Vengeance Hammer (Viking Vengeance) (17 page)

Sweat dripped from his brow, he locked his jaw, and forced himself to pause and savor the way her puss stretched to accommodate his girth.

His. His.

A rapacious greed he had never known before annihilated the last remnants of rationality. He hammered into her, his testicles snapped tight to the base of his cock. The climax bolted from his toes, flared across his groin, and he spent his seed in violent eruptions that bowed his back.

* * *

Xára collapsed onto the bed and, for a moment, Dráddør’s full weight bore down on her. Her nose squashed into the packed feathers and straw and she couldn’t breathe. His penetration was so deep and so complete ’twas too much bliss to bear. She squirmed and tried to adjust to an ecstasy that bordered on pain.

At once, he levered onto his elbows.

His scent engulfed her. She inhaled the exciting tang of manly sweat and their coupling and tried to memorize the aroma. For the time would soon come when the truth must be told, and her Viking husband would be honor-bound to dissolve their union.

Damp tendrils clung to her forehead and cheeks, but she hadn’t the strength to brush the locks away. The drumming of her frenetic heartbeat receded, and his harsh rasps rented the quiet of the room.

He brushed his lips over the cusp of her shoulder.

Delicious shivers frolicked up her spine.

He nipped her there, and her puss fisted his cock.

The magik of him bewildered her. She had known him for but a short time and he had become the center of her waking moments and the clandestine figure in her new-formed carnal imaginings.

He withdrew from her puss and her walls protested, sucking at him, and releasing him with a loud, moist plop. Heat flashed across her face. She didn’t want to meet his gaze, too embarrassed by her wanton abandonment of any glimmer of modesty, and squeezed her eyes shut.

“To me, sváss.” He nudged her onto her back.

Knowing her color had deepened she peeked at him. Why was he wearing such a fierce scowl? Was he displeased with her?

“’Twas a rough loving. Did I bruise your sweet puss?”

The oil lamps flickered shadows over his features, but she read the concern in the worry lines creasing his forehead. A deep contentment stole over her and an overwhelming, poignant tenderness banded her chest.

Why had the Lord chosen to tease her with the promise of all she had dreamed of during the long years at the abbey? Her new husband had wormed his way into her heart, first with his gentle treatment of Evie and Jennie, and with the care with which he had taken her maidenhead.

He stroked the line of her jaw and asked, “Are you in pain, Xára?”

She wrote on his chest.
Nay. Nay
.

His crooked grin brought tears to her eyes.

Willing them back, she smiled up at him, and tucked a lock of damp hair behind his ears. The ring in his lobe winked in the glimmering light. Fascinated, she traced the inner whorl, and fingered the golden earbob. The nuns frowned on the decoration of body parts save for wooden rosaries and crosses hung on leather strips.

“You please me, wife, with your passion and abandon.” As always, the deep rumble of his voice seemed to vibrate inside of her. “Taste us. Taste our joining.”

He kissed her. A slow, thorough exploration of her mouth that teased her into suckling his tongue with quick flicks, and then when she looped her arms around his neck, he sipped at her lips.

When he broke away, she pouted.

“I neglected your lips and titties in my haste to sheathe my pecker in your puss.”

Pecker. Titties. Puss. The delectable, naughty words made her nipples tingle and her nub—nay—clitty ache.

“Look at these buds.” He licked one peak. “Methinks mine abbey-raised wife enjoys learning the different ways of coupling. You found your pleasure many times with this joining. ’Tis a favorite position of mine. But there are so many others.”

He was a wicked, wicked man, and she found his boyish grin and the way his eyes seemed to twinkle endearing. There must be a way to save Evie and keep her secret. She would not let Magnhildur, Godfraid, and Néill win. Nay. ’Twas time to gather her courage and attack instead of trembling and cringing.

She felt him stiffen, and he jerked to the stare at the door.

Footsteps. A heavy tread of boots hitting the floor at a rapid pace.

“Ye must let me speak with milady.”

Xára flinched.

The desperate urgency in Ulna’s plea meant only one thing.

Evie had disappeared. How?

Bemused, shaken, and confused she felt separated from her body, and unable to move. She could not drag her eyes away from her husband and force her frozen limbs to function.

“I will see to this.” He kissed the tip of her nose and slipped off the mattress.

