Bjorn stopped and turned to her. “We are not saying goodbye to our friends. They will be welcome here always. They will be our guests at feasts. The land is rich, and they will be able to hire helpers to look after the farm when they come to visit.” He smiled down at her, and she nodded her agreement.
He hugged her close then bent to whisper in her ear. “And now, little imp, you and I have a matter to attend to. I thought I was clear that you were to be a good prisoner and not cross that viper until I returned. And I can see by the state of your face that you, once again, disobeyed me. While you were bathing, the girl Beatrice told me that our careful plan had to be altered when you goaded Ginna into attacking you. You know you will have to be punished.”
A flush of anticipation spread over Kadlin’s body and settled in her sex with a hot, wet rush. “I understand,” she gasped. Without another word, Bjorn bent until his shoulder was pressed against her belly then stood, slinging her over his back. He stomped to their chamber and slammed the door behind him then set her on her feet facing the bed. Leaning back against the huge, carved bedpost, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked her over for a long moment, as if considering a suitable punishment.
“What am I to do with you, my sharp-tongued imp?” he mused. Kadlin’s breath quavered as she struggled to hold his gaze, and she almost cried out when he grinned back at her. “What’s this—no impudent comments?” he teased. “We shall have to see if my hand on your sweet backside will loosen your tongue.” The prospect thrilled her, and this time, she could not hold back her expectant moan.
“Bare yourself to me, wife,” he commanded, and her hands shook when she did as she was told. She stood naked before him, and it was as if she could feel the heat of his gaze on her body. Her breasts ached as the nipples puckered into hard beads, and her juices flowed onto her thighs. She dared not move and longed for him to release her. Finally, he disrobed, positioned himself at the very edge of the bed, spread his knees apart, then held out his hand.
“Come and take your punishment, my love,” he said, and Kadlin heard that he too was breathless.
She could not take her eyes from the thick erection rising from his lap and felt as though her knees would buckle as she crossed to him. He bent her over his lap then laid his forearm across her shoulders.
“Stretch out your arms, imp,” he whispered, and she dutifully slid her hands into the furs and grabbed hold. Her sex was damp and throbbing in anticipation, and she wanted to grind her thighs together but knew she must keep still.
Bjorn stroked her backside, and his touch flamed her desire. “Do you know why you’re being punished, little one?” he asked. Kadlin nodded, and her cheek brushed against the silky ermine pelts. “Ah, ah,” Bjorn chastised, “you must say it aloud, so I know that you understand.”
Kadlin swallowed hard. “I am being punished because I disobeyed you,” she said. Bjorn squeezed her cheek then resumed his soft petting.
“Is that all?”
“No, that is not all. I am being punished because I disobeyed you, and in doing so, I put myself in danger.”
Bjorn said nothing for a moment then whispered, “Yes, my love, that is why you are being punished.” Without warning, he brought down his palm with a loud slap, and the sting heated Kadlin’s buttocks. It made her catch her breath, and yet she longed for more. Her husband complied by delivering three more blows then rubbed the warming flesh. She could feel his stiff rod against her hip, and her juices flowed for need of it.
The Viking’s breath had quickened, and he asked, “Do you sometimes disobey me because you long to be punished?” When Kadlin did not answer his hand came down again, first on one cheek then the other. The sensation spread over her backside and teased the limits of her sex. Unable to quiet her need, she squirmed, grinding her thighs together. He flattened his palm against her tailbone to hold her still.
“Answer me, wife. Do you sometimes disobey me because you want to feel the sting of my hand on your sweet, round backside?” Kadlin nodded and was rewarded with another spank. “Aloud, my darling,” he growled.
Kadlin smiled against the cool furs. “Yes, husband, I sometimes disobey you because I long to feel the sting of your hand on my flesh. It makes me wet with desire.”
“Is that so?” he asked then delivered another stinging slap. The love juices now flowed freely from Kadlin, and she was certain he must feel them trickling against his leg. This time when he landed his blows they were at the center of her cleft and inched ever nearer the place that ached for his touch. She arched her back and offered her nether lips to him. He rewarded her with a hard tap on the wet spot. Kadlin writhed against him, and he repeated the motion twice more before surprising her by plunging his fingers into her wet canal.
