The Viking's Witch (22 page)

Nordskog approached her and bowed low.

“Hello,” she said. “What do you want?”

He snatched the chalice from her hand and tossed it over his shoulder.

“Hey, I wasna done drinking that.”

In the blink of an eye, Nordskog clasped her hands in his and pulled her close. Panic washed over her, and she tensed in his arms. A second later, Nordskog started skipping in a circle and dragging her around with him. At first, she wasn’t sure what he was doing, but then she understood. This was a Norse way of dancing.

Before she knew it, she was whirling around the courtyard. It was a strange, fast dance, and she tried to keep up, but the wine made her lightheaded and uncoordinated. She didn’t know how to dance, but that didn’t matter. All she had to do was hold on to Nordskog as he spun her around. She caught a glimpse of Rothgar watching them as they went twirling by. He waved.

She felt the world spinning, faster and faster, until Nordskog suddenly stopped. She fell against him, dizzy and disoriented. The next thing she knew, he picked her up, flung her over his shoulder and plopped her down in front of Rothgar.

He broke away from his game and stood up. “Did you enjoy your dance?”

“I’m not sure.” She swayed and pitched forward. Rothgar caught her in his arms. “I think I did,” she replied, panting.

Even though she had stopped dancing, the world still spun. She leaned against Rothgar for support, her body pulsing and tingling in his powerful grip. Her mind flashed back to her vision of Rothgar making love to her. “That was fun, but not as fun as something else I’d like.”

He arched an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

She draped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “The queen of the witches wants what’s in your britches.” She giggled.

Rothgar laughed and pulled her closer. Their lower bodies touched, and she moaned as she felt his hardness press against her.

“I think the queen of the witches is drunk.”

“Aye, a bit. But that shan’t stop me from getting what I want,” she said, trailing her hands down the front of Rothgar’s tunic. She stroked his burly chest and curled her fingers through a patch of his chest hair.

Rothgar entwined his fingers in her hair and bent her head back. He covered her mouth with his, sending sparks through her body. His tongue entered her mouth, probing and twirling against hers. She returned the kiss with equal passion, groaning and clutching at him. The Norsemen surrounding them whistled and clapped.

She broke the kiss and buried her head against Rothgar’s chest, embarrassed by her lustful display. “They were watching us.”

“
Ja
. They would not mind if we stripped naked and made love right in front of them. They’d cheer us on,” he said, chuckling. “But let’s go inside. I wish to have at you in private.”

“Aye. ’Tis about time you put me ta bed.”

He gave her a quick kiss, then released her and patted her backside. “Go upstairs and make yourself comfortable. I’ll follow along in a minute.”

“With pleasure.”

Odaria hurried into the gathering hall and mounted the stairs two at a time. Her heart pounded wildly, and her head buzzed with a mix of too much wine and raging desire. Her lower body tingled and throbbed, craving Rothgar’s touch. She imagined his strong hands squeezing and stroking her as his hot mouth covered her breasts.

She raced into the bedchamber, lit a candle, and straightened the blankets on the bed. Now what? Should she undress and lie down? Should she wait and let Rothgar strip her? Did men like that, or would Rothgar rather find her nude and ready?

As eager as she was to make love, the thought of finally being deflowered set her nerves on edge. What if she did something wrong? How would she know how to pleasure Rothgar? No one had ever told her the secrets of lovemaking.

“There’s no need for me to be nervous,” she whispered as she paced around the room. Even from inside the gathering hall, she could still hear the party in the courtyard. The music seemed to have gotten louder, and the men were cheering and singing. She went to the window and peered out. Two groups of men were tugging on a long length of rope, each trying to pull the other group down.

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long,” Rothgar said from the doorway.

She turned from the window and smiled. Rothgar’s deep voice sent a shiver through her. “I wasna sure if I should take off me dress or—”

“I’ll take care of everything.” Rothgar locked the door behind him, then removed his tunic. “Come to me, my little witch.”

