“I am cursed.”
Grelod scowled. “I am Christian and do not believe in curses.”
Nyssa bit her tongue but could not repress a long sigh.
The queen waved a hand. “Although if I did, then I would ask for the all of this curse. Who cursed you? The precise wording. The all of it. Sit. I will not rest until I know every detail.”
“Konáll and Dráddør will soon finish their swordplay. He will go to your husband, milady.” Nyssa wrung her hands and glanced at the slight gap in the tent’s far side.
Grelod’s gaze swung in the direction of Nyssa’s. “Nay. They will have ended their practice. The horn for the breaking of our fast sounded not moments afore you set foot in this tent. Come. Make haste. We must intercept the men at their meal. Where is my cloak? Ah, there it is.”
After snatching the garment, Grelod bustled Nyssa out of the tent talking faster than a magpie chattered. “You have ne’er met a Viking afore, have you? Of course not. If you had you would know Konáll would ne’er set you aside. He, like all Norse men, is possessive and values his honor above all. He claimed you yester eve, and naught you can say or do will change that.”
Nyssa chewed the inside of her cheek and prayed ’twas enough distance ’tween the two women and the milling soldiers for none to overhear Grelod’s fierce whispers.
Grelod curled her hand around Nyssa’s arm. “Now, we must devise a strategy for separating the men so I can speak with Thōrfin. You will take the seat next to me. I will tell Konáll to sit next to you. If he protests, I will remind him you are a new wife and must be the sole object of his attention.”
Confused, not a little giddy from Grelod’s rapid transformation from enemy to ally, Nyssa concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other and tried to make sense of the queen’s words.
“At the end of the repast, caress his thigh and whisper in his ear that you wish him to escort you back to the tent. If he’s half as lusty as Thōrfin, we will ne’er see the two of you until dusk.”
Nyssa nigh fell over her own two feet. She halted abruptly in front of Thōrfin’s command tent.
“There.” Grelod clapped her palms together and flashed Nyssa a wicked grin. “One issue resolved. On the morrow, we will work on this curse of yours. I vow, I have not felt so energized since Thōrfin declared I could ne’er win a game of chess from him. He has won nary a contest since then.”
Nyssa laughed aloud when Grelod stamped a dainty foot.
Mayhap she had misjudged the queen.
* * *
“Grelod.” Thōrfin inclined his head when Nyssa and his wife ducked into the tent. “What is amiss?”
Hands on her hips, bosom thrust forward, Grelod quirked her brows and asked, “Aught must be amiss for me to have the pleasure of breaking fast with my king and husband? Nyssa, what say you to that? Konáll, find you something amiss in your wife seeking your company?”
Konáll recognized Grelod’s mood.
So did Thōrfin, for he narrowed his eyes, tapped his chin, and studied his queen before replying, “Beg pardon, wife, I had nay realized our consumption of two hot loaves, apples, pears, and cheese this morn in our tent was misconstrued. Alas my poor brain now comprehends ’twas a snack and
not
the breaking of our fast. Is that not so?”
“You are the most intelligent of men, husband.” Grelod moved to Thōrfin’s side, tucked her arm into his, and led him to the high seat at the table in the middle of the tent.
Konáll leaned to whisper into Nyssa’s ear, “I broke my fast most satisfactorily this morn.”
Color washed across her face.
“You blush deliciously, wife.” Konáll escorted Nyssa to the table.
“Come, Nyssa, sit beside me,” Grelod commanded.
Taken aback by the apparent ease ’tween the two women, Konáll glanced from one to the other.
“And will you sit with me, husband?”
A hint of amber glistened in Nyssa’s gray eyes, and her mouth twitched. What had caused her good humor? She had crept out of her turtle armor and…he stumbled. She had called him husband. He went from flaccid to harder than marble in one inhale. His dark mood lifted. “’Tis no other place for a husband other than next to his wife.”
He helped her onto the bench and though he couldn’t be cert Nyssa did it intentionally, she brushed close to him, and sat thigh to thigh by his side.
“Where is Dráddør?” She poured him a horn of ale and when a page offered them a basket of bread, selected a fat loaf.
