Viking Ecstasy (31 page)

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They set sail at first light, Tabor at the helm of one ship, Sven piloting the other. The crew was mostly Egyptian, the finest sailors and soldiers that the pharaoh had in his command. From the time the pharaoh had commissioned the boats for Tabor's voyage to his homeland, the Egyptian men had been schooled in the Danish language so they could speak and understand Tabor, Sven, and the other Vikings.

The wind blew from the south, strong and warm, and Tabor took this as a good omen. If the wind continued strong, he would be back in his home waters in only a few weeks' time—perhaps less.

He looked back at the pier, where the pharaoh and his wife still stood, though he could no longer distinguish them from the rest of the crowd of well-wishers.

Tabor's heart felt heavy, his chest tight. Hundreds of people stood on the pier and along the shoreline, assuring Tabor and his crew that they would be missed in their absence and welcomed upon their return. But Tabor did not want many hundreds of strangers to wish him a safe voyage, he wanted only the wishes of one special woman as he left upon his perilous mission of revenge and retribution.

But that one woman was nowhere to be seen.

True to her word, Tanaka had remained away. She had said she wouldn't be there, but Tabor hadn't believed her. He'd expected that her icy resolve would melt and he would see her at the last moment, teary-eyed, running along the pier to throw her arms around him, to kiss him, and if the Fates and the gods were smiling, to tell him she loved him and would wait —no matter how long it took —for him to return to her.

Tanaka didn't come.

Tabor turned his back to the shore once again, concentrating on the rudder to nurse every bit of power from the wind. He used his strength of will to hide his disappointment. At least the ship that Pharaoh Moamin Abbakka had had made for him was truly a spectacular vessel. It incorporated the finest features both of the Egyptian and the Viking longboats, and his crew was absolutely first-rate. When he returned to his home waters and hunted down Ingmar the Savage, there was the possibility that Tabor would still be outnumbered, but the skill of Tabor's men, both as sailors and as soldiers, could not be overestimated.

To his right and slightly north of Tabor's position, Sven sailed with his crew. Tabor allowed himself a smile as he remembered the stoic Viking's almost childlike giddiness when he learned that he would be the leader of the second crew, the captain of a finely-crafted sailing vessel.

These would be the good days, Tabor knew. The days when all the men had to worry about was getting the most of the wind and keeping land in sight. Later, when they were in the treacherous Scandinavian waters with submerged rocks that ripped the hulls from even the strongest ships, then sleep would be difficult and fear would be a constant companion. Those would be the days when, even while sleeping, Ingmar the Savage's face would never stray far from their thoughts.

Soon, even the palace that had become Tabor's home was no longer visible. Tabor concentrated on the task of guiding his ship, his thoughts occasionally drifting to the battles that would be fought when he returned to his home. And whenever the thought of Tanaka entered his mind, he pushed it away forcibly. Until he returned to her, she was in his past; and to dwell upon her memory for long was neither healthy nor befitting. Besides, she had not thought him worthy of a personal farewell, so in all likelihood she had forgotten him —or was trying to —and was getting on with her life and the responsibilities that were hers to bear as palace high priestess for the Pharaoh Moamin Abbakka.

Dusk was approaching when Jafar made his way back to where Tabor stood at the rudder. Tabor smiled at the young Egyptian sailor, pleased to have him aboard. He had seen Jafar's skill with bow and arrow, sword, and spear, and the young sailor's attitude and disposition were excellent.

"Tabor, Son of Thor, I have bad news for you," Jafar said, standing with his shoulders square, looking straight into Tabor's eyes, as he knew he must if he were to be considered a man in his leader's eyes.

"Yes?" Tabor was not worried. The first day of the voyage had gone without incident, and his instincts told him that a favorable wind would continue for many days.

"We have a stowaway," Jafar said. "In your chambers."

