Twin Passions(38)

"God's blood!" Gwendolyn cried out, her finger catching on a sharp hook holding the threads to the loom. She brought her pierced finger to her mouth, her eyes suddenly meeting Hakon's as he gazed heatedly at her from across the room. She gasped in surprise.

Hakon strode quickly to her side and took her hand in his. He raised the injured finger to his lips and kissed it gently. "Come with me," he murmured, his voice low.

Gwendolyn shivered, the touch of his hand sending strange tremors of excitement through her body that, try as she might, she could not suppress. She rose to her feet and followed closely behind him. The envious stares of some of the women were burning into her, but for some odd reason she did not seem to care.

"Where is your cloak?" he asked softly. She pointed to where it hung near the door. He pulled it off the hook and wrapped it about her shoulders, then held her against his side as they walked from the weaving house. Once outside the door, Hakon gathered her into his arms and crushed her to him. He seized her lips with his own, trying to slake the desperate, aching thirst for her that had built up inside him.

Gwendolyn had rehearsed this moment so many times in her mind over the past few days—how, when he returned, she would meet his gaze with defiance, how she would hold herself rigidly in his arms, angering him by her lack of response to his kiss —but now that he was there, holding her against his powerful body, the male scent of him enveloping her senses, she felt her firm resolve to defy him melt within her. With his lips, warm and possessive, upon hers, she no longer understood her feelings. Everything was jumbled in her mind. It was as if her will was no longer her own.

Releasing her at last, Hakon held her hand while he led her along the path to the bathing house. He ignored all the curious glances cast their way by his men, though he returned Olav's grin from across the way where he was talking with Berta.

Gwendolyn blushed when she realized where Hakon was taking her. What could he be thinking? Did he perhaps want her to bathe him? Surprisingly, the thought gave her an undeniable rush of pleasure.

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.