“Answering a challenge. He will join us later to plan the invasion.” He had worked up a thirst on the practice field and drained half his horn in one long glug.
She tore the bread into smaller chunks, swept him a sidelong look, opened her mouth, and then closed it. Knowing she had stopped herself from saying something, he nudged her arm. “Say what you will, wife mine. Are you wondering how long ’twill be afore you are once again ensconced within your keep?”
“Aye, I wonder thusly, but nay, ’twas not what I wanted to say. Konáll, I encountered the elderly men from my keep this morn. I asked your man, Pálli, to have them camp near to our tent this eve. These men have lived at Castle Caerleah all their lives. They know the keep e’en better than I do. Particularly the expansion my Da completed when I was at the abbey.”
He frowned. “Abbey?”
“Aye. My Da sent me to Sumbarten Abbey to be fostered. My nursemaid, Gudrun, accompanied me.”
His blood chilled. “Nay. ’Tis unbelievable. The Lady Gráinne taught you?”
She twisted to him and huffed her surprise. “How know you of Lady Gráinne?”
His mind churned. He added all the pieces together. Six seasons ago, he and his older brother Brökk had kidnapped the abbess, Lady Gráinne, and her charge, Skatha, daughter of King Kenneth and the goddess Skaði. They had intended to ransom Skatha for their little sister, Hjørdis, whom they believed the King had stolen.
That his new wife had been schooled at Sumbarten Abbey could not be another coincidence. Trepidation snaked a veritable icy path up his back.
“Have you been to Sumbarten, Konáll?
“Aye. I have. But ’twas a short visit.” Briefly he explained Skatha’s kidnapping and subsequent marriage to his brother, Brökk.
Nyssa stared at him and rubbed her arms when he finished his tale. “I like this not, Konáll. ’Tis too amazing. Sumbarten is remote and not many know of it. How can this be, that I was sent there and you took Lady Gráinne hostage and then the kings command our wedding?”
“Agreed, Nyssa. The all of our union cannot be all these remarkable coincidences. Some force is behind all this. How long were you at Sumbarten?”
“I was there but the half of one spring. During that time, thrice, strange men tried to steal me from the abbey. Lady Gráinne decided ’twas safer for me to be at a sister abbey in the highlands. I left Sumbarten for Circe Fearn Abbey before my eleventh summer.”
Sheer terror wormed across his shoulders. Who had attempted to steal Nyssa from the abbey? “Tell me of these attempts to steal you.”
“’Twas neighboring farmers who wanted wives. Females were sore absent from the villages around Sumbarten Abbey. Many other pupils had been nigh stolen o’er the years. ’Twas only after King Kenneth sent a legion to guard the abbey a winter after I was sent to Circe Fearn that pupils were safe.” Nyssa shrugged. “I cannot believe those kidnappings were connected to us. ’Twas so long ago. And in truth, once Gudrun and I left Sumbarten, we were not hassled by any, warrior or farmer.”
“’There were no attempts to kidnap you at Circe Fearn?” Konáll massaged the back of his neck.
“Nay. Not a one. Albeit the abbey was many days away from any village. ’Twas a quiet, remote place. Still this news of Lady Gráinne and your brother’s wife is most disconcerting. Pray, describe Skatha to me.”
Konáll did a quick calculation. “I do not believe you would have met Skatha. She has seen nine and ten summers and was sent to abbey during her tenth and first summer.”
“I have seen eight and ten summers. Nay. We would not have been there at the same time.” She wore the look of a deer who had spied a hunting party bearing down.
He took the eating knife from her, reached for the round of cheese the page deposited earlier, and cut a dozen slices.
She gazed at the trencher, her shoulders slumped, one finger traced a worn knot on the table. “’Tis so frustrating. One step forward, three back. Since the curse I make no headway. I solve one mystery only to have another two or three burst forth. How is all of this connected? For surely there must be some tie. Have I escaped the curse of the stake only to fall into another?”
He lifted her chin. “You are alone no longer, mìlseachd, and the curse is broken. Remember that. ’Tis crucial. You are not doomed.”
A tear leaked from one eye. “I am so weary, Konáll.”
