Vengeance Hammer (Viking Vengeance) (16 page)

Dráddør had to admit Konáll right about his ratcheting exasperated infuriation. He had also grown to both respect and trust Nyssa’s judgment. But he and Konáll had trusted Etta and they had grievously erred.

“Why did she not tell me earlier of Magnhildur poisoning Jennie? Why now?” The notion that Xára was capable of murder ate away at his insides. He had begun to trust her.

“Think you on her situation. Xára has lived in an abbey, surrounded by peace and truth. Her father suddenly commands her presence and announces her betrothal to his brother. According to what you’ve learned, she discovers not only that her father has a mistress, but that the mistress is bedding the man to be her husband. Then her father and mother are poisoned. You invade the castle and announce the king has commanded your union. You take her innocence—”

“Enough. You have made your point.” Guilt still plagued him. He had breached her maidenhood front of an audience. He tunneled both hands through his tangled hair and tore through the knots attained during their swiving. The sourness in his mouth intensified when he recalled his climax. Never had he felt such ecstasy and such a deep and abiding ease with a woman.

His scalp pulled and he relished the prickling for the pain sharpened his concentration. Since the murder of their father, his instincts had never failed him, save for Etta. Why did he question them now?

Resuming his pacing, he answered his own query—’twas because although she had confided in him somewhat, she still harbored some deep secret and would not give him her trust.

Why should she trust him when her own father betrothed her to a man with no honor? Time, she needed time, but they did not have the luxury of a single moment. A murderer, mayhap two, slept under his roof.

One by one, he analyzed the facts and some parts of the riddle unraveled.

“What? I know that expression, brother.” Konáll straightened and squinted at him. “What do you suspect?”

Dráddør halted in mid-stride. “What happened to set all these events in motion? Arnfinn took command of Lathairn o’er ten and nine winters ago. He kills the old earl, forces Lady Jennie into marriage, and begets an heir. Bit by bit, he incorporates the whole peninsula under his rule and the king starts taking notice. By law, Lathairn passes from first-born female to first-born female. Somehow Arnfinn finds out the king intends to usurp his power by my marriage to his daughter.”

“Ah, I see your reasoning. To retain control, Arnfinn sends for Xára to marry her to his brother, Néill. Were I Arnfinn, the vow saying would have happened the very day Xára arrived. What stops him?” Konáll yawned.

“Mayhap Magnhildur was jealous? Though I would vow on my honor that witch has ne’er loved any more than herself. Mayhap ’twas Jennie’s doing? She survived ten and nine years of Arnfinn’s control.” A burst of vigor set Dráddør to striding up and down the length of the room.

“Nyssa cannot fathom why Lady Jennie shows no sign of the poison. My wife is much concerned about the reason Xára was sent to Circe Fearn Abbey. We all know the abbess, Lady Gráinne, is guardian to half-immortal girls. Nyssa wonders if Lady Jennie betrayed Arnfinn afore.”

Konáll merely voiced the suspicion Dráddør had dared not consider. For if Xára was not Arnfinn’s get, then she was not his first-born daughter, and Néill could contest Dráddør’s claim to the title Earl of Caithness. And King Kenneth would take the side that offered him the most riches.

“I am loathe to e’en ponder such a complication. There is only one person who knows the all of it, Lady Jennie. In truth, I have suspected somewhat was amiss since I first laid eyes on Xára and Jennie. I was so set on avenging father’s death and claiming my lands at long last that I only saw what I wanted to.”

“Think you the same did not happen with me when I started off for Rurari? Do not wear the monk’s hair coat, Dráddør. Set aside your mistrust and rely on your gut.”

Dráddør blew out a long sigh. Konáll had the right of it. “I must know my enemy well. I will question Haakon and the smithy. Mayhap one of the keep’s women served as Magnhildur’s maid. Odin grant me the fortune to find one who knew her well.”

“Does Magnhildur seem familiar to you? On my oath, ’tis as if I have seen her before, yet I cannot recall the where and when of it.” Konáll stretched and yawned again.

“Nay. I have ne’er set eyes on the witch. Beauty like hers does not go unnoticed.”

“True, and yet she holds no appeal for me.” Konáll shrugged. “But no woman aside from Nyssa has stirred my cock since our vow saying. Methinks you will soon find yourself in the same situation.”

