The Viking Takes a Knight (16 page)

“What are you suggesting? I will not hand Henry over as long as there is any danger to him. I don't care what you say. I won't.”

“Hold, Ingrith! I care about Henry, too. Did you know he has been helping me gather honeycombs? And he eats only half of what he harvests.”

She nodded and smiled tremulously at him.

“Trust me. We will resolve this situation. And Loncaster will pay.”

“When will you leave?”

“I await word from my stepfather. Hopefully within the next few days. He is attempting to set up an emergency meeting of the Witan. When I go, I'll leave Bolthor and Ordulf here for your protection.”

“But—”

“You will stay,” he said emphatically, sensing her resistance.

“The waiting is hard for me. My inclination was to chase after the buzzard and mow him down the instant the fire was discovered.”

He knew that good and well. And she would have been leading the charge with sword and soup ladle in hand. “A wise man once told me that in the most successful battle no blood is shed.”

She frowned, perplexed.

“More can be accomplished through diplomatic, lawful means,” he explained. “I would like to put a sword through Loncaster's heart as much as you would, and I may still do so. But he is acting on the king's orders. Let me work this with my stepfather and the Witan. The most important thing is defense right now. Protecting Hawk's
Lair, Gravely, and all within, including Henry.”
And you.

“There is honor in killing, too,” Ingrith persisted. “Mayhap it is my Norse blood speaking, but some men just need killing.”

“Are you questioning my honor, Ingrith?” he said sharply.

“Of course not. Just your methods.” Seeing his growing anger, she quickly added, “But I do trust you, and I am willing to accede to your wishes.” Unspoken but clearly apparent were the words
for now
.

“Are you sure?”

“Yea,” she said hesitantly.

Foolish maid! She should never make such an open offer to a man. Especially a man with a rising enthusiasm. He could not believe that this prim lady was the wanton who had been in his arms all night. Nor could be believe the pleasure of having intercourse with her, even with the less-than-perfect endings.

Leaning forward he whispered in her ear, “My wish is that you go up to your bedchamber and take off all your clothes. Then lie on the bed with your arms raised over your head, and your one knee raised.”

Her face bloomed a pretty rose color. “You cannot be serious. It is still daytime.”

“I am willing to accede to your wishes,” he repeated her words back to her. “So soon you
renege? Ah, well, mayhap sex play is too wild for a tame lady like you.”

She raised her chin defiantly. “I can be as wild as you can.”

Oh, God, I hope so.
“One more thing. Bring a skein of heavy yarn with you.”

“Huh? Are you planning to weave?”

Only a net to lure you in.
“Nay, I just had another idea involving bedsport.”

“Seems to me you have an overabundance of bedsport ideas.”

You have no idea.
“Yea, I do. 'Tis one of my best traits.”

John watched her walk away with what appeared to be an exaggerated sway to her hips. The witch! He smiled. Then he realized that Hamr, Bolthor, and Ordulf were gazing at him as if he'd grown two heads.

“What?”

“You're smiling,” Hamr observed.

“So?”

“You hardly ever smile,” Ordulf added.

“Methinks…” Bolthor started.

John walked away before Bolthor could compose a poem about a sappy, smiling knight. Still, he was smiling as he went. He was happy, he realized. His rose fields were no more. He had an irksome woman and a herd of children in his keep. Loncaster was proving to be more than a nuisance. And him? He was bloody well happy.

He was even happier when he got to Ingrith's bedchamber and saw that she'd fulfilled his wishes…and then some. Somehow, she'd found an ell of his beekeeping veils and she'd managed to wrap it around her body like a sarong he'd once seen on a caliph's houri, except that one had little bells on it. He wondered if…never mind.

“Do you like it?”

“Do dragons roar?”

She did a little dance around him as he removed his clothing. All his motions were slowed down by the spectacle she was putting on for him.

“I thought you were too shy to make love in the daytime,” he said, grabbing for her, but she managed to dance away.

“I thought so, too. Surprise, surprise!”

He would give her a surprise. A big surprise. Lunging for her, he took them both to the bed. “Now, are you going to pose for me, sweetling?”

“Only if you will do the same for me later.”

“Gladly.”

He stood, very aware that his staff was already past the point of being enthusiastic and bordering on ecstatic. She was aware, too, if the seductive gleam in her blue eyes was any indication.

She lay back with her hair loose, spread out on the pillow and over her shoulders. With her hands holding on to the posts of the headboard, she bent her knee, as he'd requested. Staring up at him, she licked her lips. And waited.

