Viking Ecstasy (2 page)

"What is your name?" he asked, his tone gruff. Now that he had been saddled with the responsibility of taking care of this poor, unfortunate — if exotically-alluring—soul, he wanted to take her some place safe, then be rid of her.

"Tanaka," the woman replied after some hesitation, her eyes dark and unflinching as she glared up at Tabor.

Ingmar grabbed her by the upper arm, his large hand almost completely surrounding her biceps. "Tanaka, if you give Tabor any trouble, if you deny him any pleasure, I will teach you why I am called Ingmar the Savage. Do you understand?"

Tanaka looked at Ingmar and replied, "The most that you can steal from me is my body, and that is only the outward appearance of who I really am. But I do not expect a barbarian like you to understand such a truth." She spoke with a thick accent, though her intelligence and grasp of Tabor's language was readily apparent.

Ingmar swung his open hand toward Tanaka's face. No one had ever insulted him without paying a terrible price for their temerity, and the Egyptian slave would be no different. But before his palm could punish the smooth, flawless, dark-hued flesh of Tanaka's cheek, Tabor's reflexes proved to be superior. His right hand shot upward to catch Ingmar's wrist, preventing the arcing blow.

"You bastard!" Ingmar hissed, now even angrier with Tabor than with Tanaka.

"She is mine now," Tabor replied, still holding tightly onto his enemy's wrist. "I don't want you bruising what I own. Unless you want her back?" he asked, his voice rich with open challenge.

To a Viking, the only thing worse than being a coward was being falsely generous, giving something only to later demand its return.

"She's yours, Tabor, and good riddance." Ingmar pulled his wrist free of Tabor's grasp. The flesh was white and bloodless where Tabor had squeezed, the marks of his fingers still plainly visible on the pale flesh. "Have your pleasure with her, Tabor, if you can find any pleasure in her at all. Her skin is dark, and she lies there like a corpse."

Tabor tightened inside at Ingmar's words. What difference did it make if Tanaka had been raped by Ingmar? Tabor himself had no intention of sleeping with her. Still, it bothered him that such a small and delicate woman should have to suffer through the undoubtedly vile experience of being the recipient of Ingmar the Savage's lust.

Suddenly Ingmar's expression changed, and though the smile did not reach his eyes, it did curl up the corners of his mouth. "We have managed to make each other angry again, haven't we, Tabor? Ha! Perhaps it will always be so, but I truly hope not. Take the woman. Enjoy yourself. Later, after I have taken beer and food, we can speak again."

"I told you, I'm not interested in the slave trade."

"So you have said. But there are many other ventures that I am involved in, ventures which could be even more profitable with a strong and capable partner like you." Ingmar held his hands wide apart, palms heavenward in the universal Viking sign of peace. "It is easy to keep fighting, Tabor, Son of Thor. It is difficult to find the path to peace. Wait a few hours until our passions have cooled, then let's see if we can find the difficult path together. Agreed?"

Tabor did not trust Ingmar, but the words he spoke carried much truth to them. If it was possible, the fighting and the destruction had to be stopped, and if that meant waiting at Hedeby for another couple hours and spending more time with Ingmar the Savage, then that was a small price to pay for the benefits everyone would reap from peace.

"Two hours. Then I meet you here."

"Make it three," Ingmar said, and his smile made Tabor agree. "I have a Viking's thirst and a hearty appetite."

I
t had been four long months since Tanaka, Priestess of Opar, had been pulled off the small Egyptian sailing vessel by Ingmar. Four months of desolation and fear. She had at first dreaded the time when she would be put on the auction block and sold. Then, after weeks as Ingmar the Savage's personal captive, she figured that whoever purchased her could not be worse than the man who had captured her.

At least this one's handsome, in a light-skinned, harsh-featured sort of way,
Tanaka thought as she allowed Tabor to lead her through the crowd.

To Tanaka, the Vikings seemed like a race of giants, the men all hovering close to six feet tall, at least six inches taller than the average Egyptian man. Yet even among these gigantic people, Tabor stood out a head taller than the others. His strength, too, was awesome. Tanaka had seen how he blocked Ingmar's attempt to slap her. It took incredible strength to stop the strike in mid-swing without appearing to even strain.

"Where are you taking me?" Tanaka asked at last.

Tabor did not answer, and a cold dread washed through Tanaka. She believed that, even though she needed to bathe and Tabor had not said a single word directly to her, there was only one thing he wanted and he intended to take it from Tanaka immediately. Though Tabor had treated her kindly so far, he was a man, and Tanaka had rid herself of any naive notions of the inherent goodness of men. Since her capture, the only kindness shown to her had come from another woman, also captured by Ingmar's Vikings during their vicious sweep along the coastal villages of northern Africa. She had suggested that when the "lustful madness" came over her captor, it would be best if Tanaka kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut and tried hard to think of other things while the foul deed was being done.

"I won't hurt you," Tabor said at last, speaking without looking down at Tanaka, whom he kept at his side, his broad palm resting lightly on her shoulder.