Xára watched him dress in the same manner as afore. She had barred both priests’ holes, hadn’t she? That to Jennie’s room, and the other to Evie’s? Magnhildur knew one of the secret passageways, the one leading from the stable to the open field by Myrtle Harbor. Had she found out about the others?

Panic sluiced through Xára. She clambered off the bed, darted to the wooden privacy screen, and scrambled on the first gown she found. Praying her sister had not come to harm, she scuffed into her slippers, and rushed to the center of the chamber to find Dráddør barking a question at Ulna.

Poor Ulna shook with fear, stumbled, and flung an elbow up to protect her face.

Xára understood her actions having witnessed both Arnfinn and Néill swing wildly at the nurse on many occasions. She jumped between the two of them and twisted to face Dráddør.

He stiffened and a muscle under his eye jumped.

Setting her palm to his chest, Xára mouthed,
Ulna is afraid
.

He snorted. “Have at her then, but make haste.”

She noticed that four guards now occupied the chamber and guessed that the two she didn’t recognize had been assigned to Evie and Ulna. One of the new soldiers addressed Dráddør in Norse and a lively exchange began ’tween the warriors.

Taking advantage of her husband’s momentary distraction, Xára tugged Ulna to into a corner hallway, and signaled for the nurse to speak.

“The priest’s hole is barred and she isna in her mam’s room. I checked with Lara,” Ulna’s hoarse whisper carried, but she rushed the words out and her brogue had thickened to the point where even Xára struggled to understand what she meant.

Luckily the men were still conversing in low murmurs and paid them no heed.

How had the wicked sprite escaped? And where had she gone?

Ívarr.

She pivoted and rushed back to her husband, made a walking motion with two fingers, and pointed to the hallway.

“You want me to follow you. Where to?”

Stables
, she mouthed.

The tick under his eye accelerated.

She paid scant attention when he ordered, his tone terse and laced with tension, “One of you find Egron and determine if Earl Godfraid or his wife have left their chamber. Report to me in the stables posthaste.”

The tallest of the three departed at a sprint.

Xára debated grabbing a cloak and decided ’twasn’t worth it for the short walk outside. Knowing that some of Godfraid’s men slept in the great hall, she chose to take the servant’s stairs to the stables. That meant passing Evie’s chamber. Her steps slowed when she spied the room’s open shutters.

Her sister had a nigh cat-like ability to scale a tree. Could Evie have climbed down from the window to the spreading oak? Nay. ’Twas too great a distance between the nearest branch and the window.

She couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder to check Dráddør’s temper, and halted at once when she realized he was backtracking to the open doorway to Evie’s room.

Xára pivoted uncert how to proceed, but when a glower darkened his expression and knitted his brow, she hurried to his side. Following the direction of his fierce gaze, her jaw dropped at the sight that met her eyes.

Chapter Nine

“Good eve—nay, ’tis closer to dawn, so good morn to you, Dráddør. I believe I have found someone you seem to have misplaced.”

Dráddør snapped his jaw shut. He squinted.

She looked like his brother’s wife, Skatha.

Her voice had the same musical tinkle.

But ’twas not possible. Skatha was in the Norse lands at
Bita Veðr
, his brother Brökk’s holding. Yet she appeared to be standing in the middle of Evie’s chamber holding a cringing Evie by one ear.

“Skatha!” The bellow could’ve shaken the timber from the castle roof and ’twas no mistaking Brökk’s thunderous roar.

Xára pinched Dráddør’s bicep.

He glanced at her for a moment.

She pointed to… Skatha?

The female had Skatha’s unique violet eyes and long blue-black curls.

Had the witch Magnhildur somehow poisoned their ale or wine? Was he seeing visions?

“Dráddør!” Tighe’s shout nigh matched Brökk’s thunderous growl and came from behind him.

He spun around and blinked. Was Tighe running? His eyes had stopped functioning. So had his ears. For only in battle or on the training field did Tighe ever move at anything but a lazy swagger.

Tighe’s leather boots screeched on the stone as he came to a complete stop in front of Dráddør. “Hjørdis has been taken by Wazir Niketas. Brökk arrived on the morn tide. Skatha was with him, but she—”

“Is right here.” Skatha stepped into the hallway and dusted her hands on her tunic. “Good morn to you, Tighe. It has been an age since I last saw you.”

