Malice Striker (9 page)

The peak hit her at once.

Her puss convulsed around his cock.

She sank her teeth into his shoulder.

The pain-pleasure fired his stones’ contraction and his seed erupted with such violence he saw naught but the berserker haze of red that took control of him in battle. He hooked her knees with his arms and held her wide and open to his hammering prick. The climax went on for an eternity. Her sheath sucked him dry, drew out every drop, and even after the hot, jetting stream abated, her puss continued to work him. And every so oft she milked another weak spurt.

Drained, he rested his cheek below one pink-tipped breast and blew out a long breath. Her nipple budded. And by Odin’s balls his groin heated. She was cert to drive him mad with lust.

“’Tis another bedsport variation?”

Ah, he’d come to recognize that husky tone meant she wore a sated, sweet smile, and the violet in her eyes would be all aglow. Mustering a reserve of energy he looked up at her and grinned. Aye. He had pleasured his goddess well.

“Another of thousands. This eve remind me to tell you a tale I heard at the Caliph’s palace of the Persian Queen Scheherazade and her one thousand and one nights. You fair wore me out, wife. What say I to my men when I am too weak to raise my sword in practice this morn?”

She cupped his shoulders and massaged his muscles. “These are too wide and forged of iron. Raising a sword will be akin to lifting a paltry feather for you, husband.”

’Twas the first time she had called him husband, and he found the term pleased him well. “I give you leave to address me as husband in the great hall and when we are on the dais. This morn I shall play your maid, my lady.”

She stilled and her mouth canted down. “I have dressed myself from the day after the darkness descended. I have no need of assistance.”

“Skatha, I meant no affront to your abilities. ’Twould be a delight to slip silk stockings on your fine legs, tie the garters on your sleek thighs, and mayhap take a wee taste of your honey.” He rolled them to a sitting position. “You fooled me and all the holding for two eves and two days. I would learn when and how to help you and when not. ’Tis all.”

“Lady Gráinne oft says I bristle like a cat when offered succor.” She reached for him and tangled her fingers in his hair. “I have a horror of needing aid with my duties. And my pride is sore injured when I know not what to do or where I am. I knew Sumbarten like the back of my hand. Ten steps to the hallway, ten and seven stairs to the kitchen. None rearranged furniture or common objects without telling me of the move and helping me learn it.”

Brökk chest swelled with pride. He swallowed around the constriction in his throat. Her bravery unmanned him. Vowing to charge Lady Gráinne and the others with making Bita Veðr as familiar to her as Sumbarten within the sennight, he absently toyed with a silky curl.

“Skatha, I like not to have to ask you this. But I would have you keep your blindness a secret for the coming sennight. Since Etta’s death and Hjørdis’s capture, we have suffered a number of quick and violent raids. Not here, but in the village and at several small farms, and several hunting parties have been terrorized.”

She kissed him, missing his mouth but hitting the tip of his nose. “Feeble woman that I am.” Her fingers traced the line of his nose, skated over the top, and halted on his upper lip. She made full contact on her next attempt.

Brökk couldn’t stop grinning. “Nay. No wife of mine is a feeble woman, and I will not have those words from your lips again.”

“I know not how to handle the paths from the lodge to the great hall or to the crofter’s cottage. But ’twill not be an issue provided I keep company with Lady Gráinne and the others.” She blushed and ducked her chin. “Or with you.”

He gently set her to his side, stood, arched his back, and stretched his sore muscles. “After we meet with your ladies this morn, I will speak with my brother and Raki, my captain, and we will devise a scheme to ensure you are always accompanied by one who knows your secret. From this day, you will be guarded, as will your ladies. I take no chances with your safety or theirs.”

All at once the reality of her blindness hit him. She could not see. His belly contracted at the notion of Skatha falling off one of the many cliffs at the borders of his holding. He had not considered all the hazards and impediments he traversed each day that could cause his bride grievous harm.

She had cooked yester eve? All the hair on his body saluted. Open fires, knives, axes. Boiling cauldrons. The roasting pits. She could have cut off a finger, burned her hands, tripped and fallen into a pit.

