A Storm of Pleasure
Read A Storm of Pleasure Online
Authors: Terri Brisbin
TORM OF
P
LEASURE
Gairsay Island, Earldom of Orkney
April 1098
AD
T
he sun had barely broken over the morning’s horizon when Earl Magnus’s men rode into the village. It took but moments to realize their arrival had little to do with honoring her father for his work on the earl’s behalf. Indeed, their swords brandished against the gray and cloudy sky and their shouts and demands for her father and brother to present themselves told Katla Svensdottir the seriousness of this dawn visit.
Wrapping her cloak around her shoulders and covering her hair with a scarf, Katla crept outside and approached the gathering from the side. Using several smaller outbuildings as cover for her movements, she made her way around to a place where she could hear and see without being seen herself. She caught her brother Kali’s eye as he was dragged forward to stand next to their father. With a narrowing of his gaze, Kali warned her to stay away.
Sven Rognvaldson was a bear of a man, and though his hair might carry the gray of age, his broad shoulders were still strong and muscled from years of hard labor and fighting. His raised voice could still send chills down her spine with the essence of command it carried.
And one thing she knew with certainty about her father: he did not allow any question or insult to his honor to go unmarked. Many men had fallen beneath her father’s sword for questioning his actions or his intentions. Katla remained pressed against the storage barn out of sight, but not out of hearing distance.
“By what right do you dare this?” Sven’s voice nearly made the wall behind her shake with his anger.
“In the name of Earl Magnus,” the man replied loudly but not as loudly as her father had yelled. “He demands your presence in Birsay on the morrow to answer to the charges against you.”
Katla could not stop herself from stepping closer to the commotion then. No one would dare challenge her father without permission from the earl; to gain it, the matter must be of the utmost importance. The earl did not meddle in his chiefs’ personal business or in the way they handled those under their command or on their lands. If no one encroached on lands or cattle or slaves belonging to another, the earl concentrated on other matters that would line his pockets, fill his byres, or increase his standing in the eyes of the king.
A few of those watching turned to look at her as she took one step, then another forward, visible but not in the center of the trouble. Not yet. She waited for her father to gain more information from the earl’s man—she knew him well enough to know he was waiting to weigh his choices. Escape? Fight? Surrender? Katla read the expressions on his face as they passed through his thoughts. Only surrender was not truly a choice he would make and the soldiers seemed to know that.
To a one, their stances tightened and the air filled with tension as her father took a step toward the earl’s man, growling a question at him, just loud enough for the two of them to hear. Magnus’s man’s face reddened and he rose to his full height, shoulders squared and legs spread.
A fighting stance she recognized at once, as did everyone else watching the scene unfold.
Her father drew his sword before anyone could say a word, but another of the earl’s men anticipated his action and thrust his sword first—into her father’s chest! Chaos erupted in that moment and several minutes passed before order returned to the yard and to her father’s people. Katla pushed her way past two of the soldiers to her father’s side as he lay on the cold ground. Blood poured from the gaping wound in his chest, and she knew his death was close at hand. Of all the ways she had ever considered he would meet his end, this death was not one of them. Shock threatened to overwhelm her until she felt her father’s hand tighten around her wrist. Leaning down, she searched his face as she heard her brother arguing nearby.
“Girl,” her father rasped out. “Katla.”
She watched as he struggled to hold on to whatever moments of life yet remained. “Father?”
“Save him,” he ordered with far more vigor than she would have thought possible. “Do what you need to do, but save him.”
“How?” she asked in a whisper. “Tell me how!”
Kali was younger than she by two years and though he would inherit most of their father’s lands and power when the time came, he was still a brash and sometimes foolish young man. In spite of having different mothers, they were closer than most siblings were and Kali accepted her counsel when the words of others went ignored.
“You must find a way,” he uttered on a strangled breath. The gurgling sounds from his throat and chest increased until he could speak no more. Katla could only watch in horror as he exhaled his last breath and then moved no more.
