The Viking's Witch (26 page)

Sig gasped and took a step back, his hand instinctively clutching the hilt of his sword.

Rothgar stood, towering over her. “Hurl all the pottery you wish, but slap me again, witch, and I will turn you over to Brennan now,” he bellowed.

She glared into Rothgar’s cold, ice-blue eyes. “Now that you’ve had your fill of me this afternoon, you wish to cast me aside? I think not.” She sneered. “I hope you enjoyed yourself. For I shall see to it that you will never be fit to lie with another woman for the rest of your miserable life.”

Rothgar clasped her shoulders and shook her lightly. “Odaria, be quiet and—”

“Nay!” She yanked from his grip. “You can go to hell. You are nothing but a filthy liar.”

She unpinned the silver brooch from her dress and threw it at the fireplace. “That’s what I think of you and your false promises.” She ignored the shocked look on Rothgar’s face and narrowed her eyes to slits as she backed to the door.

“You have sealed your fate, Rothgar. You have wounded and betrayed me, and for that, you shall suffer with the lot of them,” she shouted, then ran out of the gathering hall.

“It seems the witch has outwitted you,” Brennan said, laughing. “She is quite clever. Go fetch her. If I do not get Odaria, you do not get your friend.”

“Shut up.” Rothgar punched Brennan in the jaw. The chair he was tied to toppled backward and hit the floor. He spoke to Sig. “Stay here and stand guard over this piece of pig filth. See that no harm comes to him until I return,” he growled as he went outside.

Thunder boomed in the distance as he spotted Odaria running toward the edge of the village. He chased after her, digging his boots into the soft earth. He had to catch up and explain what she’d seen and heard.

How long had she been on the stairs, listening? Obviously long enough to overhear some of the cruel things he’d said. He couldn’t blame her for being angry and reacting the way she had, but it did work to his advantage.

After he had returned from the
cairn
, he’d sent Odaria upstairs to rest, then started making preparations for them to sail in the morning. Just before dark, Nordskog had told him that Brennan was asking for him. When he arrived at the church, he wasn’t surprised to find that Brennan was missing two fingers from his right hand. Nordskog had used his own method of persuading, and now Brennan was most eager to talk.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Brennan offered to make an exchange with him—Odaria for Orvind. Although striking such a bargain with a devil made him feel sick to his stomach, he’d had no choice but to agree. He couldn’t leave the island knowing that Orvind was still alive somewhere and he’d done nothing to save him.

The night sky opened up, and an ice-cold rain began to fall. His boots slipped on the wet grass and mud as he ran across the fields after Odaria. Where was she going? After a few seconds, he realized she was heading for her
cairn
. She was going to use it as a place of refuge against him.

A moment later, he reached the
cairn
. He wiped the rainwater off his face as a bolt of purple lightning lit up the sky. Where was Odaria? He glanced around and saw something that chilled him to the bone. Odaria stood several hundred yards away near the edge of the cliff.

“Odaria, stop.”

Quick as a cat, she ran along the cliff’s edge and onto the outcropping of rocks.

He darted after her. The ground was slick, and his leather boots kept slipping on the wet grass. If Odaria fell … He pushed the horrible thought aside and kept running. He had to save her. He couldn’t let her end her life over a misunderstanding. If he didn’t reach her in time … If she jumped … he might as well follow her over the edge.

He reached the outcropping a moment later. Odaria stopped and whirled around, her dress and hair billowing behind her in the wind.

“Stay away from me. I hate you. Turn me over to Brennan will you? I think not. I’d sooner die than fall into his clutches again.”

“Odaria, listen to me.” As he reached out to touch her shoulder, a boom of thunder rocked the earth. Despite the icy rain pelting down on them, he could feel the heat radiating from her. She was upset, and her powers were strong.

“Don’t you dare touch me.” She glared at him, the gold flecks in her eyes gleaming in the night. “You think you’re going to decide my fate and give me to Brennan? Nay. I choose my own fate. And without me, you shall never get Orvind.”

Odaria stepped to the edge of the cliff. He lunged out and grabbed her around the waist, holding her fast.

She struggled against him. “Set me free, you filthy sea bastard.”

He tightened his grip, not caring if he crushed her ribs. They were both soaking wet, and he had a hard time holding her still.