Dráddør snorted. Then swallowed at the realization he could not recall even glancing at any of the other females in the keep when he was normally wont to notice any plump bosom. He shook his head. ’Twas not the time to dwell on his cock’s lack of interest in all bosoms; he had foes under his roof.

“Mayhap Magnhildur was at Kenneth’s court when you and Brökk last visited? Or mayhap at Harald’s? Set your mind to it, brother, for I am cert she is at the center of all this intrigue.”

“Be assured I will not rest until I remember. ’Twill come to me eventually, it always does. Godfraid gives me considerable unease. I suspect he suffers from the malady I have seen so oft in aging warriors. They see their strength and nimbleness waning and seek to recover their lost vigor by surrounding themselves with youths. ’Twould explain the number of green warriors in Godfraid’s service.”

Dráddør scrubbed at the stubble on his chin and considered his brother’s words. “’Twould also explain why he wed a woman some ten and five winters younger. Kenneth has a particular weakness for young beauties. Magnhildur would add much to Godfraid’s stature in the eyes of the king and all the nobles who dance and toady to Kenneth’s tune.”

“If the king commanded Godfraid’s presence, ’twould also be the reason for the hastiness of his marriage. ’Twould signify Kenneth has some end in mind and has need of Godfraid to attain it.”

“Aye. We all know the king’s favor is a double-edged sword.”

“Did not Xára say Néill went to gain Godfraid’s alliance?”

“Aye. She did. I have men scouring the countryside and we have yet to question any who have seen hide or hair of him. Xára has a terror of both Godfraid and Néill and I will not rest until she is safe from both.”

Konáll yawned again and lurched to his feet. “’Twill get us nowhere to go on and on. Go to Xára. Swive her, and time your questions for those sweet moments when she is dazed from pleasure.”

Dráddør grinned. He slapped his brother’s broad back. “By Freya, your swiving recommendation is a sound one, and one I intend to pursue anon. My thanks, you have eased my mind.”

“Think you on one other thing. ’Tis obvious how much Xára adores her mother and Evie, a half-sister she met first less than five days ago. I cannot believe her capable of killing in cold blood. I have found those who murder with impunity have no regard for the young of any kind, be it a kitten, a pup, or a child.”

“’Tis the truth, though I have ne’er put the two together afore.”

They strode out of the room together.

“I will not slumber deeply whilst Godfraid and that witch is under your roof.”

“Magnhildur cannot go unpunished.” Dráddør grasped the rail and took the stairs alongside Konáll.

“She is an Earl’s wife. I know you have not spent the rage you’ve built o’er the years since our father was killed, but you cannot risk all you have gained by silencing her for all eternity. Train until you cannot stand. Take your hammer and crush a boulder. Swive your wife oft, but do not allow your fury to reign. Leave Magnhildur be this visit.”

“Could you let one who poisoned your wife’s mother live?” Dráddør hissed the words.

“Nay. But I would do the deed so my enemy took the blame.”

Dráddør halted. Once again, Konáll had arrowed in on the strategy that would appease his honor-bound duty of vengeance and avoid the penalty to be paid by killing the wife of an Earl. “I will think on it and speak with you on the morrow.”

They had arrived at the fork in the hallway.

“I will consider the situation as well. We train if the weather is fair on the morrow?”

“You delay your departure? I do not ask that of you. Nyssa—”

“Refuses to leave. I have no doubt if I force her onto the langskip, she will find some way to distract me, and swim back to shore. You know how stubborn she can be. There is naught I can do until my wife decides she is ready to return to Rurari.”

“Aye.” Thank Odin Xára had not an iota of Nyssa’s willfulness. “It matters not how the day dawns. Fair or foul weather we shall spend the day in swordplay.”

“Invite Godfraid to pit his warriors against ours. I am of a mind to inflict a few wounds on his captains.”

“I am of a similar inclination. ’Twill be done.”

“On the morrow.”

“Aye.”

The brothers parted, Konáll taking the left path, Dráddør the right.

He did not notice his surroundings too deep in sifting tactics on how to deal with Magnhildur. Who to fix her death on? Godfraid or Néill? Mayhap both? But Néill had no title and ’twould be an easy task to have Olaf Longface oversee the case of her death. By Harald Bluetooth’s command, any sudden death must be sent to the lawsayer and judged natural, accident, or murder. Therefore the deed had to be done before Olaf’s planned departure, not three morns from the morrow.

