The Temperate Warrior (5 page)

Slowly, he walked into the water, his eyes on his feet. The rippling stream rushed passed his ankles and eventually over his knees as he strolled further out. When it rose above his waist, he looked over his shoulder. “‘Tis warm.”

“And you are a liar,” Æsa scoffed.

A deep laugh erupted from Gustaf as he spun to face her.

She smiled in return. The sound of his joy warmed her very soul. “That is the first time I have ever heard you laugh, my lord.”

He held her gaze for a moment, as if pondering this revelation. “With you by my side, as my wife, I trust ’twill not be the last. You bring much happiness to me.”

Gustaf’s words caressed her as soothingly as if his own hand stroked her body. She basked in this moment, for in all her years of serfdom, she had never known the blessing of peace, much less a man who wanted to live out his days of peace with her at his side. She had felt the gods’ mockery and endured their curse for so long. She’d begun to give up hope of ever finding joy and love.

Had the gods finally taken pity on her? Was Gustaf a gift from Odin for all the days she’d spent suffering and praying for reprieve?

To her, he was more than a gift. He was the promise of a better life. He was her every desire. Her single most reason to live.

Gustaf splashed the water around him before dunking under, disappearing beneath its surface. As quickly as he sank into its shallow depths, he emerged a drenched man who resembled the likes of a demigod, his long golden hair clinging to his neck and shoulders. The clear mountain water fell off his body as if it worshipped every ounce of male muscle on the way down.

“Are you not going to join me?” he asked, opening his arms invitingly.

Knowing how cold the water was, she shook her head. “I shall take more pleasure in watching you.”

“Suit yourself.” He drew in a large breath and sank like a stone. The constant lateral movement of water made it difficult to see where he had gone. She stepped away from the edge, suspicious that he’d re-emerge and haul her in by surprise. Finally, he came up at the far side of the stream, the current rushing past him. Without saying a word, he plucked a single flower from the hillside at the water’s edge. The muscles in his back flexed as he brought the purple blossom to his nose, his eyes closing as he drew in a deep breath.

Æsa watched him examine the delicate bud. He brushed his finger over its colored petal before smelling it again. Looking at her burly Northman, he appeared capable of crushing a man’s skull with his large, powerful hands. Yet, a fragile flower could be safe in his keeping.

In his arms, Æsa felt the same. Though he may have possessed the strength of three men, his touch upon her skin was whisper soft. For a moment, she felt jealous of the flower gently pinched between his fingers. She longed to be the object of his attention, to let his eyes wander over every inch of her body and feel the heat of his scrutiny while nestled in his embrace.

The warm light of the afternoon sun bounced off his back, glistening from the droplets of water that greedily clung to his bronzed skin. She swallowed hard, longing to feel his slick taut flesh against hers.

Unable to merely watch him anymore, she disregarded the notion of the cold water separating them and removed the cloak from her shoulders. Before she could completely disrobe, Gustaf turned his head. His mouth immediately twitched in a half smile, his eyes locked on her every move. He pinned her with a look that nearly stopped her heart, the intensity of his gaze blazing through her soul.

With the flower still in his hand, he walked through the water, each step as purposeful as the last. The stream rescinded along the length of his lower half and exposed his entire body one small, blessed degree at a time. He didn’t stop until he stood directly in front of her.

Chapter Six

Gustaf presented the flower. “For you, my dearest Æsa.” His words came out strained and gravelly. Though he hadn’t planned to sound so nervous, he allowed the huskiness of his voice to caress her as his hand brushed her hair from her face. He tucked the flower behind her ear and stroked her cheek with tender fingers. “You are so beautiful.”

Æsa blushed beneath his compliment. He enjoyed the way her body readily reacted to him. The smooth alabaster skin of her face and neck changed from a soft milky white to a lovely pale pink. He knew from experience that the flush of blood beneath her skin extended passed the dainty edge of her collarbones and between the valley of her voluptuous breasts. But he was unable to witness such a glorious sight because of the woolen kirtle she wore.

