Viking Heat (20 page)
Authors: Sandra Hill
This was not the kind of combat Joy envisioned when she began WEALS training. But she had the good sense to circle around the other side of the table, grabbing her favorite weapon, a poker, along the way. “I said bacteria . . . tiny bugs. Thousands of them. You know, germs.”
“Ger-mans? Now yer sayin’ I got Ger-man bugs. Are ye barmy? Or mebbe yer tryin’ ta take me job.”
“Me? A cook? No way! Really. I’m sure you’re the best cook in the world.”
Okay, that’s a stretch.
“But it’s true what I said about bacteria. The little buggers are all over the place, contaminating the food, causing illness. They’re bred by lack of proper cleaning.”
Oops, I didn’t mean to go that far.
Okay, that’s a stretch.
“But it’s true what I said about bacteria. The little buggers are all over the place, contaminating the food, causing illness. They’re bred by lack of proper cleaning.”
Oops, I didn’t mean to go that far.
“I am gonna kill ya.”
“Now, no need for violence. Let’s start over. My name is Joy Nelson.”
“When I am done with ya, they will be callin’ ya Boy, not Joy, ’cause I’m gonna cut off yer tongue and stick it up yer sheath. Folks will come from far and wide ta view the talkin’ cock.”
“That kind of crudity is uncalled for.”
Every time Kelda moved, Joy moved in the opposite direction, the table separating them. Joy considered a rush for the door leading into the hall and up the stairs, but she didn’t think she’d be able to make it, even with Kelda’s much shorter legs coming after her.
Paying no heed to Joy’s plea for nonviolence, Kelda said, “Ya ain’t heard crude yet, girlie. I am gonna slit yer gullet from yer bloody mouth ta yer nether parts. Then I am gonna toss yer innards in the stewpot.”
“Yeech! Well, it won’t be any worse than the crap you’re putting in there now.”
Kelda’s eyes about bulged out. Then she made a rush for her, slipped in the slime on the dirt floor, and went flailing down on her big butt.
Joy reached down to pick up the cleaver and put it out of harm’s way when the outside door crashed open, and Brandr, in battle gear covered with a dusting of snow, rushed in, taking in a scene that must have appeared amazing to him, especially since she held a poker in one hand and a cleaver in the other and was standing over the cook, who was moaning, “Oh, me arse! Me sore arse!”
“What in bloody hell is going on in here? We could hear the screaming all the way to the exercise fields.” Other men were crowding the doorway behind him, most of them grinning.
Joy stood with as much dignity as she could, considering her now-filthy apron, her hair half in and half out of its braid, and the “weapons” in her hands.
“Kelda and I were just having a little friendly chat.”
If you believe that, I have a fjord to sell you in Brooklyn.
If you believe that, I have a fjord to sell you in Brooklyn.
Brandr, arms folded over his chest, arched a brow at her, then turned to the old lady still plucking the dead birds. “Gran Olssen?”
“The wench says there be thousands of bugs all over the kitchen.”
Turning back to Joy, Brandr remarked. “I do not see any bugs.”
“That’s not exactly what I said.”
“Gran Olssen does not lie.”
The old lady, who ought to be in a senior citizen facility or upstairs knitting, not plucking chickens, flashed her a toothless grin.
“They’re too small to see with the naked eye, but, believe me, they’re there. Especially when you consider that Kelda just came back from the privy and didn’t wash her hands before touching raw food.”
Brandr’s gaze shot from Kelda’s hands, which were indeed dirty, to the cooking pot, then back again.
From her prone position, Kelda said, “I am going to kill the red-haired bitch and feed her heart ta the wolves. She dares ta tell me what ta do in my kitchen.”
Brandr’s dark blue eyes scanned the room, then went wide, as if he seemed to notice the lack of cleanliness for the first time.
Joy jumped on what was probably her only window of opportunity. “I bet Kelda’s not the only one with a bowel problem. Forget the cabbage. It’s probably salmonella or gastroenteritis.”
