Viking Ecstasy (11 page)

❧

It was brilliantly sunny, and Tanaka rolled back the tent over her living quarters to feel the warmth of the sun. She rolled up the sleeves of her dress and, using a hair brush that one of the men had found on board, she pulled the tangles from her long, wavy hair.

"Tanaka, I have food for you," Sven said, his voice muffled slightly, speaking through the blanket that served as a wall.

Tanaka set aside the brush and rolled back down the sleeves of her dress. The Vikings, she had noticed, were far more inclined to keep their bodies covered than the Egyptians were. Once, when she had her dress raised up enough to show her knees, virtually every man aboard the ship had turned his eyes modestly away. Tanaka accepted this as a sign of growing respect, and that Sven had announced his presence rather than simply pushing the blanket aside and stepping into the bow was proof that the men now considered her more than just the slave who had been given to Tabor.

"Enter."

Pulling the curtain aside, Sven stepped onto the bow, a plate laden with food in his hand, concern in his eyes. He hardly glanced at Tanaka before turning his attention to Tabor, who remained on the bed of blankets, body swathed except for his head.

"Has he said anything?" Sven asked, though he knew that the black sleep still claimed his leader.

"No. But I have hope. He is a strong man, and I have been able to get some food and drink into him." Tanaka took the plate of pickled fish and dried meat and began tearing the portions into even smaller pieces. She was always afraid that the food she forced down Tabor's throat would choke him, so she kept the morsels extremely small. This, however, made feeding him a task that took many hours, and she always made sure that he ate before she did.

The land off to the west was unfamiliar to her, and she asked, "Where are we?"

"That is Spain," Sven replied, though his eyes never left Tabor. "I think it is, anyway." There was a pause, and then he said, "Tabor would know. He'll tell us later, I suppose."

Sympathy warmed Tanaka's heart. Sven was a strong man, and yet he seemed lost without Tabor. "Yes, I suppose he will," Tanaka replied, hoping to give Sven confidence.

After Sven left, Tanaka patiently began feeding tiny pieces of fish into Tabor's mouth. He was so thin now. How much more weight could he lose before he could lose no more? What would happen to her if he died? It surprised Tanaka that she was more concerned about what would happen to her heart if Tabor died instead of what Sven or the others might do to her if their leader died.

"Come on, Tabor, return to us," Tanaka whispered, stroking his face with her fingertips. "Everyone is counting on you. We all look to you for strength, for guidance. What would we do without you?"

❧

Tanaka could tell they had travelled far to the south, not only because of the warmth, but because of the countryside. It was much greener, the vegetation more lush and lavish. She ached for the feel of solid ground beneath her feet. She hungered, too, for the taste of something other than the nourishing though utterly bland Scandinavian food that the boat was packed with. When Tanaka thought this, she cursed herself for being so churlish. Not long ago, when she had been Ingmar's slave, she had not been given enough to eat. If she didn't particularly like the taste or variety of the food she was given now, that seemed a petty and minor inconvenience.

The blankets were pulled tight and tied back to allow in the golden rays of the sun. Tanaka yanked the blankets off Tabor and wiped him with a damp cloth. She had stripped him of his shirt and trousers several days before. She ran the cloth over his chest, marveling once again at his breadth, noticing that even though the definition of his pectoral muscles wasn't what it had been, he was still astonishingly, awesomely masculine.

She wiped his chest and stomach, moving downward slowly, averting her eyes, even though she had thoroughly washed him previously.
There is no cause for embarrassment
, she admonished herself. Tabor still slept in the black sleep. He didn't know she was there. He probably didn't know he was alive. Still, when she touched him, careful to touch him with nothing but the damp cloth, she felt strange, as though she were violating him — committing an act she shouldn't and that she would be punished for.

She squeezed water from the cloth, brought it back to Tabor's body. . . . and jumped when Tabor groaned and grabbed her by the wrist. He held her hand where it shouldn't have been at all!

"You're alive!" Tanaka breathed, afraid that in wanting him to open his eyes she had constructed an all-too-real illusion.