“Gods, yes!” she cried out, and he probed her hard and fast until she was at the brink. She had nearly reached completion when he yanked her to her feet and stood her up before him.
“Not so fast, imp. You have bruised my rod with all of your bucking and squirming. Will you not kiss it and make it better?” Kadlin tried to keep her face expressionless, but the wicked grin forced up the corners of her lips.
“Gladly, husband,” she said then dropped to her knees.
Draping her arms over his thighs, Kadlin leaned in and softly kissed the rock hard shaft. Bjorn sighed and stroked her face. She poked out her tongue and traced the bulging veins on its underside, making her way to the thick head. It had turned purple with his excitement and reminded her so of a ripe plum that she could not wait to taste it. She licked the deep ridge that separated it from the shaft then wiggled her tongue into the slit at the center, tasting the salty bead that had escaped the tip.
Her husband wound his fingers into her hair, and she could tell he wanted to shove himself deep into her throat. Having such power over this giant thrilled her, and the thought of making him even thicker and harder before he plunged into her goaded Kadlin on. She teased the plump head for another moment before stretching her mouth around it and sucking greedily. Grasping the rod with both of her hands, she stroked its length while slurping at the battering end. He swelled, and her juices flowed for want of him.
Bjorn lifted her to her feet and planted his palms on the furs behind him. “Will you ride me, wife?” he asked. Kadlin answered with a smile then kneeled on the bed, straddling his lap. Resting her hands on his broad shoulders, she lowered herself onto him, slowly taking in each inch and reveling in the way he filled her so completely.
When he was buried to the hilt, she ground her pelvis against his, massaging her tingling sex between them. She rose up on her knees until he was almost withdrawn from her then sunk again. Her tempo increased, and she was spurred on by the Viking’s impassioned moans. Desire built inside of her like a gathering storm, and she wrapped her arms around Bjorn’s neck, pressing her cheek to his. He pulled her earlobe into his mouth and dragged it through his teeth. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through her, and she felt suddenly weak.
He reached around her, cupped her buttocks and took over guiding their movements, lifting Kadlin until the head of his rod nearly escaped her then forcefully driving her downward. She gave herself over to him, and in relinquishing her power, she found release. Kadlin dug her fingers into his back and muffled her cries of ecstasy by pressing her mouth to his neck. Bjorn growled at the moment of his own satisfaction then crushed her against his hard body as his seed spurted into her. He loosened his hold, but did not let go of Kadlin.
They remained joined, and he rocked her on his lap then kissed her tenderly. Kadlin’s body felt heavy and limp, and she was completely contented when he laid her back on the bed and carefully arranged the linens and furs over her, then brought her a cup of water. He slid in beside her and stretched out on his back, lacing his fingers behind his head.
“We should sleep now,” he said. “Tomorrow, we will strike out for the farm to transfer the deed and retrieve our son. It will be a long trip there and back. We will need our strength.” Kadlin nodded then curled up against his side, resting her cheek on his chest, and drifted off to the sound of his heartbeat.
Chapter Six
The trip to their land and back had taken its toll. Bjorn’s body was sore, and his mind was weary. They had returned to the estate late the night before, and Arn had been waiting up for them. The fatigue had shown on his face when he explained what would occur at dawn. The blacksmith, Kani, had sharpened his blade and would use it to execute the traitors immediately after their crime and sentence had been officially proclaimed. Bjorn was sickened by the thought but knew it was what the law required.
Bjorn had sipped mead while Arn told them that Ginna’s father had arrived several days before, and the old chieftain was been so weakened by the journey that he was staying in the home of a healer near the meeting hall.
“What is he like?” Bjorn had asked. Arn’s brow furrowed.
“You have met him, son. Do you not remember him from the handfasting of Rowyn and Ginna?”
Bjorn shook his head. No, he did not remember. There were many things from his former life that he could not recall. Since the night he’d taken Grima’s potion, odd bits of memories bubbled up from the depths, but he still felt as if he were missing entire years.
