Nightfall till Daybreak (The Kingdom of the East Angles Book 2) (18 page)

“If I could stop a moment in time and make it last forever, it
would be this one,” Aidan said softly. “If I wasn’t so bound to honor and duty
I would ride away with you from this place and never look back.”

They stopped then and stared at each other.

“I wish you were not so bound by honor and duty then.” The
words burst from Freya before she could stop them. “I wish you’d throw aside
that yoke and live selfishly just once. Where has loyalty gotten you?”

Aidan stared at her in shock for a moment.

Then, he stepped forward and pulled her roughly into his arms.
His mouth came down hard on Freya’s and all words, all thought, disappeared
from her mind.

His kiss was hot and urgent. Freya’s mouth opened under his
with a gasp. Her legs went weak as his tongue slid against hers. His hands
cupped the back of her head and he deepened the kiss. Freya’s hands clutched at
his chest, looking for a way through the barrier of his clothing. Her fingers
ached to touch his naked skin. She pressed herself up against him and drank in his
taste and smell.

Despite the chill night, she felt as if she were on fire,
burning with need for a man she had wanted from the first moment she had seen
him.

Yes, she admitted it now, at the end when it was almost too
late.

They were in a small glade, surrounded by elms. It was a
secluded spot, away from the prying eyes of Sigeberht’s hall; away from anyone
who could stop what was about to happen.

Freya stepped away from Aidan, threw aside her shawl and
kicked off her boots. Then, she untied the girdle about her waist and, in one
smooth movement, pulled her tunic over her head so that she stood naked before
him. She had never done anything so bold, and had never had the inclination to
do so – until now. Life was so fleeting; they had to live this moment before it
was taken away from them.

She could feel Aidan’s gaze upon her. It slid over her body,
and lingered on her breasts before he looked back at her face.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered. “You are so lovely it hurts
to look upon you.”

With that, Aidan unbuckled the heavy belt he wore across his
hips, shrugged off his cloak and pulled his tunic over his head. The moonlight
glistened on the muscular planes of his chest as he undid his breeches and the
garters that tied his boots to his calves.

Watching him, Freya felt a heat grow between her legs and
spread through the pit of her belly. His arousal was obvious and the sight of
it made her breath come in sharp gasps.

When he stepped towards her once more she remained motionless.
Her body felt boneless and weak. She could not have run from him, even if she
had wanted to.

Aidan’s mouth claimed hers once more- hungry and insistent. He
pushed her up against the trunk of one of the sheltering elms and pressed the
length of his naked body against hers. Freya could feel the cold roughness of
bark against her back but cared not. Her whole will was focused, instead, on
the heat of his mouth and the warmth of his hands as they slid over her body.
When he tore his mouth from hers and began to suckle one of her breasts, Freya
cried out. Her hands tangled in his hair while he suckled one nipple and then
the other. Then he straightened up and, once more, covered her mouth with his.

Freya, all restraint a faint memory, ran her hands down the
length of his torso, before her fingers traced the hard length of him. Aidan’s
breathing was ragged now and he groaned when she began to stroke him.

“Freya,” he groaned in her ear. “You will drive me insane if
you continue to do that.”

In response, Freya gave a husky, breathless laugh.

“So be it.”

She stroked him again, this time gently biting his neck as she
did so.

Aidan gave a strangled cry and, cupping her bottom with his
hands, lifted her up against the trunk. Her legs parted and she felt him, hard
and trembling against her.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured between gritted teeth,
“but I don’t know if I can do this slowly.”

Freya angled her hips towards him in response and the pressure
increased. She kissed him deeply and slid her tongue into his mouth, mimicking
the act she wanted from him. That was all the encouragement Aidan required.
With a groan of pleasure he pressed against her.

Freya felt him slide into her before a stab of pain knifed
through her. She gasped and went rigid. Aidan froze. Freya clung to him a moment,
breathless, before she wrapped her legs about his hips and drew him closer.

Aidan sank deep into Freya until he filled her completely; a
glorious sensation that sent tremors of pleasure through her. Then, Aidan began
to move his hips as he drove deeper still.

Freya whimpered and buried her face in his neck. The pleasure
was almost unbearable. Then, when he began to move more forcefully within her
she cried out, digging her nails into his back.

“Freya,” Aidan gasped, pushing her higher against the tree trunk
so that he could penetrate deeper into her. “I can’t stop, I can’t…”

“Don’t stop!” Freya cried out as he thrust into her once
again. She could feel a pressure inside her mounting and she raised her hips to
meet him, again and again.

Despite the chill night, sweat slicked their bodies. Freya
cried out as her body sang with pleasure; then she collapsed against Aidan, her
limbs trembling. He only lasted a moment longer before his cries mingled with
hers in the silent glade.

