The Viking's Captive

  Rashid didn’t hesitate. Without even a questioning glance in Adam’s direction, he left the room, shutting the door soundly after him.

  Tyra turned and locked the door.

  That click of the lock rang in Adam’s ears like the gong of a bell. It had some significant meaning, but for the life of him, he couldn’t fathom what … not when his mind was consumed with the warrior woman standing before him.

  Their eyes held in a smoldering gaze that neither would break, not even when she sank down onto a bench near the door and began to unlace her right boot. She toed it off and kicked it high in the air to land at his feet. With a gloating smirk of victory at her superior aim, she did the same with her other boot. Then she stood and proceeded to unbuckle her belt.

  “Tyra, what are you about?”

  “You hurled the gauntlet. Now I am taking up the challenge.”

  “What gauntlet? What challenge? Do you refer to our pact?”

  “Our pact is a moot point. I gave my word. It will be done.” She waved the hand holding her now loosened belt high in the air. “Nay, this is about your insisting that I transport you back to England, against my will. This is about your saying I am less than a woman.”

  She was reaching for the leather lacing at the neckline of her tunic.

  Adam could scarce concentrate on her words when it appeared she was about to disrobe, without any fanfare. If it were up to him, there would be a blaze of trumpets aforehand … or at least a chance for him to take a gulping breath.

  “Are you trying to shock me?” he asked.

  “Are you shocked?”

  To the bone, wench. To the bone. “Not a bit.”

  She laughed, unconvinced.

  “Tyra, slow down a moment. Let us talk first.”

  “The time for talk is long past.” She tossed the leather lacing directly in his face. Luckily, he caught it or he might have been blinded. The last thing he wanted at this moment of revelation was to lose his sight.

  But then her previous statement sank into his muddled brain. “I never said you were less than a woman.”

  “Not in those exact words. But you implied it. I am here to prove you wrong, you lackbrain son of a Saxon bastard.”

  Those last words of hers gave Adam a tiny inkling of just how angry she was under her seeming calm. “Do you hope to intimidate me by being the aggressor, Tyra? Well, think again, warrior wench, because I like aggressive women. I am not …” His words trailed off as she pulled her tunic up over her head and dropped it to the floor.

  She was stark, gloriously naked.

  He made a point of clicking his jaw shut, just in case he did something dimwitted, like drool.

  The woman was magnificent when clothed … doubly magnificent when unclothed. She was big, of course, but perfectly proportioned, with sinfully full and high breasts. The rose tips were also big, to suit her size, and maybe her arousal. I can only hope! Her waist and hips were trim, her legs exceedingly long. And the nest of curls between her thighs, of the same blond color as the hair on her head, begged for a man’s touch. I can only hope! Most impressive were the muscles that delineated her arms and abdomen and thighs and calves … probably her buttocks, too. The muscles should have made her appear masculine, but instead they added beauty to her woman’s body. They made a man imagine how those muscles could be used to draw him into her woman-place, to ride him, to force him to give her pleasure. I can only hope. She was like a statue he’d seen once in the Roman lands … but better.

  As an afterthought, she seemed to recall that her hair was still in braids. She released the ties of first one braid, then the other. Raising her arms, she finger-combed the braiding out of her hair with long, sweeping movements of her arms, which caused her already upraised breasts to rise and fall with her motions.

  He felt each of those strokes over every inch of his sensitized skin and most especially on his fully engorged manpart. At first she just stood, staring at him through those clear blue eyes, arms at her sides, watching him watch her. But then she seemed uncomfortable with that posture and resumed her earlier battle stance, hands on hips and legs spread in a vee.

  If only the woman knew what that pose did to him!