He scanned the lodge and took inventory of the room. The sconces would be replaced with oil lamps this morn. He would have no open flames in their home. The smithy would forge a grate for the fireplace. The chair, table, and stool stood too close to the blazing fire. A spark could ignite her long gowns. He marched over and lifted the furniture an ell away from the hearth.

Vaguely aware she had risen from the bed and puttered about the chamber, he didn’t realize Skatha had dressed until she asked, “I would beg you to help me with the laces of this cyrtel, Brökk.”

Spinning around, he found she had her back presented to him. He shook his head and picked up the brown strings, but found his concentrating wavering. “How did you know where I was? I had moved around the chamber.”

“Lady Gráinne says when one sense fails the others grows stronger to compensate. I can hear the slightest sound. You first examined the wall sconces, then the fireplace, and then you moved the furniture. ’Tis of greatest import you tell me of any rearrangement. I once fell down the seventeen steps leading to the kitchen because Lady Arianne forgot a bucket at the top of the stairs.”

Bile covered his tongue. “Were you injured?”

“Nay. I have learned to relax when I fall.”

She fell oft? Cold, dark dread crept across his shoulders. He needs examine each hut, each chamber, each field, and make them safe. And ’twas of the utmost import he speak with her ladies without her present.

“The abbey has several buildings. How did you traverse from one to the other?” He would assign a pack of thralls to fill in all the holes in the fields and remove every rock.

“We had leading ropes from one building to another. But once Lawri was full grown I needed naught but her. Show me where the furniture is now.”

She held out her hand. He twined their fingers together and kissed her knuckles, his mind racing with lists of what needed to be done to ensure his goddess’s safety.

“Lawri?”

“My wolfhound.”

“You had no wolfhound with you when we took you.”

“Nay, and mayhap you would not have had a successful raid if she had been with us. She has felled others who have tried to harm me.”

Others who had tried to harm her? Brökk choked back a groan.

“Who has tried to harm you?”

“Three men have tried to take me since midsummer.”

Chapter Five

A hint of flint layered Brökk’s unique spiced-tinged forest and leather aroma.

Why had his scent changed?

He tucked Skatha’s arm into his and opened the door.

A bracing icy breeze whipped her braid, cloak, and long gown to one side. She lifted her face to the morn, searching for any warmth from the sun and closed her eyes against a sudden ache. For a brief moment she had the impression of light, but then all was back to the darkness she lived with each day.

“The path to the crofter’s hut is a rough one, Skatha, with many knolls and hollows. I will carry you to there.” He turned her to him.

“Nay. Should you do so I will not learn the way. And what will I do if I have to traverse the path on my own?” She liked not the protective tone in his voice having heard it before with each new supplicant who came to Sumbarten once they knew of her blindness. Each one sought to treat her as a helpless child who could do naught for herself.

“By Freya, you are obstinate, wife. I will not have you injured when ’tis easily prevented.”

“I am a woman full grown, not a child of seven summers. Treat you Hjørdis this way?”

He said not a word, but she felt his tension.

“I’ve walked from the lodge to the great hall four times without mishap. When we walk, Lady Gráinne and I link arms much as we are now. She describes the path, the day, if someone is approaching or if there are crowds in the distance.” Skatha held her breath waiting for his reply.

A cow mooed, the leaves in nearby trees rustled, and the wind carried the sounds of children laughing. Skatha smiled. Young ones never treated her differently, but were apt to pepper her with natural questions. Why do your eyes move if you cannot see? Why are they not black all over if all you see is darkness?

He heaved a sigh. “So be it. We will proceed as you wish.”

“Describe the path, the first few steps.”

“For the next two score steps ’tis grassy and even.”

They took a stride forward together. “’Tis chilly today, but I can smell the sun.”

“The sun has no scent.”

She laughed. “But, my lord, when the sun shines the perfume of the grass and flowers overpowers all others. When clouds pour with rain, the air smells moist and muddy, with no hint of flowers.”

“I see.” He chuckled. “Tell me what smell does night have?”

“Ah, ’tis dependent upon the day. Has it been fair and clear or dark and dreary? For a fine day slips into the eve with a sweetness, while a rainy one ends on a pungency.”