“Lean on me, wife. Let me take your burden. In two days, we take back Castle Caerleah. Then we must set the holding to rights. Afore winter sets in we will have vanquished all who seek to hurt you.” He hated to see the defeat writ in her features. “What say you to a long, hard gallop along the coast to clear the cobwebs and the curses?”
“I have no steed.”
“Ah, but there, Nyssa, you are in error. For your bride gift awaits your slender thighs near the river.”
Her eyes flickered to the tent’s entrance. She shifted in her seat. “Truly? You have gifted me a horse?”
He would gift her a score of horses to see delight wipe out the veil of sadness and worry from her eyes. “Aye. A fine mare.”
“A mare? How tall? Is she chestnut?” Nyssa shredded the chunk of bread in her hands, tearing the piece into crumbs. “I have not been on a horse in ages. There is naught I love more than flying into the wind.”
He couldn’t have stopped the wide grin spreading across his face any more than he could have prevented the rain from falling in Scotland. “Finish your bread and cheese and we will leave at once.”
“Nay.” She thumped the table. “I am hungry no more. I will wrap the bread and cheese in a cloth and we will stop and have a picnic after we have ridden long and hard.”
“What is this I hear?” Grelod fluttered her long lashes Konáll’s way. “More gifts for your bride? Have you told Nyssa of the jewels and the bolts of fine silks you left at our keep?”
The sparkle in Nyssa’s gray eyes fair blinded him. She had gathered half a loaf and a few slices of cheese into the center of a square of cloth and drummed her fingers on the table, her haste to leave more than obvious to all.
“’Twas to be a surprise, Lady Grelod, when I bring my new wife to your keep next summer.”
Grelod tsked. “You should have warned me, Konáll.”
In truth he had warned Grelod a multitude of times not to mention the treasures left on her isle.
Thōrfin rolled his eyes. “You, of all, should know that my wife can scarce keep a secret. And your woman appears about to gallop right out of the tent. Pray, take her to the mare afore she shatters.”
Nyssa fair glowed, and she smiled so broadly her cheeks must have ached. “My thanks, my lord.”
Konáll scraped the bench back from the table, hopped to one side, lifted Nyssa, and set her down at his side. He curled an arm around her waist, inclined his head, and said, wearing a wide grin, “We will take our leave, then. I will meet you afore midday back here.”
Nyssa brimmed with elation and fair skipped all the way to where the horses were stabled. A rough lean-to sheltered the score horses from the brisk wind. Packets of sooty clouds dotted the sky.
Konáll licked a finger and tested the wind. “A storm is coming.”
She kicked at a stone. “Aye. I know. The dawn was fire red.”
He tugged her around the wooden structure.
The stallions on the opposite side of the clearing reared and kicked as they walked by. “I count a dozen stallions. Such horseflesh, Konáll. I have ne’er seen steeds like this. They are enormous.”
“They are from the Saracen lands.”
She had eyes only for the horses and drank them in as if etching them in her memory. “Mama swore I only learned to walk so I could follow the horses around. She said I begged to ride, that I stole apples and carrots from the kitchens to feed the stallions. My Da gave me my first mare when I had but six summers. “
Konáll stared at his wife astonished by the verbal barrage and her voluntary disclosures. “I take it you are overfond of horses?”
She shot him a crooked grin. “As you are of raspberries?”
Heat roasted his cheeks. He knew not how to answer her query. Thank Odin they had reached the mare he’d purchased from Ali H’malik.
“Here is your bride gift, Nyssa.” He waved at the bay horse with socked feet tethered under an oak tree with spreading branches.
Clasping the sack of food between her hands, Nyssa stared at the mare seemingly unaware of the tears streaking her cheeks.
A strange feeling lodged thick and hard in his throat. The kind of emotion he reserved for his beloved sister, his brothers, and Skatha. He vowed to keep this look on her face forever. To shower her with surprises and love.
Konáll stumbled.
Nay. She was his wife. He felt the pride of possession. ’Twas all. Not love.
For love weakened warriors and made men shy away from battle.
Chapter Eight
Nyssa’s throat ached. Her eyes burned.
