The Viking Takes a Knight (9 page)

“What is it that you are trying to tell me?”

“I am telling you that insanity runs in my blood, and I refuse…I absolutely refuse…to bring a child into this world with that prospect hanging over its head.”

Tears welled in her eyes. Pity, no doubt. Pity he could do without. He stiffened and raised his chin defiantly. “That is why I meet with Joanna on occasion. She is barren.”

“Why have you not married her? Leastways, you could ease your body on her without repercussions whenever your sap rises to overflowing.”

“My…my sap?”

“Is it because she is of a lower class?”

“I am still stuck on the rising sap.”

“Do not pretend that you do not understand. 'Tis when a man's dangly part gets so filled with sap it must find relief or burst.”

She can't be that gullible. Can she?
“I have ne'er
heard that theory afore, especially in reference to dangly part.”

She narrowed her eyes, trying to determine if he was mocking her.

He maintained a straight face, though he was in fact laughing inside.

“You did not answer my question. Why not marry Joanna?”

“I have asked Joanna to wed, and she declined.”

She flinched and closed her eyes for a moment, as if he had hit her.

“Joanna prefers her independent life in Jorvik. And she refuses to give up the trade her husband established to his greedy children.”

“I'm sorry…for you.”

“Do not be sorry for me,” he snapped. “I have told you, ours is merely a convenient affair.”

“No heart pangs involved?”

He smiled. “None at all.” The sadness on her face pulled at him. “I do not want to hurt you, Ingrith. 'Twould seem that bluntness is the only way I can make you understand.”

“I still do not understand, you fool.” She swiped at her eyes and slid off the stool. “Have you ever struck a child? Have you ever raped a woman? Do you feel an urge to do perverted things?”

“Only with you,” he said, then immediately regretted his levity.

“I cannot accept that you have bad blood. I just cannot.”

“Ask your sister Tyra's husband. Adam the Healer. His stepfather Selik suffered sorely at my father's hand. Not only did my father rape Selik's first wife, but he also carried his infant son's head about on a pike.”

Disgust finally seeped into Ingrith's thick head, and she almost swooned on her feet. He put his hands on her upper arms to help her keep her balance.

“Now you see why I cannot be with you. I cannot risk pregnancy. You must not develop an attachment to me.”

“I fear it is already too late,” she said, gathering the skirt of her
gunna
in one hand. As she turned to leave, she told him, “I think I have fallen in love with you.”

I
n the battle of the sexes, men rarely win…

It was two days before John was within talking, or touching, distance of Ingrith. He was avoiding the too-tempting wench like a bad rash.

But she was determined, if nothing else. In fact, he was beginning to refer to her in his mind as “the Burr,” meaning that she stuck fast to someone or something until she got what she wanted. Why else had he ended up harboring a herd of orphans, including the king's illegitimate son? The Burr, for sure.

Bolthor could probably create a great saga with that title, he thought with a silent grimace.

But she found him finally…well, trapped him…in the hall outside his bedchamber as he was about to go down for the evening meal, to be followed by an evening session in his bee shed. Work was his salvation.

He almost jumped out of his skin. “Ingrith! Why are you sneaking about, pouncing on me?”

“I did not pounce. I merely waited in the shadows until you came out.” She must have just come from the bath house, because her braid was damp with wet tendrils framing her flushed face. She was wringing her hands nervously.

He didn't want to ponder why her face was flushed or why the usually unshakeable woman was now nervous. It no doubt boded ill for him.

“If I were pouncing, I would have barged into your bedchamber.”

Now there is a thought!
“Could you not wait 'til I came down?”

“Nay. You are avoiding me.”

“And that does not tell you something?”
Like…stay away!
“Where is your chaperon?”

“Chaperon?”

“The gnome. He usually shadows you, to protect you from my lascivious intents. Little does the pestsome gnat know, I am the one needing protection.”

Her wringing hands were now fisted.

Holy saints! It was fun riling the woman.

“You are being mean to me.”

Mean to be kind.
“Is it working?”

“Nay. I need to tell you something important…something I just learned, which you may not be aware of. For a certainty, I did not—”

His head shot up. “Is Loncaster here?”

“Of course not. Your guards would have sounded the horn. Besides, Ordulf would have been the one—”

“Not another secret that you neglected to share with me! Nay, that cannot be it. Your eye is not twitching.” He sighed deeply. “What is wrong now?”

“How can I tell you if you keep interrupting me? This is personal.”

“Uh-oh!”

“We should go into your bedchamber to discuss this.”

“We definitely should not go into my bedchamber.”
Now would be the time for me to run. Fast.

“Why? Are you afraid of me?”