  Her sexual turnabout backfired wonderfully…

  Tyra knew how her belligerent pose affected the man. Even when she was clothed, his eyes glazed over and his mouth parted with arousal when she stood thus. Now she was as naked as a newborn babe, and Adam was as lustsome as any man could be, if that bulge in his breeches was any indication. Too bad she was shaking like a leaf inside … trembling so hard she was unable to appreciate the effectiveness of her deliberate game of turnabout. Tyra was not embarrassed to expose her body, but she was embarrassed by all her imperfections. She was too big, too muscular … too, too, too …

  “Well?” she said finally.

  “Well?” he choked back.

  Good! Choking is good! This is a war we are waging here, and if there is anything I know, it is battle strategy. “Keep your enemy off guard” is the first rule a Viking soldier learns. “Methought we were supposed to both be naked in the bed furs. Correct me if I’m wrong, Saxon, but all I see is one nude body in this chamber.”

  His eyes flashed at her sarcasm. Two can play this game was the silent message his eyes threw her way just before he toed off his right boot, flicked it high in the air, and watched as it sailed end over end and landed directly in front of her, toe facing her toes. He smirked, saying nothing.

  “Lucky shot,” she remarked.

  He arched his eyebrows at her challenge. The left boot followed suit, not just landing next to the other boot, but right in front of the toes of her other foot.

  “Show-off!” she muttered.

  He smiled at her, and the tight knot in her stomach clenched and unclenched in response. His smile was a lethal erotic weapon.

  “What is your goal here? What would you have us do when we are both naked?” he drawled out as he ever so slowly removed his belt, then quickly lifted his tunic up and over his head.

  Tyra inhaled sharply at the sight of his bare chest.

  He smiled knowingly.

  Tread carefully, Tyra. He is the expert in this game. Do not give him any more advantage than he already has. And whatever you do, stop panting. “I thought you already knew,” she said. “‘Tis as we agreed afore. One night in the bed furs, naked. That is all.”

  He made a grunting sound of disbelief as he shimmied out of his tight braies. She thought he muttered something like, “Dream on, wench.” Once he stepped out of his braies, he was left wearing long hose and a loincloth type of undergarment, which was exceedingly tight at the moment.

  Do not look. Do not look. Do not look. She looked.

  He looked, too, then shrugged. “What can I say in my defense? It has a mind of its own … especially within striking distance of a beautiful, naked goddess.”

  She was the one making a grunting sound of disbelief now. But her breasts believed … their nipples growing tight with interest.

  And Adam, the rogue, noticed, too. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” was his only response. Then, as his hose followed the route of his braies, he murmured, “This may be the longest night of my life.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Please, Tyra, do not say things you do not mean,” he pleaded as he began to unravel the cloth that covered his maleness. “And do not look at me so, or I will surely embarrass myself like an untried youthling.”

  Tyra couldn’t stop herself. She had to look at him. He was like a statue she’d seen once of a Greek god … only better. She was not unfamiliar with the male genitals, living in close proximity with men on a daily basis. But she’d never witnessed a fully erect man whose arousal was due to her, and only her. She was struck by the beauty of the way the human body was designed. Male and female. Attraction, desire, connection, satisfaction. ‘Twas the way it had been at the beginning of time. ‘Twas the way it would be ages hence. And now, finally she was part of the proce
ss.

  “Do you like what you see, Tyra?”

  “I do,” she said. “And you?”

  He laughed and waved a hand toward his groin. “How can you ask?”

  “There is one thing I should tell you about our pact.” She was starting to feel rather exposed, standing naked before him for such a long period, especially when he continually surveyed her with such intensity. She fought against the instinct to cross her arms over her chest.

  “You cannot back out now. You cannot.” Shaking his head vigorously, he waved a hand, indicating he would like her to turn around.

  Not bloody likely. “Oh, it is not that I want to renege on our agreement … just add to it.”

  Adam did not answer at first. Since she had declined to spin for his pleasure, he had walked a little forward and to the right so he could see her from a side angle. The brute was staring at her buttocks, and she could swear his manpart twitched.

  “Just how big can that thing get?” she blurted out.