“No wife of mine will do herself in,” he shouted as he dragged her kicking and screaming away from the cliff.

Lightning flashed again as Odaria wriggled one of her hands free and slapped him across the mouth. “I hate you! Let me go.”

He shook her hard, hoping to rattle some sense into her head. “Listen to me. I had no choice but to make a trade with Brennan. Now be still.” He hoisted her onto his shoulder, wincing as she pounded her fists into his already sore back and ribs.

Odaria screamed and flailed as he carried her across the fields. He’d let her fight him all she wanted. It would only wear her out and make her easier to control come morning.

He ignored her shouts and violent curses as he
lugged
her through the blinding rain and back to the gathering hall. Part of him longed to cradle her in his arms and soothe her, but he couldn’t. For now, it would be best if she despised him. Her hatred would make his task tomorrow easier.

He kicked open the front door to the gathering hall and strode through the main room.

“I see you found the witch. Are you going to sample her poisonous flesh once again before she’s set ablaze?” Brennan called out, chuckling.

“Drop dead,” he growled over his shoulder. He shouted an order to Sig as he carried Odaria upstairs.

He opened the bedchamber door and set Odaria down. She wobbled for a moment, then rushed at him, kicking and punching him wildly. “I hate you. You should be made into a blood eagle,” she screamed as she beat on his chest.

“Quiet!” He shoved her back against the bed. “Remove your dress and boots. Now.”

“Rot in hell. Do you think I’ll strip for you so you can plunge your man-sword—”

“Do as I say, witch.” He stared into her eyes. “Now. Lest I lose my patience and tear that dress off you.”

The harsh tone in his voice seemed to quiet her. Odaria turned her back to him and began undressing. She kicked off her muddy boots and unlaced her bodice. Her shoulders trembled as she removed the dress and let it fall to the floor in a heap.

“Turn and hand it to me.”

She picked up the soggy dress off the floor and hurled it in his face. “Here. Take it. Does that make you happy?”

He glanced at her nude body. She was soaking wet and shivering. Her rosy nipples were perked hard, like pebbles. A rivulet of water dripped down her belly and into the patch of soaked hair between her legs.

“Get in bed.”

Odaria folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. “Is that it, then? You shall have your way with me before you see me killed? Is that all you foul Norsemen—?”

“Do as I say.”

She took a step back and sat on the edge of the bed. “Do not expect me to part my legs eagerly for you this time. If you mean to have me, you’ll have to take me by force and—”

“Quiet!” He opened his canvas bag and withdrew a length of stout rope.

“What is that for?”

To his surprise, he heard a tremble in Odaria’s voice. What did she think he was going to do with the rope? He ignored her question and approached the bed. “Lie down.”

She obeyed him without protest. He raised her arms over her head and looped the rope through the slats in the headboard.

“Is this how you are to take me? Tied still, so I canna escape you? Why not tie my legs open, as well? It shall be easier to get inside me then. Will you invite all the Norsemen to come in and take a piece? I’m certain they’d all love to stick it in me and—”

“Must you speak so crudely?” he said as he bound her wrists together.

“Or better yet, why not charge them a fee and make yourself rich at the same time?”

“You have a foul mind as well as a foul mouth, little witch.”

Odaria kicked him hard in the ribs. He winced and doubled over.

“Release me, else the gods shall—”

He covered her mouth with his hand and stared into her eyes. “If you kick me again, I will tie your legs to the bed. Speak once more, and I will stuff a rag in your mouth.”

He moved his hand away and straightened up. His patience was wearing thin, and the sooner all this was over, the better. “I have much to do tonight, and I cannot have you throwing yourself over cliffs to your doom. Understand that I must do this.”

“I hate you. I regret ever conjuring you from the sea. I regret letting you touch me—”

“
Letting
me?” He laughed. “You were the one who bewitched
me
into making love to
you
.” An amusing idea came to him, and he arched an eyebrow. “You truly hate me?”

“Aye, down to me soul.”

He grinned. “I believe you not, Odaria, but we will find out in the morning. Rest well.” He covered her with the bedclothes, then scooped up her wet dress and boots.

“Morning? Where are you going? You’re leaving me tied up here all night?”