The air around her seemed to stop and become silent as she shrugged off the hand of someone pulling roughly on her shoulder. Only the sound of her own breaths and the beat of her heart echoed in the growing silence. Her ears buzzed with a strangeness she’d not experienced before, and she glanced around to see everyone staring at her and the man on the ground. Turning back to her father, she noticed the blood seeping into the ground under her knees and that his grasp of her wrist had slackened, allowing her to move away.
Save him,
he’d ordered.
Katla looked over at Kali, pale faced and shocked, knowing he was uncertain whether he should follow his father into death. She struggled to her feet, searching for words that would help. She still knew not the reason for the earl’s summons or why her father would attack in such a way, without enough of his own men to improve his odds of success.
Save him.
The words echoed through her mind as she crossed the short space between her and the man who’d killed her father, the man who now controlled the fate of all those present.
Save him.
“The earl ordered such an act?” she asked of the one in command. “Did he send you to Sven Rognvaldson?” Straightening to her full height, she glared at him as only Sven’s daughter could, a look she’d mastered while yet a child and one that everyone exclaimed was the exact likeness of her father’s glare.
“I am Harald Erlendson, retainer to Earl Magnus and sent to bring the traitor Sven Rognvaldson to face the earl’s justice.” She gasped at his words, both from the insult and from the possibility of such a thing. “He brought on his own death….”
“It is no wonder he drew his sword at your words,” she said coldly, spitting on the ground. “No one can make an accusation like that and not expect my father to…”
Even as she began to say the words, the realization struck her. They had known her father would strike out, and it had given them a chance to kill him. They’d wanted him to attack and he had, giving them the excuse they needed to execute him without allowing him to defend his honor.
“And my brother? Why did you summon him?” Katla’s blood chilled and she prayed that her brother would give them no reason to strike him down in the same way.
“He is also called traitor by the earl,” the man said loudly enough for everyone to hear.
The shocked gasps and cries spread through the growing crowd, which Katla suspected was the reason he’d announced it as he had. All this could have been handled differently, but doing it in front of everyone made the insult worse. Suddenly, her brother broke free from those who held him and Katla knew he would go for a weapon. She ran to him and placed herself before him.
“Nay, Kali,” she warned. “It is a trap. Do not resist them.” For once Kali did not put his vanity before his sense, and he stopped fighting the men. “Do not give them a reason to kill you as they have killed our father,” she whispered while the soldiers regained their hold on him.
Katla turned back to face Harald Erlendson. Only bold and public action would forestall Kali’s execution, for she did not doubt that his death was their true aim.
“Have you seen the proof that would mark my brother traitor, Harald Erlendson? Do those pointing the finger at my father and brother put their name to such accusations? Who has spoken to the earl?”
From the way his face reddened and his gaze hardened, Katla knew she had touched on some element this man wanted hidden from view. She pressed on.
“If you are a man of honor, you will not allow this, Harald Erlendson.” She crossed her arms and met his eyes, waiting for him to take or refuse her challenge. She was only a woman, so he could ignore her and not lose status, but her unanswered questions would spread. “Will you make certain that my brother lives to face the earl’s justice?”
Those watching waited for the earl’s man to reply, but Katla did not. Stepping closer to him, she lowered her voice and spoke only to him.
“I would be indebted to you, Harald Erlendson. If you could see my brother safely to the earl and make certain that proof decides his fate.” She paused and met his gaze with her own. “I would be in debt to you.”
Though never called on to use her womanly figure or to flirt as many young women her age did around men, she had practiced such skills on occasion to draw the gaze of young Bjarni Einarson. Her father would have punished her if he’d known of such things, but now she was glad she’d learn to pitch her voice lower and to soften her sometimes stubborn expression by gazing up through the lashes of her eyes. She did it now, understanding that she was offering more than simply her thanks to this powerful man who held her brother’s life, and her own, in his hands.
She noticed the flush in his ruddy face and the glimmer of lust in his dark eyes when they met hers. Her body trembled then, realizing what she was promising in exchange for her brother’s safety. Straightening her shoulders, she nodded in silent acceptance of the cost. If her father lived, this man would not be high enough in status to approach him with an offer of marriage, but everything had changed in that chaotic moment. Now, the proud daughter of one of the mightiest chiefs in Orkney had bartered her body and her virtue for the promise, nay, the hope of help.
