The Viking Takes a Knight (8 page)

“Clueless men? Amen to that!” Ingrith said, glancing over to Katherine, who was grinning like a cat that had swallowed all the cream in the keep. She and Bolthor had taken to their sleep bower this afternoon and did not come out until just afore dinner. They gave proof to the fact that sex did not wane even in those of middle age seeing as how Katherine was in her early forties, and Bolthor had certainly seen more than fifty winters.

Everyone applauded, including John, thankful that he was not the brunt of Bolthor's jestsome sagas this time. Also thankful that Ingrith's attention was removed from himself.

“I want a favor from you,” Ingrith said.

Not so far removed, he decided, moaning in
wardly. He could tell by the expression on her face that it was going to be a big favor. He shook his head vigorously.

“How can you say me nay afore you even hear what I want?”

“Whatever it is, I will not do it.”

“I want you to make love to me.”

His jaw dropped, and he almost fell off his seat. Her words tickled his ballocks and thus caused his cock to salute the high heavens. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Nay. Nor have I lost my maidenhead, but I want to.”

“Ingrith!” His favorite body part was nigh doing a jig.
Down, cock, down!

“I have been told that women look different after they have been swived. Would that not be further evidence to Loncaster that we have an attachment?”

Concentrate, John. Do not think of bedplay, or how she looked naked, or how much you would enjoy granting her favor. You must be chivalrous.
“I thought the head lice and bald heads theory was going to convince him.”

“That, too.”

“Your father and two hundred warriors would be here in a trice, all wanting my head.”

“He will never find out.”

Oh, I doubt that. Fathers have a way of detecting these things.
“You said that women look different. Your father would know.”

“Do not try to confuse the issue.”

Confuse? I am not the one who is confused. Well, I am not the only one confused.

“You just do not want me.”

If I wanted you any more, we would be entertaining my troops on top of yon table.

“If I looked like Joanna, you would agree just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “She is older than I; so, it must be my lack of allure.”

This subject is beginning to annoy me. I need to go off and…do something.
“Ingrith. You have allure aplenty. This has naught to do with Joanna or how you look.”

“I am almost thirty-one years old. There is little chance that I will wed. Methinks I deserve to experience lovemaking at least once.”

“You think that if we make love, I would be able to stop at once?”

“Well, twice.”

“How about twenty…or fifty?”
And about a hundred different positions and places.

“You jest.”

He just stared at her.

But the wily witch had more in store for him. Placing a hand over her navel, she told him, “You make my belly bud sweat.”

He counted to ten silently.

“What does Joanna have that I do not? Are you in love with her?”

He reached up to tug at his own hair before he
realized that he had none. At least her annoying persistence had lessened his cockstand. Halfway. “Joanna is a convenience to me, and I to her. She has something that I need. Plus, the older children of her first husband have harassed her about the Coppergate stall, and I helped her establish free-hold rights. I am a companion to her…a sexual companion on occasion, when it is convenient for both of us. That is all.”

Her brow furrowed with concentration. “Something is missing here.”

A whole lot is missing here, but I am not about to reveal all my secrets to you, you curious cat.
He inhaled and exhaled several times. “I will not marry you, and I will not make love with you. Is that clear?”

“As water.” But then she tapped her fingertips on the table, thinking away. God only knew what was going through her head now.

“So, you accept what I have said?” he finally inquired.

“Of course not. I am thinking of ways to change your mind.”

That's what he was afraid of. And chivalry be damned!

Y
ou could say she was going a-Viking…

Ingrith was pretty sure she was under a spell.

In all her almost thirty-one years, she had never felt aroused just by looking at a man. In fact, she wasn't sure she had ever been aroused at all.

He looked at her, and she melted.

He licked his lips, and she melted.

He brushed against her in passing, and she melted.

He blinked his sinfully long lashes, and she melted.

He stared at her when he thought she was not aware, and she melted.

She was even aroused by his stupid bald head.

“How do you undo a love spell?” she asked Katherine, who sat next to her in the kitchen where they were pitting sour cherries for a sweet tart. Ardith, the new cook-in-training, was at the other end of the long table preparing
a dozen stuffed capons to be roasted for the evening meal, under Ingrith's subtly watchful supervision.

Katherine cast Ingrith a speaking glance. “The Hawk has you under his spell?”

“Well, not
his
spell precisely. If he had his way, I would be long gone. I, on the other hand, have developed this odd attraction to the lout.”

“Odd in what way?”

“When he looks at me, I feel the embers of a fire spark to life within me.”

Katherine nodded her head. “Does the heat start in your oven?”

“My oven?” Ingrith squeaked, then giggled. “You could say that.”

“I married and buried three husbands afore I met Bolthor, all of them swine. I swore I would not wed again, despite the efforts of King Edgar, my cousin many times removed, and certainly not a Viking. I grew up in Saxon lands, fearing and hating the Norse invaders. But when I first met Bolthor, I was lost. And, yea, betimes all it takes is a smoldering gaze.”

“I am almost thirty-one years old. I grew up in a royal household surrounded by fighting men, many of them too virile for their own good. More than a score of men have offered for me, several score, truth to tell, and not all of them were unacceptable. Not once was I tempted as I am by Lord Hawk.”