Tabor cursed furiously. Knowing that Jafar did not understand the words pleased him. When the crew had been assembled, every young man in the village had wanted to travel to foreign lands and fight the enemy that had caused the high priestess Tanaka so much pain. Tabor and the pharaoh had evaluated all the candidates for the two ships, and though they had selected exactly one hundred, there were still five times as many who had been rejected. Every Egyptian man knew that if he sailed with Tabor and lived to return, he would be a hero in the eyes of Pharaoh Moamin Abbakka and in the eyes of the young women of the village and palace. Life would be considerably easier, and there were many advantages in a life of ease.

"Take the rudder," Tabor said, not at all sure what he would do with the stowaway.

He stormed to his quarters, which had been uniquely designed, different from anything that Tabor had ever seen on a ship. A room, fifteen feet square, had been built at midships, just ahead of the ship's large single mast. There Tabor would sleep, protected from the elements, though the rest of the crew would not know that luxury. Tabor had insisted that it was not necessary to coddle him, but the pharaoh — urged on by Tanaka—insisted that Tabor, as a leader of men, deserved such comforts.

He opened the door to his chambers, ready to roar like a lion to scare the young whelp with the temerity to sneak aboard a fighting ship. He opened his mouth to bellow, but his jaw dropped open in silent surprise. Tanaka lay upon his mattress, dressed in a diaphanous gown of pale white that made the darkness of her skin and her ebony hair that much more pronounced. The gold ankh between her breasts reflected the light, making Tabor remember that it was the Egyptian symbol of life . . . and that life without Tanaka was hardly worth living.

"I should be furious with you," he said, stepping into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Yes, you should be, but you're not." Tanaka pushed herself up just a little higher, leaning against the pillows and the wall behind her. The shimmering bodice of her gown opened more, almost to the navel, to display the dark, smooth, inner swells of her breasts. She felt an instant warming of her blood when she saw Tabor's gaze go to her bosom and linger there.

"How did you get onboard without my seeing you?" Tabor asked. He knelt at the edge of the mattress, finding it difficult to keep from taking Tanaka into his embrace when she looked so magnificently inviting. "I watched everything that was brought aboard."

"Yes, you did. . . . but you are forgetting that I am a high priestess and, though the Egyptians aboard are loyal to you, they are even more loyal to me. And, frankly, in their eyes, I have greater rank."

A twinge of anger went through Tabor. He did not like being outranked by a woman, especially not when aboard his own fighting ship. It also bothered him that he had men beneath him who clearly were participants in this subterfuge.

"Which men helped you aboard? Who helped deceive me?"

"If I told you that, you'd only be angry with them. There's no need for that." Tanaka reached up to draw the tip of her finger along the line of Tabor's jaw. "You looked so disappointed when I said I didn't want to see you off. Oh, Tabor, as much as you hate to admit it, there is a tenderness to you."

Tabor pushed her hand from his cheek. "No," he said. "I am a Viking." His mood swung to and fro, from pleasure to fury. Tanaka would be in great jeopardy when he returned to do battle with Ingmar the Savage.

"You are a Viking, Tabor, but you are also a man. A tender and thoughtful man. It is one of the reasons why I love you as much as I do."

Tanaka pushed herself farther away from Tabor, giving him room to lie on the mattress beside her. When she moved, the bodice of her gown opened a fraction more, and the garment split to reveal her thigh — exactly as she had known it would. She had been planning this evening for several weeks. "Sit beside me, and I will show you how much I love you, and you will show me how tender a strong Viking can be," she said.

"No."

It was a single, angry, defiant declaration, put forward on principle. Tabor had insisted that Tanaka stay in Egypt and she had promised she would, then had done exactly the opposite. Tabor had sworn his Egyptian sailors to an oath of loyalty, some of them —perhaps all —had conspired with

Tanaka to steal her aboard the ship without the leader's knowledge and against his expressed wishes.

This was not the kind of control over his life and his men that Tabor enjoyed.

"Don't be stubborn, my darling," Tanaka said, her tone as velvet-warm and smooth as the gown she wore, sultry with the implicit promise of ecstasy and mutual fulfillment. "It won't accomplish anything, and it will prevent us from enjoying ourselves."

