Twin Passions (28 page)

As Hakon opened the door, warm steam rushed out of the
small stone building, melding with the brisk air in dense clouds of white
vapor. Once inside, he shut the door firmly behind them and bolted it. "So
we will not be disturbed," he murmured, drawing her into the small
anteroom, where there were two benches lining the walls. Without hesitation he
began to strip off his clothing.

Gwendolyn's first instinct was to look away, but she
could not, her eyes widening as his muscular form was revealed to her. She
drank in the sight of his powerful body, slender where it should be slender,
and broad where it should be broad, from his head to his feet a perfectly
beautiful man. Shocked by her bold thoughts, she closed her eyes, trying to
regain a shred of her resolve to hate him. Suddenly she heard a loud splash.

Her emerald eyes flew open. Hakon had stepped into the
huge tub in the center of the room and had sat down, the steaming water rising
to the middle of his bronzed chest. He reached over the rim to a small table
set nearby and poured a red, clear liquid from a pottery vessel into two silver
goblets. He brought one of the goblets to his lips and took a long draft,
though his eyes never left hers.

"Shall you disrobe, my lady, or will I have the
honor?" he asked, smiling rakishly. Gwendolyn looked at him incredulously,
hesitating a moment too long. In a flash Hakon set down his goblet and was out
of the tub, his bronzed body glistening with tiny droplets of water. He whirled
the fur cloak from her shoulders and tossed it onto one of the benches, then
picked her up in his arms and carried her over to the tub. He stepped over the
rim,
then
slid into the steaming water with her, a
wicked gleam in his eye.

"B-but the clothes . . . they are silk, my lord!"
Gwendolyn blurted, the soaked garments molding to her body like a second skin.

"'Tis no matter, little one," he replied
huskily, his blue eyes raking the curved outline of her breasts, her raised
nipples tantalizingly taut against the wet fabric. "I have bolts of silk
enough in my storerooms to make you a thousand more just like them." He
pulled her to him, holding her tightly against his broad chest. His lips, warm
and sensuous, kissed her eyelids, her white throat,
her
lush mouth.

Gwendolyn could taste the wine on his lips, sweet and
fragrant. Hakon suddenly drew away from her, reaching for one of the silver
goblets. "'Tis Frankish wine from my last trading voyage," he said,
offering it to her. She took the goblet from him and drank deeply, savoring the
heady liquid. She had never tasted anything so wonderful. She licked her lips,
reddened from the wine,
then
drained the goblet. A
delicious sensation of warmth coursed through her body, easing whatever
tensions she still possessed.

Hakon took the goblet from her and set it on the table.
He then unfastened the brooches holding up the straps of her tunic and dropped
them over the side of the tub to the wooden floor. His hands roamed over her at
will, stroking, caressing, as he eased the wet fabric from her body, until only
her thin chemise remained.

Gwendolyn sighed with pleasure. Everything felt so
delightfully warm to her—the steaming bath, the red wine coursing through her
blood, Hakon's breath against her throat. She moaned softly as he nibbled at a
tender earlobe, sending piercing shivers of passion through her body, while his
strong fingers teased between the softness of her thighs.

Suddenly he lifted her and drew the clinging garment up
above her hips, then set her down ever so slowly upon his lap.

Gwendolyn's eyes widened in surprise as she felt Hakon
enter her, impaling her, yet ever so gently, on his erect shaft. But he did not
begin to move within her. Instead, he drew the wet silk of the chemise over her
head, his warm mouth capturing a rose-tipped breast as her arms were stretched
high above her. He lingered there, suckling, nipping her playfully until she
moaned in ecstasy. At last he freed her arms and flung the garment aside.

Hakon moved slightly away from the side of the tub,
wrapping Gwendolyn's slender legs about his waist, his large hands grasping her
hips. He nuzzled her firm breasts, but he remained still within her. His
patience was soon rewarded as she began to move instinctively against him,
slowly at first, but then faster and faster.