Katherine shrugged. “Wise men through the ages have attempted to understand this concept of male/female attraction. Methinks God, or the gods, designed us to be a puddle of desire for our men so that we would agree to procreate. Otherwise, we might just send the clueless dolts on their way.”

“But see, that is the problem. John keeps telling me that he will not marry, ever. And he does not want children, ever.”

“Hmmmm. Now that is strange. Still, if you really want him, there is no way he could resist.”

“Hah! That is just what he is doing. Resisting me. I must confess, I asked him to make love with me…without the benefit of marriage…and he refused.”

Katherine's eyes went wide with surprise. She set down her small knife and shoved the bowl of cherries aside. “You need a plan.”

“A plan?”

“A temptation plan.”

“Oh, my gods!”

“Are you interested?”

“Oh, my gods!” She braced herself. “Absolutely.”

“You must think of yourself as a spider, and Lord John as the hapless fly. What you must do is lure the man into your web.”

She moaned at the prospect. A web of deceit, she feared.

“Here is what you should do,” Katherine advised, “Number One…” She began to detail a series of ploys that Ingrith could try to lure John to her bed furs.

By the time Katherine got to Number Twelve, Ingrith's jaw was nigh touching her chest.

“Dost think you have the nerve?” Katherine inquired. “Do you dare?”

Ingrith had her answer then. “My father always said, ‘Never dare a Viking.' And I am Viking to the core.”

“Lord Hawk does not stand a chance,” Katherine declared with a hoot of laughter.

Ingrith could only hope.

 

Oh, honey!

It was late the next afternoon before Ingrith was able to put her plan into action.

There had been several crises to handle before that. Henry was becoming increasingly distraught as he realized he was in some danger. He was too small, at five, to understand kings and power plays, but someone must have told him that bad men wanted to kill him. As a result, he was behaving in a clinging manner that would only call attention to himself when Loncaster finally arrived.

And Hamr had already sent word that the Saxon commander would be there within days. Loncaster was currently harassing the folks at
Larkspur in the far north, where Ingrith's sister Breanne resided with her husband, Caedmon.

After much soothing and patient explanation, Henry settled down. He and the other children were made to understand how important it was that they keep their secrets, and that included the two girls from the brothel, who had been calling attention to themselves with some of the men.

Then there was Ubbi. Really, the little man was becoming more than protective of not just the children but also of Ingrith herself.

“I see ye eyein' Lord Hawk like a sweetmeat. Doan be thinkin' the troll is fer you,” Ubbi advised, hitching his child-size pants with self-importance.

“What is it that you have against Lord Hawk?” she'd asked, which had been a mistake. It only gave Ubbi the reason to launch into a tirade.

“The troll is full of himself. All this nonsense about bees and such is jist a cover fer his licentious nature.”

Not so licentious if he will not accept my offer.
“Really, Ubbi! How would you know that?”

“Us men have ways,” he assured her. “In any case, didst know he has some of his people engaging in perverted sex acts, all fer the sake of preventin' babies from bein' born?”

“
What?
I have never heard of anything so outrageous.”

“'Tis true.” Ubbi was nodding his head with
conviction. “He has these couples tuppin' like rabbits, with honey coatin' the men's cocks.”

“Ubbi!”

“Fergive the coarse words, m'lady, but 'tis a fact. Lord Hawk calls 'em ex-parry-mens to prevent a man's seed from takin' root in his bed partner, but I say it is jist bloody damn wicked.”

Ubbi expected her to be outraged, but Ingrith wondered if there must be a connection between these experiments and his assertion that he cannot, or would not, have any children. In fact, she saw Ubbi's charges as just another piece of the puzzle that was John of Hawk's Lair. The only question was why.

Finally, she was free to pursue the rogue. She knew from observation that John usually worked on the exercise fields with his men in the morning…sword practice, archery, lance throwing. In the afternoons, he worked in his honey shed, researching the properties of honey and treating some of his cotters with honey treatments for various ailments.

As the first part of her temptation plan, Ingrith altered a gown she'd owned for years. It was crimson, in a wool so soft it appeared to have a nap, like a kitten. It was modest in style, with a rounded neck, long sleeves and hem, but because of the material, it clung to her body's curves. No apron today, that was for sure.

When she got to the honey shed, she stepped
inside, but then stood near the open door against the wall. At the far side, there were several people lined up for their master's help.

The first was a young girl who had her
gunna
raised to her knees. She seemed to have an angry rash on her lower legs that had become irritated. The skin was red and raw in places.

“This is a mixture of honey and vinegar and several other ingredients that forms a paste,” John was explaining as he applied the ointment to her legs. “It should relieve the pain and begin the healing process, but you must not scratch. If you do, it makes the rash worse and it will spread, as well.”

The girl sighed with relief when John finished, patting her on the head as he handed her an oiled parchment cone filled with the cream.

“Me mother said ta tell you she'll send some turnips from our garden in payment.”

