Viking's Love (11 page)

Allisande found it difficult to sleep.
Joran’s deep even breathing assured her he had no such issue. She
desired to be alone with her turbulent thoughts, afraid she would
shatter; so profound was her self-loathing. She need not have
worried.

Joran came and went days after that, leaving
her bound and under guard while he met with Ivar. He removed any
weapons or sharp objects he could find after that night, and
ignored her as though she wasn’t there. She could feel his eyes on
her though as she avoided even looking at him.

She rose and got up quietly the third day,
relieving herself behind the drape. He rose when she returned and
folded his fur blankets aside, and eyed her unkempt appearance with
a frown. He gestured to the pitcher sitting upon the floor.

“
I will remove the ropes if you wish to
wash yourself. If you try any of your tricks, you will find me not
as patient as I have been thus far.” Joran’s eyes flicked over her
face seeing the flair of anger at his words. “Give me your word
that you will behave, or suffer your own scent. I can tell you it
is none too pleasant being downwind of you.” This last made her let
out a muffled shriek. He grinned as he deftly undid the ropes
binding her wrists. She sputtered in outrage at him, her violet
eyes shooting daggers up at him.

“
You should take a good whiff of
yourself, Viking bastard of a whoremonger’s whore!” Allisande
looked him over with a scornful glance. “You smell no better! A
skunk would shy away from you in protest!”

“
You may be right. Just wash yourself
and be quick about it!” Joran bristled at her contemptuous words as
he left her to her privacy and stepped out of the enclosure. His
men were arriving back after their night of revelry.

Seeing him poised upon the deck made them
hurry to board or be left behind. He made sure Grogan followed
Wulfstan to his own ship the night before to make sure he didn’t
try to go after Allisande before he sailed. Wulfstan would not let
the matter rest, he knew.

He had no love for Wulfstan or his brother,
Danik. They were often at odds. His taking Lockwraithe’s daughter
for the ransom removed any hope the pair could ever have been
friends. Wulfstan resented him due to his status as Ivar’s son and
favorite.

Until Ivar discovered Joran was his son,
Wulfstan had been his favorite. The resentment hadn’t diminished in
the years since he joined his father’s army, only grown worse with
every daring success and lucrative raid.

He knew he would have to challenge Wulfstan
one day for his insults, and knew the fight would be a test to both
their mortality. Wulfstan enjoyed rubbing salt in his wounds when
he bragged he slept with Aelynn to all that would listen, trying to
force a confrontation between them.

Had Wulfstan realized the heart he once had
was forever fractured, he would have swung a blade at him instead.
He got used to hearing how freely Aelynn gave her favors when he
was off a-Viking. Something in him forever died.

He heard whispers she had lain with Ivar
himself, but refused to believe his sire would bed his son’s wife.
Ivar never confirmed it, but Joran knew they were lies. The rumors
were created to cause strife and create problems between them by
Wulfstan. He didn’t doubt Ivar’s prowess, but knew the man’s sense
of honor wouldn’t allow him to do such a thing to his own son. Ivar
could have any woman he wanted, and did so frequently.

Joran waited until the last man was aboard.
They took their places and rowed the long ship away from the dock.
He heard Haledon blowing his horn as they departed. His men groaned
in protest, all feeling their excesses from the night before.

Joran was eager to be gone, finding the last
three days being grilled by his father about the siege tiresome, as
well as the endless carousing in Ivar’s hall. His men made a tidy
profit with the slaves they sold at auction.

The air was a festive one as they made for
home. Once they were underway, he rubbed his chest and gave himself
a slight whiff and wrinkled his nose. The girl was right. He reeked
worse than the skunk she had accused him of being. He could use a
bath himself.

Joran asked Grogan to help him bring up his
tub from below decks. He would enjoy her look of outrage when she
saw it. It would be worth it to see her beautiful eyes glowing at
him with amethyst fire.

They had buckets of water warming in a
caldron out on deck. He smiled as Grogan and he hefted the tub up
from the hold and carried the thing to the enclosure. He was aware
of her sharp intake of breath when she saw it. He enjoyed her look
of longing as it was set down and buckets of steaming water were
brought in to fill it.