Freya leaned into his chest, their hearts hammering in time
like the drums of Beltaine. Aidan’s fingers were entwined in her hair that had
come loose from its long braid.

They stayed like that for a while, each savoring the pleasure
that slowly ebbed from their bodies, and resisting the reality which their
lovemaking had momentarily kept at bay.

Freya’s mind felt like a gently rippling pool; a cool, wide,
peaceful lake, far from the hard edges of the world. She clung to that peace,
as she clung to Aidan – in the hope that wishing would make it so.

Chapter
Eighteen

Moonlight poured across the glade, outlining the shapes of the
trees and the horse that patiently stood at one end, awaiting its master.

Aidan raised himself up on an elbow and looked down at Freya.
His throat closed as he gazed upon her; taking in the pale, smoothness of her
skin and the mane of dark red hair that spread out around her.

They lay upon a mattress of their discarded clothes, with
Aidan’s cloak covering their nakedness from the chill night air. Gazing upon her,
Aidan was aware that Freya too was studying him; her eyes two dark pools in the
moonlight.

“I don’t want to go back,” she murmured, her soft voice
breaking the silence. “Let’s just remain in this glade forever.”

Aidan smiled down at her, and felt a weight settle upon the
center of his chest.

“If only we could,” he whispered.

Freya reached up and stroked his face.

“So handsome,” she sighed. “I’ve never seen a man so fair.”

Aidan chuckled at that, gently taking hold of her hand and
kissing her palm. “Why thank you sweet Freya. Although I was prettier before
life took its toll.”

He felt Freya’s cool fingertips trace the scar on his cheek;
the one from the battle for Rendlaesham. It had healed well but had left a
silver line down the length of his cheek.

“Life only adds to it,” she said softly. “You needed a few
scars or you’d have women resenting your beauty.”

Aidan snorted at that. “Now you go too far!” He looked down
and saw that she was grinning up at him – enjoying the opportunity to tease
him. This playful side to Freya was new, and delightful. He was pleased to see
that life as the king’s
theow
had not crushed her spirit.

“I will never forget tonight,” he smiled down at her. “Never.
We will stay here till dawn. This night, from nightfall till daybreak, you are
mine.”

“Well then Aidan of Connacht,” Freya ran her hands down over
his torso and stroked his manhood, which was beginning to rise again in
response to her caresses. “We had better not waste a moment of it.”

Aidan leaned down and laid the length of his body against
hers. He stroked the milky skin of her breasts. He heard her gasp when he
gently pinched her nipples. She groaned against him when he started to kiss her
neck.

Moments later, there was no more time for words, or worries of
what the future held – only loving.

***

The eastern sky was lightening when the lovers eventually rose
from their makeshift bower and dressed. It was a chill morning and a frost
twinkled around them. Freya’s breath steamed in the air as she walked across
the frosty ground towards where Aidan had already mounted. She wrapped her
shawl tightly about her shoulders and vaulted up in front of him. Strangely,
she did not feel the cold this morning, even after a night out in the open.
Unspeaking, she leaned against Aidan’s chest and relaxed against the gentle
thud of his heart.

Then, still without a word spoken, Aidan urged his horse
forward and they rode out of the glade.

It was a short ride back to Beodriceworth – too short. Freya
was dozing against Aidan’s chest when the trees drew back and they rode out
into the Lark Valley. They made their way up a shallow rise and down the hill
towards Sigeberht’s hall.

As they approached, Freya could see a cloaked figure standing
in front of the entrance to the hall.

Freya’s stomach clenched. Although he wore a cowl over his
face, she recognized the figure’s height and bearing. Sigeberht was waiting for
them.

Aidan had also noticed the silent, cloaked figure, for Freya
felt his body tense against hers. Freya sat up straighter and squared her
shoulders. Whatever came next, she knew it would be unpleasant. There was no
way they could have hidden this from Sigeberht long-term. Perhaps it was better
they confronted him about this now.

Aidan drew up his horse and Freya slid to the ground. Aidan
dismounted and stepped up beside her. The figure before the entrance to the
hall pushed back his hood and stepped forward to meet them.

In the soft light of dawn, Freya could see the anger, but also
the lines of fatigue, on Sigeberht’s face. He had not slept.

“You will come no closer.” Sigeberht stopped a few feet away.
He was wearing short, leather boots and carried a long wooden staff, which he
used to bar their path. “Neither of you are welcome in my hall.”

