The Viking's Witch (27 page)

He laughed. “Now you know how it feels to be tricked with a love potion.” He placed his hand between their lower bodies and unfastened his breeches. “I’ll give you what you need, witch, and more.”

She groaned as he thrust himself into her with one swift stroke. Her hands were bound to the headboard, and the only way she could show him how much she needed him was with her body. As Rothgar pumped into her, she wrapped her legs high around his hips and urged him on.

His hairy chest brushed against her tender nipples, sending a shiver through her. She glanced up and saw that his chest hair was matted with gooey honey mixed with sweat.

She crossed her ankles around Rothgar’s buttocks and raised her hips higher. His solid cock pounded into her hard and fast, and that was exactly what she wanted.

“You feel so good in me. Keep going … like that,” she whispered in his ear.

Rothgar obliged, pumping into her as she bucked her hips faster. The tingling feeling built inside her again, and she whimpered. Whatever was happening to her, she wasn’t afraid of it now. Rothgar grunted and slipped in deeper. The tiny bed bounced and creaked as they rocked in unison.

Her body flared with a wet heat each time Rothgar’s thick rod filled her. Suddenly, her world exploded in waves of pleasure. She squealed with delight and pulled hard against the ropes as she twisted and shuddered.

“Oh, Rothgar … Yes, yes, it feels so good. Don’t stop.”

A moment later, Rothgar’s hips jutted against hers. He grunted and called out her name as he spilled his juices into her.

As the odd tingling faded, she lay still, panting and covered with sweat. After a minute, she opened her eyes. Rothgar was grinning down at her.

“Still hate me?” he said as he withdrew and covered himself.

“Nay, I love you. Every bit of you.” She tried to catch her breath. “What was that? I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“The peak of lust. A climax. A sure sign you have been pleasured properly,” he said as he untied her wrists. He rolled onto his side and draped his arm across her hip.

She cuddled against him and kissed the side of his neck. “Aye, that I have. I hope I didna do anything wrong or make too much noise. Where did you learn such wicked tricks?”

“I told you, I know many ways to pleasure a woman. And I do like hearing your shouts and moans, Odaria. It proves you have been sated deeply. Most women do not enjoy lovemaking.”

She bit her bottom lip. There was something on her mind, and she decided to risk asking her questions, even if she might not like the answers. “Did you give those special kisses to your wife? Was she more pleasurable than me?”

Rothgar kissed her shoulder. “Nay. Gretta hardly ever let me near her. She treated lovemaking as a wifely duty. To her, it was a chore and no different than churning butter or milking the goats. When I insisted on relations, she would lie with her skirts raised, as still as a stone. I tried to kiss her between the legs once, thinking it would spark her lust, but she wouldn’t have any of it.”

Rothgar sighed and continued. “She took no pleasure from my touches. No matter what I tried—easing into her slow and gentle or stroking her with my hand before I entered—she made no sound. She kept quiet the entire time and asked, ‘Are you finished?’ once I’d spent myself. After a while, I didn’t try to be romantic or arouse her in new ways. I finished inside her as quick as I could, knowing she was lying there hating the feel of my body in hers.”

She felt sorry for him. How sad that his wife refused to let him touch her and didn’t enjoy his affections. It was no wonder why they had only one child.

“That is why the love potion was created, to spark life into relations between a man and wife.” She licked her lips and glanced into his eyes. “Even though Gretta didna enjoy your passions, did you love her?”

Rothgar was silent for a few seconds. “
Ja
, I did. Very much. I never realized how much I loved her until she died.”

Odaria turned her head. She didn’t want Rothgar to see the hurt in her eyes. If she didn’t control herself, she’d start crying. No matter what she did, she would never be able to replace Gretta—or Rothgar’s son.

Rothgar sat up and climbed out of bed. “I must go see about readying the ships.” He bent down and kissed her cheek. “Rest here until I return for you,” he said as he fastened his breeches.

“Aye. I’ll be waiting for you.”

She watched Rothgar leave and heard him lock the door from the outside. She rolled over and sighed. Her body was coated in a layer of sticky honey, and her secret place twinged with each heartbeat. She smiled. It was the best feeling she’d ever known. For the first time in her life, she felt sated and loved, as a woman should.

Her mind wandered as she nestled under the bedclothes. Why hadn’t Gretta enjoyed Rothgar’s lovemaking? Perhaps she was shy or didn’t love Rothgar in return. She was glad he had told her about Gretta. Even if she wasn’t his wife—

A thought struck her, and she remembered something Rothgar had said on the cliff the night before.
No wife of mine will do herself in.
Did that mean Rothgar would marry her when they reached his village? Was this bout of lovemaking a test to see if they would be compatible in the bedchamber? If so, she had certainly passed.

She recalled her vision of her swollen belly and being married to Rothgar. It was going to come to pass after all. Had Rothgar already planted the child in her? Mayhap. He had filled her completely, and now his seed lay inside her. She rubbed her lower belly and giggled. Everything was perfect now.

Rothgar was going to ready the ship and come for her. Then they would sail away. He hadn’t said a word about Brennan or Orvind. They couldn’t possibly matter to him now. Surely after the intimate lovemaking they had shared, Rothgar would never dream of giving her to Brennan.

A sudden chill washed over her, and she shivered beneath the blankets. He wouldn’t … would he?

