Walpurgis Night

Walpurgis Night

Katherine Kingston

England, 950 C.E. On the night of the equinox, all eligible adults must choose a partner to celebrate the night. Lovely, part-fey
Fianna
is both desired and feared. Prudence dictates
Fianna
choose one of the young men who’ve been stalking her for an equinox companion. But impulse guides her otherwise.

Henrik
, an outsider like
Fianna
, finds both
Fianna
and her proposition intriguing. But
Henrik
warns she may not find his unusual desires to her liking.

Their passion is hotter than the equinox bonfires. But time and circumstance are against them.

Publisher’s Note: Originally appeared in the
Equinox
anthology.

Chapter One

Flames roared up toward the dark sky as the townspeople tossed bits of wood onto the burning heap. Lit by its radiance, the façades of buildings became collages of bright splashes
riven
by shafts of deep shadow. The town itself melded into a patchwork of bright and dark, the contrasts starker and more mysterious when lit by the blaze rather than daylight. People gathered around the fire, passing wineskins and pastries. Musicians played a lively tune and a few hearty souls danced. The bonfire celebrated the equinox, the change of seasons when light overtook darkness for possession of the day.

Fianna
huddled in the darkest shadow she could find, wishing she could disappear completely. Not far from where she stood, her friends and acquaintances ate, drank, laughed, danced, flirted, kissed, whispered to each other and occasionally went off in pairs, giggling and stroking each other. Part of her envied them their simple happiness.

Of a sudden, some of the merriment died away and the crowd quieted as they looked down the road.
Fianna
leaned out to see what caused their unease, and then stared in surprise herself. Three men approached the town square. They were tall, young, fair, clad in leather and linen, and wearing swords at their sides.
Norsemen.

As they drew close enough for the fire to illuminate their faces, she recognized the man in the center as
Henrik
, the son of
Hjallmar
, the leader of the band that had settled not far from the town. Though everyone had flown into a panic at their arrival, they had settled again quickly when the group made no demands on the town or the people save that they’d claimed a portion of land for grazing their animals and planting their crops.

The town still kept an uneasy eye on the Norse settlement, but so far the occasional relations between the two had been peaceful. A few Norse stragglers had visited before, and some remained, becoming part of the community, but this was the first time a group had arrived together and appeared ready to stay.

Like everyone else gathered there,
Fianna
wondered what drew the newcomers to the celebration. Though the Norsemen rarely showed much emotion, their current demeanor didn’t suggest they were looking for either battle or business. Perhaps simple curiosity had brought them.

Despite their stern expressions, they were a handsome group of young men. All were strong, well-muscled, and carried themselves with confidence and pride.
Henrik
walked in the middle, the obvious leader of the trio. He was taller than the others, and his hair glowed like molten gold where the firelight played on it.

In her fascination with the visitors,
Fianna
took a step away from the shadows where she’d been hiding, and thus betrayed herself to the view of another group of young men who’d been watching and searching for her.

Her heart contracted and fell in on itself when she heard
Artur
yell, “There she is.
The witch.
This night she’ll have to take one of us.”

She turned to see Jerrod, the miller’s son,
Artur
, apprentice blacksmith, and
Keovan
, a merchant, running toward her. She looked around for room to run, but she knew it was futile.

They surrounded her. She fingered the hilt of her dagger, which hung in a leather sheath from her girdle, but in truth she dared not use it. Though her mother had promised it would help protect her, it couldn’t assist her in this. Those irritating young men had the right of
it, that
on this night one of them could claim her services. Perhaps all of them could claim her.

The firelight flickered on their leering faces, delineating
Artur’s
profile, cruelly outlining his receding chin, and glinting off
Keovan’s
perpetually runny nose.

“Who will it be?” Jerrod added. “Tonight you must choose one of us.”