Harald barked out orders to his men, and less than an hour later Katla found herself riding out of their village, captive as much as her brother and with as little control over her fate as he.
Her father had demanded that she do whatever was necessary to save her brother, and she would do all in her power to succeed—no matter the cost.
Northwestern Coast, the Norse Southerlands
(Scotland)
Three months later
G
avin took a deep breath and released it.
Again and again, he repeated it, fighting the vice-like pain that pierced his head. He fought the urge to drink the foul brew brought to him by the latest healer. And all the while, he tried to block out the growing noise around him.
The dark of the moon was not even here, and already he recognized that the pain would soon be unbearable. And the damned noises in his head assaulted him more fiercely with each passing day!
Another breath. In and out. And again.
No relief. Only growing pain and thunderous noise filling his head until he wanted to bash his brains against the cliff side and end it all. Reaching for the bitter concoction, Gavin decided to give in to the weakness and seek the solace offered in its swirling depths. He tugged the stopper from the bottle and swallowed its contents mouthful by mouthful until the bottle was empty.
The wizened old man squinted as Gavin finished the brew, saying nothing, only watching as though something terrible was about to happen. The herbal drink rolled roughly in his belly, and for a moment or two, Gavin thought he would vomit it up, but soon it settled.
“And now?” the old man asked, stepping closer and sniffing the air as though there was some sign of change evident in his body’s odor.
Even the softly spoken words jarred him, adding to the din and to his pain. The never-ceasing pain of these last months.
“Argh,” he cried out, throwing the bottle against the cave wall. “It is not working at all!” Gavin held his head in his hands, pressing against his skull, trying to ease the pain somehow.
Somehow.
“Get out!” he yelled, chasing the old man to the opening of the cave, where the sea now lapped against the walls. “Get out!”
Gavin sank to his knees, grimacing and clenching his teeth against the torment as the healer scrambled past him. He could not salvage an ounce of sympathy for the man’s uneven gait or difficulty avoiding the incoming waves of frigid ocean water. The pain tore away all vestiges of compassion or caring. As his servant tugged the man into a small boat and began to sail him along the narrow passage of water that led to his cave, Gavin collapsed on the cold rock floor and prayed that the drug would work.
Then he felt it. Not a cessation of the pain, but a momentary lapse in the constant skull-shattering noise that vibrated through his head all the time.
Just a moment, but the relief was sheer bliss.
He heard…nothing.
Nothing in his thoughts. Only the sounds of the crashing waves and the river that poured through the opening overhead as it rushed to join with the sea.
Nothing.
But just as quickly as it happened, the silence ended and the throbbing clamor pulsed back to its original level. Gavin struggled to his feet, pushed the hair out of his eyes, and searched for the cause of the interruption.
His servant was gone, taking the healer back to his village farther west along the coast. No one else ever remained here with him, not even the women sent by the earl to keep him satisfied as the time for his revelations of truth approached. His only companion was the clatter—relentless, ever-growing, maddening noise—and the pain that accompanied it.
Gavin stumbled then, landing on the stone floor. His limbs felt heavy and his eyes weighted closed. Ah, the healer’s concoction did have some effects after all. Rolling to his knees, he crawled toward the drier part of the cave, seeking some place to lie while the brew did its work.
As the drug drew him into some stupor, he felt the silence once more. This time, he could feel it coming from a specific direction. He laughed harshly at such nonsense. How did silence come from a place? Gavin forced his eyelids apart and stared up where the silence seemed strongest.
It was gone as quickly as it had happened.
Closing his eyes, he realized that the sensations rushing through him from this brew were not unpleasant after all. It did not remove the clamor or the pain, but it eased his body in a pleasurable way. He might have to have Haakon bring the healer back after all. Gavin sank deeper into the lethargy until his body began to react as it did when the revelations approached.
Lust filled him, swirling in his veins and in his skin and in his cock until it stood ready. He tried to fall more deeply under the control of the brew, tried to relax and ignore the growing need that heated his blood, but like the relentless noise in his thoughts, it could not be ignored. Since it would be hours before Haakon returned and since Haakon was the only person permitted to bring women here to his sanctuary, there would be no way to quench this latest fire in his blood.