Tabor's lips moved, but no sound came out. After a moment, he simply, nodded his head. Then, despite his weakness, a sly smile curled his mouth, and a twinkle lit his eye. Still holding her by the wrist, he kept her hand against him until she jerked away. Although happy that he was alive, she was about equally angry.

"What ..." he said at last, his voice faltering. He moistened his lips and started over. "What you were . . . doing . . . would bring any man back to life."

Tanaka gave him a cross look, though her anger quickly dissipated. Tabor wanted to talk, to question, but she wanted him to eat and drink. Since she was the more determined of the two, she won out. But almost as soon as Tabor managed to get several mouthfuls of fish and cold potatoes into his stomach, followed by several hearty swallows of wine, he fell asleep.

"It is just sleep this time," Tanaka whispered, stroking Tabor's blond hair as she knelt beside him. "Strength-giving sleep, not the black sleep." She said the words aloud to give herself strength and confidence. Then, with the blanket still in place so that she had privacy, Tanaka stripped off all her clothes and sat cross-legged facing the sun, concentrating on a mental image of the lotus blossom, the Egyptian symbol of regeneration, and seeking the strength of the heavens to bring all of life's glories back to the tall, powerful Viking who lay beside her.

❧

The news that Tabor had spoken and eaten elated the crew. Huge quantities of food and wine were prepared for Tabor, even though Tanaka said it wasn't necessary yet. When Tanaka stepped out from the bow and presented herself to the crew, a cheer went up that had to be loud enough for the two ships that continued to follow to hear.

"I think the worst is behind him now," Tanaka told the men "Soon you will have your leader again."

Looking into the faces of the men, she could see the strain of the days at sea. Continually chased, they knew that when the wind from the north died, so, too, would they all. She felt proud, also, of the work she had done to save Tabor's life . . . and she felt relief that he would live.

Sven leaned close to Tanaka and whispered, "You have my eternal gratitude. You have done a great thing, and for that great thing I will always remember you."

"He's still in danger," Tanaka said, not wanting anyone to forget that Tabor's wounds were still with him.

"But he has your love to sustain him."

The words shocked Tanaka, and she could think of nothing to say in reply. Sven saw her surprise and confusion and said, "You have saved his life, and now you will love him. It is destined. You cannot help it. We all love those we save."

Excusing herself, Tanaka closed the blanket curtain behind her to be alone with the sleeping Tabor. She needed to think, to sort out what she truly knew and what she just believed to be the truth. But the words that Sven had spoken kept coming back to her; and each time they echoed in her mind's ear, she heard the ring of truth. Sven and Tabor loved each other and felt a bond of loyalty because each had risked his own life for the other many times. Indeed they had saved each other's life many times. The men loved Tabor because they trusted him to keep them alive in troubling times. They believed that he, with his superior judgment and skills, could save them; and because he had saved their lives, Tabor loved his men.

He is a Viking ... a barbarian Viking . . . I am an Egyptian high priestess. . . . a priestess would never allow herself to love a barbarian,
she thought with straining conviction, hoping that Sven was wrong in his prediction.

Tabor's recovery was not as swift as Tanaka wished. That first day, when Tabor was awake, he ate, and then sleep would reclaim him. But the color in his face had returned, and his wounded biceps appeared to have avoided the sickness in the blood altogether.

Once, while Tabor slept, the wind died and the two trailing ships brought out their oars and closed the distance between them to less than fifty yards.

But then the wind picked up again; and while the Norwegian ships transfered back to running under sail, Sven put almost a mile of sea between himself and his pursuers.

It was during the second day after Tabor crept out from the black sleep that the chills struck him, making him shake no matter how many warm blankets were piled upon him. The crew fell silent, their thoughts with their leader, all of them knowing that there were limits to human endurance, even for Tabor, Son of Thor. He had battled constantly for their welfare, and they prayed to the gods that his life would be spared and that the copper-skinned slave with the strange name and odd accent had the healing magic in her fingertips.

Tanaka's emotions ran wild. One minute she was convinced that Tabor had finally shaken off the shackles of his sickness and that he would be fine in just a few hours. The next moment, watching him shake as though he were cold and, at the same time, perspire as though burning from excessive heat, she was convinced that he could not last much longer. He had suffered as much or more than any man could be expected to; and if he chose to die, no one would blame him.

