How much longer will he torment my poor body
? Nothing could have prepared her for what he did next.
The shock of his tongue between her thighs moving in perfect harmony with his agile fingers reminded her of a dance. She whimpered and flailed, and grabbed fistfuls of hair to try and wrench his head away. The sensations he elicited were mind-bending.
He tethered her wrists together with one hand and pulled them aside. A new sensation heated her insides. Her flesh pulsed around his fingers and tongue similar to a heartbeat.
“
Randvior
. . .” she moaned uncontrollably. Beautiful bursts of colored light flickered around her.
He slammed his mouth onto hers, flooding her with the taste of her own arousal. This man was surely bound for the fires of Hades. A string of huskily garbled words in that godforsaken language he spoke followed.
Raising his head, he whispered. “
Min lille dukke
, I must . . .” He didn’t finish and she barely managed to nod consent.
He thrust inside her. Liquid heat spread from her loins to belly, followed by pain. Randvior redistributed his weight and cradled her face so tenderly in his hands that she nearly burst into tears. The virginal pain was a small price to pay compared to the pleasure he had shown her already. She knew he would make her forget all that pain.
“Everything is all right, please don’t stop.”
He didn’t hold anything back. He stripped her maidenly fears away, layer by layer. Noelle instinctively raised her hips to absorb the brunt of his powerful thrusts.
He’s magnificent!
Randvior’s own satiated cries mingled with hers as he appeared to lose consciousness for a moment. Her body shuddered with fulfillment.
And then ached with regret. A single, unseen tear trailed down her cheek . . .
Her life would never be the same again.
Chapter 7
Vikings
Noelle slept fitfully—waking, then dosing off again. Finally, she decided to stay awake. Unaware of how long they had lain together with their limbs intertwined, she gritted her teeth, didn’t like feeling so vulnerable. Weakened from the physical strain of matching her lover’s rigorous stride, her legs and mind felt numb as thoughts tumbled in her troubled mind. She sat up. No secrets remained between her and the Viking now, and she needed to get her priorities straight. Preferably before Randvior woke up and saw her tear-stained cheeks.
She reflected on many things, her new status was her primary concern. The hope of ever emulating the good deeds of the Blessed Virgin disintegrated, but there was always the Magdalene to consider. She huffed and swung the bulk of her hair over her left shoulder. In a careless moment of passion, she had lost her innocence. The unforgettable sensation of Randvior surging inside her a last time lingered between her legs. And wanton thoughts made her skin tingle with embarrassment.
She also remembered Brian’s stinging insult—calling her a Norseman’s whore.
She stared at the wall, resentment stewing. Brian had deceived her. He had purposely chosen her as the sacrificial lamb and sold her into slavery. And she had willingly given herself to the Viking. What a fool she was.
Serious consequences would follow. No wonder the guards and servants cast sympathetic looks her way after the terms were agreed upon in Durham. Forced to witness the proceedings and everyone but
she
knew what fate awaited her. She snuck a peek at Randvior. His eyes were closed and his lips slightly upturned at the corners.
Even in slumber, he finds me amusing.
Try as she might to forget, Noelle knew she must accept her bitter portion of responsibility for this sinful act. He had seduced her—but she never refused him. Cautiously, she reached and touched the fingers of his left hand. Those masterful hands awakened fantastic feelings inside her. And oh God, when she touched him, his hands alone were a force to be reckoned with.
What a selfish, stupid, girl. Noelle crossed her arms over her center and hugged tight. What if she was already pregnant? Her father’s maids told her on more than one occasion that a man’s seed is more potent if it spills inside a virgin. And she’d seen plenty of animals mated at home. If it only took one time with sheep or goats, what would make it any different between humans?
Noelle momentarily thought to wake Randvior and demand he marry her. But that would mean he would win.
No
,
tis
better I act the satisfied wench.
She wouldn’t give him
the satisfaction of winning so easily, of winning her
.