Well, there was a way, but it was never as satisfying as finding release deep inside the tightness of a woman.
Gavin threw his arm over his eyes and breathed in and out, trying to block the lust and need in his body and the sounds in his head. Just as he reached down to ease himself, he heard it. Not another moment of silence, but the soft sounds of footsteps near him.
It should not surprise him that the scent his body gave off had called a local woman to him. It had happened before. No doubt, it would happen again. It
had
happened again. Whatever controlled the power within him to hear the truth and to reveal the truth hidden in the thoughts and hearts of others made certain that his growing need for sex was filled.
It seemed not to matter if he wanted a woman or if he did not; his body threw out the call and women answered.
Now, in spite of the herbal brew dulling his senses, it had done so again.
Gavin moved his arm away and forced his eyes open to see what his visitor looked like…and he lost his breath.
An angel or a Valkyrie, he could not decide, stood hovering above him. Curling locks of long blond hair flowed over her shoulders to her hips, and eyes of a glowing dark blue were the first things he noticed about her.
With both the drugs and the lust flowing through his veins, he watched as the light pouring into the cave outlined her womanly figure. Full breasts pressed against the costly cloth of her tunic, and he could not miss the hips and legs that promised him a soft ride. But he found himself lost in the appealing fullness of her lips.
She stood close enough that he could touch her, and he struggled to reach out to her. Gavin managed to clasp her ankle and then slid his hand along the well-worn leather of her boot until he touched her skin. The gasp that filled the cave made him smile.
“Valkyrie, am I to die?” he whispered, knowing the true mission of those fabled servants to the old god Odin. Death would be the ultimate release—from the pain and the curse of his powers. “Am I for Valhalla?”
Gavin knew that the beliefs of old were gone, but this woman stood as proud as one of the legendary choosers of the slain would. She shook her head in reply and he watched as the action caused her hair to swirl around her like a halo. He slid his hand higher, touching the soft skin of her leg, the back of her calf.
“An angel of the Christian god then?” he asked, watching as small gasps escaped when his hand moved up her leg, pulling her gently closer to him. “Come to offer me salvation, sweet angel?” he asked. Salvation came in many forms, and at this moment relief from his lust would serve him well. His soul was lost, so he need not worry over that.
His angel lost her balance as he tugged on her leg, falling onto him. His breath was forced out of him, but the feel of her breasts against his chest was worth it. And now, as she lay on top of him, he was able to explore her more thoroughly.
And he did…wrapping his arms around her and drawing her up so that her hips and belly rubbed against the hard length of his cock. It was a glorious feeling, and his flesh swelled and readied itself for her body. His mouth watered as he grasped her shoulders and lifted her closer…closer to his lips.
The angel’s own lips parted ever so slightly, giving him hope that the moment when he could taste her was close. Her eyes widened as she noticed his erection for the first time, and her wriggling movements—was she trying to climb off him?—simply made him harder.
Gavin fought off the sedating stupor of the healer’s brew and rolled with her to his side. Smiling at her, he gazed into those dark blue eyes and saw something that looked like innocence shining back at him. The sight of it entranced him. His own soul and body were so far from that state that he hungered to touch it once more.
To touch her.
He wrapped his arm around her, cushioning her from the hard stone floor, and used his other hand to caress the soft curve of her jaw. Rubbing his thumb across her lips, he dared a first taste of her enticing mouth, holding his breath as he waited for the pleasure of it.
He swept his tongue into her mouth, seeking her own. He was overwhelmed by the kiss. Innocence was there, certainly, but also he tasted her own need and a swirl of other emotions. Gavin slanted his mouth over hers and plunged into it, tasting and suckling and searching for more of his angel. He slid his hand up into her long curls and wrapped their length around his palm, holding her close while he continued to kiss and possess her mouth.