Gwendolyn felt as if she were on fire. An intense need
was burning within her, surging, all-consuming, driving her onward to
completion. Hakon's lips captured hers, and she met him passionately, measure
for measure, with a raging abandon that both awed and delighted him. He could
no longer remain still within her, as she demanded from him everything he had
to give.

Matching her movements with his own, they strove
together to that highest point, until at the moment of her greatest pleasure
Gwendolyn arched her back and cried out, her nails raking his broad, muscled
back. Hakon pulled her to him as he shuddered deep within her, his loins
surging powerfully from the blazing heat of their passion.

They held each other for a long while, the small room
quiet but for the sound of their breathing and the lapping of the water against
the sides of the wooden tub. Hakon leaned back, his hand caressing Gwendolyn's
damp curls as she lay with her head resting on his wide shoulder. "We have
yet to bathe, my lady," he teased softly, relishing the thought of the
lovemaking that would carry them through the night.

Aye, Gwendolyn smiled faintly, they had yet to bathe.

Chapter 26

Under Berta's watchful eye, Gwendolyn straightened the
linen tablecloth on the wide table set before the high seat.

"Nay, lass, 'tis done like so," Berta said
patiently, running her hand over the cloth until it lay perfectly flat against
the surface of the table. "There, now," she muttered, a pleased look
on her face. She looked up just as Gwendolyn plopped herself on one of the
ornately carved chairs next to the high seat, her slim arms hanging limply over
the sides.

"I am exhausted, Berta," she murmured,
closing her eyes. Truly, she didn't think she had ever felt more tired. She had
been up since the first light of dawn, assisting with the final preparations
for the Yuletide feast that would be held in the great hall that evening.

Berta nodded her head in agreement. Yea, the lass had
done more than her fair share during these last two weeks to help prepare for
the celebration of the winter solstice. And, she chuckled, one also had to take
into account the pleasurable demands placed upon her by Hakon Jarl!

"Very well, Anora," she said kindly, for
truly she had grown quite fond of the lass. She may have caused her a bit of
trouble at the start, Berta thought, but she had more than made up for that in
her eagerness to learn everything she could about running the household. "Rest
here for a moment, whilst I have a bath sent over to Lord Hakon's hall for you."

"My thanks, Berta," Gwendolyn replied,
opening her eyes as the older woman bustled away. She looked about the great
hall. Aye, everything was in order, she thought, noting the beautifully
embroidered linen cloths that graced the tables, the thin wafer-like wheat
breads set at every place that would serve as plates, and the sacred banqueting
table in the very center of the hall, upon which sat an enormous caldron that
would be filled later with foaming mead. Why, there was even a special table
prepared for the dead. Berta had told her that on this night Hakon's ancestors
would be honored, their great deeds recited and sung in poetic verse by the
skalds.

She had learned that to the Vikings, the Yuletide feast
of midwinter was one of the most important celebrations of the year. There
would be many invited guests at the settlement this night, some traveling from
quite a distance. As Jarl of the region, Hakon was expected to present an
elaborate table for his guests, as testimony to his great wealth and power. No
doubt at this very moment he was probably overseeing the slaughter of the Yule
boar, the traditional meal for such an occasion, which would then be roasted to
perfection in a large outdoor pit near the cooking house.

Gwendolyn sighed shakily. Why was it that whenever she
thought of Hakon she felt a strange stirring sensation deep within her? This
feeling constantly plagued her, tearing at her defenses, giving her no peace
during those times when she was away from him. And then when she was with him,
his strong arms wrapped about her, it was almost like a sharp, physical pain, a
longing so intense that it would overwhelm her completely.

She shook her head fiercely, trying to dispel the image
of him from her mind, but she could not. In utter frustration she pounded the
wooden arm of the chair with her fist, but that did little more than to hurt
her hand. Damn the Viking and his hold over her!
she
cursed vehemently under her breath. These feelings disturbed her greatly, for
they were at cross purposes with her sworn intent to hate him . . . and to one
day escape from him. Yet now it seemed that not only her body, but her heart as
well, was beginning to betray her. Though she tried to deny it to herself, and
to fight against it, she knew that her hate was melting away in the searing
heat of the passion they shared.