Somehow, the transparent cloth was almost more erotic than bare skin. Almost.

He unwrapped her like a gift, taking a long time so he could savor all the good parts along the way. When he was done and lying on his side, leaning over her, her little nipples were pearled and she was breathing heavily. He would wager she was moist for him.

“Now that I have had you, really had you, I cannot get enough,” he admitted in a husky voice he scarce recognized.

“I feel the same. I am going to kill my sisters when next we meet for not telling me how good sex could be.”

“Uh, I don't think it's a good idea to discuss what we have been doing.”

“Why? I am not ashamed. Are you?”

He
was
feeling guilty, but not enough to stop.

“There are so many things I want to do with you. Hundreds of different ways of having sex. Ones I have tried, and many I have not. We will be sex virgins together.”

She laughed. “Are they perverted?”

“Some.”

“Good.”

He had to hug her with sheer joy at her lack of inhibitions. May she never change, he thought, but grimaced when he realized he probably would not be around to appreciate her evolution.

“Now, did you bring the yarn, like I suggested?”

She motioned over to the washstand.

He got up, and using a small knife, cut the red yarn into four arm lengths. Approaching the bed, he twirled them in one hand. “This is called the rope game,” he told her.

“That is not rope. It's yarn.”

“Same thing. How adventurous are you, Ingrith?”

“I ne'er said I was adventurous.”

“You are adventurous, all right. The question is to what extent? And whether you truly do trust me.”

“Are we back to the trust issue again?”

“We are. Do you trust me enough to play this game?”

Turns out she did.

Ingrith stared at John as he arranged her spread-eagled on the bed with the yarn tying her to the four bedposts. He had not been jesting when he said this would be perverted. As he was tying the knots, he caressed her along the way and spoke in a hushed voice of all the things he would like to do to her. She became aroused by his words alone.

“Your breasts are so pretty. The nipples like tiny pearls.”

“Does your fleece weep for me?”

“Just looking at you makes me hard.”

“Lick your lips, sweetling. Just so.”

But he had more in store for her.

She hadn't realized that he had carried an
ornate carved chest into the room with him, much like some highborn ladies used to store jewelry.

“My Uncle Tykir gave this to me years ago, but I never had the opportunity to explore its contents.”

“Frigg's foot! Exploring again?”

“Yea, but this will be a different kind of exploration.”

“I imagine that is what all men say.”

He swatted her playfully on the thigh as he sat on the edge of the bed next to her restrained body.

“Have you any idea how depraved it feels to be carrying on a conversation with a naked man pointing his dangly part at me?”

“Except my dangly part is no longer dangly.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Are you not curious about what is in the chest?”

Oooh, I do not like that gleam in his eyes.
“More like suspicious.”

Using a tiny key, he unlocked the chest. To her amazement, inside was not jewelry, but feathers. Feathers of all kinds. Everything from stiff chicken-like feathers to swan down to peacock plumes.

She was confused.

“Torture implements,” he explained. “Erotic torture.”

“Oh. Good. Gods!”

“Would you like to be blindfolded, or not?”

“Oh. Good. Gods!”

“I take that as a nay. I am told it enhances the pleasure. Mayhap next time.”

Ingrith might have protested all these perversions, except they did not seem perverted when John was smiling thus at her. Where was the brooding, sad man? If her “trusting” him could lighten his mood, how could she refuse? Besides, John had been right. She liked an adventure.

Thus began what seemed like hours but was probably only half an hour of “exploration” by her torturer. He started with an extra-soft feather of indeterminate origin, its strands like a thousand silky threads. He used it to “fluff” her body. All over. Even her inner thighs and the bottoms of her feet.

By the time he got to the more rigid feathers, she was a moaning, writhing mass of heightened nerves. He used the harder feather to flick at her engorged nipples and the aching bud betwixt her legs. She'd had no idea that her lips were an erotic area, but their pleasure points were surely sensitized by a tracing of the hard feather.

“Enough, John!” she demanded.

“But I am not nearly done.”

She stared pointedly at the bead of his man seed peeking from the end of his marble-hard phallus. “I think you are.”

He laughed and began to undo her ties. No sooner was she free than she grabbed for him, catching him off guard. He fell across her body.

“Kiss me,” she demanded, cupping his face and drawing him down to her.

