Enchantress Mine (52 page)

“Yes, I am your lord, and it has taken you long enough to accept it, Mairin Aldwinesdotter.” Rolling her over he lifted her off the bale and carried her to a pile of straw in an empty horse stall. “Now we will consummate our union,” he said, laying her down and fumbling with his clothing as he lay atop her.

He was going to rape her! My God, what had she done in admitting that he was her lord? She had given him virtual permission to attack her! “Please,” she pleaded with him, “don’t do this thing, Eric Longsword!”

His body lay atop her, pressing her down into the hay. His cold blue eyes stared into her face. “Have you lied to me then, Mairin? Either you accept me as your lord, or you do not. Did you lie to stop the beating?”

“No! No!” His look terrified her. “It is just that I do not feel I know you. It is all so sudden.” Her teeth worried her lower lip.

“If you really accept me as your lord then you must accept this. Most are wed without a long acquaintance.” He pushed himself off her and stood up. “I want to see you naked,” he said, and pulled her to her feet to undo her bonds.

Mairin rubbed her freed wrists for a moment. There was no way she knew to escape him short of death, and she wasn’t that brave. A tear slid down her cheek. How could she ever face her husband again after this animal had soiled her and spoilt her for Josselin? His fingers hooked themselves into her collar.

“Remove your garments,” he said, and Mairin, having no other choice, did. When she stood nude before him he stared for several moments at her, and then releasing his grip upon her, spread her cloak upon the straw, pushing her down upon it. He stood above her, his legs spread, licking his dry lips like a diner contemplating a good meal. Then without warning, he fell upon her like a madman.

Mairin couldn’t help herself. She fought him wildly, but he did not seem to mind. Indeed her struggles seemed to serve as a spur to his ardor. His big hands were everywhere upon her body, squeezing and pinching and fondling. He smothered her with his wet kisses, jamming his tongue into her mouth with a ferocity that left her gagging with disgust, but he didn’t seem to notice. Now his lips fastened themselves upon her nipples, and he suckled upon her with strange grunting noises, and when she tried to push him away, his teeth punished her, and she screamed with genuine pain.

His passion was a frenzied one, and now he began to moan and mutter at her. “ ’Tis time, Mairin! ’Tis time for me to fuck you!” He pulled her into the curve of his arm to contain her struggles, looking down into her face as his hand fumbled between her thighs. “You’ll like my fucking, Mairin! All the little girls liked my fucking!”

She felt his fingers invading her body, eager and thrusting.

“I’m called Eric Longsword for two reasons,” he whispered lewdly at her. His breath was foul. “Do you know why, Mairin? Can you guess why?” His fingers were working fiercely within her. “Ahhhh, sweetheart, that’s so good! How long I have waited to put myself into your sweet body!” The fingers moved back and forth, back and forth. “Tell me you like my fucking, Mairin!”

She was horrified. Only his fingers had violated her. Was this some terrible joke? Was he only waiting to complete his rape of her? Then suddenly Eric Longsword stiffened, and throwing back his head, howled a Viking war cry before collapsing next to her. His hand fell away from her body, and Mairin was absolutely stunned. She didn’t know what to think. What to do. Then hearing a small snore, she turned her head cautiously to discover Eric Longsword had fallen asleep beside her even as Josselin might have done after a bout of love.

She could not believe what had just happened. Was this to be all he was going to do to her? He had behaved exactly like a man who had made love to a woman, and yet he had not really coupled with her. She knew she should be grateful to have escaped him, but she was frightened too. Had he been drunk from the liquid he had earlier imbibed? When he awoke, would he remember what had happened and right the mistake upon his part? Mairin was totally confused.

She lay upon her woolen cloak, her injured posterior alternately burning and itching, and stared up into the rafters of the barn. There was no doubt in her mind now that she was in the possession of a madman. If he was a sound sleeper she might obtain the opportunity to slit his throat, for the small feminine purse hanging from her girdle contained a little knife. If she killed him, however, how could she escape, and which way would she go? Outside their shelter a storm was howling and roaring. She had absolutely no real idea of where they were. Common sense told her that she had to stay with him until the storm stopped, and until they reached some sort of civilization.