Gwendolyn could hardly believe that this change in her
feelings had come about in the two short weeks since Hakon had returned from
his uncle's settlement. The time had passed so quickly.

During the days she had been busy with Berta, learning
the many responsibilities of overseeing Hakon's household. She had also managed
to visit Anora often in the stable, but that was becoming increasingly more
difficult. She knew she was still being watched, followed everywhere she went
by a stern-faced Viking guard. She feared her frequent visits were drawing too
much attention to them, perhaps threatening their guise, so she had not been to
the stable in several days.

But another reason had kept her away from the stable.
She also feared that Anora might perceive the change in her feelings for Hakon
and despair of their plans for escape. That fear alone had served to strengthen
her resolve to fight the changing tide of her feelings, aye, that and the vivid
memory of the vow she had made to Anora the day of their capture.

But it was during the nights —those long, northern
nights— that she felt the most threatened by her emotions. Hakon's lovemaking
drew from her a wild, passionate abandon she had not known she possessed,
leaving her shaken from its intensity. Then afterward, cradling her in his
arms, he would tell her stories of his
youth,
and
strange, exciting tales of his travels as a Viking merchant to mysterious,
distant lands, until she was lulled to sleep by the rich tones of his deep
voice and his gentle caresses. That he would share such personal knowledge with
her had taken her by surprise, leading her to wonder about the depths of his
own feelings for her.

It was this awakening curiosity about Hakon's emotions
that frightened her the most. Nay, she did not want to know! His words might
steal away the last shreds of resistance she needed to make good her vow to
Anora!

"Your bath should be ready shortly, lass,"
Berta said, gently shaking Gwendolyn's shoulder. "'Twill be waiting for
you in Lord Hakon's chamber."

"Nay!" Gwendolyn's cry echoed through the
large, silent hall, startling both herself and Berta, who stepped back in
fright. Her thoughts had so overwhelmed her that she was breathless, her heart
beating rapidly against her chest. She shook her head, dazed. Looking up, she
finally noticed the older woman standing beside her, staring at her with
widened eyes, her hand to her throat.

"I . . . I am sorry, Berta. Did you say something?"
she asked, rubbing her aching temples.

"'Tis only your bath, Anora, not a trial by fire!"
Berta replied, clearly shaken. "What mischief of Loki is this, lass?"
She put her hand on Gwendolyn's flushed cheek. "Are you not feeling well?"
Thor, it would be all she needed this day, for Anora to take sick!

Gwendolyn smiled faintly, rising to her feet. "I
am fine, Berta, though I think the bath and a short rest would serve me well
right now." She declined Berta's proffered arm with a nod, then walked
quickly from the hall.

Berta watched her until she disappeared through the
massive entrance doors. Yea, she would mention this to Lord Hakon, as soon as
she saw him, she decided firmly. She turned back to her work, her round face
etched with concern.

***

Indeed, a few hours later Gwendolyn felt much more like
herself. She was almost finished dressing after her bath and a rest when Hakon
entered the room. Her fingers shook nervously at the sight of him, but somehow
she managed to close the gold clasp on the brooch at her shoulder.

Hakon stood staring at her for a moment, his eyes
taking in every detail of her appearance. Thor, but she was a vision! She was
wearing a chemise of dove gray silk that clung to her slender curves, while
over it an emerald tunic shimmered in the light of the lamps, its silken hues
matching perfectly the color of her eyes. He dismissed the servingwoman with a
nod, but did not speak until she had scurried out the door.

"I had hoped to find you still at your bath,"
he murmured softly, "but I see I shall have to wait 'til another day for
that pleasure." He walked up to her and drew her into his arms, but she
turned her head away from him. "Is aught amiss, little one?" he
asked, drawing her back to face him. He did not say that Berta had spoken with
him right before he had returned to his hall, telling him of her concern. He
wondered what could have upset her so.