“Terrified.”
Run, Hawk, run!

“Enough jesting!”

“Who is jesting?”
If she licks her lips one more time, I just might…

She skirted around him to open his bedchamber door. Then she turned to glare at him in the middle of the corridor. “Well? Are you coming in?”

“Do I have to?”

She reached for his arm and dragged him in, then closed the door after them.

Under normal circumstances, he would be amused, but Ingrith was going too far. Being un-biddable was one thing, forcing her attention on him was quite another. He leaned back against the closed door, arms folded over his chest. “Get to it, Ingrith. I am hungry and would go down to eat. What feast are we having tonight, by the by?”

She ignored his sarcasm as she paced the small room, seeming to be struggling for the right
words. “I was speaking to Katherine, and she told me there are ways to prevent conception.”

“What?” he shouted. He barely restrained himself from going over to shake the troublesome woman. “You dared discuss my problem with Bolthor's wife. Bloody hell! The skald will be composing an ode to celibate men.”

“Of course I didn't tell Katherine. We were speaking in general of women who bear too many children, to the point of death, and how convenient it would be if they could prevent a man's seed from meeting fertile ground, at least on occasion.” She released a whooshy exhale after that long stretch of blather.

“I have ne'er in all my life had this kind of conversation with a woman.” He put his face in his hands and counted to ten, then confronted her. “I am aware of those herbal remedies. They may or may not work, usually not. I would not take the risk.”

Her face fell with disappointment.

“This is my problem, not yours.” He attempted to be gentle in his words when he would really like to throttle the wench for her interference.

“It is my problem when it prevents you from making love to me.”

Oh, good God, we are back to that forbidden subject.

“And if you say that you are not going to marry me again, I think I might just scream.”

He almost smiled…until she came out with another of her outrageous suggestions.

“Sometimes at the orphanage we rescue girls from brothels. They have told us…things.”

“What kinds of things?”

“Sex acts that do not involve…um, penetration,” she said quickly, as if she might not have the nerve if she hesitated.

Every single part of John's body went on alert. Sex alert.

The kind that thickened the blood and hardened essential parts. He could swear he heard a buzzing in his ears…a buzzing that presaged surrender. This woman made him so damn angry…and aroused. A man could take only so much.

“So be it!” he said. “You want to make love, without intercourse? We will, but only under my conditions.”

“What conditions?” she asked, hesitantly.

But her hesitation had come too late. He was the one determined now. “You will do everything I order. Everything. Without question.”

“But—”

“And once you agree, there will be no going back.”

“But—”

“Everything. No matter if it is coarse, rude, wet, noisy, brazen, or wanton. Sex play…good sex play…is not for the faint of heart.”

“Whaaat? John, you know that I am a woman in control above all things. It would be nigh im
possible for me to do such things without question.”

He shrugged. “That is precisely what I would ask you to hand over. Control. In the bedplay only. You may rule the kitchen roost as you will. Cock-a-doodle-do all you want, but in my bedchamber the rules are mine.”

Her chin rose haughtily. There was no way that this prideful woman would give him such power.

“Agreed.”

“What?” he choked out. “Ingrith, I offer you one last chance for escape. You are nobly born. Women of your class do not engage in such activities.”

“Noblewomen do not engage in illicit liaisons?”

First dangly parts and rising sap. Now liaisons. Where does she get this information?
“Not when they are virgins!” He stared at her for a long moment. “I know I asked before, but you are a virgin, aren't you?”

“Yea, I am. A thirty-one-year-old virgin! And I am damn tired of it! Like an albatross, my maidenhead is.”

He would have burst out laughing, but this situation was becoming nigh ridiculous, and not in a humorous way. Enough! Time to scare the wench. Force her to stop this nonsense.

He steepled his fingers and pinioned her with a deliberately lecherous gaze.

She did not waver. The willful witch!

“Despite all caution, your virtue would be forfeit.”

“Oh, please! Get on with it!”

The irksome woman was driving him barmy! If she thought to take the reins in this ride, she was in for a jolt.

“Very well. Take off your clothes. All of them. Slowly.”

He bit his bottom lip to keep from smiling and wondered how quickly she would run away, calling him every foul name in her vast vocabulary.

Instead, she surprised the spit out of him.

Slowly, very slowly, she took off every bit of clothing, including her shoes and hose. She stood before him in all her naked glory with a full-body blush and squared soldiers. A sex siren off to war.

She was tall…long-waisted and long-legged, with many intriguing curves to soften the bones. Little hills and valleys that begged exploration. Her breasts were high and that unusual pale rose flesh color. Her buttocks were still firm…no sag at all, which was surprising for a woman her age. But then she had not borne any children which usually caused the belly to go soft and the bottom to expand. In his experience, and it defied his understanding, happily married men loved those marks on their women.