Fluffing the thin pillow on her side of the bed, she lay back and heaved a troubled sigh. No matter how much she tried, she simply couldn’t get comfortable. She tossed and turned, shifted from one position to another. Finally, she rolled onto her stomach and ended on her back again. Of course, she moved with exaggerated motions, and shook the bed, hoping to disturb her lover’s infuriatingly peaceful sleep. The flesh between her legs ached. She stared resentfully at Randvior. What kind of man falls asleep after he deflowers a maiden?
’Tis no more than a casual affair to him, more evidence of his discourteousness. Noelle tapped her closed hand on her forehead in deep thought. As a child, she had pledged to guard her virginity until married. Most of the women in her father’s household surrendered to physical yearnings and bedded different men every night.
Shaking her head, she realized it was no longer advantageous to consider escape. Not now.
Randvior opened his eyes. Rolling onto his side, he playfully smacked her thigh. He slid his hand between her legs and gently massaged. Her traitorous body responded to his touch, it felt like a thousand needles pricked her skin at once. Noelle pushed him away.
“If all you desire is a mindless creature to keep your bed warm, you can take a dog as your companion, not me.”
He laughed blissfully and started to tease by tickling her from head to toe. Randvior’s inability to accept
no
for an answer grew more evident in bed play. Noelle marveled at his tenacity as he played her body like a master musician.
Pausing, Randvior smoothed tangles of hair from her face, grazing the curve of her lips so lightly with his fingertips that she shivered. Already hot and wet, Noelle disliked not having any control. She refused to let physical feelings get in the way. Infatuation is no measure of true love.
“Leave me be!”
Grinning, he shook his head and ran his fingers down her arm. Goose flesh and raised hairs. Randvior didn’t give her a chance to move; he rolled on top of her.
She deflated.
Mesmerized by how perfectly they fit together, she latched onto his shoulders.
“Move with me,” he said, tugging on her hips.
He positioned himself so his bent knees rested on either side of her hips. His chest and stomach were rippled with muscle. A sumptuous feast for her eyes. He moved again and she felt his shaft throbbing.
If it happens once more, my body will burst . . .
“As tight as a new sheath,” he whispered against her mouth.
This time, Randvior didn’t fall sleep afterward, he crawled out of bed. Noelle shut her eyes and envisioned a familiar place to escape the reality of the moment. An ancient forest where she had played as a child. His movements were distracting, she heard him shuffling through clothing and lacing his boots. Once he finished, he planted his knee on the mattress beside her.
“You’re mine,” he said plainly.
She cleared her throat and cracked open her eyes, completely infuriated by his casual observation.
“That is a matter of opinion,” she said.
Randvior gripped the back of her neck and her eyes fully opened in surprise. “Yes,” he agreed. “A matter of
my
opinion. And I promise you
do
belong to me.” He grunted with satisfaction, walked to the door, and opened it. “I’ll return shortly.”
His departure was a blessing. She shimmied out of bed—legs as unsteady as a newborn fawn’s. His fluids were sticky-wet between her thighs, a grim reminder of her mounting sins. She nearly dropped on her knees and begged God for forgiveness—something she found herself contemplating more often than she cared to. Countless hours of instruction on how to conduct herself as a lady had been wasted on a wanton moment.
Her present situation made her think of Ophelia’s tragically short, but fulfilling life. Noelle’s sister died very much loved. A handsome knight had won her heart three years ago and they secretly met whenever they could. Once her father learned of the unsanctioned relationship, he firmly rejected the man’s offer for marriage and sent him away. But not before they consummated their relationship, gifting each other with a precious memory. She envied Ophelia for this, not unkindly of course. Her sister loved of her own free will. And it sustained her through years of unhappiness afterward.
Randvior stole this cherished treasure from her as underhandedly as a thief. She’d never have a chance to experience unadulterated love. Their zeal was of a darker kind—pure lust.
He returned carrying a ewer filled with water and fresh linens and set them on the table. Granite eyes studied her skeptically. Standing naked, she shyly covered her breasts and nether regions with her hands.
Randvior pointed at the pitcher. “Wash.”
