The Viking’s Touch(32)

 His eyes glittered. ‘You can kill me, but it won’t do you any good. Ingvar will slay you anyway and reduce this place to ash.’

 Wulfgar lifted one eyebrow. ‘And how does he mean to do that?’

 ‘He’s planning an attack.’

 ‘When?’

 ‘I don’t know.’ The sword moved slightly and Sigurd gritted his teeth. ‘If I knew I’d tell you.’

 Hermund glanced round. ‘I’ll just dispatch him then, shall I?’

 Wulfgar waited but, when no more was forthcoming from the prisoner, said, ‘Not yet. Let’s give him time to think it over. Chain him in the kennel with the hounds.’

 Sigurd swallowed hard. Seeing the beasts in her mind’s eye, Anwyn shuddered inwardly. Once they had been Torstein’s pride and joy; there were a dozen of them, huge and savage, standing as high as her waist and weighing more than a man. They could bring down a stag or a twenty-stone boar with relative ease.

 ‘It’ll be a pleasure,’ replied Hermund. ‘It’s just a shame I fed the animals earlier on. This filth will probably get away with a light mauling now.’

 The men heard him in silence, their expressions revealing a combination of mild reproach and disappointment.

 Asulf sighed. ‘Ah, well, you weren’t to know.’

 The others nodded slowly, acknowledging the justice of this.

 ‘Besides, the hounds may still be hungry,’ said Thrand. ‘Let’s go and find out, shall we?’

 Seizing Sigurd by the arms, the two of them dragged him away, accompanied by half-a-dozen others. For a moment Wulfgar watched them go, before turning back to his remaining companions.

 ‘We’ll double the guard from now on and increase the number of patrols.’

 ‘Right you are.’ Hermund nodded towards the wounded arm. ‘Meanwhile, you’d best get that cut attended to.’

 Anwyn stepped forwards. ‘He’s right, my lord.’ She gestured towards the bower. ‘Come.’

 Wulfgar didn’t argue and they went in together. He paused just long enough to bar the door and then followed her to their chamber. Anwyn busied herself fetching water and cloths, glad to have something practical to do. Now that the initial drama was over reaction was setting in. The idea of a hidden threat in their midst was bad enough, but the possible ramifications were infinitely worse. It wasn’t until she saw the assassin’s knife an inch from Wulfgar’s heart that she understood what was in her own.

 She set down the basin and cloths and looked at the blood-soaked sleeve of his tunic. How close she had come to losing him.

 ‘You’ll need to take that off, my lord.’

 He nodded. With his good hand he unlatched his belt and laid it aside. Then, with Anwyn’s help, he eased off the tunic and shirt. Now that it was revealed, the wound proved to be a shallow gash, although it had bled copiously.

 ‘It could have been worse,’ he said.

 ‘It’s bad enough. Sit down here while I cleanse it properly.’

 Again he didn’t argue, submitting quietly to her ministrations, watching her hands move competently about their task.

 ‘You’ve done this before,’ he observed.

 ‘Once or twice.’ She wiped the blood away and cleaned the wound, then gently applied some honey salve. ‘This will help prevent infection.’

 He grunted, but made no demur. In fact, the touch of her fingers along his skin was pleasurable and turned his thoughts in quite another direction. With an effort he controlled them. Anwyn placed a clean linen pad over the injury and then bound it neatly in place.

 ‘That should stay on for a day or two,’ she said, ‘but I think the cut will heal well enough now.’

 ‘I’m sure it will. Thank you.’

 She regarded him rather anxiously. ‘Do you believe what Sigurd said about a planned attack on Drakensburgh?’

 ‘It’s entirely possible.’

 ‘Could it succeed?’

 ‘By force, no.’

 ‘But by treachery?’

 ‘Impossible to predict.’ Wulfgar surveyed her steadily. ‘But we shall be vigilant.’

 ‘Ingvar wants you dead, that much is certain. He must have found Thorkil an easy tool for his purpose.’

 ‘I imagine he did. Thorkil was a hothead with a grudge.’

 ‘The deed was an act of cowardice and he has paid the price for his crime.’ She paused. ‘Even so, you were lucky tonight, Wulfgar.’