Konáll squeezed her shoulders and tugged her back to his chest. He swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “The mare was not supposed to make you cry.”
“They are tears of joy.” She twisted to look at him. “I give you my heartfelt thanks, Konáll. ’Tis a gift I will treasure forever.”
He brushed her face with the back of his hand, the gesture so tender more tears leaked from her eyes. She tried for a smile. “I am squishing our picnic.”
“So you are. Mayhap you should offer the mare one of the apples from the sack?” His arms dropped away and so did his warmth.
“Aye.” She opened the bag, found an apple, and approached the horse slowly. There was naught she loved more than the scent of a horse, the tang of wildness and freedom she associated with the beautiful animals. Nyssa inhaled and crooned soft praises when the mare chomped into the fruit.
“The storm will be on us soon. We will not have time for a ride.” Konáll edged forward and scratched the horse’s twitching ear.
She looked over her shoulder and took in the heavy carpet of angry smoky clouds blocking the sun. An ominous boom rolled around the narrow clearing. “You have the right of it. What of the horses?”
“I will have the pages take them to the caves at the bottom of the cliffs. Come, mìlseachd. We must hurry.”
“I will put the rest of the picnic in her feed bucket.” As she spoke Nyssa emptied the contents of the sack. She laid her cheek to the horse’s neck, whispered her farewell, and promised to visit that eve.
Konáll set his palm to the small of her back and urged her into a brisk stride. All about the camp warriors bustled back and forth making preparations for the coming storm.
Fat raindrops glanced her shoulders.
Grabbing her hand, Konáll barked, “Run for it. We go to the tent you were in yester eve afore the vow saying.”
They broke into a sprint.
Nyssa scanned the area to get her bearings. The tent was located adjacent to the cliff and a short distance from the river Taigh-Grùide. She checked the sooty horizon and lengthened her stride.
The moment they ducked into the tent, the skies erupted.
“We made it,” Konáll declared. “Though I would nay have minded stripping off your wet cyrtel.”
A delicious shiver washed over her, and she swept him a sidelong peek. Images of the blue tunic plastered to his wondrous chest and the loose breeches he wore sticking to his magnificent cock danced in her head.
“’Tis not as elaborate as Grelod and Thōrfin’s.” He waved a wide arc.
She followed his cue and smiled at the tent’s transformation.
Two iron trunks bracketed a pallet on which lay a thick, sheet-covered mattress decorated with three embroidered bed cushions. A clay pitcher, two glass goblets and a platter covered with a length of linen lay on one of the chests. On the other stood an array of candles, of which about half were lit.
“Dráddør retrieved the chest from the cave. He also brought your sacks of gold.” Konáll unclasped the brooch holding his woolen cloak together. “Where did you get so much coin?”
Nyssa scuffed the fresh rushes and the sweet scent of pine wafted to her nose. “’Twas but a wee portion of the gold the sirens stole from the ships they lured to shore. I but borrowed the coin.”
He chuckled.
Surprised she blurted, “You are not angry?”
“Nay, wife. Tell me you do not really consider returning gold to thieves?” His beamed smile vanquished all the shadows in the tent.
She could not prevent an answering grin. “Nay. But borrow sounds better than stole.”
He crossed his arms. “And what did you intend to do with the coin?”
She shrugged. “Having much coin is always an advantage. Mayhap to avoid having to marry to provide for my people. Mayhap to use as bribes when I escaped from the sirens’ isle.”
“How did you escape?” Konáll captured her hands. He kissed the knuckles on one hand.
Barely able to think with each contact of his mouth on her skin, she took a deep breath and said in a rush, “A Saracen trader stops at the sirens’ isle every season. I had heard them speaking of his coming visit. I snuck aboard the eve afore he departed.”
When he moved onto to brush his lips across the back of her other hand, she yearned to edge closer and bury her face in his chest. Smell him. Touch him. Be surrounded by his arms.
“’Twas a risk you will not repeat. If they had discovered you were a female—”
“But they did not. Forsooth, the trader was kind. He gave me food in return for scrubbing the decks.”