She crossed the room and threw herself into his arms. Rothgar drew her to his chest as their lips met. Odaria trailed her hands down his back, admiring the feel of his strong, rippling muscles. Her heart hammered as Rothgar’s tongue teased hers. He tasted like honey-flavored beer. She kissed him back eagerly, her body craving more.

Rothgar cupped and squeezed her buttocks. The sensation sent a pulsating heat through her. She groaned and rubbed her lower body against his.

A moment later, Rothgar moved away. “Take off that dress.” His voice sounding low and raspy.

“Aye, as you wish.” She untied the bodice and let the dress fall to the floor.

Rothgar sat on the edge of the bed. His head was at the same level as her chest. He curled one arm around her waist, then drew her right breast into his mouth.

“Oh, that feels good.” She moaned and arched her head back as he suckled her. Everything faded away as she was lost in his tender embrace. She no longer heard the music playing outside or the people shouting and singing. Rothgar was the only thing in her world.

A gentle warmth spread between her legs as his tongue teased and toyed with her rock-hard nipple. Rothgar worked his magic on her, first tasting one breast, then pulling away and sampling the other.

Rothgar slid his hands down her back and caressed her buttocks. He gave them a squeeze, then eased a hand between her thighs. She gasped as he explored her womanly folds.

“Touch me everywhere,” she begged, then groaned. Her lust-filled cry came out louder than she had intended and echoed in the night. It seemed as if the entire village had become silent. There were no noises coming from outside. Had the party ended so soon?

“I will, pet. We have time. I will not hurry tonight. I want to take my time with you and make you feel good. Come morning you’ll be leaving this bed a changed woman,” he said, rubbing her in small circles.

A tingling sensation grew between her legs, stirring her blood. She liked the way Rothgar stroked her. It made her feel prickly inside. She arched her hips toward him, then whimpered as he massaged her faster. Her body pulsed and quivered, aching for something more.

“Relax, darling. I’m merely readying you. The wetter you are, the easier I can glide in. I want you to welcome me in and enjoy your first time. Are you ready to be loved?”

“Aye,” she croaked out. Why was Rothgar teasing her so? She had waited for this special night her entire life, and she was eager to know the feel of Rothgar’s solid shaft moving inside her. “I want you. Hurry.”

“As you wish.” Rothgar stood and folded back the bedclothes. “Lie down.”

She slipped into bed. The flickering candlelight splayed shadows across Rothgar’s wide chest. She glanced away as he pulled off his breeches. Although she was curious about it, she didn’t want to see his penis. She was worried that the sight of it might unnerve her. Rothgar was a big man. How could he fit inside her?

“I’m not sure what to—”

“Relax,” he said as he slid into bed and knelt over her. “I’ll teach you everything.”

Rothgar bent her legs around his hips and positioned himself on top of her. She held her breath, nervous yet yearning for his touch. His weight felt heavy on her, but she wouldn’t complain. She loved him, and tonight would be the most special night of her life.

A loud shout echoed into the room from outside, followed by yelling. Someone screamed. What was happening out there? Had a fight broken out among the men? All thoughts of the party faded in an instant as Rothgar’s hand eased between her thighs. A second later, something entered her.

She gasped and tensed. “Oh, is that—?”

He chuckled. “Give me more credit than that, Odaria. It is merely my finger. See?” He wiggled his finger inside her, and she moaned. Rothgar gently probed her, pushing his finger in and out in a steady motion. After a few minutes, he withdrew it. “Did you like that?”

“Aye. It tickles me on the inside,” she whispered.

“Good. If you liked that, you will enjoy this more.”

Rothgar took her left hand and brought it down between them. She touched something hard yet fleshy, and he closed her hand around it. “That is the part of me you seek, my love.”

“Oh my stars,” she muttered. She ran her hand along the length of his shaft. It felt hot and was much thicker than she’d imagined. “How does a man walk with such a long sword between his legs?” She giggled. “You never told me you were part horse.”