She regarded him without any expression. Defiant by nature, Noelle wheedled herself into compliance. She stepped toward the table, but Randvior had already dipped a cloth in water. Without permission, he reached gently between her legs and wiped away the evidence of their sin. It stunned her how easily he performed this intimate task. Jealousy clawed at her. How many women had he touched like this before? Made love to and bathed them like a pampered house pet.
“Always bathe after we make love, good hygiene thwarts disease.”
She snorted at him so hard her breasts hopped. As if she needed him to explain how to complete her ablutions for the day. His advice was too parental, like an old maid’s.
He reached, but Noelle jumped away.
“You little hypocrite,” he grunted. “You permit me to feel the joys
inside
your body and deny me the pleasures outside.”
The walls were closing in around her. “I’ve transgressed!” she burst. “How can I ever forgive myself?”
This time he didn’t laugh at her; he stayed silent. He sat on the edge of the bed and left her to take care of herself. Noelle turned her back to him in the pursuit of any hint of privacy and purposely exercised great care while completing her bath. Once she finished, she searched the room for something to take her attention off the Viking. She needed a distraction from his stifling stare. The trunk containing most of her clothing was stowed in the corner and she walked self-consciously across the small space and bent over to open it. She froze. Cursed under her breath for failing to foresee the temptation her bent-over, naked arse must pose.
She cringed the moment his fingers curled around her shoulders.
Noelle tried to shrug his hands off. “You behave like a wild beast,” she admonished and turned to face him.
“Dritt,”
he hissed, rolling his eyes.
Apparently her body was no longer her own.
“Jeg tar det som er mitt, og til helvete med din Gud.”
His intrusive fingers stroked until she felt dewy-wet again.
Guilt dissolved as his fingertips plied her shoulders. She leaned into him, resting her head on his chest. That secret spot between her legs began to ache. He must have sensed it—his hands lingered cruelly, but never actually touched her in the middle.
“I am master of your body now,” he crooned. “Once you accept this, you will find me a generous man.”
He released her and left.
Her mouth hung open. How could he abandon her when she was more than ready to give him everything he desired?
So the Norseman wishes to provoke me?
She walked to the trunk and threw the lid open. She selected a dress and shook it out angrily. Fiend—inexorable barbarian. He played her for a fool yet again.
For once she craved strong drink. Noelle needed to erase any memory of him from her mind—forever. Better yet, she wanted to drink herself into oblivion. She laced her boots, then opened the door and peeked outside. She had walked around the ship many times already, talking with Randvior and his men, and felt very comfortable around the crew. If he intended this experience to teach her anything of value, it hadn’t. It only convinced her that this newly discovered pleasure shared between a man and woman could be to her advantage . . . until she found a way home. Her resolve to escape flickered to life again. It might be possible.
Everyone on board served the same master now, and she might as well enjoy her elevated status amongst these heathens, whatever benefits it brought her. She scanned the deck. Randvior stood with his captains on the far end. He looked as if nothing in the world could bother him, as if nothing had transpired between them.
The fresh air renewed her strength. Randvior’s gaze traveled with her.
Ah.
Apparently he wasn’t as immune to her as she had feared.
A light breeze ruffled her skirts and she turned her face into the wind; the pungent smell of salt water pleased her. It reminded her of home and a sense of sadness struck her heart.
Weather conditions were favorable. She thanked the heavens for this bit of good fortune. When they’d boarded the ship, some of Randvior’s men complained she might bring them bad luck. Her paramour disregarded these allegations and called them superstitious fools. Their ships were guided by Odin’s hand.
As Noelle gazed heavenward, she smiled; the evening sky was colored with hues of glowing pinks and reds—a good omen.
Red at night sailor’s delight, red in the morning sailor’s warning.
As she explored, she further witnessed Randvior’s familiarity with his men. They were friends, sharing everything—something her brother had never done with his servants. This affection fostered loyalty. She saw it on every man’s face, how they admired and trusted him. Even Noelle’s father lacked this level of intimacy with his men.