Viking Ecstasy (32 page)

Slowly and deliberately, each move a study in sexuality, Tanaka stretched herself over Tabor's thighs, rubbing her breasts against his legs and against the prominent bulge in his trousers as she moved over him, lying sideways across his lap.

"I've been very bad," Tanaka whispered, her voice a husky, sensual purr that said she could be very, very bad with a little coaxing, and that if she were, Tabor would be very happy about it. "In some families, if a child has been bad, the father takes that child over his knee and brings his palm down upon the child's backside."

As she spoke, Tanaka raised her gown to reveal the taut buttocks that she had been wiggling ever so slightly as she writhed on Tabor's lap. The moment she revealed herself to him, she felt the warmth of his hand against her, and the strength of his fingers as he squeezed her. She spread her thighs further apart.

"I've been very bad," she purred, no longer making any attempt to keep the smile from her lips, though she was able to continue the seductive, submissive game she'd started. "So very, very bad." She wiggled, offering her backside to Tabor, knowing he would never strike her. She could feel his heat and hardness through his trousers and her gown, pressing firmly against her, a portent of things to come.

Tabor closed his eyes for just a moment, forcing his raging emotions back under control. He tried rather foolishly to convince himself that he was a man of considerable experience. This was not the first, second, or even third time that a woman played a coy, seductive game with him in order to receive his attention and perhaps gain a measure of forgiveness for some transgression. And if Tanaka had been anyone else, Tabor would have been able to maintain his composure —but if she had been anyone else, he also would have been able to maintain his bachelorhood. Instead, he'd given it up without a glance backward or a single moment's regret.

When he opened his eyes, he found that his hand rested on Tanaka's backside. He squeezed one buttock, then the other, watching his fingers compress the taut, satiny flesh, astonished as he always was that anyone could be this arousing, particularly when there wasn't anything physically about Tanaka that he had not fully touched, caressed, and tasted. But time could not diminish the fire that burned in his soul, and never had that fire burned hotter than it did at this moment, when —by all rights —he should be absolutely furious with his wife.

As though the hand belonged to someone else, he watched as the fingers dipped into the cleft of her backside to graze along her smooth, shaven petals. He felt instantly the heat and wetness of her readiness.

A deep, rumbling groan escaped Tabor, and his manhood became even harder with the understanding of how ready Tanaka was for him.

"You've been very bad," Tabor said, though the tightness in his throat made the words sound as though they had been spoken by someone else.

"Yes, so very bad," Tanaka replied, her eyes closed, total concentration on the hand touching her backside, the fingertips brushing temptingly against the entrance to her womanhood. Her thoughts danced between savoring the satisfaction she had known from her husband's caresses and the pleasure she would know on this particular evening. By this time, her fear that Tabor would be so angry that he'd turn the ship around and row against the wind to return her home had been abandoned, forgotten.

"Very bad," Tabor repeated.

He pushed the tip of his finger into Tanaka. She uttered a tiny cry of pleasure, her body twisting against his thighs. She tossed her head to throw her hair away from her face, then looked over her shoulder at Tabor, aware of how she must appear to him. She was still astonished that this man who had known so many women intimately was so enamored with her. After all the times that they had made love, his hands still trembled, his breathing grew ragged and uneven. She looked into Tabor's eyes, their gaze holding in silent understanding. And when she felt Tabor withdraw his fingertip, she sighed again, intentionally, so that he would know how much she appreciated everything he did.

"I've been naughty," Tanaka whispered, her dark gaze held magically by Tabor's.

"Very," Tabor said.

And then, his eyes never breaking contact with Tanaka's, he brought his fingertip to his lips and sucked it. Tanaka sighed, closing her eyes momentarily, and when she opened her eyes again, she realized that Tabor had waited so that she would be looking at him before he continued.

"Very, very naughty," Tabor said, then returned his hand to her, smoothly reinserting the finger he had just moistened.