“Only the best part.” He nuzzled her neck. “Do you like what you feel?”

“Aye.” She measured the size and thickness of him with her hand. “But I don’t think you’ll fit.”

He gently eased her hand away. “Oh, I will. Would you like to try?”

She nodded. No matter how huge he was, she knew that Rothgar would be gentle with her. “Aye, more than anything. Am I slick enough?”

“Very much so. I can tell you are eager for a man.” Rothgar repositioned himself between her legs and leaned into her a little. “I’ll move slowly so as not to—”

A banging on the door interrupted him. Someone shouted something in Norse. Rothgar groaned and yelled something back.

“What is it? Who is out there?” she asked.

“Nordskog.”

She tightened her grip on Rothgar’s shoulders. “What does he want? Tell him to go away. We’re too busy to be—”

Her words were drowned out by more pounding and shouting at the door. Rothgar grumbled something, then slid off her and climbed out of bed.

She propped herself up onto her elbows. “What are you doing?”

“Getting dressed. I’m sorry. I must go,” he answered as he yanked on his breeches.

“Now?” She hopped out of bed and ran to Rothgar’s side, not caring that she was naked and ready. She watched in dismay as he pulled his tunic over his head and strapped his dagger to his side. He wouldn’t leave, would he? They were about to make love.

“Rothgar, what in hell could be so important that you’re leaving me? You were ready to—”

All of a sudden, she realized that something was terribly wrong. The village was filled with the sounds of men yelling in Norse. People were screaming for their lives and begging for help. The noises chilled her to the bone, and she glanced at the window.

“What was that? What is happening outside?”

Rothgar ignored her questions and kissed her on the cheek. “Stay inside and lock yourself in,” he said as he strode to the door. “I’ll return as soon as I can.” He gazed longingly at her naked body. “I’m sorry to leave you like this, but there is trouble outside. I swear I will make it up to you.”

“Aye. I’ll see that you do, and soon. Be quick with whatever you need to do. I’ll wait up for ya.”

Rothgar rushed out of the bedchamber and down the stairs. She closed the door and locked it behind her. “Dammit to hell.”

She stomped a foot and blinked back tears of frustration. Her body still pulsed and ached for Rothgar’s touch. It wasn’t fair. That damn Nordskog. What had been so important that Rothgar had to go out and leave her at a time like this? Why was he so concerned about what Karnik’s men did? They were probably brawling over the last lobster or fighting about someone cheating at a card game.

She flopped onto the bed and sighed. When would they finally make love? They had been so close. Why did something always interrupt them? She was more than ready to take Rothgar as her lover, and by the gods, she wasn’t about to be denied any longer. Tomorrow she was going to have him. She didn’t care if the village was burning down around them or if she had to pounce on him when he was sound asleep—they were going to make love. She wanted him, and once she set her mind on getting what she wanted, nothing would stop her.

Rothgar ran out of the gathering hall, close on Nordskog’s heels. As he made his way toward the center of the village, Nordskog’s words echoed in his mind.
You must come at once, Rothgar. Karnik’s men have taken down the nets. They are using the villagers for bloodsport.

What Karnik’s men were doing was a form of mutiny, but what did he expect? They saw him as nothing more than a figurehead and followed Karnik’s orders. But why would Karnik allow such a thing to take place? Why wasn’t he stopping this?

Less than an hour before, everyone had been celebrating, drinking, laughing, and having fun. But now, the night was filled with the scent of blood, shrill screams, and thunderous war cries. What had turned the men so quickly?

Karnik’s men weren’t shouting in panic. They were shouting orders to hunt down the villagers. He heard the Picts screaming and begging for mercy. As he reached the center of the village, he stopped, stunned by what he saw.

The nets had been taken down from the church and dragged into the village square. The villagers had been released, only to be chased down and taken as sport. Days without proper food and water had left them weak. They tripped and stumbled as they fled from their well-armed attackers. With nothing to defend themselves, they made for easy prey.