfist to get you out of his way on the path to victory.” Blanid hobbled away.

Eoghann's mouth dried as his heart thudded hard.
Old bitch.
What right did she have to say such things to him—the Kentigern's son? He eased his fingers from his pommel, then lifted his hand. He couldn't recall placing his hand to his sword.

A shiver stole over him. Killing defenseless old women was Diarmaid's way, not his. Christo, the last few days had taken a toll on him. Even a night spent in Idunna's arms hadn't softened his troubles. Blanid was mistaken. He was no raiser of lost realms, nor a man fit to carry the problems of others.

“Blanid is an old fool. She clung tae hope ye'd return, said she read it in a lamb's guts long ago, but ye may as well have stayed gone if ye're goin' tae act as though ye do nae belong here.” Leofric glared down at Eoghann from a tree limb a good ten feet in the air. “We're doin' fine without any Kentigerns.”

“This thriving village is a sight to behold, boy. You must be proud.”

Leofric scowled. “Run back to the
vikingrs,
traitor. We have nae need of yer leadership.”

Eoghann turned his back on the boy. “I'll leave when I'm good and ready, you little pup. Until then, show some respect and stay out of my way.”

Memories of how Suibhne had looked years ago ran through his mind. Homes and shops had lined the dirt streets. People had greeted him with cheerful calls while he roamed. Not far from the old hall, he'd learned to spar with his brothers.

Gone, all of it, with a few torches and swords.

Bitter gall crept up his throat. In place of the things he remembered dead, twisted weeds flopped on wind. Scatterings of last spring's leaves scrambled across the remaining snowy patches. Suibhne, like his father, was a ghost.

“Ma told me it burned, but I didn't know it would be so...” Birgir approached with Fulla clasped to his chest. His expression soured.

“Inhospitable?”

Birgir nodded. “How long do we have to stay here?”

“Until your da comes. Pray it's soon.”

“Ma wondered if Aunt Idunna could watch Fulla for a bit? She's tending the sick. No sense letting the baby take ill if we can help it.” He patted the little girl's back fondly. “I volunteered to bring her.”

“I'm sure your aunt won't mind. Announce yourself first. She may be sleeping.” And she was unattired, something he knew for certain. “Go straight back to your ma when you're through speaking with your aunt. Don't wander off. There might be danger here.”

“I'm not daft, Uncle Eoghann.” Birgir rolled his eyes. “I know what to do. Ma gave the same instructions.”

“Good lad.” He reached out to ruffle Birgir's hair, then changed direction and patted the boy's shoulder. “I never feel as though I must worry about what you're doing.”

“I can't make anyone worry. There's too much at stake.” His solemn gaze fell on Fulla. “Da would be ashamed if I acted like a child and not a man.”

Though not nearly grown, Birgir already felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. Between Ealasaid and Hella, he would grow to be a fine man. “I doubt Hella would ever be ashamed of you. Run on now. Tell your aunt I'll be along soon.”

“All right.” Birgir's mouth lifted in a grin and some of the humor returned to his eyes. He picked a path to the hut, careful with the child in his arms.

Such responsibility fell on the boy. Not much more different from when Diarmaid was a child and he'd been forced to protect Eoghann. But he'd resented his little brother's presence. Given the choice, no doubt he would have left Eoghann to starve, if not for the damnable Kentigern honor.

“Lord Eoghann.” Aethelred jogged across the rutted path. “I'm glad ye're awake, I am. There's trouble, ye see. It needs settlin' and ye're the best man for it.”

His muscles tensed. “Trouble? Are there intruders?”

“Nae, nae. It's between Cerdic and Osmund. They run sheep on the same land and both claim tae own the big ram.”

Was that all? “I have no idea who it belongs to. Why must I decide?”

“Ye're impartial to the creature. Besides, ye're the lord here, are ye nae?”

“They won't listen to me. I've been here less than a day.” As Blanid had pointed out. “They'll want none of my thoughts on the matter.”

“That's nae important. Ye are the lord.” Aethelred pulled on Eoghann's arm. “Come on, then.”

They crossed the place where the village center once stood and down a sheep trail. Two men stood in the open, one with his arms folded, the other clutched a long staff. Both scowled as Aethelred led Eoghann to them.

“Now, let him be the judge.” Aethelred presented Eoghann with no flair. “Osmund?”

“My own ewe bore the ram last spring. It stayed by her side until she dropped another this year. She drove it away—”

“Aye, right into my flock,” the other man said. “You didn't come to claim him, even when I complained that he'd injured my old ram. He's mine now, as that ram died from injuries given to him by the young one. Fair is fair.”

Osmund's face reddened. “Best thing for it was to be put out of its misery. It was crippled from the attack by the wolves last year. I remember how it came limping up the path. You claim my young ram hurt your old one, but where's the proof? I say you killed it yourself. That handsome young sheep is mine, Cerdic. You're not owed a thing.”

“Ye see the problem here, my lord?” Aethelred glanced between the men. “They need someone to settle this feud before blood is spilled.”

“Very well.” Below them, two separate flocks of sheep huddled against the wind and picked at the brown landscape. A few sheep straggled between the flocks. Two dogs watched the wanderers, eyes eagerly pinned on the animals. “The ram was born to Osmund, there's no denying this?”

“None, my lord,” Cerdic said.

“And Cerdic's ram was old and crippled by wolves.”

“Aye.” Osmund wrinkled his nose, then wiped his hand beneath it. “I allowed him to keep the ram to service his ewes—”

“Enough.” Eoghann slashed his hand through the air. “You have another ram, Osmund?”

“That I do.”

“And no proof other than Cerdic's word that the younger killed the elder.”

Both men nodded.

“Then I declare Cerdic the new owner of the wandering ram. But should it bring harm to yours, you will retake ownership, Osmund.” Eoghann folded his hand around the cold sword pommel. “Perhaps it would be wiser to separate the sheep farther from each other. Who can say which of those ewes belong to either of you out there.”

Cerdic burst out laughing. “Easy, my lord. Those with the ear notches on the right are mine. Osmund's are notched on the left.”

Heat flooded Eoghann's face. “I see. I hope the outcome is satisfactory.”

Osmund uncrossed his arms and although his displeasure showed in his frown, he nodded. “I understand, my lord.”

“It's all good and well. Cerdic, Osmund, ye two behave.” Aethelred waved at them. “Come along, my lord. Let's break the fast. My daughter's cooked and done her best to impress ye. Come, come.”