 ‘You were my luck tonight.’

 ‘I thought…I thought he had killed you.’

 Her voice shook with delayed reaction and he heard it with some surprise.

 ‘I am not so easy to kill, my sweet.’ He hesitated. ‘Would it have grieved you then if he had?’

 ‘Of course it would.’

 ‘Gold would buy you another protector.’

 ‘I don’t want another protector.’

 Her eyes filled with tears. Appalled, she tried to turn away, but he took her shoulders in a gentle clasp and drew her back, looking into her face. What he read there caused his pulse to quicken. Anwyn swayed towards him. Then his mouth was on hers. He felt her arms slide around his neck, her body pressed against his. And then she was kissing him back. His heart seemed to skip several beats. The kiss grew deeper, more intimate. Desire flared.

 He removed her gown and let it fall. Then, lifting her braid, he drew it through his fingers until he felt the binding, pulled it free and, reaching behind her, slowly unfastened her hair. It flowed over his hands like silken fire. He breathed its fragrance and almost immediately felt himself grow hard. His arms tightened around her and the kiss became searing. She returned it hungrily, all other thought forgotten as desire flung caution to the wind.

 He paused just long enough to carry her to the bed. Never taking his eyes off her, he finished undressing. Then he came to join her. He gathered the hem of her kirtle and drew it upwards, slowly easing it off. For a moment or two he let his gaze dwell on the beauty of the body beneath before resuming where he had left off, his hands caressing, gentle and assured, bringing her with him and fanning the flame of mutual desire. He took his time, not wanting to do anything that would frighten or disgust her; nothing that might equate him in her mind with what had gone before. The experiences of the past must be expunged, leaving only delight and the wish for more.

 His mouth travelled from her lips to her neck and throat and breasts, teasing a nipple erect, feeling the delicious shudder of her response, while his hand travelled lower, sweeping the curves of waist and hip and leg before finding the secret place between her thighs. He stroked gently. Anwyn gasped and he felt the perspiration start along her skin. The scent of her filled his head, spicy and erotic. Resisting the temptation to pursue his own desire, he continued, eliciting a deeper tremor and then another.

 When he entered her there was no resistance, only slick and yielding warmth. He moved slowly, restraining his passion, making her wait. Anwyn writhed. He heard her speak his name, her voice pleading. He stroked her hair and smiled.

 ‘Shh. It’s all right. You’ll get what you want, my sweet.’

 He let the rhythm build gradually, the strokes becoming stronger. He felt her shudder, her body arching against him. Her eyes widened a little, their depths darkened to emerald now, her lips swollen from his kisses. Her flesh seemed almost molten, flushed with fire and sweet as summer honey. His own desire flamed and he let go of restraint then, surrendering to his own climax at last with a cry of savage joy so intense he thought his heart might burst with the power of it. Almost light-headed he collapsed onto his forearms, his breathing fast and ragged, every part of him deliciously alive. He had expected to enjoy this, but nothing had prepared him for the sheer soul-lifting delight of the experience.

 Anwyn lay beside him, heart thudding against her ribs, her body still resonating with the wonder of it. She had been told a man could make the experience pleasurable for a woman, but never in a thousand years would she have guessed at the heights that pleasure might attain. She understood full well how patient he had been and how considerate. To be treated with such tenderness was so far outside her experience that it brought a lump to her throat. He was her husband now in fact as well as name, and she no longer cared whether it was foolish. All that mattered was to live in the moment.

 Wulfgar turned his head and smiled, his hand lightly caressing her cheek. ‘That was magnificent.’

 She returned his smile. ‘Yes, it was.’

 ‘I’ve wanted to do that from the moment I set eyes on you.’

 ‘It’s as well you didn’t, considering the number of spectators.’

 He grinned. ‘Aye, it might have created something of a stir.’

 ‘Ingvar would have had an apoplexy.’

 ‘Ingvar can go and fornicate with Hel for all I care.’

 ‘Mmm. Hel might not be too keen.’

 ‘Then she can give him direct entry to the underworld,’ he replied. ‘Forget him.’