  “Immense, it would seem, when you keep staring at it.” His voice was husky. Had she finally shocked him?

  “I am sorry,” she said.

  “Do not be,” he said. “I like it. It likes it.”

  “You are teasing me,” she guessed. “Women are not usually so blunt, are they?”

  “Nay, they are not. It is a refreshing change.”

  “Well, how would this be for bluntness? I want you. You want me. Let’s do it.”

  His eyes went wide. His face reddened. A sputtering sound came from his mouth. He reached for a nearby tabletop to support his presumably shaky knees. And his manpart looked as if it might explode.

  The temptation was too great …

  Adam was out of control.

  He inhaled and exhaled several times to calm himself. It didn’t work.

  “Tyra, what is going on with you? We discussed this two days ago. Remember that conversation that prompted you to stop talking to me?”

  “I thought about it … a great deal, and I came to this conclusion. I knew I was going to have to sleep in the same bed furs with you … naked … because that was what I agreed to.”

  “Of course. The honor-bound soldier would never do anything so feminine as change her mind. Thank God!”

  She glowered at him and continued, “But I also knew that I had fallen under your erotic spell.”

  “I have no magic powers. If I did, I would have wielded them long ago. Like back in Northumbria when you first kidnapped me.”

  “No man has ever wanted me the way that you appear to.”

  I do. I do. “Your Norsemen must be blind.”

  “This is my view of the situation. I can always find a man to couple with me …”

  A wave of intense jealousy overcame him.

  “… but I may never have the opportunity again to mate with a man who makes me feel so … so … desirable.”

  He started to reach for her, then stopped himself. There were still obstacles to overcome.

  “Plus, the women of Stoneheim are all abuzz over the advice you gave to Arnora.”

  “Arnora?” He frowned. “Oh, the young woman with eight children.”

  She nodded. “You told her of a method to prevent conception. You said a woman is safe three days afore her monthly flux and eight days after.”

  “Safe is not the correct word.” He shook his head vehemently. “The cycle technique is not infallible. My stepmother Rain was a famous physician in her land … in fact, she was a bit barmy at times … claimed to have come from a future time when women practiced many forms of birth control … men, too. The one thing she emphasized was that it was not perfect.”

  Tyra waved a hand airily. “My monthly flux is due two days hence. Therefore, I am in that safe zone.”

  “Tyra, Tyra, Tyra. Are you listening to me? What happens if it does not work? What happens if you become pregnant?”

  “This is the way I figure it. We make love tonight, and only tonight … during a time of presumed safety. We should be on board ship, on the return trip to Northumbria, when my monthly time comes. If the flux fails to occur, you will know, and we will deal with it then.”

  “You do not agree to give up rights to a child you carry?”

  “I do not.” She sighed and seemed to decide on a different tactic. “Of course, there is another solution. I could bed with Gunter and Egil tomorrow night. Then if I do increase, no one will know who the father is.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  She held his gaze, waiting. Then her face reddened and she reached down for her tunic. “It appears I made a mistake coming here. I will depart.”

  “Nay!” he practically shouted. “Do not go.”

  She halted, and tilted her head in question.

  He walked around the table and took her hand, leading her to the alcove bed. “One night?”

  “One night only,” she agreed.

  “The deed will be done, then. We will make love,” he said, lowering her to the mattress and following her down. “And damn the consequences.”

  Where did he get all these ideas? …

  “I want it all,” she said.

  Too aroused to wait, Adam was adjusting himself atop her, about to spread her thighs and thrust inside. He paused but a second before replying, “Of course you shall have it all,” and took her hand in his to wrap it around the prodigious width of his full-blown arousal.

  “Not that,” she said with a giggle against his neck.

  Tyra had had no idea that she could giggle! And who knew that a giggle could have the effect of cold water on a man’s hot staff?

  He sat back on his haunches, straddling her legs. “What all are you referring to?”