The statement was ambiguous and failed to put Tanaka's mind at ease. He might not mean to hurt her, but a man as tall and powerfully built as he could hardly help but hurt her. Tanaka knew that she would have to call upon all her inner strength if she were to survive an evening in the Viking's arms.

"Are you hungry?" Tabor asked when they had passed through the main crowd surrounding the slave auction and through the village square where tradesmen sold their wares of bronze spearheads, cooking pots and kettles, talismans, amulets, hogsheads of wine, and barrels of the beer that the Vikings were so fond of.

When he received no answer, a pained expression crossed Tabor's harsh features, as though the thought of having to put up with Tanaka was going to be a great strain for him. "Woman, I can't hear words that you do not speak. If you're hungry, tell me so and I will provide food for you. If you say nothing, then that is exactly what you will get from me —nothing!"

Tanaka did not trust this man that she had been given to. She had been fighting everyone who had power over her since her capture, and though she was afraid to admit it to herself, she was nearing the end of her stamina.

"Yes," she said suddenly. She could not escape if she were weak, and the only way she would recover her strength was with nourishing food. "I need food. It has been days since I have eaten well."

Tabor studied Tanaka for a moment and said, "And had a bath as well, I should think. Ingmar's never understood that people need to bathe and eat food."

"Ingmar's barely human," Tanaka said quietly. Though Ingmar had announced that he and Tabor were friends, she suspected their hatred outweighed whatever kindly feelings they had for each other. Her insult was a test of Tabor's loyalties.

"He is called 'The Savage' for good reason, and he likes the title. The day will come when he and I will square off with sword and axe, and then he won't be savage, he will be dead."

"You're that confident you will win? From what I have heard and seen, many men have challenged Ingmar. They have all died."

Tabor grinned crookedly and answered, "When a Viking ends his prayers, after thanking Odin for all he has and all he believes in, he says, 'I believe in my own strength.' It is the foundation upon which our lives and our faith are based."

It seemed a grim, aggressive approach to life; but Tanaka, not wanting to incur Tabor's wrath by questioning his beliefs, kept her opinions to herself.

They passed under an archway, stepping outside the walled city of Hedeby. The warmth of Tabor's hand upon her shoulder seemed to seep through her body to the marrow of her bones. Cautious of letting her guard down, she looked up at Tabor to remind herself that even though he was possibly the most handsome man she had ever seen, he was still a man —a Viking man at that — and though he spoke kindly to her now, there would come a time when he would drag her to his bed and force her to succumb to his greater strength.

"Where are you taking me?" Tanaka asked quietly Now that they were no longer surrounded by a milling crowd, she felt more vulnerable to Tabor, as though the crowd and all the witnesses it represented protected her from Tabor's desires. When he took his hand away from her shoulder, she immediately wondered what her chances of escape were should she try to run. She looked at Tabor's thighs sheathed in the spun cotton, saw the outline of the powerful muscles beneath, and knew that she could never outrun him.

"I have a small home just beyond that rise." Tabor rested his right palm on the haft of his broadsword, and Tanaka wondered if he was making a subtle threat. "There is food —and privacy to bathe."

Privacy enough so my screams will not be heard,
Tanaka thought angrily.

She looked right and left at the Danish countryside. The rolling hills and lush greenery was so different from her own homeland in Egypt. Even if it was possible for her to escape from Tabor, where would she go?

She was miles —thousands of miles! —from home. And here in Hedeby, she looked so different from the natives with her copper-hued flesh, high cheekbones, aristocratic nose, and flowing, wavy ebony hair that fell to a point between her shoulder blades. If Tabor sought her out, he could find her easily enough. With her coloring, she could no more hide in a crowd than could Tabor with his great size.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw three men following at a discreet distance. Ingmar's men?

"We are being followed," she said in a frightened whisper.

"Of course we are. Never in a thousand years would Sven leave my back unprotected."

With a certain sense of fatalism, Tanaka decided she would try to consider herself lucky that she had been sold to just one man. She had heard what happened to some slaves who were purchased by groups of men, and the horrifying stories nauseated her.

Tanaka guessed that they walked two miles from Hedeby, following the shoreline for the most part. They rounded a curve and there, within a copse of trees, was a hut —perhaps twenty feet square —made of wood and thatch.

"You live here?" Tanaka asked. It seemed a very primitive living arrangement, particularly for a man of Tabor's apparent social influence and stature.

"Aye. For a month or two each year. Most of the time I am on my ship. But while I am in Hedeby to do my trading, buying, and selling, I live here."

"And no one steals your property while you are gone?" It seemed to Tanaka that all Vikings were nothing more than common thieves.

"No one who wants to continue living," Tabor replied.

Inside, it was nearly as Spartan as Tanaka had suspected. There were no inside walls to separate the structure into smaller, cozy, private rooms; and the only real furniture was several mats of straw and cloth that constituted beds. There was a single table, two three-legged stools, and an iron tripod holding an iron kettle over a cold fire. Along all the walls were various weapons, from bows and arrows to shields, swords, battle-axes, helmets, and spears. Tanaka didn't need to ask to know that the hut was occupied by Tabor and his men and that women did not stay long, if they were allowed in the hut at all. There was nothing feminine about the surroundings, and that seemed to fit Tabor perfectly.