For a moment, Tighe appeared nonplussed. His mouth hung open and his brows climbed to his hairline. Then a grin split his lips apart and he assumed his normal, bored mien.

“My fair Skatha.” Tighe sketched a courtier’s bow. “I believe your husband seeks you urgently.”

Hot color dusted Skatha’s face and throat. “Aye. He may be a wee bit upset.”

Dráddør managed to gather his scattered wits. “Niketas has Hjørdis? How did this happen? Brökk would ne’er allow him near Bita Veðr. Did Niketas sack the holding?”

“Nay. Hjørdis committed the most grievous of offenses any child can. She snuck out of Bita Veðr and told not a soul where she was going.” Skatha’s lips pursed. She glared at Evie.

Evie ducked her chin and scuffed one boot. “Ívarr and I only wanted a wee gallop on the cliffs. If his stallion hadn’t injured his hoof none would’ve e’en known we were gone.”

“’Tis no excuse for worrying your lord and protector, not to mention your mother. The child was trying to jump from yonder oak to the window and fell. Had I not been about…” Skatha shook her head.

Evie’s sullenness vanished. “I have ne’er seen any jump so high. Can you teach me how to do it?”

Dráddør glanced out the window and gauged the distance ‘tween the thick branch and the sill. They were on the third floor. Evie could’ve broken her neck. “Skatha will do no such thing and that branch will be cut this morn.”

“Nay. ’Tis not fair,” Evie wailed.

“Enough. Not another word from you, Evie.” Dráddør dragged both hands through his hair. He had no time for the sprite, not with Hjørdis taken by Konáll’s dire enemy, Wazir Niketas. “Where is Brökk?”

“Behind you.”

Dráddør jumped and pivoted to face his oldest brother. “Hjørdis?”

“Niketas has led us a merry dance.” Brökk’s face was lined with exhaustion. Dark rings shadowed his eyes. “We tracked him to Shetland and then lost him. A storm arose and drove us off course. We took shelter on the isle of Hay. We are in dire need of food and stores, one of the langskips needs re-caulking, and ’twas no more than a day’s journey from Hay to Lathairn. Did Konáll receive my message? Is that why Dauði Dkellr is anchored in your bay?”

“Husband.” Skatha moved to Brökk’s side. “I am as worried as you about our bright star, but you and your warriors need sustenance.”

She turned to Dráddør. “He has eaten little the last few days, keeping to beggar’s rations as we knew not if the winds would favor us.”

Dráddør knew his older brother well. The beggar’s rations would have applied only to him. Brökk never asked any but himself to sacrifice unless there was no other option. “How long has it been since Hjørdis was taken?”

“Seven days.”

Not wanting to dwell on what the Arab, Wazir Niketas, may have done to his little sister, Dráddør instead calculated how many men he could assemble and how fast they could ready his langskips and Konáll’s. “We can be ready by mid-morn.”

“You have secured Lathairn, then,” Brökk said.

He considered the scar on his wife’s neck, Godfraid, Magnhildur, and the missing Néill. “Nay. But Tighe can remain here in my stead.”

Skatha cleared her throat. “You seem to have lost two of your company.”

What?

Evie inserted herself in front of Brökk and Skatha. “My sister bids me to ask you all to break your fast in the great hall. She has gone with Ulna to order a chamber prepared for both of you and a bath for the lady.”

Dráddør glanced around.

Xára and Ulna had indeed disappeared.

Dráddør smacked his forehead. He had completely forgotten his wife. He had not at once introduced her to his brother and his wife and by his omission had implied he found her wanting.

Ghazi had discretely retreated out of hearing distance and stood at the far end of the corridor.

Tighe wore a smug grin. “Methinks you will have to grovel to earn back Xára’s favor.”

“Your sister, wee one? And who may she be?” Skatha tousled the girl’s hair.

Evie’s cherubic mouth flattened. “Lady Xára of Lathairn. The Viking’s wife.”

Brökk frowned. “The woman who ran down the hallway not a few moments ago?”

“Aye.” Tighe’s grin deepened. “’Twould seem Dráddør has momentarily misplaced his new wife.”

Dráddør balled his hands into fists; the urge to smash Tighe’s complacent countenance nigh too tempting to resist.

“The woman who pinched you is your new wife?” Skatha dark brows knitted. “Are you so displeased with her that you would not introduce her to us? I had so hoped you would find your new bride to your liking?”