Bjorn’s racing thoughts had kept him awake. He could tell by Kadlin’s breathing that she too had found sleep impossible. It was still dark when they woke that morning, and it felt as though they had just lain down their heads when it was time to rise. He longed for the comfort of his bed and his wife’s arms, but there was one more thing to be done before he could rest.
Bjorn and Kadlin had left Hjortr in Beatrice’s care and now rode with Arn in silence to the meeting hall before sunrise. Even a month ago, Bjorn could not have imagined the strange events that would reunite him with his father and find him presiding over the execution of his brother and sister-in-law.
The three arrived at the meeting hall just before dawn and hitched their horses to the post near the entrance. A crowd had gathered in the torch-lit dooryard, and Bjorn could feel the anger and anticipation surging from them. An outdoor riser had been constructed, and Arn’s chair flanked by two others had been set atop it. Bjorn and Kadlin took their places at the jarl’s sides. Directly in front of the platform was a great oak stump where his would-be assassins would meet their fate.
When the sun broke the horizon, a horn sounded followed by the slow, steady beat of a drum. The doors to the hall swung outward, and Rowyn and Ginna were led into the yard by four large men. Kani, the blacksmith, followed with a long, double-bladed axe resting on one broad shoulder. Behind the executioner, a frail, birdlike man tottered between two women. When he lifted his face toward the dais, Bjorn and Kadlin both leapt to their feet.
The rush of memories so overwhelmed Bjorn that he thought his skull would shatter. In an instant, he recalled every detail of his brother’s handfasting ceremony—the smile on Rowyn’s face, the smirk on Ginna’s, and the greedy sneer on her father’s. It was the same sneer that the old jarl had worn when he’d sent Bjorn on voyages and errands in the years the Viking had been in his service. It was the same sneer he had worn when Kadlin had begged him for Bjorn’s release then turned over her precious family heirloom to win it.
“Son, what is the matter?” Arn asked.
The procession had reached the edge of the riser, and Bjorn’s former master looked up at him. There was no smile on the old man’s face. “Hello, Viking. Hello, Kadlin, daughter of Olav the shipbuilder,” he croaked.
“Bjorn?” Arn whispered.
Bjorn turned to his father. “This is the man who kept me in his service for seven years, all the while knowing who I truly was. I’ve no doubt that he conspired with Ginna and Rowyn to get me out of the way so his daughter could have a titled husband.” Bjorn glanced at his sister-in-law’s face and saw what seemed to be genuine shock.
Arn’s expression turned quickly from confusion to comprehension then rage. “Is this so?”
Bjorn glared at the old jarl.
He nodded his wrinkled head. “It is so, Arn.”
“Why didn’t you kill me when you discovered that Rowyn had failed to do just that?” Bjorn asked.
The man shrugged his narrow shoulders. “You were under the protection of the witch. If any harm had come to you, questions would have been asked, but it is unlikely that she would have waited for answers before divining them herself and meting out her own unique punishment. I thought it best to gain from you what I could.”
“Father?” Ginna cried.
He turned and looked up at her. “I could not tell you, my dear. I could not tell anyone that Arn’s firstborn lived. I feared that if he saw you—if he even knew I had a daughter—his memory would return and all would be lost. When you came to visit, I sent him off on raids or errands, just so your paths would never cross.”
Arn took a step toward the edge of the dais and glared down at him. “How dare you come here when you know what your penalty must be?”
“There is no longer a secret to be kept, and my daughter wished to say goodbye. I am an old man, Arn. I am not long for this world, and I hoped that I could make amends and perhaps find some peace in the next.”
“Amends?” Arn thundered. “After all you’ve done, after all you’ve stolen from us, what could you possibly offer to make up for your wickedness?”
“Only this,” he said and opened the pouch that hung from his belt. He pulled out a bundle of silk and folded back the fabric. Bjorn recognized the circle of gold as soon as the sun hit the tourmalines, pearls, amethysts and sapphires. He snatched the crown and passed it to Kadlin. She ran her fingers over the jewels then looked up at him with shining eyes.
Bjorn turned back to the old jarl. “You have only returned what you have stolen. The gods might show you mercy, but we will not.”
The man nodded then looked up at Arn. “As your peer, I ask that you take me first so that I will not have to witness my daughter’s execution.”