Beyond the Sea Mist (23 page)

The familiar frustration afflicted him. Why couldn’t she trust him? Why couldn’t she feel for him what he did for her? He suspected he loved her. Not a thing he wanted to admit. Love could weaken a man and make him do foolish things. He couldn’t afford that, not if he wanted to stay alive.

A sobering thought, and one that made him realize he really had no choice. He must keep away from Ailinn, at least until they arrived in York and his control over the
Dragonsbreath
was more secure.

* * *

Ailinn lay on her share of the blankets and furs and stared at the underside of the tent. She couldn’t sleep, and she wasn’t certain why. Her circumstances were the best they’d been since leaving Dublin. She’d eaten well, enjoying the dried berries, cheese and hard bread that Asgar had brought for them. She’d also had a chance to wash in the water he’d provided. And it was certainly more comfortable to sleep in a tent on the deck of the ship than in the cramped, nearly airless hold. For once since leaving Locha Laune, she wasn’t a helpless captive. She felt like a woman instead of a piece of livestock. And she wasn’t in fear for her life every moment as she had been during the storm.

But despite her improved situation, she felt restless and distraught. Her insides seemed twisted in knots. Part of it was the frustrating thought of how close she’d come to obtaining the treasure, the first step in her plan to regain her family’s lands. But there were other things that distressed her. Whenever she thought of Magnus, she experienced a sharp sense of disappointment. She’d wanted him to be different than other men, to respect her hopes and desires and not seek to control her. It gnawed at her that he’d immediately seized the treasure for his own. And his anger at her for keeping the truth from him—how unfair that was, especially since as soon as he knew about the treasure he’d done exactly as she’d feared and taken it away from her.

The thought of it made her clench her teeth. But then another emotion weakened her indignation. She couldn’t forget what it felt like to have him touch her. The man had offered her bliss, such magical pleasure. And he’d done so without concern for his own satisfaction. What other man would have been so generous, so considerate?

That was the Magnus she’d sought out in the storm to give him a kiss. The heroic, selfless warrior who’d risked his life to rescue her from Croa. She couldn’t stop thinking about that man. Where had he gone? Had he ever been real? Was it possible rescuing her was merely an excuse for him to kill Croa and seize control of the ship?

It didn’t seem likely. When Magnus joined Croa’s crew, there was no way for him to anticipate the storm and the way Croa’s cowardly behavior would turn his men against him. Nay, Magnus’s concern for her had been real, at least in beginning. But now he’d gotten a taste of power and it had gone to his head and made him as arrogant and domineering as most men.

It could certainly be worse. She should be pleased that the man who controlled her destiny was kind and considerate. She should be satisfied with how things had turned out, as Brina was.

But she couldn’t accept such a fate. The loss of her heritage would eat at her the rest of her life. If she gave up her goal of righting the wrong that had been done to her, she would be but a shell of herself. She would never be happy or content. There must be some way...

Her mind began to work on the matter. Perhaps she should do as Brina suggested and try to regain Magnus’s favor using feminine wiles. A reasonable plan, except that she knew little about such things. As a princess, she’d known she would inevitably marry whoever her father chose, so there seemed no point in learning how to beguile a man. Brina was much more skilled in such things. Most women were. Jesu, but she’d been surprised to realize that even Ullach seemed to know how to be flirtatious and coy. It was rather shocking to think child-like Ullach appeared to understand such matters better than she did.

But she did have one thing in her favor. Magnus desired her. She’d felt his arousal quite clearly. And all the restraint he’d shown while she found satisfaction meant he must be near miserable with unrelieved lust. A smile touched her lips. Aye, she might not be able to flirt with and cajole a man, but she had every reason to believe she knew how to take advantage of Magnus’s obvious passion for her.

She should go to him now, and make it clear she was willing to satisfy him as he had her. Growing up with brothers, she’d gleaned enough to know how men pleasured themselves. She felt certain she could do what was necessary.

Being careful not to wake the other women, she climbed from under the blankets and donned her kirtle. After putting on her nearly ruined shoes, she crawled out of the tent.

It was a brilliantly clear night, and she took a moment to gaze up at the heavens with their scattering of milky stars. The air smelled fresh and clean and the faint rocking of the ship was both invigorating and soothing. She could almost understand why men might choose a life on the sea. There was a sense of freedom here, a kind of promise. Who knew what lay beyond those endless waves? What magical land waited beyond the horizon? Perhaps Tir na n-og, the enchanted island where everyone was young and happy forever.

The idyllic image calmed her and made it easier for her to contemplate what she was about to do. Even so, as she made her away among the sleeping men, she felt a twinge of apprehension. She was behaving so boldly, so shamelessly. Well-born women didn’t approach men while they slept and offer to pleasure them.

But seeing her father and brothers killed, her home burned, then facing the indignities and humiliations of being a slave—those things had changed her. She couldn’t go back to being the refined gentlewoman. Faced with a grim future, she’d learned to do what she needed to do in order to survive. The woman who’d dared to curse her captor and then later pushed him overboard was certainly capable of offering to pleasure a man in order to advance her own interests.

Especially since there was a part of her that wanted to do this. The thought of being near Magnus and touching him intimately aroused her. She remembered the taste of his mouth, the feel of his big, hard body against hers. Nay, this was no onerous task. Although her stomach seemed filled with butterflies, it wasn’t fear that put them there, but a kind of delicious anticipation.

When she reached the place where Magnus had spread out his bedsack, she halted. The only question now was how to wake him.

Such a vivid dream. He could swear he could smell Ailinn. Feel her lithe, slender form.
The next moment he was awake and he knew it was no dream. “Ailinn?” he whispered when he realized she was lying down next to him. “Is something wrong?”

“Nay.”