Then, proving Joy’s point, the cook did what she did so well. She farted. Again. Really loud.
Chapter 12
Brandr did not know whether he wanted to roar with outrage or with laughter.
Dragging her into the storage room, the closest private place, he motioned for the maid working there to leave. Then he kicked the door shut behind him.
“What in the name of all the gods were you doing in the kitchen?”
“Liv is napping, and you said I could go anywhere indoors.”
“I did not give you permission to create a disturbance. My people are already troubled by my favored treatment of you.” He flicked a finger to indicate her garments, which, he had to admit, looked very fine on her. The green of the apron brought out the green of her eyes. And even with the apron, he could see how the belt accentuated her waist and outlined her breasts. Her fiery hair was coming loose from its braid, giving the appearance of bed-mussed activity.
I wish!
I wish!
He was wagging his forefinger at her. For each step forward he made, she took one back, ’til she landed against a table along one wall, which was used for sorting goods.
“Don’t threaten me.”
“How am I threatening you? With a finger?”
“It’s the tone of your voice.”
He rolled his eyes. “You are presumably a female warrior, and you fear an angry voice?”
“I didn’t say that. I just said—”
“What
are
you afraid of?” He lifted her by the waist to set her on the table, then stepped between her legs. Before she could object, he put his hands under her rump and yanked her forward. He closed his eyes for a second as his legs went weak as dragon piss. Stars danced behind his eyelids at the sheer, tortuous pleasure of his cock resting against her cleft.
are
you afraid of?” He lifted her by the waist to set her on the table, then stepped between her legs. Before she could object, he put his hands under her rump and yanked her forward. He closed his eyes for a second as his legs went weak as dragon piss. Stars danced behind his eyelids at the sheer, tortuous pleasure of his cock resting against her cleft.
He would have been embarrassed. In truth, he feared he might disgrace himself, so rapid was his rise to raging enthusiasm. But then he opened his eyes and saw that she was equally affected. Her soft whimper was an aphrodisiac to his already heightened senses.
He kissed the inside of her elbow, then the inside of her wrist, then her palm.
She sighed.
He took that as a good sign. “Well?” he asked.
“I forget the question.”
He laughed.
“I love your laugh.”
He smiled
“And your smile. It brings out your big dimples.”
“Dimples, dimples, dimples. I care not a jot about dimples. I would much rather you admire my big—”
She put a hand over his mouth to prevent what would have probably been a crude word.
“We fit well together, wench,” he rasped out.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, even as she wriggled her arse forward for a better fit.
They both moaned together. Then they both grinned at each other.
“Seriously, Brandr, I need to talk to you about the kitchen and the way—”
“Kiss me.”
“What?”
“Kiss me like you did that other time. With your mouth open. And perchance you could tongue-tickle my teeth.”
“Why?”
“Because I say so.”
“I shouldn’t,” she said, even as she began to trace the seam of his lips with the tip of her tongue, wetting his, then her own lips. After that, she pressed moistness to moistness and moved her mouth back and forth ’til she got the fit she wanted. “Like this?” she teased against his parted lips.
He nipped her bottom lip with his teeth. “More.”
She put both hands on his head to hold him in place.
As if I am going anywhere!
Then she kissed him and kissed him, darting her tongue in and out, testing the waters, so to speak, sending ripples of desire coursing through his blood.
As if I am going anywhere!
Then she kissed him and kissed him, darting her tongue in and out, testing the waters, so to speak, sending ripples of desire coursing through his blood.
Enough! He took over the kiss, forcing her mouth wide, plunging his tongue deep, then slowly abrading out. Advance, retreat, advance, retreat . . . Really, when he thought about it—and, nay, he was not thinking much now—kissing was a form of war exercise. Who would have thought a mere woman could teach him, the lord of swordplay, aught about battle moves?