Hell-bent on catching a glimpse of her embarrassment, he gripped the fabric of her tunic in his fists and raised it over her head. She wiggled out of the confining material, bumping her bare stomach against his groin. Before he could stop himself, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him. The warmth of her naked skin soothed the harsh cold from his body. The inadequacy of his manhood, shrunken by the frigid temperature of the stream, sought as much heat as he did, regaining full length and girth in a matter of seconds.

She reached between them and cupped him soundly with long feminine fingers. He gasped under the feel of her grip, trembling like a fool. He pulled away from her instantly and swept her up in his arms. “You’re a cruel woman, Æsa,” he scolded and made his way back to the babbling creek.

“Nay, my lord! Please!” Æsa screamed, clutching his neck. She bucked her bottom further up his body, wriggling to escape his hold. He ignored her desperate pleas and tossed her into the water.

Gustaf should have felt guilty for throwing her into the stream, but her reaction kept him from feeling any remorse. She rushed to him and practically climbed his body like a tree to escape the cold. He held her tightly in his arms, enjoying the feel of their wet naked bodies clinging to each other for warmth. Though she adhered to his body like a drenched cloth, she didn’t lose the fire in her tongue.

“You ad-d-dle brained s-s-sod!” she stammered, convulsively shivering. “I sh-should c-c-castrate you f-f-or this!”

Her trembling lower lip tempted him beyond reasoning. He imagined the taste of her spicy, ferocious nature blended well with her warm, sweet essence. Unafraid of her sadistic threats, he ravaged the mouth which spat those vicious words at him. At first, she fought to be kissed, pounding on his chest in retaliation. He had no idea how arousing it was to steal a kiss from her unwilling lips, but he knew she wouldn’t be unwilling for long.

As predicted, her fists unclenched and wound around his neck, threading in his hair, tugging, pulling to get closer. The scrape of her nails on his scalp sent shivers throughout his body. He was now tired of the cold and extremely eager to feel the blazing fire inside the longhouse. He picked her up and carried her out of the stream. Staggering back along the well-worn path, he finally burst through the door. The welcoming warmth enveloped them in a blanket of dry heat and soft amber light.

Tangled together, they made their way to the boxbed. Æsa refused to let go and he refused to stop kissing her. His Æsa.

His wife
.

The echo of that word in his brain sounded better than anything in the world. He had spent so much of his life without the love and affection of a woman, that he long feared it was the will of the gods. To die honorably on a battlefield or in the throes of dutiful vengeance was his calling and he’d embrace whatever path Odin laid out for him. But now, his course had taken a sharp turn. With Æsa in his arms, his days of living and dying by the sword were over. He could finally hang up his weapon and raise a family like he’d always dreamed.

Breathless from his roaming thoughts of the future and Æsa’s impassioned kiss, he stepped back from her. He caught her wrists and pulled her fingers from his hair. Her eyes flew open, stunned, hurt.

He smiled to ease her worry and brought her hands, bound between his, up to his mouth. He planted a soft kiss on the inside of her right wrist. She smelled of lavender and primrose, oils she must have bought with the silver he’d left her.

“I want to stoke the fire,” he murmured, relating his only reason for bringing a pause to their heated kiss. He glanced at the boxbed and back at her. “Wait for me.”

Æsa obliged him and gracefully slipped beneath the furs, the cool draft from her body’s absence forcing him to work fast. He knelt to grab the iron rod at the hearth and stirred the glowing embers. In a flash of light and heat, hungry tongues of fire lapped the turf, begging for more. He fed the flames generously, throwing three logs atop the blaze.

The room glowed. Muted orange and red hues cast over every object surrounding the hearth, including his lovely maiden seductively reclined on the nearby boxbed. As he strengthened the fire, she’d exposed one long leg for his viewing. It was one of things he liked about her. Æsa was not ashamed of her body, nor was she modest. She’d use her nakedness as well as a warrior would wield a sword: cunning and skillful. And he was an easy adversary, for it was highly unlikely he’d ever stop her.