It was so, and that was just the reason she’d tried to remain out of sight. She would have hidden in Marla’s home had she not suspected they would search the place for her. In fact, they were so intent on having
her,
they’d have searched every building in town and the surrounding hills. She’d gambled that by staying near the center of activity, but concealed in shadows, she might remain hidden. One small lapse of attention had overset the plan.

“Choose, witch,” they taunted her. “Or perhaps you prefer to be truly branded witch and face the fire.”

She glanced at the bonfire and tried to keep the terror from showing too clearly on her face. Surely there was some other way.
Fianna
let her gaze roam around the square, watching the gathered crowds. Evidently they’d decided the Norsemen posed no threat. Most had resumed their revelry, laughing, dancing, and flirting.

She spotted the Norsemen not far away. Someone had passed them a wineskin, and one of the three was drinking from it. A wild idea formed in her head.

“Choose me and I’ll make you roar and scream with delight,” Jerrod promised, drawing her attention back to her tormentors.

“I have the equipment of a bull and I’ll fill you properly,”
Artur
boasted.

Keovan
couldn’t match his companion’s physical assets and attempted a different form of persuasion. “I’ve a gold chain brought from the east that can be yours, do you go with me this night,” he offered.

Fianna
glanced at each one and then at the others in the square. The leader of the Norsemen glanced her way and met her eyes briefly, but he clearly decided their doings were none of his concern.

“I’ve made my choice,”
Fianna
announced to the group. All three stared at her. She glanced at each in turn then shifted her gaze away from them.

“Him,” she said, pointing to the leader of the Norsemen.

While
Artur
, Jerrod and
Keovan
still stared blankly at her, she pushed past them and walked toward the visitors.

The Norsemen’s eyebrows all rose in surprise as she approached them.
Fianna
ignored all but the man in the middle, keeping her gaze locked with his as she neared. “You are my choice,” she said to him, making the words loud enough to be heard by the small group of men following her as well as those in front.

“You’re
Henrik
,” she said to him.
“Nay?”

“Aye, lady,” he acknowledged. “And you are?”

“
Fianna
.”

“Ah. And for what purpose do you choose me?”

This close to him, she had to look up to see his face. His expression remained so shuttered she read nothing in it, nor did his tone reveal any emotion save mild curiosity.

“To be my…companion for the night.”
She wasn’t sure what word to use that he would understand. She wasn’t sure she wanted to use any word at all. As she faced this stern,
intimidatingly
large, strong man,
Fianna
asked herself whether this had been a good idea. It got her out of the reach of Jerrod and his fellows, but it might leave her in an even more dangerous situation.

“Your companion?”
Henrik
scanned the square, taking in the revelers, his gaze coming to rest on one couple all but undressing each other in the street. The woman’s leg was over the man’s bent knee, and one of his hands rested high on her thigh while the other pushed aside her bodice so he could reach her breast. The woman, meanwhile, had both hands pressed against his chest under his shirt.

While he stared,
Fianna
wondered what she’d do if he turned her down. She supposed she would have to choose one of the
group
who still stood behind her, waiting to see how this would play out.

“Why do you ask this of me?” Suspicion almost overwhelmed the curiosity in his tone.

“You are a man,” she answered. “I am a woman. And on this night it is said that all must pay homage to the spirits that control the fertility of the land.” She wasn’t sure how much he understood of her language.

When he commented, “And you think I’m the best of the choices you have,” she decided it wouldn’t be wise to underestimate him.

He looked at the group of ardent suitors standing behind her, and his face softened a fraction out of its hard set. “You don’t know what you risk with me.”

She puzzled at that.
“Nay.
But I know what I risk with others.”

His eyebrows flicked upward. He leaned forward to whisper to her. “You cannot know how I prefer to enjoy a woman.”

“Nay, that I do not,” she admitted. “What should I know?”

His expression grew darker. “I do not prefer it quick. Or gentle. I like women who will give everything to me and accept all I want to do to them. Think you, you can do this? Or are you wishing to change your choice?”

“Do your women survive their time with you?”