When the sun went down, the tension and the fear rose. The wind generally dwindled, hinting at the possibility that the trailing ships would use their oars to close the protective gap. Also, the sea darkness was so complete that the possibility of becoming beached on a sand bar, or shattered on rocks, was dangerously heightened. And it was during the night, when the rays of the sun were no longer there to warm Tanaka and to give her comfort and confidence, that her fears took on the strength and force of physical beings. She had loved desert nights in Egypt but she was afraid of the night now that she spent them aboard a Viking ship.

Rising up on her knees, Tanaka pulled the dress and underdress over her head. Naked, she added one more blanket to those already over Tabor, then crawled in beside him, careful to be on his right side so that she would be away from his injured arm.

Very gently, she placed her cheek on his chest, where she was able to hear Tabor's heart beating. It was a reassuring sound for her, even though he still shook from the fever as he slept.

Tanaka raised her knee, sliding it over his legs as she rolled closer to him. She placed her hand lightly on his stomach and in the midnight darkness whispered, "Please don't die. I'm not as afraid when I'm near you, even if you can't hear what I say. You inspire me, Tabor. You inspire everyone who is close to you."

Closing her eyes, Tanaka snuggled a little closer, pressing her small, naked body against his large one, hoping that somehow the life energy within her could be transferred to him.

T
abor woke with a jerk of his body, his eyes bursting open to complete and utter darkness. Though he was a brave man, the apparent blindness frightened him until he saw the twinkling of a few stars that had managed to peek through the clouds. There was nothing wrong with Tabor's eyes or with his sense of touch, for Tanaka lay naked beside him and her breasts, pressed against his side, were as firm and warm and tempting as he remembered.

His first instinct was to roll toward Tanaka and pull her in tighter, but he took a moment to mentally readjust himself to his surroundings and get his bearings on who and what he was and all that he had been through.

It took a few seconds, but Tabor was able to recall the fierce fever that had gripped him. Vaguely, he recalled Tanaka trying to get him warm enough to stop the shakes; at other times she was taking the blankets off because he was burning up with the fever. He recalled, too, how she had slowly and cautiously fed him. This was not an easy revelation for a proud Viking warrior like Tabor.

He recalled, too, coming out of the black sleep and being able to eat hearty meals, and that was when the fever hit him. Though his powerful muscles felt stiff from disuse, as he cautiously moved his arms and legs, he understood that the ship of his body had weathered this particular storm in good fashion. With the exception of his left arm, which still throbbed and itched from Ingmar's arrow, his ship, as his Viking mind put it, felt seaworthy.

Once he had come to the conclusion that he was alive and, at least for a little while, likely to stay that way, there was the matter of the unclad woman beside him.

He inhaled and smelled the intoxicating aroma of Tanaka. The warmth of her next to him —her body curled up along his side, her thigh thrown over his with her right arm resting lightly across his stomach—was an aphrodisiac that Tabor, no matter how battered and beaten he'd been, responded to with a slow but insistent hardening.

He grinned as he sensed himself lengthening, thinking that this surely had to be a sign that he was regaining not only strength but appetite.

Her cheek was against his chest, and he felt the soft, brushing warmth of her breath against his nipple. Tanaka's hair—the color and texture of which had so fascinated him from the very beginning—was spread over his right arm and along the blanket near his head.

Curling his arm around Tanaka's shoulders, Tabor moved cautiously, not wanting to waken her yet, and he was pleased when —with a sleep, mewl—she snuggled closer to him. The movement of her thigh against his own brought fresh waves of stimulation streaming through Tabor's body, jolting his manhood to its full potential.

Tabor dismissed the practical, pragmatic questions that nudged against desire. There would come a time when he could find out how long he had been recovering from his wounds and the sickness, a time when he could find out where they were and where they were sailing to, a time to discover if they were still being chased by Ingmar's boat. But the time for that was not now. Tanaka was at his side, and she had never seemed more alluring to him.