He choked out a laugh at her taking control of the game, but then he did indeed kiss her. And, whoa! The man did know how to kiss. She hated to think where he'd gotten all that kissing experience and with whom. But then, she was benefit-ting, and that was the most important thing.

Soon, she changed her demands. “Suckle me,” she whispered, adding, “I find it hard to believe I have the nerve to even say the words aloud. What a wanton I have become!”

“Lucky me!” John replied as his mouth opened wide over one nipple and aureola and began to suck at her hard and rhythmically, at the same time his fingers delved into the slickness down below.

She screamed her bliss as she peaked, over and over and over in waves of almost excruciating pleasure. He watched intently, sparing him no hiding, even of her deepest emotions.

“I cannot wait,” John told her and arranged himself betwixt her spread thighs. As he worked his hardened staff inside her, she peaked again, the fullness in itself an overpowering aphrodisiac. “Oh, sweetling, how good it feels. Truly, your sheath was made to hold my cock.”

She tried to laugh but choked at his unromantic sentiment.

After that, she had the need neither to laugh or choke as he began pummeling her with strokes that surely crashed against her womb. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she leaned up to kiss him as he performed his magic down below. They peaked together this time, even with him outside her body, and the rippling aftereffects were almost as powerful as the sex act itself.

A short time later, as she lay in his arms, her face resting on his heaving chest, she glanced up at him and said, “Now is it my turn to tie you up?”

He laughed and kissed her quickly. “Ingrith, you are a treasure.”

And he made her feel that way. He really did.

In fact, they treasured each other, off and on, for the rest of the day and night, never going down to eat. As they were sated and sated and sated, their lovemaking took on almost a desperation, aware that they would soon be parted.

It was a special loving time for Ingrith, one she would never forgot. Somehow she sensed that it would never be matched by another man. It was as if a glow of unspoken love surrounded them.

All things changed when they went down to the great hall, soon after dawn, ravenous finally, for food. A short missive with Loncaster's seal had arrived overnight. John read it aloud.

T
here was nothing sweet about the sorrow in this parting…

“What is it?” Hamr asked as he came into the hall with Bolthor and Ordulf and saw John crumpling the parchment. John's face had gone ashen with horror.

“Loncaster has Joanna.” He turned away from Ingrith. “Hamr, gather the troops at once. We leave for Winchester. Ordulf, you know what to do to secure Hawk's Lair. Bolthor, you will make sure the women and children stay within the keep.”

“I am so sorry,” she said, but John was already in leader mode, ordering a squire to bring his armor…leather helmet,
brynja
, gauntlets,
chausses
, two swords, and a lance.

“I'll be leaving within the hour,” he told them all. “One hundred men will accompany me. There are a hundred guarding Gravely, and the rest will stay here at Hawk's Lair.”

“So, it is to Winchester we go then?” Hamr asked.

John nodded as he cursed under his breath.

Fear rippled over Ingrith. Winchester was the king's primary residence. How could John, even with a hundred men, hope to prevail in that setting?

“Wait,” Ingrith said, tugging on his sleeve. “You are not thinking clearly. You need a plan.”

“What I need, Ingrith, is for you to go about women's work and leave me to do what I am trained to do.” He shrugged her hand away.

She flinched as if he had slapped her.

He was too preoccupied to notice her reaction. In his defense, he had too much on his mind to pay attention to her. Still, she had an opinion, and she resented his dismissing her so handily.

And, while she was as horrified as he was at this latest outrage, and while she conceded that Joanna was in danger through no fault of her own, a small, mean part of Ingrith was jealous. Why was John so quick to rush to the rescue of his mistress, or whatever he wanted to call her, whereas he had been willing to wait for the Witan just hours ago? Did Loncaster's missive spark John's true emotions to the fore? Did he love Joanna, after all?

She hated herself for these less than honorable thoughts.

“What can I do?” she asked Bolthor.

But John heard her and turned. “Stay inside the keep. The drawbridge will be up and no one permitted to enter lest they pass Bolthor's approval. Take care of Henry.”

“Mayhap I could go with you—”

“Nay!” he shouted, pointing a finger at her. “Listen to me, for once. I cannot concentrate on rescuing Joanna and watching after you at the same time.”

She stiffened at his tone. Where was the loving man of the previous night? “What I was going to say before you interrupted is that I got you involved in this situation, and I should be responsible for helping to correct it.”

“How, pray tell?” he asked, hands on hips.

Oh, I would like to smack you.
“Sarcasm ill suits you, m'lord,” she shot back. “Loncaster might consider a trade. Me for Joanna.”