He halted, slipped his arm around her waist, and stroked her jaw. “Why am I cert that in the coming days you will teach me the scents of each moment of the day? And I will learn that the very sky has a smell?”

The idea that she could teach
him
pleased and intrigued her. The wicked sense of humor she had so tried to tame during her years at Sumbarten had her grinning. “Forsooth, you are right, husband. I know a cloudless day immediately for the sky holds sway and the air is charged with power and freshness like no other.”

“Tell me of more smells.” He cupped her elbow and urged her forward.

She prompted him again. “’Tis a fair day, my lord? Tell me of the day, and I will tell you of its smell.”

“The sun’s warmth is veiled by many white clouds that move across the blue sky as quick as the wind. ’Tis not the biting breeze for which the holding is known, but the changing gusts before the winter-fylleþ sets in.”

She patted his arm. “’Tis not so much of a trial, is it my lord?”

“Nay. No trial, Skatha. I am waiting.”

Making a great show of the gesture, she waved the air to her nose, and sniffed. “Your day carries a hint of fallen leaves and flint from the chill.”

“An apt description, wife, and I give you thanks for making this day mine. We are not far from the cottage now. Ahead, the path narrows and is lined by a row of tall pines.” His words graveled as if his lips twitched with the temptation to laugh aloud.

“I do not smell cow manure this morn. Do we walk away from the great hall?”

“Aye. The crofter’s hut is close to Konáll’s lodge. I judged it better to have the ladies close to one I trust, even though ’tis farther than I would prefer for defense.”

“’Tis strange, this notion of defense. We dwelled not on defense at the abbey.”

“Tell me of the men who tried to take you.”

“I misspoke earlier. ’Twas not so much taking as warriors hunting for wives. ’Tis common practice in the highlands to kidnap wives.” She chortled. “Thrice they tried to take me, but ’twas simple to dissuade them. I told them of my blindness, and they escorted me back to the abbey. Ah, I can smell the pine and feel the needles crunch under my feet. The path is smoother here, is it not?”

“Aye. And absent of grass, but it can be slippery when wet. I would have your word, wife, that you will not venture anywhere on the holding without a companion.” He stopped and, cupping her shoulders, twisted her to face him, before brushing his lips to hers.

“Worry not, husband. I am fond of my life and take no chances. I give you my word.” Skatha reached for him and set her hands to his chest. “I thank you for your concern.”

He kissed her and the magik of it had her giddy. All her anxieties vanished. The unease about the future, the present, her blindness, if he would cast her aside, all faded into naught.

Heat and spice and sheer ecstasy flooded her senses and chased all thoughts from her dizzied head. She yearned to be back in their lodge and had a craving to learn him by touch as he had her. The planes and angles of his face, the thick ropes of his neck, all these she had faint impressions of, but he had not permitted her much exploration last eve and this morn. What she coveted most was the secret of his sex, that sword which gave her so much pleasure. She ached to hold his manhood, to stroke him, to lick him, to taste him.

When he separated his mouth from hers, she was want to protest, but knew they both had many duties and tasks to accomplish that day.

“’Tis a distraction you are, wife.” He thumbed her lips. “Let us continue. We are but moments from the cottage.”

Skatha struggled to harness her lust during the rest of the journey.

“Why was your wolfhound not with you the day I took you?”

Blinking at his unexpected question, she replied, “Lawri had just whelped her pups. A fine litter of six bitches and five males.”

“You have a fondness for this wolfhound.”

“Fondness? Nay. I dearly love her.” She remembered the lack of barking and the pantry overrun with vermin. “Why are there no cats and dogs in the keep?”

“Holding,” he corrected. “Whilst we cannot be cert, both Konáll and I believe Etta poisoned all the dogs and cats as a diversion.”

“Nay. ’Tis too cruel for words. What mean you by diversion?” Skatha did not try to repress the shudder threading from her head to her toes.

“To relax our normal guard and draw our attention away from Loudon and his men. ’Twas the reason I had the herb garden she planted destroyed. We knew not which was poison or herb.”

Skatha worried her lower lip and uttered not a sound. A herb garden was not a luxury but a necessity for healing and to ensure good health. She would have to find a way to persuade him to replant another.