“Then why are you here, next to me?”

“Why? Don’t you want me here?”

She purred the words, sending fire to his stirring phallus. The effort required to form a response forced him further awake and his muscles tightened with wariness.
Why was she here? What did she want?

When she placed one of her fine, delicate hands against the crotch of his trews, he had his answer. Or at least partial answer. The “why” was obvious, but what did it mean?

He gasped as she began to stroke him. For a moment he was too flooded with mindless sensation to be able to reason further. He focused on breathing deeply and slowly as the pleasure rippled through him. Thor’s hammer, but that felt good! And the fact that he was being caressed by this elegant, often disdainful princess made it even more glorious. Her movements were tentative, a bit awkward, but that only aroused him more. This was no practiced whore, but a maiden who’d never touched a man like this before. He could scarcely bear it, and yet he didn’t want to reach his peak like this. Gently, he grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away. “Ailinn, this is not what I want.”

“Why not?” Her voice was teasing, seductive. By the gods, she would drive him mad!
 He took a deep breath. “Because there’s much more to loveplay than this. The first time, I would like find my release inside you rather than spilling my seed in my trews.”

She went very still, and he sensed his blunt words had shocked her. Then she said, “Perhaps we could go down into the hold.”

He turned this idea over in his mind. But there was no place to lie down there. While he knew it was possible to penetrate a woman in a standing position, he guessed it would be difficult, especially since Ailinn was so small. He might end up hurting her, and he didn’t want that.

He took her hands in his. “You may have been taught that men take their pleasure when and where they can. But I’m not like that, at least in regards to you. I want more than to mate with you. I want...”

Abruptly, he realized he didn’t have the words to say what he wanted to do with her. He feared it had to do with love, with a passion beyond what a sensible man is supposed to feel.

She pulled away from him. “Why won’t you take what I offer?” she asked in an irritated voice. “Am I so displeasing to you?”

“Of course not. You are the most beautiful, desirable...” He paused. Something was wrong here. Why was she angry? Was it desire that drove her to seek him out in the middle of the night and climb into his bedsack? He grew taut with suspicion. “What’s the real reason you’re here? Is it because you desire me? Or, do you think that if you satisfy me, you’ll be able to bend me to your will?”

She spoke in an exasperated voice. “I knew I shouldn’t listen to Brina. I’m not good at this. I never will be, no matter how hard I try!”

“What do you mean? Did you think if you pleased me, I would give you the treasure? I can’t do that Ailinn. I—”

He’d  barely started to explain when she scrambled to her feet and stood over him, hands on her hips. “You’re no different than Croa,” she said in a taut whisper. “You may treat me better, but you still think of me as a piece of property!”

He sat up, his fingers digging into the soft fur of the bedsack. For her to compare him to that monstrous brute infuriated him. “If I’m like Croa, does that mean you’ll try to push me overboard when I displease you?” he whispered back.

She didn’t answer him but stalked away. Magnus lay down again, the fury racing through him.
She’d compared him to Croa!

A part of him wanted to get up and pursue her. To grab her, jerk around to face him and then kiss her senseless. Make her moan and sigh like she did in the hold. And then,
then
, ask her if she still thought he was like Croa. But if he did that, he feared he would lose control. And he didn’t want to bed her like that, when he was angry and resentful. He wanted their lovemaking to be tender and affectionate. For them to trust each other. If only he didn’t care for her so much. If only...

* * *

In the morning, he rose and went to break his fast with the other men. He intended to stay away from her, as far away as possible on a small ship.

Once the sail was raised and they got underway, he spent the rest of the morning with Vibold, talking about currents and winds and the arc of the sun in the sky. He was very careful never to glance in the direction of the tent.

At midday, Orm sought him out. “I heard you argued with Ailinn last night,” he said.

Magnus grunted.

“I’ve never seen the like of the two of you,” continued Orm. “I used to believe you calm and stoic, the sort of man who lets nothing perturb him. But when that wench is around, something happens and you crumble like a poorly fired pot.”

It was true. He’d always prided himself on being a man who thought things through and chose the sensible course, but since he’d encountered Ailinn, he’d done many rash, even foolish things.

“So, what happens now?” Orm asked.

“We sail for York. When we arrive there, I use the treasure to pay off the crew, then decide where we’ll go next.”

“Nay. I didn’t mean those things. I meant, what are you going to do with your sharp-tempered princess?”

Magnus gritted his teeth. Now, there was a question. He desired Ailinn fiercely, but at the same time he was convinced her stubborn, fiery nature would cause him no end of trouble and grief. To make her his wife would be madness. No sensible man married a woman he couldn’t trust. And he didn’t believe she would tolerate being his concubine. “Perhaps I’ll take her back to Ireland.”

“But you know what will happen then. She’ll inevitably fall into the hands of another man like Croa. Wouldn’t it be better to sell her yourself? Find some old jarl who’s prepared to indulge her. You won’t get as much, now that she’s no longer a maid, but she’d still have enough value to interest a wealthy and powerful man. There are jarls who treat their slaves quite well, especially the female ones. If she could learn to behave meekly and demurely, I’m sure she could charm some old man into offering her many luxuries.”

Magnus tried to imagine Ailinn as the bedslave of an elderly jarl, one so enthralled with her beauty that he would offer her jewels and silk gowns and have the other slaves wait on her. His first reaction was that Ailinn could never behave like that. His second was that he could no more sell Ailinn to another man—even an old, impotent one—than he could toss her into the sea.

He took a deep breath and tried to quell the violent jealousy Orm’s suggestion aroused. What was he to do? He could think of no good way to deal with Ailinn, yet he couldn’t bear to give her up either.

“Maybe if you bed her a few more times, you’ll grow tired of her,” said Orm.