His face, which had been ashen, was red now. Even his bald head had a glow. “Have you lost your bloody mind?” The pointing finger was in action again. “You are staying here even if I have to tie you to my bed.”

“You've already done that.”

He threw his hands out with frustration.

“Don't get your bowels in an uproar. If you don't want my help, so be it.” She spun on her heel and was about to stomp away, not wanting him to see the tears in her eyes. Besides everything else, John was going after Loncaster, facing danger. She hated that they would part with angry words.

When she'd gone only a few steps, he grabbed her arm, almost yanking her off her feet. Framing her face with both hands, he said, “Wait for me. We have much to discuss when I return.”

Before she could reply, he kissed her quickly. And left.

Ingrith very much feared that she would never see him again.

 

The first cut was the deepest…

For two days, Ingrith paced about Hawk's Lair with no word from John, Loncaster, or anyone else. She felt John's cold departure like a cold cut to her heart.

Bolthor composed a poem, presumably to lighten her mood.

Ingrith said, “That's nice, Bolthor,” but what she thought was,
Love is a pain in the arse.

“Katherine, I need to leave Hawk's Lair,” she
said later when she was in the kitchen helping to prepare the evening meal. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Oh, nay, do not be telling me things I cannot share with my husband. And did you not promise Lord Hawk to stay here until he comes back?”

“Nay, I ne'er made any promises. He told me to wait, but I did not agree.”

“Methinks you are parsing words.”

She shrugged. “Here's my thinking. I brought this mess to Hawk's Lair by repudiating Loncaster's suit and by hiding the king's illegitimate son. I must be the one to put an end to it.”

“I fear to ask, but how?”

“First, I will travel to Jorvik with Henry and put the boy on a longship to the Norselands. My father has no fear of the Saxon king.”

“And you will go with Henry?”

“Nay. After I know he is safe, I will go to Winchester and offer myself in trade for Joanna as hostage.”

“Did Lord Hawk not already forbid such barter?”

“He did, but he is not my master, or even my husband. John and his stepfather can continue to work through the Witan, or they can wage a battle 'til they all lie dead, but I cannot in good conscience let another woman suffer for my ‘crime.'”

Katherine sighed wearily. “What do you want of me?”

“Care for the other orphans and do not tell anyone of my departure until tomorrow.”

“You will leave tonight?”

Ingrith nodded. “I will take one horse and have Henry ride with me. Ubbi will come with us for protection.”

Katherine snorted her opinion.

“Believe me, I will be careful, and I do know my way back to Jorvik.”

Katherine groaned and put her face in her hands.

“One more thing. John has told me repeatedly that he will never marry me. He has never said that he loves me. His swift attempt to rescue Joanna speaks of strong affection, in my opinion. In many ways, I will be making it easier for John to return without having to face me. For all I know, he will be bringing Joanna here.”

The “other woman” was a deciding factor for Katherine. “I can see why you want to be gone in that circumstance. Will you send for the other orphans later?”

“That depends on what happens to me. If I am not able to send for them, someone at Rainstead will. Already it is being rebuilt.”

Katherine hugged her and choked out over her tears, “You are the bravest woman I know.”

Ingrith shook her head. “On the contrary, if I were braver, I would stay and fight for the man I love.”

 

It was the calm before the storm…

Two sennights and he was still chasing his tail at the Winchester court of King Edgar. There was so much hissing and backbiting and slithering that the royal enclave truly did resemble the snake pit to which it was often likened.

John wanted to go home where people were honest, where his beekeeping research called to him, where Ingrith waited for him and he had an important question to ask her, not to mention an almighty enthusiasm to be satisfied. First he must kill someone, preferably Leo of Loncaster, but the king would do, as well.

Not that he and Loncaster hadn't come into contact with each other, so to speak. Despite ten days having passed, John still had a swollen lip and a sword slash on his abdomen that had needed stitching. Loncaster sported a broken arm in a sling, a stab wound aimed for his heart but which had ended up on his shoulder, and a limp, which unfortunately would not be permanent. One of them would have ended up dead if Archbishop Dunstan had not intervened and ordered them to keep a distance betwixt them until the Witan could meet. In the meantime, the holy man, if he could be called that, had levied huge penances on the two of them, mostly involving knees on cold chapel floors and praying. John hadn't been able to find the chapel yet in the Winchester maze. Leastways, that was his story.