He pretended he was watching his men’s
progress, when in truth, he was watching her under his golden
lashes. Seeing her expression of longing pleased him. It had been a
means to aggravate her further, but now all he could think of was
bathing with her. His eyes darkened to think of how close he’d come
to taking her days before, recalling the feel of her body thrashing
under his with vivid detail, arousing him once more.

She tried to kill him. How could he forget
who she was? Nearly a hundred friends and kinsmen were now dead
because of her father’s treachery. She killed two of his own men
before he stopped her. Allisande of Lockwraithe wasn’t a woman to
underestimate.

He would have to remember that until spring.
He had to ignore his persistent desire for her. He told himself
once he availed himself of her charms, it would be enough. He was
eager for his men to fill the tub.

Allisande glared at him accusingly as the tub
was filled, her violet stare slicing him to ribbons. “You don’t
mind going to such trouble for yourself, Master.”

“
You may make use of it, my slave. I
have no intent to bathe in it alone.”

Allisande backed away, eyes wide. “No! It is
unseemly!”

Joran looked mischievous as he drew back the
flap of the enclosure, his blue eyes darkening. “I will give you a
bath, lady. Do you do it the hard way?”

Allisande glared at him defiantly and her
chin went up. “I’d rather sit in my own filth, Viking bastard!”

Joran winced at her harsh words. “Gently, my
sweet, such lovely lips need to cease with foul words. I will wash
that lovely mouth out should you persist.”

Allisande saw his determined expression and
fought a wave of longing for a bath, despite his amorous
intentions. He began to stalk her, his eyes filled with
amusement.

“
Let it never be said you are boring,
my fiery wench. I will enjoy this.”

Allisande let out a shriek. She turned to
evade him, but he was on her, swinging her into his arms. She
struggled futilely. Cursing him loudly, she fumed as he deposited
her into the tub, clothes and all. She sunk under the water and
came up sputtering in fury.

Joran wasted little time in disrobing. She
made to get out of the tub, but he blocked her path, his large hand
grabbing her wrist. His blue eyes met hers filled with obvious
desire.

“
No, my pretty one, you will wash my
back,” Joran informed her as he stayed her, yanking off his tunic.
The sight of his wide, muscular chest unnerved her and she swung
her eyes to the flap of the enclosure.

“
It is indecent!” Allisande tried to
climb out the other side.

Joran eased off his pants, knowing his raging
arousal was very obvious to her as she continued to struggle. “Take
off your clothes or I will do it for you, Allisande,” Joran
muttered thickly, his eyes glued to the wet tunic where it clung to
her full, round breasts.

Allisande’s hands shook as she slid the wet
tunic off and tossed it on the planks. Frustration filled her as
she slid the sodden pants off, fearing he would rip apart her only
attire. She heard his harsh intake of breath at the sight of her
perfect ivory nudity and couldn’t meet his gaze, too mortified to
do anything but try to use her hands to shield her nakedness from
him.

Joran stepped into the tub and she closed her
eyes, unwilling to look at his tall, powerful frame, recalling its
perfection only too well. He grasped her chin and forced her to
look up at him as he eased her onto his lap.

“
We were made by the Gods to enjoy
this,” Joran said in a chiding tone. “Why do you persist with this
maidenly protest of yours? We both know you enjoy my
attentions.”

“
It is wrong.” Allisande drew her chin
free of his hold. “You are not my husband!”

Joran smiled and placed a rag and a bar of
soap in her hands. “Wash me, Slave. We will work on your shyness
another time.”

Allisande fumed as she took the soap, aware
of his threatening manhood rising up under her buttocks, throbbing
against her. His pagan beliefs did not allow him to see how wrong
this was. He thought of nothing but his own pleasure, this golden
Viking who took her for his own.

Joran leaned back so she could wash his
chest. As her hand slid over his thickly corded muscles, Allisande
avoided his gaze, fearful of the mockery at her timid washing of
him.