“It’s for your own good.” He opened the door and went into the corridor. “I’ll return before dawn. Pleasant dreams, my little witch.” He pulled the door closed and locked it behind him.

“Rothgar, come back.”

He ignored Odaria as he headed downstairs. He had much to do before sunrise.

Chapter Thirteen

“Are you awake?”

Odaria opened her eyes at the sound of Rothgar’s voice. She had been dozing on and off for the last few hours. Last night after Rothgar had left, she had ranted and raged, struggling against the ropes that bound her to the bed. After several hours, she’d given up and cried herself to sleep.

She glanced at the window on the far side of the bedchamber. The sun crept over the horizon, bathing the room in faint shadows and purple-blue light.

Rothgar carried a wooden tray across the room and set it on the chest of drawers. She noticed the small green bottle, a pewter pitcher, and a bowl on the tray. “What is all that?”

“You will see.” He sat on the bed next to her and smoothed her hair away from her face. “I have been busy making preparations for today. It will be an important day for us, Odaria.”

“Untie me, vermin.” She writhed against the ropes. “I hate you. When I get free, I’ll—”

“You do not hate me, and you know it.” Rothgar yanked the bedclothes down, exposing her nude body.

“Cover me,” she screeched. “I’ll not have you lookin’ at me.”

“I intend to do more than look,” he said, chuckling.

She swallowed hard and gazed up at him. “What do you mean?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. She feared she knew what Rothgar intended. She was bound to the bed, helpless and naked. He could do anything he wanted to her and there was nothing she could do to stop him. Last night’s rage had left her weak and drained. Her powers were of no use to her now.

“I intend to learn the truth, witch. You claim to hate me, but I believe you love me.”

“Are you mad?”

“If you despise me, then anything I do to you will repulse you, not please you,” he teased. “I will use your own magic against you and see what happens. If you remain silent throughout my test, I’ll know that you truly hate me and I’ll grant you your freedom.”

He trailed his hand down her chest. “If, however, you cry out or make three sounds, it will prove you love me. Then you will stay with me and do my bidding. Agreed?”

She scowled at him. Had the fight with Karnik’s men dented his head? Rothgar would set her free if she kept quiet? That sounded easy, and playing along with his game could earn her her freedom.

“Aye. Do whatever it is you are going to do, but be quick about it. I warn you, nothing will change my mind. I still hate every bone in your body.”

Rothgar stood and walked to the chest of drawers. He picked up the green bottle and moved close to the bed. “Do you recognize this?”

She stared at the bottle in the dim light. It was her love potion. Rothgar must have gone back to the
cairn
and stolen it after he’d tied her up. “Put that down. ’Tis mine.”

“I know, witch. You used it on me, remember?” He leaned over her. “Now it’s my turn to bewitch
you
. Lie still.”

She gasped as Rothgar poured the spicy-scented potion onto her chest. “What are you doin’? Do not put that on me. ’Tis too much.”

Her heartbeat soared as Rothgar drizzled the oil across her breasts and down her belly. The thick liquid made her skin tingle and left a warm, pulsing sensation every place it touched. The heavy scent of it made her head swim.

“Now hush, Odaria. From this point on, you must keep silent. Remember how much you hate me. Focus on that instead of what I do to your sweet body.”

She held her breath as Rothgar rubbed the potion onto her breasts. He didn’t know what he was doing. A tiny dollop was enough to arouse a person into a lustful state. The amount Rothgar had poured on her would drive her mad with desire.

He massaged the oil into her skin, taking his time to toy with her rock-hard nipples. The potion made her skin hot, and her breasts ached. She closed her eyes as Rothgar trailed his wide hands down her belly. His palms felt heavy and warm, and she longed to feel them slide between her legs …

Dammit! She was falling under her own spell. Perhaps if she kept still and focused her mind on other thoughts, she could resist the potion. If she concentrated on something dull and didn’t think about how good it felt …

“Care to part your legs?”

She opened her eyes. Rothgar had reached her hips and was staring down at her naked body. She was about to speak, then remembered that she had to remain silent. If she uttered three sounds, Rothgar would win the wager. Her freedom was at stake, and she would remain quiet no matter what he did to her. She glared at him and remained still.

“As you wish. I’ll part them for you.”