She wondered again about what had passed between them tonight. Had he really believed that he was coupling with her, or had it been some macabre joke on his part? Would he go further the next time? She had been absolutely terrified and ashamed by the thought that another man could use her as only Josselin had the right to do. The very thought of making love with her captor repelled her. If he meant to attack her further, how was she to hold him off? It was this thought that warred with her more practical side.

Mairin shivered, and coming back to her senses, realized she was freezing in the drafty barn. She sat up, and turning, looked at Eric Longsword. His mouth was open, and from it emitted a series of loud snores. It was obvious that he was sleeping deeply. Mairin cautiously arose to her feet, and reached for her camise, which she quickly slipped on. Next she stepped into her skirts, and pulling them up, fastened the buttons with trembling fingers. Her tunic top slid silently over her head, and picking up her girdle she fastened it loosely about her waist. She could already feel the warmth seeping back into her veins. Burrowing back into the hay of the horse’s stall, she drew the piece of the cloak he was not lying on over her.

Sleep would not come. Mairin was much too anxious. Where were they going? Scotland was every bit as big a country as England. She had to gain more information from her captor, and that would mean playing his game. He wanted a docile lump of a female, and she would be one for him as long as it suited her purpose. He had no blood ties to Scotland, and therefore, he had sworn an allegiance to someone with power. He would be returning to his overlord, and it was that overlord to whom Mairin would appeal. But how long? How long until they reached that power? How many nights must she bear his advances? Would those advances eventually become the final intimacy? Dear God! she thought. This is a nightmare, and I pray the Blessed Mother that I live long enough to awaken from it.

They awoke to a clear day. The sky was bright blue, and a cold yellow sun shone down upon the snowy landscape. Mairin, her violet eyes lowered modestly, followed Eric Longsword back into the main room of the cottage. Seeing the purplish bruise upon her cheekbone, and her now quiet demeanor, the other men in the cottage grinned apishly at one another, and then at Eric with obvious approval.

“Did she yell louder when ye beat her, or when ye stuck it to her?” demanded the loutish Fergus.

“What do you think?” said Eric with a grin. He slid an arm about Mairin, and openly fondled a breast.

Mairin flushed, but remained silent and still.

“She’ll be my tamed little bitch now, won’t ye, lovey?”

“Aye, my lord.” The words were half-whispered.

“Sorcha’s made a wee bit of oat stirabout. Help yerselves, but quickly. We must be off soon.”

Mairin managed to discreetly detach herself from Eric Longsword’s grasp, and going to the fireplace where the three Scotswomen huddled, she saw a single remaining trencherloaf. She looked for permission from the women, and the eldest of them nodded at her.

“Take it, lass,” she said in an almost friendly tone. “ ’Tis the last of the bread we carried from York. ’Twill be the oatcakes and dried beef from now on until we reach Edinburgh.”

“Thank you.” Mairin sliced the loaf in half with the knife the woman proffered. Better not to let them know she possessed a weapon of her own. Scooping out part of one half of the trencher she filled it with the thick cereal, and gave it to Eric. He took it from her without a word, and began to spoon the oat porridge into his mouth with his fingers. Mairin turned back to the fireplace, and put a little of the mixture into her own half of the trencherloaf and began to eat quickly. She knew enough to know that this was no courtly society, and that when Eric was finished eating she had best be finished too.

Edinburgh!
So they were headed for Edinburgh, Scotland’s chief city. She couldn’t be certain, but she would wager that Eric Longsword had pledged his loyalty to King Malcolm. That would mean he would be taking her to court, provided she remained the docile female he believed a woman should be. She knew men enough now to know that he would want to show off her beauty to other men. To be envied, and to be congratulated upon his good fortune in having such a beautiful woman for his own.

“How far is Edinburgh?” she softly asked the woman who had spoken to her. Her voice was guileless. Her expression bland.

“At this time of year? Five to seven days,” came the reply. “We’ll be making our own path, ye see, with the roads snowed over like they are. If the roads was clear ’twould be no more than three days.” The woman reached out and touched the bruise upon Mairin’s cheekbone. She winced. “He wasna gentle,” the woman said, “but ye’ll heal before we reach the city.”