Allisande lathered his thick arms and her
hand trembled and drew short of washing his hard, rigid abdomen,
seeing his huge sex rearing up through the suds.

“
Wash me there.” Joran leaned back, his
eyes boring into hers intently. “And do so very gently,
Allisande.”

“
I cannot do this! Please!”

“
I will wash you, sweet Allisande.”
Joran claimed the soap and rag and lathered it.

She stared into his hungry blue gaze. She
felt panic as he reached out and tenderly washed her breasts,
despising the way her body reacted and leapt at his touch. Her
nipples hardened and turned a dull rose color as he dipped the rag
and began to wash her slowly.

Allisande’s face was aflame as he left few
areas of her body untouched in his slow, deliberate bathing of her.
She trembled as he squeezed the rag over her breasts and rinsed
her, the warm water sluicing over her heated flesh, her heart
beating erratically in her chest.

His eyes never left her face. He grasped her
by the hips and lifted her, bringing her more fully astride him.
She gasped as he brought her down upon him, her breasts flattened
against his chest.

“
You feel wondrous and sweet,” Joran
whispered as he held her.

Allisande felt decadent, raised under Lady
Edwina’s strict adherence to modesty. Seeing his handsome face
flushed with desire was unnerving. His hardness against the inside
of her thigh reminded her of how she ached for him days before.

Allisande ignored his knowing gaze as she
washed his chest and arms, avoiding his eyes, feeling acute
embarrassment to know she had little choice in it. He sighed under
her administrations. He leaned forward to allow her more access to
his flesh.

Joran ignored her protests and adored her
breasts with his mouth, his lips teasing her stiff, tingling peaks
as he adjusted her against him, his hardness poking against her
insistently. Allisande forgot about it being daylight. Lust blazed
between them once more. She gripped handfuls of his hair, his hard
shoulders, gasping fiercely. She moaned softly and he eased her
onto his rigid shaft, feeling the tip of it pressing for entrance
to her body.

Joran lifted his head and smiled up at her
passion-dazed expression. “I think being my slave will please you
as well, lady.”

His teasing words doused her like icy water
and she jumped, flinging herself off his chest, clambering out of
the tub to snatch up a toweling sheet. She wrapped it around her
securely and glared at him. “Think what you wish, Viking! Know I
look forward to killing you more than you using me as your
whore!”

Joran leaned back against the tub,
disappointed she ran from him before he proved her words were
false. His hardness throbbed and his needs raged, but he held back.
He would not force her and give her what she wanted; another means
to hate him. “I will enjoy having you in my bed until your ransom
is paid, I think.”

Allisande’s eyes filled with anger. “So I’m
to be your plaything until spring, Viking?”

Joran grinned and enjoyed looking at her, her
lovely features flushed still. “Do not say you will not enjoy it,
lady. I see no reason why we do not indulge our pleasures. There is
time enough for you to be wed away to some shrinking lord upon your
return.”

Allisande glared at his thoughtless comments,
belittling her with every word. Because of his carrying her away,
there would be no marriage in her future. She would be regarded
with shame and scorn upon her return. A sob was bitten back to know
he cared nothing for her fate when he received his silver for her.
He would use her like some common whore with no thought of the
consequences. Her violet eyes grew murderous, narrowing as they met
his. “I am ruined now because of you.” Her eyes cut him to pieces.
“It might amuse you to know no man in my class will have me when it
is known I’ve been carried off by a Viking raider.”

Joran frowned at her words, regarding her
with a look of disbelief. “A man will not have you for that alone?
I would think it your foul mouth, girl.”

“
Chastity is regarded rather
importantly when one chooses a wife with my people,” Allisande said
with a contemptuous look. “No man will take me to wife when it is
known I was a Viking’s whore. You should be pleased to know your
destruction of my family is complete.”

Joran took the rag and washed his face, his
enjoyment diminished at her words. He regarded her with a raised
golden eyebrow. “It would seem you are better off, Allisande. Any
man who would reject you for matters beyond your control is no man
at all.”