“Good. I can never have enough turnips,” John replied, barely hiding a grimace. Ingrith suspected that he had no taste for the
neeps
, in any form. That and cabbage and spinach.

Next up was a woman holding a coughing infant. “Ah, little one, what is the matter?” John took the baby into the cradle of one elbow, while using his free hand to peel back the blanket and swaddling clothes.

“Herbert has been coughin' like this fer days,” said his mother, with tears in her exhausted eyes.

“You should have come sooner, Mary. Now, Herbie, let us see what the problem is.” Using a fingertip dipped in honey, to make his intrusion more palatable, he examined the child's mouth and throat. Soon, he was handing the mother a honey-and-cherry-bark syrup to alleviate the cough. “'Twould not hurt to put a little mead on your nipple when you nurse the mite, as well. The child will sleep more restfully.”

Mary gifted him a handwoven wool horse blanket.

Three more people were served by John and his “healing” arts while Ingrith waited. His payment for these services was a jug of Frankish wine, several ells of the transparent cloth he used in his beekeeping, and a kiss on the cheek by a nubile dairy maid with promise of more if he was interested, which he did not seem to be.

Ingrith could not help but be impressed with his knowledge and compassion. If she was not already half in love with the man, she would be now.

Finally, he was done and exhaling with relief. That was when he noticed her standing there.

“Oh, nay! Not you! Again!”

Not very encouraging to her plan.

“Are you stalking me?”

“Can a lady not seek out a man to talk?”

“Nay, nay, nay! No more of your kind of talking. The last time you ‘talked' to me, you asked
me…well, suffice it to say it took me a long time to recover.”

Good! I must affect him, after all.
With a smile, she stepped closer.
Come here, fly. Let me show you my spiderweb.

His gaze swept her body, taking in the clingy material. She could feel her nipples peak at his perusal and wondered if he could tell.

His survey snagged when passing over her chest.

Yea, he noticed.

Still, he resisted. “You will not bend me to your will, Ingrith. Do not even try.”

“I would not know how.” She could already see the tendrils of her web reaching out to him.

“Hah! That gown alone speaks for your intent.”

She did not try to deny his accusation, but instead shrugged. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she proceeded with her seduction, ill prepared as she was for such an activity.

“Do not step any closer, Ingrith.”

“Why are you staring at my lips?”

The edge of his mouth quirked, but then his face went bleak as he repeated what was now a familiar refrain, “I will not marry you.”

She was mystified and entranced by this silent sadness that came and went over his face. What was it that troubled him so?

At the same time, with their bodies almost touching, she could feel his heat and arousal, like an erotic cloud reaching out to her. His cheek
bones, heightened in color, were like red flags of surrender. To her, leastways.

“You are attracted to me,” she insisted.

“Of course I am. I am a red-blooded male. But you are perilous to all I hold dear.”

“You treat your people for all their ailments. Why not me?”

That brought a full-fledged smile to his lips.

If he only knew what his smiles did to her!

“And what is your particular ailment, m'lady?” he inquired with a lazy drawl.

“I ache.”

He arched his brows.

“Here,” she said and put a hand to her lower belly.

“God help me,” he said on a moan, then opened his arms to her.

 

Sometimes spiders do not catch the fly…

John closed his eyes and shuddered as he held Ingrith in a tight embrace. How could something so wrong feel so right?

So aroused that he felt disoriented, he trembled with his efforts to maintain control. Ingrith's eagerness excited him, without a doubt heightened by his long period of self-denial. But he must put a stop to this temptation.

“Ingrith. Sweetling.” He tried to set her away from him, but her arms were wrapped so tightly about his neck, like manacles, and…Good Lord!
She was rubbing her breasts back and forth across his chest and making little mewling, catlike sounds of satisfaction. She had to be aware of his raging enthusiasm pressing into her abdomen.

“Stop!” he said firmly, prying her fingers off his neck and forcing her to stand an arm's length away. With his hands on her shoulders, arms braced, he made her stand still. “This cannot happen.”

“Why?” she whimpered.

With a deep sigh of surrender, he told her, “I will tell you why. God help me, but I will tell you why.” He lowered his hands to her waist and lifted her to sit on his high stool.

He walked away a short distance, unable to speak at the look of passion, and disappointment, on her face.

“You know that I am the illegitimate son of the Earl of Gravely.”

She nodded. “What has that to do—”

He halted her further words with a raised hand. “My birth is the result of Steven of Gravely raping my mother.”

She gasped. “I did not know.”

“Not many people do. Steven was an evil man, Ingrith. Insane, if you must know. And I carry the same blood.”

“Oh, John, I carry the same blood as my father, who is arrogant beyond belief. And cruel in battle, I am told. And lustsome?” She rolled her eyes. “Needless to say…five wives speak for itself.”

John smiled sadly. “That is different. The despicable things my father did in his short life are evidence of a madness I have difficulty describing, and it wasn't just in battle. Rape is the least of his sins. Murder, even of children and innocent women. Torture. Sodomy. God only knows what else. 'Tis said that his brother Elwinus entered a cloistered order of monks as a young boy due to the things he saw at the Gravely estate. Mayhap he experienced the insanity himself.”