He massaged the taut muscles at the base of his neck. Aye, ’twould take out two foes with one blow if Magnhildur died before she and Godfraid departed. He would tell none of his plans, not even Konáll.

By the time he arrived at the door his resolve had hardened and taken the edge off his anger. Other body parts hardened too and he fought the need to adjust his aching ballocks.

Ghazi and another warrior he didn’t recognize stood guard. “Aught to report?”

“Naught amiss, my lord,” Ghazi answered.

Dráddør gave the new soldier a once-over. He was one of Ghazi’s new recruits and had served the same Arab caliph during the same period he had. But hundreds had fought on the caliph’s behalf. Yet, this man’s face seemed familiar.

“You are both excused from the training grounds on the morn.” Both men had served long hours and deserved a reward.

Ghazi relaxed his stiff spine. “My thanks, my lord.”

Jerking his head in a nod of dismissal, Dráddør opened the heavy oak door, and stepped into his chamber. The flame from the oil lamps had dimmed but he found Xára easily.

She slept as before, curled into a ball, but one bare shoulder peeked above the covers. A small pink circle remained from his ardent suckling of the spot. His mark on her flesh. Grinning like a foolish youth, he stripped, his movements rough and jumpy. Unable to take his gaze from her features Dráddør bumped his big toe on the edge of the chest and choked back an oath.

The sharp lance of pain did naught to temper his surging desire. His cock throbbed and he yearned to thrust into her channel. Sliding onto the sheets warmed by her body, the scent of their earlier joining wafted to his nose. Saliva coated his tongue as he fitted his chest to her back. In his haste to discuss the many questions plaguing him, he had not washed her sex. What did their union taste like? His seed, her juices mingled together. He intended to imprint the flavor on his tongue many times over this night.

Working with the stealth of a hunter, he smoothed her tresses to one side and nuzzled the sensitive curve ’tween neck and shoulder.

She nudged at him and wriggled her arse.

He shuddered when his crown grazed the divide of her bottom cheeks. His testicles burned with need. ’Twould be swift the first time, but he vowed to take her in a slow, lingering loving when the morn dawned.

Feathering moist kisses on each dainty spine bone, he drank in her woman’s essence, the unique combination of salty flesh, buttery softness, and the lingering flowery smell from a recent bath. He tented the sheets and peered at skin that had never seen the sun. A creamy white expanse of flesh for his pleasure.

He licked the hollow where arse and back met and rimmed the twin dimples above her firm rump. She arched and he guessed her to be ’twixt dreaming and awareness. He didn’t want to startle her into full alertness, but to spike her passion and let her natural instincts drive away her abbey-instilled shyness.

He fondled her arse, massaging the round globes, and spread her cheeks to tickle the seam.

She gasped and her hands batted at his ear.

Tightening his hold, he trailed a wet path up her crease using a side-to-side motion and glided his hand between her folds. He groaned. She was drenched and when he toyed with her clitty her legs parted in irresistible invitation.

Her spice blossomed and he inhaled deeply. The heady aroma fueled his greed and fractured his planned slow exploration of her womanhood. He scooted down the sheets, slid his hands under her belly, angled her puss and rear off the mattress, and fit his mouth to her center.

She rose onto her knees and elbows.

’Twas his own exquisite banquet and he feasted. He barely checked his insatiable gluttony. He tongued her channel and played with her nub, rolling back the hood, and pinching lightly.

She shuddered and her walls contracted in fast, furious clenches.

He moved to the delicate area ’tween her swollen puss and her arse. Nibbling and biting the flesh, he thrust two fingers into her hot, slick channel.

Dráddør’s sac drew up high, but he forced aside his need and worked her with merciless intent, bent on her release, knowing once he was within her sheath all was lost.

She mewled, the sound distinct and more intoxicating than the mead of the gods, and ground her mound into his hand, matching his rhythmic thrusts. Her puss clamped his fingers. She threw her head back, and fractured into an intense, convulsing climax.

Throwing off the sheets, he continued finger-swiving her, knelt ’tween her legs, one hand positioned her rump for his cock, the other rubbed the crown between her folds. When her quivering walls relaxed, he grasped her waist and maneuvered the head of his pecker just inside her core.