  “All the different ways of pleasuring that you told me about. The sight-pleasuring …”

  “I think you and I have had more than enough of sight-pleasuring for one night. If I look at you any more, my eyes might pop out.”

  She smiled. “I like when you look at me. Your scrutiny is like a caress. See? Even now, when you gaze upon my breasts, the fine hairs stand out all over my body.”

  “For the love of God, Tyra! Are you trying to torture me?”

  “Am I torturing you?”

  “Yea. Sweet torture.”

  “Aaah,” she said, pleased with herself. Then she continued her explanation, “I want the other types of pleasuring, too. Kiss-pleasuring. Tongue-pleasuring. Finger-pleasuring. Talk-pleasuring. All of it. I have much to cram into one night.”

  He pondered what she’d said; then a wicked grin split his face. “Whatever you want, wench.”

  Lifting himself off her, he stood and went over to the hearth where he stoked the fire higher—to give him more light, she presumed. Then he set a half dozen already-lit candles about the bed, also for light, she presumed. Finally he grabbed a large harem-style pillow from Rashid’s pallet and brought it to her. Arranging her on the bed so that she half reclined against the pillow, he then dragged a chair to the side of the bed, where he sat down with his feet crossed at the ankles and propped on the edge of the bed frame.

  Thus casually sitting, he began telling her a story. “There was a desert sultan renowned for his sexual prowess, and his ability to satisfy all the houris in his harem.”

  “Is this a true story?”

  “Absolutely true,” he said, but there was a decided twinkle in his eyes.

  “Abn Fadin—that was his name—told me once that a man’s greatest pleasure came from seeing his woman’s pleasure. And the way that a woman gained the most pleasure was when she knew her own body.”

  Abn Adam is more like it, she thought. “I know my own body. What kind of soldier would I be if I did not know my body’s strengths and weaknesses?”

  “Not that kind of knowing, sweetling.”

  Oooh, I like it when he calls me by that endearment.

  “Push your hair behind your ears. Now close your eyes and examine each of your ears by tracing the whorls with a forefinger. Lightly, lightly
. Push the finger in, too. Do you feel how sensitive they are? Now imagine how the same thing would feel if done by a man’s teeth and tongue. It will be wet there, and he must blow you dry.”

  The oddest thing happened then. She was touching her ears, but she felt the sensation down lower in her body. Much lower. “Does everyone know about this phenomenon?”

  “Only me and Abn Fadin.” She could tell he was lying by the mirth in his voice. “Now keep your eyes closed. Examine your lips now. Trace them with your finger. Lick them. Stick out your tongue as far as it will go, then slide it back in, out again, in again. Set a rhythm. Holy hell!”

  “Why did you curse? Am I doing it wrong?”

  “Nay, my warrior witch. You are doing it just right. That is the problem … not a problem, actually … just my problem.”

  She opened her eyes to see exactly what his problem was and noticed it immediately … standing at attention in his lap, once again. Her giggle had turned him limp earlier. He was not limp now.

  “Stop smirking, Tyra, and close your eyes. In punishment for that disrespect, we will move directly to your breasts. Lift them from underneath. Feel their weight.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

  “Do it.”

  She cupped her breasts from underneath and lifted. She licked her suddenly dry lips as she did so and sighed.

  “We may not have to worry about my spilling my seed inside your womb at this rate,” Adam said.

  She was fairly certain that meant he liked what she was doing.

  “Now lift, and rub. And lift, and rub. Learn their size and texture. Would you like it if I were doing that for you?”

  “Most certainly. Would you like to try?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Touch your nipples. Play with them. Pull at them. Flick them up and down and side to side.”

  She did as he asked and almost swooned at the intensity of pleasure she felt there and between her thighs, where she suspected a wetness had begun to form. “I would definitely like you to be doing this, not me. I feel wanton … perverse … doing it myself. Well, actually, I feel wanton when you do it, too, but not perverse.”