Rothgar grasped her left ankle and opened her legs. She tried to kick him, but he grabbed her right ankle and held her legs fast. “Do you want me to tie them?”

She shook her head.

Rothgar released her legs and ran his hands across her tender folds. He dipped his fingers into the puddle of love potion that had pooled in the center of her belly, then slid a finger deep into her.

A searing heat flared inside her, and her hips jolted off the bed. The liquid fire coursed through her most intimate places, spreading its intense, sizzling desire. A moment later, the fire dulled and became a heavy throbbing. She closed her eyes and let the sensations wash over her. Her body was filled with a fiery lust like she’d never known before.

“Feel good?” Rothgar asked as he teased her with his finger.

She pursed her lips as her body quivered. As much as she wanted to resist the effects of the love potion, she knew it was futile. Her body was taking over with a will of its own, and she was becoming more and more lust-crazed. She arched her hips up to meet Rothgar’s finger as he slid it in and out of her.

“You are quite slick, Odaria, but still so quiet. Should I stop?”

She bent her knees, parting her legs wider, wanting, willing him to touch more of her aching flesh. Rothgar chuckled, and she ground herself against his hand. The wanton act gave her some small bit of relief from her maddening desire.

“You are very naughty, Odaria. Is this better?” Rothgar eased another finger inside her.

Her body jerked with a sudden spasm, and she bit her bottom lip as she strained and twisted against the ropes. Rothgar’s fingers moved faster, teasing her into a frenzy. The tension was too much to bear. “I canna take it,” she cried out, then clamped her mouth shut.

Rothgar withdrew his fingers and laughed. “That’s one. Twice more means you love me and are mine.”

She glared at him. What sort of game was he playing? He had deliberately tortured her into speaking. Although part of her wanted to be furious with him, her body longed for his touch. Despite her best efforts, she was helpless to resist him.

“Would you like me to keep touching you?”

She nodded, praying that he’d end the torment and sate her lust.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked, bringing his hand near her.

She nodded again.

Rothgar pulled his hand away, then stood and walked to the chest of drawers. “But nay, I should not touch you again. I would not wish to make you hate me any more than you do,” he said with mock concern in his voice.

She kicked her feet in frustration. How dare he taunt her!

“Will not talk? Then I will speak for us.” He took the small pitcher and bowl off the tray and returned to the bed. “Did I ever tell you what I like to eat in the morning?”

She rolled her eyes. Now what sort of game was this? Who cared what he liked to eat? Her body was on fire with a burning need to be ravaged, and all he cared about was food. May the gods forgive her, but as soon as she was set free, she’d strip the breeches off the first man she found and jump on him.

“Honey and berries. They are quite good together. I thought you might like some as well.”

Rothgar tipped the pewter pitcher over her left breast and poured honey onto her nipple. She writhed against the ropes and watched as he covered her other breast with the sticky honey.

“I would not want you to suffer in discomfort. Mayhap this will soothe the fire in your loins.”

She twitched as Rothgar coated her with the rest of the honey. What was he doing? She swallowed hard and closed her eyes as he rubbed the liquid into her. A second later, she relaxed a little. The honey did seem to cool the potion.

“Feel better?”

She nodded but kept her eyes closed. She felt ashamed to be seen lying bound naked to the bed, coated with honey and longing to be filled. How could she have such crude and lustful feelings? And where had Rothgar learned how to perform these brazen acts? He seemed to be enjoying himself, and he was taking his time teasing her.

She slowed her breathing and cleared her mind. She should not give in to these wicked thoughts; she should be remembering how Rothgar had betrayed her. He’d struck a deal with her sworn enemy to trade her for his stupid cousin. All she had to do was remain quiet while Rothgar toyed with her. After a while, he’d give up and leave her alone. As soon as she was free, she’d—

“And now for the berries. I prefer them dipped in honey.”

Her eyes flew open as he rolled a berry across her honey-coated breast. The berry felt ice cold against her skin, and a shiver ran up her spine. Rothgar ate the berry and grinned. What sort of twisted pleasures did Norsemen practice in their bedchambers?

“
Gut
, but I want more.”