The men had finished with their meal, and realizing that she would see little, if any, food before nightfall, Mairin hurried to cram the rest of the cereal and bread into her mouth, washing it down with water from a cup her talkative companion was kind enough to offer her. The horses were saddled, and they began their journey north once more. As yesterday, Mairin rode before Eric Longsword upon his large horse. Today, however, he did not hold the leather lead to prevent her escape. Instead he slipped his hand around her to clamp it tightly about her breast, and as they rode he kneaded her flesh with such regularity that she thought she would go mad. She could already feel the black-and-blue marks he was impressing into her skin.

They rode the entire day, stopping only once to relieve themselves in the bushes along their route. That night they sheltered in a barn, and because there was no privacy, he did not attempt to use her, although she heard the sounds of coupling from the others in the dark of the otherwise silent barn. It was that way for the next few days. Oatcakes, dried beef, and water at dawn and nightfall. A long day in the saddle with Eric crushing her breasts as they went. Cold and dark nights in either a barn or, as one night, in an empty sheep fold.

Mairin was becoming exhausted. Never had she been faced with such hardship, but she was determined to survive, if for no other reason than to have her revenge upon the murderer of her father and Brand. Despite his unwelcome attentions, and the occasional lewd words he whispered in her ear as they rode, she managed to maintain an element of calm. Fear, she realized, was her greatest enemy. Fear could destroy her, leaving her helpless to this madman.

The night before they reached Edinburgh, they were finally able to shelter at an inn. It was a poor place which offered them little privacy, but strangely a decent meal. They sat at a common table, and the serving girl slapped trenchers of a rather tasty concoction of lamb chunks and vegetables before them. Mairin ate hungrily, finishing her meal down to the last crumb of bread, thirstily drinking the bitter ale which, for some reason, tasted delicious to her. Color and warmth began to seep back into her face, and Fergus, looking closely at her for the first time, realized that here was an incredibly beautiful woman.

His beady dark eyes narrowed. “We’ve shared our women wi’ ye, Eric Longsword. Are ye sure ye’ll nae give us a taste of this sweet cunt of yers?”

“Mairin is my wife,” Eric said coldly. “You cannot compare her to these trulls of yours.”

“Come on, man, what difference can a few more cocks up her hole make to her? Hasn’t she whored for the Normans? Did ye ask her how many times they stuffed her, and how many of them she entertained?”

“She was but one man’s mistress,” Eric replied icily, “and he used her gently. I can forgive her that, and return her to my side as my wife. I will not have her abused by the likes of you. Fuck your own women. I have no intention of sharing my wife with you.” He arose, pulling Mairin up behind him, and shouting to the innkeeper, tossed him a coin. “See that my friends have all the whiskey they want,” he said, and stamped off dragging Mairin with him.

Eric had managed to secure them a tiny private chamber with a goodsized pallet. Mairin, silent until they reached it, said as he closed the door, “What is your will, my lord?” Please, God, she prayed, don’t let him hurt me again.

Eric checked the door, and finding it had a heavy metal bolt upon it, threw the bolt, saying as he did, “I haven’t seen you naked since the first night. Take your clothes off for me, but do it slowly this time.”

With shaking fingers Mairin undid her garments, removed them, and carefully laid them aside. When she was finally nude she pirouetted at his command, and then lay down next to him. What followed was almost a replica of their previous night, and afterward when he slept once more Mairin was vastly relieved, and said prayers of grateful thanks. She did not know why he was behaving as he did, but she was enormously glad to have once again escaped being really raped.

When morning came he said to her, “You did not struggle against me last night. Is it that you are coming to enjoy my loving?”

“Is a woman supposed to enjoy lovemaking, my lord?” she fenced with him. “The church teaches us that what we do together is simply for the purpose of begetting children. I try to be a good daughter of the church.”

“You are a cold woman, Mairin, and I would not have believed it,” he grumbled.

“If I do not please you, my lord, then let me return to my hus . . .” She caught herself in time. “. . . home. My mother is all alone.”