Tabor shook his head, but the blue light in his eyes suggested that his anger was yielding to humor and passion. He thoroughly lacked the ability to keep a firm grasp on his anger when Tanaka was dressed as beautifully as she was, looking incredibly alluring in the sheer gown that concealed only the crests of her breasts, highlighting the hardness of her nipples beckoning beneath.

"So this is why you wouldn't bid me farewell; and this is why you stopped arguing when I said you couldn't make the voyage with me."

Tanaka nodded. She caught her lower lip between even, white teeth, her expression beguiling, subtly sexual.

"And this is why you insisted that this be built," Tabor said, extending a hand in a circle to indicate his chambers. Their chambers.

"I did want a little more privacy than we had on our voyage to Egypt. And, to be truthful, I never did enjoy being rained on and sleeping with the wind blowing straight through me."

Tabor smiled, the last of his anger fading rapidly.

"High priestess, you are not a Viking. A Viking would never complain about sleeping aboard an open ship."

"You're right, I'm not a Viking. . . . but I love a Viking . . . very much . . . much more than that Viking may ever really know. . . . but if he doesn't know it, it isn't because I haven't tried to show him."

Tanaka patted the mattress near her hip, wanting Tabor beside her. She felt an exuberance in having kept her plan a secret from Tabor all these weeks. Her intent to be with him always was working out better than she had dared hope.

"Why continue battling the inevitable?" she asked with impish charm. "You love me. I love you. I'm here on this boat with you, in this tiny little room that I had built especially for us so that we would know some privacy. Doesn't it seem to you that your stubbornness is getting in the way of our happiness?"

Tabor pulled loose the knotted cord at his throat to remove the light cape. "I do not like being played the fool," he said, tossing aside the cape. He removed his boots; and as he did, he felt Tanaka's hand upon his shoulder.

"It is the last time I will do anything like that," Tanaka said, watching as the powerful muscles moved beneath her husband's shirt. She tried to remain docile, but the desire charging through her was too intense, and she quickly got her knees beneath her and cuddled close behind Tabor.

"You intentionally lied to me."

"Yes. Must we keep bringing up that little, unfortunate point?"

Tabor was distinctly aware of Tanaka's breasts, warm and enticing, pressing against him. He felt her lips whisper against the side of his neck, and a moment later the tip of her warm, moist tongue followed the sensitive curve of his ear. It was all that Tabor could do to appear unaffected by her, pretending anger and ignoring the lengthening and thickening of his manhood, which had never been immune to Tanaka, no matter how great his fury.

"You disobeyed me."

"If you wanted a wife who would tremble at the sound of your voice, I'm afraid you've fallen in love with the wrong woman."

Tanaka leaned more firmly into Tabor. Her breasts felt tight, irrationally compressed, the nipples distended and tingling, hungry for the pleasure they would know when Tabor at last put his silly, intrusive pride away and paid attention to them the way she wanted him to.

She moved her shoulders from side to side, rubbing her breasts against his biceps, blatantly forcing him to be aware of all he would have left behind if he'd been allowed to embark on this voyage of revenge without his wife.

"I'm not the docile, obeying type," she said, stating what had long been obvious.

Tabor began unfastening the stays on his shirt, his blood coursing furiously through him. He seemed perfectly calm, though perhaps slightly annoyed, as though he were being forced to endure some minor hardship that he felt he should not have to bear.

It was only in the depths of his clear blue eyes — and only then if a woman knew him well —that this deceit was revealed. In his eyes glinted lust. And an almost adolescent humor, the mischief of a man feeling like a teenager again. He was giddy with love in all its panoramic newness, oblivious to everything but that one special someone that made life not merely worthwhile, but exquisite. Sleeping was an abominable waste of time; it prevented him from being conscious of her.

"I've been a bad wife," Tanaka continued, almost laughing. She sensed the falseness of Tabor's anger, and it lightened her heart and heightened her playfulness. Her eyes took on a pathetic, doleful expression as she clutched theatrically at Tabor's arm. "Please forgive me, husband Tabor!" she wailed as he pulled his shirt completely loose, exposing the pale, hard-muscled expanse of his chest.