The only thing he'd accomplished thus far was the release of Joanna into his custody at Dunstan's order, but he was forbidden to leave with her until a meeting of the Witan could be held…a meeting that had been delayed, and delayed, and delayed, until every single member could be present. His stepfather, Eirik of Ravenshire, an ealdorman on the Witan, had arrived days ago, and he was boiling mad over the delays, too. If all this wasn't bad enough, his
hird
of one hundred soldiers had been forced to camp outside the castle grounds, or else give up their weapons to accompany him inside.

Winchester was the seat of English government, a favorite home for Saxon kings. Fed up with constant invasions by the Vikings, King Alfred, almost a hundred years prior, had ordered a system of
burhs
throughout Britain, with a fortress or garrison, or in some cases a castle, located within twenty miles of every village.

Plans were in hand to expand Winchester Castle, a glorifed wood castle at this point, into a lavish stronghold made of stone, but that could take decades, even a century if the elaborate plans were any indication. Really, who ever heard of a round table hung from the ceiling? Or a great hall in the shape of a double cube? In the meantime, the hammering and chiseling of construction work added to the usual court chaos.

“Well, we finally have a date for our hearing. Tomorrow afternoon,” Eirik said, coming up to join
him and Joanna, where they had been seated in the great hall, well below the salt, halfway down from the high table. The fancy, many-course meal…not nearly as delicious as Ingrith's fare…had been going on for hours. By the time they were served, the food was cold.

“Will I have to speak before the king's council?” Joanna asked.

Although she would not disclose details, Joanna had been misused by Loncaster. It had been one of the reasons for his sword fight with John, and one of the reasons Dunstan, disgusted with Loncaster, had released her to John's care.

“You will have to be present, but I doubt your testimony will be required. The issue before the Witan is Henry,” Eirik explained.

“I'll make sure your kiln and trading stall are repaired,” John added, squeezing her hand, which rested on the table. The gesture did not escape his stepfather's attention.

“I appreciate that,” Joanna said, squeezing his hand back. He had not realized he was still holding her hand.

“If I do not leave soon, Eadyth will be riding here hell-bent on avenging my honor. News often reaches Ravenshire of the queen's lascivious activities.”

“She has attempted to seduce you, too?” John inquired.

“Hah! Elfrida would tup a troll if she thought
it would assure her son's ascendancy to the throne.”

“She's incredibly lovely,” Joanna inserted.

“On the outside,” John and his stepfather said at the same time.

“Like minds,” Eirik remarked.

They exchanged warm smiles.

“Do you think she is behind the attempts to bring Henry here?” Joanna asked.

John shook his head. “Nay, but only because she did not think of it. It is Edgar, with Dunstan's backing, who wants to see the boy.”

“The older I get, the more I understand my father's rejection of the Norse throne,” Eirik said with a shake of his head.

“Truly, the little boy would be in danger?” Joanna, like many softhearted women, found it hard to believe that a child could be killed for political gain.

“Yea, but no more so than the king's legitimate sons,” Eirik told her.

“For all we know, the king may want to meet Henry for nonthreatening reasons, but who can tell? And what may be safe today could be dangerous tomorrow, as the political climate changes,” John added.

“And what of this woman who brought the boy to Hawk's Lair?” Joanna asked. “Princess Ingrith, I think she is named? Loncaster told me that you are betrothed.”

John noticed his stepfather sit up alertly, this being news to him.

He did not want to discuss Ingrith and their relationship, especially not until he'd had a chance to discuss an important question with her…one that had multiple ramifications. So, he told Joanna, “We pretended a betrothal to get Loncaster off her scent.”

He saw the look of relief on Joanna's face, which confused him. “I met Princess Ingrith once. She is very beautiful.”

“She said the same about you,” John said.

What an insane conversation! Was he really discussing one woman with another, both of whom he had been engaged with sexually?

Just then, Joanna turned on the bench so that she could look directly at him. She licked her lips several times as if trying to garner courage. “John, you asked me several years ago to wed you, and I rejected your proposal for good reason, at the time. I wonder…well, I have changed my mind. I
would
like to marry you.”

Whaaat?
He was so shocked he could not speak.

“Unless you have changed your mind, of course.” She lowered her eyes, shyly.

His instincts told him that Joanna was frightened and made her suggestion not out of love, or even lust, but because of fear for her well-being once she returned to Jorvik. He would insure her safety, and would tell her so once they were alone,
but nay, he would not be marrying Joanna. He had other plans.