She let out a harsh little cry of ecstasy, and that brought an end to the game. Tabor, who had already shown greater restraint with Tanaka than ever had before, stood abruptly, unintentionally and rather unceremoniously allowing her to roll off his thighs onto the floor of the boat. He pulled at his shirt, struggling with the garment to remove it from his long arms. Even before he had the chance to pull loose his trousers, Tanaka had accomplished that task for him. Seconds later, he had removed his fined garment and had stripped Tanaka of her gown with equal haste.

"Wife, you will be the death of me," Tabor whispered, pulling Tanaka against him as he stretched out on the foot-thick mattress made of the finest duck down in all of Egypt.

"No, my darling barbarian, I will be the life of you," Tanaka replied, curling into her husband, her arms encircling his familiar chest.

She leaned into him as they faced one another, lying on their sides. She pressed her breasts into his hard chest, trembling softly as the warmth of his body heightened the sensitivity of her nipples. She pushed her fingers into his long blond hair, astonished once again at its silkiness and how her body reacted so spontaneously to the feel of it against her fingertips. She felt his strength, his love, his desire, the very essence of him. . . . she felt it all, in everything that Tabor said and did —and even in the things he was unable to say because of some unfortunate Viking custom of stoic silence that Tanaka could not comprehend.

"Wife . . . wife," Tabor whispered, his lips nuzzling Tanaka's as he spoke the single, precious word.

"Husband . . ."

Tanaka had never thought that she would call any man "husband," especially not after she had been kidnapped and captured by Ingmar. But then Tabor had come into her life, and now the thought of spending a night, much less a week or a month, without him beside her in bed was intolerable. So she had looked him straight in the eyes and lied to him. She was Tanaka, high priestess to the Pharaoh Moamin Abbakka, and she would lie, coerce, use every ounce of power and influence she had, and even defy the gods themselves if they threatened to come between her and the husband she loved.

Tabor pulled Tanaka in closer, his manhood trapped between them, furiously rigid in its yearning. He stroked the satiny, ebony hair from her eyes, then kissed her mouth quickly, more in love with her at that moment than he ever before, even more than on that blessed day when he had stood with her before the pharaoh, confessing his lifelong love, and took her as his wife.

"I should be angry with you," he whispered, looking into her eyes, his hand sliding down to the rounded curve of her buttocks. "But I cannot be angry with you for long, just as I cannot help but love you for all time."

His words were too profound for Tanaka to accept calmly. She rolled onto her back, pulling Tabor with her, desire and passion strengthening her in ways nothing else could.

"Love me now, you barbarian!" she hissed, almost angry with herself and with Tabor because she needed him so much.

He entered her in a long, breathtaking plunge, filling her, driving into her so that when at last he stopped, Tanaka felt she had been at once invaded by her husband and surrounded by him. His ardent desire for her made her feel feminine and strong. She was desired by a man who desired no other. And she was free to be uninhibited in her personal quest for the ultimate fulfillment, for the pinnacle of passion that no woman before had even imagined, much less attained.

T
he gods smiled upon them. The winds continued, warm and strong from the south, propelling the two-boat armada westward through the narrow straits, then northward, as they followed the western coastline of Portugal.

Somewhat grudgingly, Tabor had to admit that the Egyptian sailors now under his command were at least as good as his own Vikings —in many cases, superior —both as soldiers and as seamen. There had, however, never been so much talking on any boat Tabor commanded. He mentioned this to Tanaka, and she laughed. Tabor's views toward the Egyptians, she promised, would evolve slowly, until, at last, he would agree that her culture was, in fact, quite superior to his. Tabor, answered with a teasing laugh that the sun would turn black as night for all time before such a preposterous lie would ever pass his lips.

With the specter of their separation removed, the lovers enjoyed themselves and their lives together. No longer did they have to live with the knowledge that Tabor would sail into battle, leaving Tanaka to wait and worry in his absence.