The smooth skin of her calf shimmered in the firelight, her knee slightly bent. He swallowed hard as she ran her hand delicately down the outside of her shapely thigh, across her knee, and back up the inside. His eyes followed the path of her fingertips to her apex until they disappeared beneath the animal skins covering her.

Her eyes widened momentarily and then fluttered, as if she grazed herself accidentally. Gustaf knew better. She meant to touch herself as much as she meant for him to see her do it. His erection thickened, pulsating hard with anticipation.

“Starting without me?” he teased, rising slowly to his feet.

He stared down at her and walked past the fire, each step deliberate and measured, until he was but inches from her. His heart skipped when her gaze fell below his waist. At eye-level with his groin, she licked her lips. The hope of feeling her warm, satiny mouth around him buzzed through his entire body. His legs faltered.

Æsa tilted her head back and looked up at him, her lids lazy and seductive. “I would not dare begin without first pleasing you, my lord.”

He tried to speak, but words failed him. The only thing that registered in his mind was the notion of her sweet mouth on him. Tormented by its overwhelming control, he clenched his jaw.

Her smile grew devious and her dazzling eyes darkened. “Have you lost your ability to speak?” Her voice was innocent and naïve. But the moment she parted her lips and touched the tip of her tongue to the tip of his manhood, her innocence vanished.

He shuddered, his head falling back. As soon as his eyes closed, he forced them open. There was no way he’d miss the torturous act of Æsa’s skillful foreplay. She was a talented woman in many ways. She knew how to please him physically, while satisfying his heart and mind with her sincere words of love and affection. She’d talk to him, tease him, tell him things—naughty things a lady should not have the nerve to utter. But Æsa was not a typical woman. She was provocative, mesmerizing, and downright audacious.

The glitter of her bright blue eyes sparkled with desire as she gazed up at him. The contour of her rose-colored lips puckered to kiss him from base to tip as the delicate flesh of her pink tongue darted to taste him. He was helpless to everything that made Æsa the goddess-like woman she was. If he had the power, he’d freeze every moment in time when he was with her. Nothing made him happier.

“Why have you lost words for speaking? Are you not happy to see me?” she asked, feeding his very words back to him.

With his otherwise witty mind in a tizzy, he had no choice but to do the same. “You mistake my silence for displeasure.”

He watched Æsa’s lips turn into an open-mouthed, mischievous grin before his entire length disappeared behind them. Warm and wet, her velvety tongue swirled around him, his bollocks contracting into hard, round stones. His breath caught in his throat and his legs buckled. Just when he thought he couldn’t stand it any longer, she rotated her mouth around him and sucked. Hard.

He pulled out, gasping, and held her at arm’s length. The hammering of his blood mildly subsided, giving him the necessary moments he needed to prevent a very untimely end to a favorable beginning. He scowled at her overzealous tactics. “Do you wish it to be over before it begins?”

She kicked off the thick fur hide and revealed her gloriously flushed bare body. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. His arousal was back and at attention. His throat went dry, making speech impossible. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked and how much he’d missed the sight of her open legs, but he was literally left aghast by her beauty.

“Touch me,” Æsa whimpered. She’d already begun to explore places he wished to caress for himself, tempting him to reach out and replace her hands with his.

As she lifted her foot and dragged her toes up his thigh, he locked his grip around her ankle and held it away. His view of her alluring slit, surrounded by dark auburn curls, opened up for him.

He smiled.

She dared to do the same with her other foot and again he seized her ankle, jerking her toward him. With her bottom now resting on the edge of the boxbed, he raised both of her feet and bent to lower his body. Her ankles rested on his shoulders as his arms pressed against the back of her knees.

Gazes locked, he shifted his hips and guided the tip of his manhood over her entrance. She arched toward him, her lips parting, her breath shallow. With one immediate thrust, he sunk himself deep inside her, her sharp gasp resonating in his ears.