She could not take her gaze away from his thumb absently caressing the underside of her wrist. His soft stroking both aroused and comforted her. The same way the gift of the mare had made her feel cherished, though he could not have known the depth of her love of horses. Yearning to give him back in kind, she wet her lips and, before her courage faded, blurted, “Will you come inside me again, Konáll?”
His eyes widened and his jaw sagged. He wore a grin so wide she was cert his lips stung, whooshed her into his arms, and waggled his brows. “You shock me, wanton wife. My pecker and I have been trying to find a way to ease inside of you since we sat to break our fast earlier.”
This Konáll she loved. The warrior who shed his grimness and laughed with abandon. The man who teased and tickled and spoke of lovings she would ne’er forget.
When she had agreed to marry him, Nyssa knew their time together would be short and had vowed to savor every moment. She had hoped to guard her heart, but ’twas not possible any longer. The realization crumbled the last wall she’d erected, and she wanted no secrets ’tween them, save the one that would sever their vows.
“’Tis another truth from the sirens then, peckers
can
think.” Nyssa fought to still her twitching lips at his deep guffaw.
“Aye, mìlseachd. Not only do they think, they plot and scheme. For peckers are only happy when they are sheathed and milked dry.” He jiggled his brows.
“Peckers appear to require much milking.”
“Aye. Milking, stroking, kissing. But ’tis not the only male part which enjoys such attentions.”
“The sirens said there were no male body parts that did not crave attention.”
He smile widened. “No truer words have e’er been spoken.”
The urge to feel him overcame her fear of rejection. Though her fingers shook, she looped her hands around his neck, and with great daring, stroked his nape.
He closed his eyes and leaned into the caress.
Encouraged by his reaction, she massaged the bridge of his shoulder. ’Twas one thing to touch him in the heat of passion and in the middle of the night, but afore midday and while he studied her features so fiercely that she could feel his gaze on her without e’en peeking at him, required all her courage.
“’Twill be hard and fast the first time, Nyssa. I have been thinking of naught but burying my cock in your sweet puss all morn.” He staggered to the pallet and laid her on the mattress.
She was wet and aching. Her sex vibrated with need. The constant small convulsions fluttered low in her belly and had her breasts tingling.
He tugged his tunic off, ripped apart the rope tie of his breeches, swore, and sat next to her. The straw dipped with his weight and the linen strained when he whipped one boot off and tossed it to the floor. The other boot followed with a heavy thud.
Color suffused his face, he stood and footed his breeches off, hopping to tug the garment free. From behind he was e’en more beautiful. High sleek haunches, deep hollows in the sides of his bottom cheeks, the curve there too inviting to resist, she rose onto her elbows and cupped one rump.
His fingers bunched into fists, and he snapped, “Remove your hand.”
She flinched, yanked her arm to the side, set her jaw, and focused on the loose weave of the sheet, biting back the tears. When he turned to face the pallet his feet came into view. He had long toes and strong, tanned ankles.
He dropped onto one knee and caught her chin. “To me, Nyssa.”
The gentleness of his tone was such a contrast to his barked order of moments afore. She searched his face for some clue as to why he didn’t want her caresses.
“If you had but stroked my ass, I would have spilled my seed at once. ’Tis the only reason I asked you to remove your hand.”
“Oh.” At a loss for words and unsure what to do, she managed a smile and waited for a signal from him.
“To be cert, from the first time I opened my eyes in the cave and saw you, I have been hard and aching.”
Automatically she stared at his jutting cock and glimpsed a shiny drop leaking from the slit. Curiosity got the better of her. “’Tis all it takes? To see a woman?”
He snorted. “To see
you
. To smell
you
, to touch
you
. Aye, ’tis all it takes. Forsooth, I have no need e’en of that. Dráddør nigh severed my arm during our practice this morn because I suddenly thought of your expression when you find your pleasure and my pecker rose.”
She preened and all the need returned to her loins. Her folds grew damp, and her breasts heavy. Her fingers itched to take his cock in hand, to discover if the shiny drop had the texture of water or honey.
“Better?” His thumb traced the shape of her mouth leaving her lips all atingle.
“Aye,” she whispered. “I am aching too.”
He lurched to his feet and his pecker bobbed right afore her nose. “I can wait no longer,
mit hiärta
.”