Tanaka spent much time shuffling and reading her tarot cards. Though she never showed Tabor anything but a brave face, she had heard the men talking. She overheard them say they would be outnumbered when they returned to Hedeby. No amount of confidence in Tabor's fighting skill, or in the skill of the men under his command, could make Tanaka forget what it had been like during those painful hours so long ago, when Ingmar the Savage, with vastly superior numbers, had attacked Tabor. The slaughter, the wanton destruction of property and people. ... it all played heavily on Tanaka's heart, though she kept it to herself.

Tabor, she knew, had enough on his mind without having to worry that she was unhappy.

The sun was high overhead as Tanaka sat crosslegged on the deck of the longboat, her back against the bedroom wall of their chamber. Tabor was at the rudder, and the boat moved along at a steady pace.

Holding the thick papyrus cards loosely in her palm, Tanaka concentrated, then divided the cards in half. She turned over the top card of one pile. It was the Universe card —for the third consecutive time!

She felt power surging through her. It did not frighten her. An energy directed her, and Tanaka knew that if she followed the path, she would find something beautiful.

Why did she feel this way?

Tanaka dismissed the question almost immediately. She felt the energy, felt the dawning power of it as one feels the strength of nourishing food making the body powerful and invigorated. She could not prove that the energy was present, leading her in a direction that seemed divergent with that of Tabor's intended goal, but it was there.

With tranquility and confidence, Tanaka neatly arranged her cards and put them away. When she emerged from the room, her face was as radiant and sunny as the sky itself. She smiled at the men as she passed them on her way to the stern of the longboat where Tabor stood with his hand on the tiller.

"You're looking pleased about something," Tabor said as his wife approached.

Secretly, he was hoping she was about to tell him that she was with child. They had discussed the possibility of her having a baby, and Tanaka had said that she would hope that the child would wait until they returned to Egypt. She did not want her child to be born in Denmark in the middle of a protracted war with Ingmar the Savage.

Tabor's attitude was different. For most of his adult life, he had worried that he might become a father before he was ready to accept such responsibility. Now that he had at last taken a wife, he wanted all the responsibilities that went with being a husband —and that meant children, lots of children. Tabor liked the idea of having a pregnant wife at home, safe and warm while he fought mighty batdes. A pregnant Tanaka would add to his confidence, and he believed that the gods would smile favorably upon him during battle if they knew that he would soon be bringing a child into this world with Tanaka.

"How far are we from England?" Tanaka asked, her smile as bright as ever.

Tabor's brows furrowed. "Not far."

"We must go there," Tanaka said, making the statement calmly, as though she were not asking for something unusual.

"Why?"

"Because if we do, we will conceive a son ... a son who will have great powers and be a leader of men."

For an instant, Tanaka froze, looking into Tabor's blue eyes, listening to her own words. She had not consciously thought the words. They had simply come from her lips, and she heard them and felt the impact of their significance —of their truth —at the same time Tabor did.

For an instant, Tabor's eyes narrowed into thin slits as he peered suspiciously at his wife. But then, only a second or two later, he displayed a wide, beaming smile.

"Thank you," she said, reaching up to grab the lapel of Tabor's leather jerkin. She pulled him down so that she could kiss him quickly, even though she knew that it bothered Tabor immensely to show outward signs of affection toward her in front of his men. "I can't tell you why it is necessary or why I feel this way, I only know that — "

"Shhh!" Tabor placed a long finger against Tanaka's soft lips, silencing her. "You are my wife. You do not need to explain why you want something. You need only want it, and I will make it so."

Intellectually, Tanaka told herself that her husband could not control the earth and heavens to make her life as pleasant and comfortable as she would like. After all, despite Tabor's nickname "Son of Thor," he was not a god —or even a demigod. But at that moment, as she looked up at him, seeing pleasure etched in his features, Tanaka believed that her husband could direct the stars in the sky. She knew this could not be so, but her heart did not, and it was her heart that always spoke loudest.

Taking a more westerly course presented no problem for Tabor. He knew exactly where he was in relation to England and to Denmark. He could redirect his ships to England if it would make his wife happy. . . . and if it would make him the father of a proud Viking son. To achieve that end — to have a son, strong and proud—Tabor would sail off the edge of the earth.