“Sigeberht… milord,” Aidan began cautiously. “This was not
done to spite you. We…”

“Enough!” Sigeberht boomed, his voice lashing across the yard
and causing a stir behind him. Freya glanced over Sigeberht’s shoulder and saw
Felix emerge from the hall. Behind him, Freya caught a glimpse of four young
faces in the doorway: Edwin, Osfrid, Paeda and Sebbi. The boys looked pale and
worried.

“I know what you’ve done. You know the rules of my hall.  I
will not tolerate a
theow
under my roof that is not chaste, and I will
not suffer a
thegn
who defies me. You are both banished!”

“My Lord Sigeberht.” Felix rushed forward, his face pinched in
rage. “These two have done more than defy you. They have sinned! Your
punishment must be greater than banishment. Put him in the stocks for a week
and have the girl whipped. They must serve as a warning to others!”

“Hold your tongue monk!” Aidan’s temper snapped. He stepped
towards Felix and raised his fist. “Take your poison elsewhere. We have not
sinned – we have only done something that is as natural as living and breathing.
It is you who twists such things into sin.”

“Silence!” Sigeberht roared, stepping between the two men. “My
word is law here. Felix, I will not compound their sin by adding to it with our
own. Aidan and Freya, I want you both gone. You may take nothing but the
clothes on your backs. I wish never to…”

Sigeberht’s last words were drowned out by the sudden tattoo
of hoof-beats, approaching at a gallop from the north-west.

Freya, who had not uttered a word since Sigeberht had barred
their path, swiveled round and gasped at the sight of horses, approaching over
the brow of the hill. Aidan put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to
one side. The horsemen thundered into the yard. The horses skidded to a halt;
their breaths steaming as they tossed their heads and jangled their bridles.
They had been ridden hard.

Ecgric the Eager rode forward and stopped before Sigeberht.
The co-ruler of the East Angles was dressed for battle, in boiled leather and
iron, and his face was set in hard, dark lines.

“The Mercians approach Barrow Fields,” he barked, his gaze
riveted upon Sigeberht. “What say you
milord
? Will you come willingly,
or will we have to drag you?”

“I will not fight!” Sigeberht growled. “I am a man of god now.
You cannot compel me to kill!”

“It is kill or be killed in this world,” Ecgric snarled before
he glanced over his shoulder at the men he had brought with him. “Bind his
hands and put him on a horse. He is coming with us.”

What followed was an ugly, harrowing scene. Aidan and Freya
looked on as four warriors wrestled Sigeberht to the ground and bound his
wrists behind his back. Felix, seized by a sudden hysteria, ran flailing and
clawing at the warriors, only to be felled with one punch. He crawled,
whimpering back to the doorway, where Sigeberht’s four charges watched in
horror.

Yet, even unarmed, Sigeberht was a strong, muscular man, still
very much in his prime. In the end, it took six warriors to subdue him, and
manhandle him onto a horse.

Freya watched her master, bleeding from the lip, one eye
already beginning to swell, slump in the saddle, defeated. She fought back the
urge to cry. Despite everything, Sigeberht had been good to her. He did not
deserve to be treated thus.

Satisfied that Sigeberht was subdued and bound securely,
Ecgric turned to Aidan. His gaze rested on him a moment before flicking to
Freya. Aidan’s arm about her shoulders told him all, and his lip curled.

“So your whore likes foreign cock does she?”

Aidan stared back at him coldly, refusing to be baited. Seeing
that this was neither the time nor the place to trade insults, Ecgric returned
to the task at hand. Behind him, his men were coldly silent; Ecgric’s outburst
had lowered him in the eyes of all present.

“You said you had twenty spears to add to my
fyrd
,” he
bit out each word resentfully. “Gather them now and follow us to Barrow
Fields.”

Aidan nodded curtly. “We will come.”

With that, Ecgric wheeled his horse away and dug his heels
into its sweat-slicked flanks. Freya watched the group of horsemen, with
Sigeberht riding in their midst, gallop away, and disappear over the brow of
the hill.

The sun had risen over the eastern horizon, rays of golden
light warming the frosty ground. Freya turned back to Aidan, her heart in her
throat.

“We almost had our freedom,” she managed, her vision blurring
with tears. “Sigeberht banished us. We could ride out of here and never look
back… but you can’t.”

Aidan met her gaze. His face taut as he struggled to control
himself; his gaze conflicted.

“You know I can’t,” he replied huskily. “I made a promise and
I must keep it. I’m sorry Freya but I must go.”

“Aidan!” Aldwulf emerged from the hall, hurriedly doing up the
cross-garters on his legs. “Is it true? Does the enemy approach?”

“They do,” Aidan turned from Freya, the warrior’s mask slipping
into place. Gone was last night’s lover. She did not know this man before her.
“Ready the men, Aldwulf. We ride for Barrow Fields.”