A fever caught ahold of her. She reached to her back and fumbled for the laces.
Konáll picked her up and rolled her onto her belly.
She peeked over one shoulder and a smile chased her lips at his furious concentration. He straddled her on his knees and fair tore the laces out of their neat holes. His pecker twitched and jerked on her gown and the liquid leaking from the slit flicked onto the fabric.
“At last,” he growled and shifted to the outside of the pallet.
Eager to help and hoping to accelerate his entry into her body, she pushed onto her haunches, worried the cyrtel down her shoulders, and wriggled and shimmied the fine velvet past her hips.
“Aye,” he growled and latched onto her nipple taking both the chemise and nigh the whole breast into his mouth.
The wonder of his tongue and teeth, she clasped the back of his head and urged him closer, kneading his scalp and tangling his hair. She moaned when he tweaked the other desolate bud, and lost her balance reaching for his flat nipple. They tumbled onto the straw; she opened her legs, and he settled between them.
His arousal rode her nub.
She dug her heels into the mattress and arched to grind on his cock. The pressure wasn’t enough, so she grabbed his shoulders and lifted higher.
“Please,” she begged. The thin chemise separating her flesh from his spiked her frustration. Nyssa pulled at the fabric and swore when the chemise refused to budge. “Mother Mary, give me some ease!”
“I will give you the all of it, wife.” He knelt, ripped the material from top to bottom, and urged her onto her knees. Confused, she tried to turn back to face him.
“Trust me.” He palmed her spine. “’Twill be good.”
It went against Nyssa’s nature to be in such a vulnerable position, but she wanted to please him and remained on her hands and knees.
One of his hands gripped her waist, the other cupped her breast, and then she felt his cock probing her entrance. She gulped and twisted the sheets hard. He plunged inside her, and she caught her breath and went down on her forearms. The angle sank him deeper, his penetration so complete her walls strained to contain his thickness.
He muttered something in Norse, his voice so guttural she couldn’t make out his meaning.
She whimpered when he withdrew, the momentary loss of his girth and fullness, nigh too much to bear. But he hammered back in at once. Her clutch on the linen slipped under the power of his thrust. She grabbed the wooden sides of the pallet and fair screamed in pleasure when he started pounding into her. His stones slapped her folds. His cock battered her sheath. He hit her nub on each stroke. She knew now what to expect and when the exquisite convulsions began, she gave over to sheer sensation, let her eyelids droop, and savored his plundering.
When he pummeled that sweet spot just inside her sheath, she fractured. Her walls contracted furiously. In the distance she registered his victorious bellow, “Mine, mine, mine.”
He held her fast to him, pushing deeper, and collapsed over her back, shuddering into her sweat-slicked flesh. His rasped inhales and exhales thundered in her ears.
* * *
Gritting his teeth, Konáll lifted off Nyssa, caught her in his arms, plopped onto the mattress, and tucked her under his chin. He let out a long, long sigh. Satisfaction and contentment oozed from his pores.
Nyssa rubbed her cheek on his chest, and she wrapped her arm around his waist. “I begin to understand why this act preoccupies all. ’Tis incredible. The peak empties your mind and you float in ecstasy.”
“Aye. You have captured the moment aright, mit hiärta.” He kissed her forehead and squeezed her closer. “But ’tis not always such. I have joined with many women afore and ne’er have I felt such bliss as I do with you.”
His declaration pleased her, he decided, when she toyed with the hair surrounding his nipple and thumbed the flat bud. His flaccid cock jerked, and he pressed her shoulder.
“Now I wish I had paid more attention to the many couplings and initiations during my time with the sirens.” Her expelled breath sifted the hair on his chest.
“Glad I am you did not.” He twirled a curl around a finger. “For I am want to teach you all the pleasures myself. You liked this new position, did you not?”
Color dusted her cheeks. “’Twas amazing.”
“We have many more to explore. The rain has stopped and I have not heard thunder in the last while. Loathe though I am to disturb this sweet slice of peace, we have an invasion to plan.”
She pushed onto her elbow and their gazes met. “Will you allow the elder men of my keep to assist in the plans?”