He laughed suddenly.
“Usually.
In truth, none have died of the things I do with them, though I’ve seen a few swoon. Most seem quite pleased and satisfied with our time together. Not all can satisfy me, however.”

She looked at him. He thought he was frightening her. And she should be heeding his warning. But along with the fear was something else. Her stomach did odd little flip-flops while a frisson of excitement settled hard and heavy in her loins. “I will do my best, though I can make no promises until I know more of what you want.”

“’
Tis
just for this night?”

“This one night only,” she assured him.

He stared hard into her eyes, as though trying to read her will. “You interest me,
Fianna
. I will accept your offer.”

Fianna
let out a long sigh, though she wondered if relief was truly the proper reaction. She just knew that if she had to give herself to one man, this was the one who seemed most appealing. Oddly, his words about his possibly unusual preferences made the prospect of time with him more appealing rather than less.

He said a few words in his own language to his companions. One of those two laughed hard and struck him on the back. The other looked suspicious. A brief argument between that one and
Henrik
ended with the man pronouncing something she couldn’t understand. She could read the tone, however, and he’d clearly said something on the order of, “On your own head
be
it.”

Henrik’s
companions moved away to leave him alone with her. The man glared at Jerrod,
Artur
and
Keovan
until they also got the message and retreated. Then he bent his stare on her again.

Fianna
studied his face, trying to decide how worried she should be. His features were strong, from the straight, gold eyebrows to the firm, jutting chin outlined by a neatly clipped golden beard. In the firelight she couldn’t tell the color of his eyes, only that they were light. A bit of satisfaction had leeched into his otherwise set expression.

“So, lady,” he said, “What do
we
now?”

“We go some place private.”

“Know you such a place nearby?”

She nodded.
“My quarters.
I share a home with Marla, the midwife, but I have my own room.”

“Let us go then.” He took a torch from one of the many stands holding them and nodded for her to direct him.

The house was quiet and dark. Marla was probably with Master Cooper at his place. They’d been lovers for years, though Marla refused to marry him, claiming she was content with her living arrangements as they were.

Fianna
lit a lamp and carried it back to her private room.
Henrik
put the torch into a stand then glanced around the room. She wondered what he thought of her very spare quarters, but she didn’t ask and he volunteered no opinion. He paid little attention to it in any case. His gaze returned to her and stayed there. She blushed when he looked slowly down her body. She hoped her shape pleased him. Most men seemed to consider her attractive, but the Norsemen might have different notions of beauty.

Fianna
had no idea what to do next, what he might expect of her, so she waited for him to make the first move.
Henrik
unbuckled his belt and slid the sheath holding his sword off it, laid both aside, and then removed his leather vest and shirt.

She let out a gasp of pure wonder as she stared at the most beautiful masculine chest she’d ever seen. Broad shoulders narrowed gradually down to a slim waist and hard, flat belly. A thin mat of gold hair lay over the strong muscles below his throat, with the dark buds of nipples protruding from it. The lovely flesh almost demanded she touch it, but something in his expression prevented her from reaching out.

“Have you done this before?” he asked.

“Aye.
Once or twice.”

“No more than that?” He sounded incredulous.

“No more.”

“Did you take pleasure from it?”

She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. She hated to be found wanting, but neither did she wish to lie to him. “Nay, in truth, I found little, though I’m told it should be pleasurable.”

“So it should,” he agreed. “And you will get pleasure from it with me. But you must first agree that I am your master in this and you will do all I say without hesitation or question.” He stopped and drew a breath. “I warned you my needs and desires were different. This I ask of you, that you agree I am your lord for this night and you must obey all orders or face my punishment for the failure.” His harsh expression softened. “I know it is not easy for one of your spirit to submit yourself to another’s will. But I believe I can show you the way to greater pleasure than you’ve ever known.”

The demand left her breathless and confused while his promise set off that funny feeling in her stomach.

“
Fianna
?” he prompted. “Do you agree?”

“If I don’t?”