With all his musing, he was scarce aware that her hips were undulating against him in a matching rhythm. Yea, she could teach him much, and he was a fast learner.
Even as they kissed, he undid the brooches holding her apron shoulder straps together, and was already unlacing her gunna.
“Wha . . . what are you doing?” she asked, the lust-hazy green pools of her eyes blinking at him.
“A good soldier needs to see what he is doing,” he replied, and tugged the gown down ’til it trapped her arms at her elbows. He stared at her exposed breasts. Pale rose circles in the center with darker rose nipples. “I have wanted to do this for so long.” Without any preliminary caresses, he took one breast, nipple and areola together, into his mouth and began to suckle hard.
She jerked with surprise, muttering, “This is so not a good idea,” but then she wrapped her legs around his hips, pressing herself tighter against him. Her immobile hands tightly grasped the table under her, but she thrust her breasts forward in invitation. By the time he moved to the other breast, licking, then sucking, she was keening out the start of what promised to be a fierce peaking. He reclaimed her lips then, taking her cries into his open mouth.
But things were happening too fast . . . and in the wrong place.
Dragging his lips away from hers, he whispered in her ear, “Slow down, dearling. The voyage is sweeter when the longboat takes the slower route to harbor.”
She laughed shakily. “And sometimes fast and furious makes a better ride.”
He nipped her earlobe for her sauciness, but then he paused. “What is that?”
“What?” She tried to turn her head, but he would not let her.
Pushing strands of loosened hair off her face, he examined the skin behind her ear. “A buzzing noise. Is it possible a bee got in your ear? But, nay, there are no bees this far north this time of year.”
“Oh, my God! It’s my mike.” She moved back slightly from him, giving her enough room to pull her gown back up. Quickly, she traced the area he had been examining with her forefinger, then began to tap in a strange rhythm. Like a code.
“It is not a bee?”
She shook her head, dazed, and he was not fool enough to think the daze was left over from their almost-lovemaking. “Before I left, I had a mike implanted behind my ear so that I could communicate with my team, especially in case of an emergency.”
“Being sold into thralldom . . . would that be considered an emergency?”
She nodded.
“Are you saying there is a device under your skin which will allow your fellow fighters to locate you?”
She nodded again.
“Impossible!”
The buzzing resumed.
“They want my coordinates so that rescuers can be deployed. Normally, we can communicate by voice with this mike. It’s highly sophisticated, but the voice component isn’t working, just the Morse code section.”
“I do not understand what you say by half.” He stepped back and closed her knees. “But I am not such a dullard that I do not recognize danger. After all the special treatment you have received at my hands, you would lead the enemy to my gates?”
“They’re not the enemy.”
“Will they carry weapons?”
“Of course.”
“Enemies, then,” he declared, and without giving her warning, he forced her to lie facedown on the table. With one hand pressing her face immobile, he used the other to pull out a knife from his belt sheath, ignoring her shrieks of outrage and pleas to wait and let her explain. The time for talking was over, as far as he was concerned. Without hesitation, he slit the skin behind her ear and pulled out a little metal circle the size of a pea.
Stepping away, he let her rise to a sitting position and place a hand behind her ear to stanch the flow of blood. Tears welled in her eyes as she gazed at the piece of metal sitting in the palm of his hand. “You cut me.”
“You betrayed me.”
“I did not, you big baboon.”
He looked down at the tiny bit of metal, then at her. “Give it to me.”
“Nay! I know not whether this . . . this thing can actually work, but that does not really matter. What matters is that you have shown where your loyalties lie. I protect those under my shield, and you are a danger to me and mine,
thrall
.”
thrall
.”
With those words, he dropped the metal on the floor and stomped on it ’til it was flat, and the buzzing stopped.
“It is done,” he said with icy flatness in his voice. “We are done.”
Who wants to be Julia Child today . . . ?It was a scene out of any man’s worst nightmare.
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