She lay still as Rothgar covered her breasts with the chilly berries. The honey kept them from rolling off onto the bed. Rothgar worked his way down her stomach, leaving a trail of berries from her breasts to her lower belly. When he reached her privates, he stopped. His gaze locked onto hers, and he smirked.

“I can put a great many down here.”

She raised her head and watched him as he placed the berries between her legs. Each time he touched her tender places, a surge of heat flared through her. She dropped her head back onto the feather pillow.

What in the name of the gods was Rothgar doing? Had the love potion taken him over as well? Only a spellbound man would think of such wicked things to do with food. Nay, the potion hadn’t caused Rothgar to lose his senses—he had brought the honey and berries into the room with him. He had been planning to do this even before he’d poured the love potion onto her.

“That’s the last of the berries.” He bent over her. “Still hate me?”

She turned her head away. She didn’t trust herself to look at him.

“You have been a good girl, Odaria. Now, if you remain quiet while I finish, I’ll believe that you truly do hate me.”

Rothgar covered her breast with his mouth. She shivered as he suckled her while eating the berries. Her entire body tingled, and she caught herself just before she cried out.

“This one tastes good,” he said, flicking his tongue across her breast and lapping at the honey. “Let me try the other.”

Her head swam with delight as he licked and sucked her. She lay as still as she could, holding her breath and willing herself to keep silent.

Rothgar raised his head and gazed into her eyes. “I’ve had enough of those,” he said, as he moved off her and knelt at the foot of the bed. “And now for the rest.” He leaned forward and wedged her legs apart with his shoulders. “Be still, sweet witch,” he said, positioning his head between her thighs.

Rothgar’s wet tongue touched her, and she bounced off the bed as if she’d been struck by lightning. His tongue trailed a small circle on her honey-soaked nub, and she stopped resisting. It felt warm and thick and …

“By the stars,” she cried out as his hot mouth enveloped her. She tried to close her legs, but Rothgar’s broad shoulders kept them spread wide open. She was helpless to resist this torture … and for that, she was glad.

His lips and tongue explored her while he devoured her honey-laden juices. Her heart thundered in her chest so hard she thought she’d die. The room spun as he licked and probed her, and she started to feel lightheaded. She’d do anything to make him stop … just long enough so she could rest a moment and catch her breath.

She writhed beneath him, arching herself away from his eager mouth for a second. Panting and dizzy, she barely had time to blink before his hot tongue found her womanly folds again.

Rothgar’s tongue entered her partway, and she stopped fighting. Why should she refuse him? After all, he was doing wonderfully pleasurable things to her. Why hadn’t he licked her like this yesterday? Is this what Norsemen did with their wives?

She pressed her hips down toward him. Rothgar slipped two fingers inside her. He stroked her, then worked his long fingers in and out. Her hips bucked a little as he swirled his tongue in small circles. She lay back on the bed and smiled. Obviously Rothgar enjoyed this as much as she did. Had he done this to Gretta? If so, had she enjoyed it?

A tingling sensation grew deep inside her. Her heart raced out of control, and her skin prickled. Panicked, she strained against the ropes, desperate to make Rothgar stop.

Her body tensed and burned as she twisted against him. She whipped her head from side to side, clenching her jaw to keep from screaming. What was happening to her? How had something so blissful become a searing anguish? Her body broke out in a sweat as the odd feeling intensified.

Rothgar’s fingers slid in deeper. His tongue twirled faster against her, making her even dizzier. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she whimpered and cried out. “Stop, or I shall die.”

Rothgar pulled away and wiped his mouth and beard on the bedclothes. “Odaria, my pet. That was three.” He smiled and lay on top of her. She bucked against him and felt his penis pressing against her through his breeches. The hard feel of it sparked her lust again. Damn that love potion. It worked its effects on her still.

“You do not hate me, do you?” he said, grinning.

She looked up at him, her chest heaving and her lower body pounding with an uncontrollable lust. “Nay, I could never hate you.” She wrapped her legs around Rothgar’s hips, and his eyes widened. “Give me what I need,” she begged.

“Are you certain? You said you hated me and did not wish for me to—”

She raised her head and kissed him deep. He tasted like honey mixed with something salty. As soon as his tongue entered her mouth, she broke the kiss. “You started this fire deep in me. Now sate it,” she demanded.