"Sit" Tabor said, pointing to the mat at the far end of the hut.

For an instant, Tanaka felt her knees go weak.
This is it
, she thought, sure that her captor's patience had come to an end and that his passion would now rule his actions. On trembling legs, Tanaka went to the mat and knelt, keeping her back to Tabor. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and thought,
I've lived through it before, I can live through it again
.

She heard Tabor picking things up and setting them back down and wondered what he was doing. When she heard him step up behind her, she stopped breathing.

"Here," he said in the deep, baritone voice that carried such natural authority in it. "This is all I can do for now. Later, we'll find something more suitable."

Tanaka opened her eyes, twisting just enough so that she could look over her shoulder up at Tabor. He held a long garment in his right hand. Cradled in his left was a large section of cheese and a small loaf of bread. Dangling from his shoulder was a wineskin.

When Tanaka reached her hands out to take the food and coarse wool shirt from Tabor, he was able to see down the front of her soiled, much-torn gown. The fullness of her breasts, round and firm, brought a spontaneous warmth to his blood. Her flesh, golden by birth and darkened by the sun, appeared as smooth as velvet, and though Tabor had never forced himself upon a woman, he wondered if his willpower and his Viking code of honor were strong enough to prevent him from being overcome by the desires that this young woman from the strange, faraway land provoked.

He handed her the cheese and bread, then dropped his spare shirt on the mat beside her. Taking his dagger from its sheath at his hip, he dropped that on the mat, too, then turned away from Tanaka, not wanting to tempt his desires longer than necessary by examining her exotic, alluring charms.

She cut off a large slice of the cheese and bit into it, washing it down with a decidedly unladylike gulp of the wine, which —she realized after swallowing—was considerably more potent than wine from her homeland. Tabor had strode across the hut to where a battle-axe rested against the thick, grass-insulated wall. He kept his back to her; and, unconsciously, Tanaka's eyes drifted from the tall Viking down to the dagger on the mat beside her.

Could she do it —plunge the dagger into his back? And if she didn't, what fate would be hers? Surely the gods would understand the taking of a life under such a circumstance. Even she, Priestess Tanaka of Opar, personal high priestess to Pharaoh Abbakka, had the right to take a life to save her own.

She was deliberating her chances of success when Tabor half turned and froze her with his icy blue gaze. "Others have tried," he said quietly, without much malice, as though explaining something complex but important to a child. "Two men and one woman. Spies they were. Assassins." He wrinkled his face in disgust, not liking anyone who fought in a cowardly manner, not like a proud and brave Viking who faced his adversary head on, man to man.

"Others have tried to kill you, but you are still with the living," Tanaka said softly.

"Aye. I still sail the seas. The assassins have crossed to the other side."

"Even the woman?" Tanaka was afraid of the answer, but she had to know. Did this Viking warrior care whether his victim was a man or woman? Tanaka knew the answer shouldn't matter—the taking of life was the taking of life. Still, in her heart she felt there was a difference, and she had to know.

"When she was in my arms, she was a woman," Tabor explained. "When she tried to plant a dagger in my back, she was an assassin. I would never hurt a woman; I would never spare the life of an assassin."

He turned away from her, swinging the heavy battle-axe at his side. Tanaka suspected he held the weapon not as a threat to her but because it gave him some comfort against the memories of the men and women that he had killed. Apparently, the taking of life did not rest easily upon his broad shoulders, and Tanaka found this curious.

Though quite aware that she could likely earn Tabor's anger by asking too many questions—she was, after all, his slave, and that hardly put her in any position to demand answers—her curiosity and inquisitive mind had always been too hungry to keep her ideas or her thirst for knowledge in check.

"That weapon you hold carries with it the weight of history. It is heavy, I feel, with memories."

Tabor turned fully this time to gaze down upon the kneeling woman on his mat. He stared at her critically, thinking that she must surely be a sorceress of some kind to see into his heart. Then, slowly, he smiled, for Tanaka had only deduced what was plainly there for anyone with open eyes to see. He twirled the smooth wooden handle in his hand, enjoying the feel of it. The wood gleamed from much use and great care, the kind of shine that comes to wood only after many years of handling.

"It was my grandfather's, then my father's, then mine. For nearly a hundred years this axe has slain the enemies of my family. When I hold it in my hands, I can see into my past and see the faces of my father and grandfather."

"And their faces comfort you?" It seemed an uncharacteristically tender notion that a Viking as tall and strong as Tabor should need comfort from anyone but a woman —and that to merely satisfy his sexual desires.

"Aye. They comfort me when I am troubled." Abruptly, Tabor set the axe down and motioned to the bread beside Tanaka. For a hungry woman, you ask many questions. Eat now. Then you can bathe."

Tanaka averted her eyes from Tabor, eating quickly, afraid that he might suddenly decide that she was not worthy of food and would take it from her before she had her fill. She drank freely of the wine, too, wanting to dull her senses for the terrible thing she knew that Tabor would do to her, but long before the wineskin was empty it was taken from her.