Rothgar opened the bedchamber door and peered in. Odaria was asleep on her side. He entered the room and set the bucket of warm water on the floor. Taking care not to wake her, he quietly closed the door behind him. Odaria deserved a few extra minutes of blissful sleep before he spun her world upside down.

He stepped next to the bed and bowed his head. Today he’d have to do something he dreaded with all his heart. But he had no choice. It must be done. All the preparations had been made, and his plan was ready. But would it work? So many things could go wrong. One false move and …

He didn’t even want to consider the consequences. He clutched the
Mjollnir
pendant around his neck and whispered a prayer. “Blessed gods, aid me in my endeavor, and I will be eternally grateful.”

He reached down and shook Odaria’s shoulder. “Odaria, wake up.”

She blinked awake and looked up at him. “How long was I sleeping?”

He ignored her question and held out the clothes he had draped over his arm. “I dried your dress and boots, and I brought you some hot water to bathe with. Rise and wash while it is still warm.”

She glanced at the window. “Now? The sun has barely risen.” She patted the space in the bed beside her. “Come rest for a few moments. We could hide under the blankets and—”

“There is no time for that.” He tossed her red dress and boots onto the foot of the bed. “We must leave.”

“Fine.” She yawned. “As you wish. I shall only need a moment to ready myself.”

He averted his gaze from Odaria’s naked body as she climbed out of bed and began washing. Although it was cowardly of him, he couldn’t bear to face her knowing what he was about to do. He feared his heart would betray him and he’d weaken. Now more than ever, he needed to be strong and do what he must—even though it would make Odaria start hating him all over again.

“I’m most grateful for the warm water and soap, Rothgar. I fear I’m a mess. I’m coated in honey, and I must look a fright. When do we leave for the ship?”

He bent down and picked up a length of rope off the floor. It was the same rope he’d used to tie Odaria to the bed last night. His shoulders sagged. Everything did come full circle in life. Five days ago, he had found Odaria with her hands bound, terrified and tortured by Brennan. Now he was returning her to the same fate.

He looked at her. She had finished washing and was pulling her dress over her head. He waited for her to put on her boots before he spoke. “We are not going to the ship. We are going with Brennan to fetch Orvind. That was the deal I made.”

“What?” Odaria clutched his arm and turned him to her. “Rothgar, you canna. We made love. What about—?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? You are not one bit sorry.”

As he had expected, she reached out to slap him. He caught her wrist in one hand.

“Release me.” She struggled against him as he grabbed her other wrist and bound her hands together in front of her.

“Forgive me, Odaria, but I must do this.” He glanced into her eyes, hoping she’d find a way to see the truth and understand what he was doing. If she could read his thoughts, he hoped she would do so now. “Our lovemaking had nothing to do with the pact I made with Brennan. I merely wanted to hear you admit you love me.”

“Why?” Her green eyes welled with tears. “Why would you care if you are about to send me to my grave? Do you know what Brennan will do to me? He shall set me ablaze.”

He dragged her across the room. “I must bring Orvind home,” he snapped. “I cannot control what Brennan does to you.”

She kicked him in the thigh. “I hate you. I truly do. You knew all along you would give me to Brennan, and yet you came in here with my love potion. You used me, and now you are sending me to my death. What kind of a man are you? I’ll be burned alive, just like your wife. Is that what you wish? How will it feel to know you allowed me to suffer the same fate Gretta did?”

He whirled around. “Quiet! Speak again, and I will gag you.”

He closed his eyes. Odaria was right. How could he do this? He was torn between his loyalty and duty to his uncle and his love for Odaria.

“If you have any mercy, I beseech you, don’t do this. Not to me, Rothgar,” Odaria begged, her voice barely a whisper. “I swear, anything you ask of me, I’ll do.”

He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Odaria wasn’t making this easy on him. “May the gods forgive me for what I’m about to do,” he muttered as he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

Odaria screamed as he eased them through the doorway. “Let me go.” She beat her fists against his back and fought to free herself from his grip.

“Save your hatred for Brennan. I haven’t time to listen to you.”

Odaria squirmed and kicked as Rothgar carried her downstairs into the main room of the gathering hall. How could he betray her again? Why had she been such a damn fool? She never should have believed him when he said that he’d protect her and care for her.

“Set me free. The gods shall curse you for the rest of your wretched life for this. I’ll make it so your—”

“I see the witch is ready for the pyre.”

Odaria looked toward the sound of Brennan’s voice. Brennan sat in a wooden chair with his hands tied behind his back. Haraldur and Sig stood next to the chair, guarding him. Brennan’s left eye had been blackened, and his nose and lips were swollen and caked with blood. A blood-soaked bandage was wrapped around his right hand. Someone had already given him part of the punishment he rightly deserved.

She glared at him. “I’ll see you burn alongside me, murderer.”

Brennan grinned through his cracked lips. “How does it feel, knowing that your Norseman has taken his fill of your poisonous flesh and is now turning you over to me?”

“Go to hell.”

“Quiet!” Rothgar set her down and pointed at Brennan. “Keep your lips closed unless you wish another crack in the mouth. And you.” Rothgar turned to her. “Save your curses and spells. They will not work on me, little witch. Your powers are drained. I purposefully tired you out this morning. Best store up your strength for later.”

“You do not tell me what to do, sea scum.”

Although she was furious at Rothgar and wished revenge on Brennan, she didn’t feel the familiar surge of power rushing through her. Rothgar was right. Their lovemaking
had
wilted her strength. Despite the urge to set her rage free and hurl objects, she felt weak and helpless.