She moved against him and he released his grasp of her hair so that he could touch her in other places. Gathering the fabric of her cloak and tunic in his hand, he pulled it up, gliding it slowly up her leg until he felt her skin there once more. The gasps she made tickled his mouth, and he continued to seek her flesh. Gavin lifted his mouth from hers only to take a breath, but got caught up in the intensity of her gaze meeting his.
Then he noticed it.
The silence.
The blessed silence in his thoughts.
The only sounds he could hear were the gasps she made each time he touched her, and the panting breaths she took in as he slid his hand between her legs and found the wetness there. If he concentrated on her, he could hear the beating of her heart and the blood rushing through her body. And he did focus on her, discovering that he could hear the tightening of her muscles and the throbbing ache pulsing in her womanly flesh.
How? How could she silence the clamor? And how could he hear such things deep within her? Things that did not have sound. Yet he could hear those and nothing else.
“Who are you?” he asked, drawing back for a moment to truly look at her face.
Even in his drug-filled stupor, he knew that she was different. But her eyes began to glaze over as his body poured out the scent that would make any woman his. Gavin felt the heat of her flesh soften beneath his fingers and moved his hand there to make her gasp as he knew she would. The sound of it echoed through the cavern and into his body.
She said nothing, his angel, only opening her legs so that he could touch her deeper. So he did, enjoying the way she arched against his hand. Gavin took her mouth, mimicking the movements with his tongue, thrusting deep and anticipating the feel of her tight channel around his prick.
The lack of clatter in his thoughts increased his desire for her and his enjoyment of the way his body felt. He knew not why or how her thoughts were hidden from him, but it was so pleasant that he laughed aloud.
“You are truly an angel,” he said as he slipped his arm out from behind her and moved to kneel between her legs.
Though she did not speak, she did not object. He tugged her cloak out of his way and pulled the edge of her tunic up slowly, enjoying every exposed inch of her long legs. He leaned over and tracked kisses over her legs, still able to hear the blood as it rushed through her veins. As he approached the junction of her thighs, she touched his head.
The touch itself was a surprise because women under the control of his power usually lay compliant in his arms, allowing him his way in all things. But the clarity in her gaze when he met it was the true shock. She was not under the power of his desire.
His head swam from the effects of the healer’s brew, but the rising heat in his blood battled it. Now, with her feminine scent and flesh so close, he could not stop himself. Gavin smiled at her.
“Let me pleasure you, angel,” he whispered, not pausing for her permission.
Leaning down, he kissed the soft skin on the inside of her thigh as he spread her legs. Although she placed her hand on his head once more, he moved his mouth along her leg until he reached the heated place there and used his lips and tongue to tease those sensitive folds. She writhed under his attentions, and his body strained against his clothing, his skin burning to be on hers.
He’d been with hundreds of women in his life and could tell when one feigned arousal or swore to a long-lost innocence, but her body somehow tasted of it. The way she reacted, drawing away as he stroked with his tongue and then relaxing against his mouth when he pursued, spoke of a newness to this kind of passionate kiss. She did not fight him, but she did not caress him or touch him other than swirling her fingers in his hair as he moved over her.
Gavin lifted his mouth from her and massaged the now-weeping folds with his hand, sliding one finger and then two deep within her. The lack of a maidenhead spoke only of not being pure, but her body’s responses revealed her lack of experience. Easing his fingers in and out, faster and harder each time, he brought her to the edge of release even while his cock and sac tightened, waiting for his pleasure. From the way her flesh pulsed around his fingers, he knew it would be well worth the time it took to ready her.
Gavin stopped, noticing again that the only sounds he could hear were those within her body. Everything else, the noise in his head, the sounds of the ocean, faded into nothing as he listened to her body sing. Her breathing quickened, her heart raced, her muscles tensed and relaxed. Every moment had its own sound to him. The only thing he could not hear was her thoughts—not as coherent words or even as the constant clatter usually in his head. He let himself go then, savoring the silence and gaining pleasure from her body, even knowing this had to be a dream.
“Ah, angel,” he whispered, still surprised to hear only his own voice, “open for me.” He reached down and loosened his trews. Guiding her legs around his waist, he grasped his cock and positioned himself at the opening of her tight channel. Rubbing the head of it along her cleft, he eased into her.