“Unbraid your hair and finger comb it out.”

She did as he asked, the pose causing her
breasts to lift in the most enticing manner. When she was done, Ingrith stared at him, nervously awaiting his response.

How could he tell her now that it was all a jest? A tactic meant to prove how unsuitable she was for this kind of wicked bedsport.

Instead, the joke was on him.

He fought a silent battle to be chivalrous…and lost. He was powerless to resist the intense attraction that blossomed between them, as it had from the first she entered his keep.

“Well? Are you going to stand there like a turnip?” she demanded, hands on hips. “Do you yield?”

Heat ignited, then unfurled to all the extremities of his long cold body. He never knew that surrender could be such a sweet burn.

 

She was a fast learner…

For the first time in her life, Princess Ingrith of Stoneheim, a woman of sensible…some might say priggish…nature, stood before a man, naked.

And she liked it.

She liked the way his nostrils flared as he pretended he was unaffected.

She liked those wicked things he'd said about sex play being wanton and not for the faint of heart.

She liked the fact that finally…
finally
…she would understand what her sisters meant about
peaking and bliss, even if it wouldn't involve penetration.

And, gods help her, she liked John.

Without looking down, she knew that her nipples were pearled into hard points, and her nether folds wept with the dew of her arousal. A new, strange inner excitement made her restless and anxious to begin the game.

Oh, she knew that John's order that she disrobe was a blatant attempt to humiliate her into withdrawing from his reluctant agreement. But she could not care.

He grinned wolfishly and flicked his fingers, a gesture designed to annoy her. “Turn.”

She arched a brow.

“So that I may examine the goods.”

She would like to give him the goods…with a smack upside the head. “Just so you know…I will be examining your goods later, too.”

The laughter that burst from his lips had a sharp edge to it. “I cannot wait.”

He flicked his fingers again.

She gritted her teeth and turned slowly, full circle, hoping he wouldn't note that her bum was a bit jiggly or that she had big feet.

“Again,” he said in a choked whisper.

With a foul word muttered under her breath, she twirled again, this time faster. “Do I meet with your approval?”

“You will do.”

Her upper lip curled. “So, I am lacking when compared to Joanna?”

“Why do you keep bringing up Joanna? She has naught to do with us.” He inhaled and exhaled as if to give him time for his next words. “You are who you are, Ingrith. Beautiful.”

Her heart lightened. Oh, she knew she wasn't beautiful, but at least he found her somewhat pleasing.

But then he added, “'Tis a blessing that you do not have dimples in your buttocks as women your age are wont to do.”

Her eyes shot up to spear him. Was he teasing? Or really viewing her as a woman of advanced age?

His deliberately blank face told her naught as he walked over to a hardback chair and sat down. “Come here, Ingrith.”

When she got closer, he tugged her to stand between his outspread thighs.

Under his steady scrutiny, she could scarce think. “This doesn't feel right,” she said, “with me naked and you clothed.”

“Do you protest our arrangement already?”

“You would like that, wouldn't you?”

“Actually, Ingrith, I would not. You beguile me.”

“I do?”

The expression on his face
was
hungry and lustful.

She was oddly pleased that she could tempt such a man.

He lifted her breasts from underneath and strummed the already erect nipples with his thumbs.

“Eek!” He could have warned her that he was going to do
that
. Her breasts ached and she could swear there was a pulse, like a heartbeat, betwixt her legs.

“Do you like that, sweetling?”

Lackwit!
“Nay. My knees fold on me all the time.”

“Never fear. I will catch you.”

“Must we talk?”
Let us get on to the good stuff.

“Have you ne'er pleasured your own breasts?”

Huh?
“Of course not.”
I did not know I could.

He spent an excessive amount of time playing with her breasts then. Cupping them. Massaging. Tweaking and strumming the nipples. On and on he continued the blissful torture, until she was mewling for satisfaction. Only then did he take a nipple in his mouth and draw her in deeply.

“Aaaaaaahhhhh!” she keened. Was there ever such a comparable pleasure in this world? With each suckle of one breast and fondling of the other, every hair on her body stood on end, even on her scalp, which prickled with sensation. The pulse between her legs was now a series of spasms.

“You taste wonderful,” he murmured, open-
mouthed, against her breast. “Do you like my touching your breasts?”

“Do frogs spit?”
Talk, talk, talk. The man is becoming a chatterer.

He choked out a laugh, then resumed his delicious torture. From one breast to the other, he alternated his attentions