VIKING THRALL (Historical Romance, Medieval, Viking) (3 page)

Four

              Esme muttered to herself as she pulled her wet and heavy hose down to her ankles. She caught Magnus watching her and jerked to the side. As usual, he was too daft to notice that she didn't like to be stared at.

              "What's that?"

              "I said I would LIKE SOME PRIVACY."

              He laughed at her. For some reason this bullheaded Viking seemed to find her amusing. Often. It irked her. Oh yes, it surely did.

              At least he had sworn not to ravage her. That set her mind at ease. Now she must make herself useful enough that he would forget all about that ravaging business until she could find a ship to take her home.

              It might prove difficult to find a ship heading that way without coin… particularly if she had to first escape the hulking brute staring at her with rapt attention.

              Mayhap she could build a small boat?

              She shook her head impatiently. Even she knew that was a foolish thought. The crossing had been rough. Far too rough to take a raft like the ones they used on the small lake near the orphanage back home.

             
Home.

              She missed it so. The children, the older women who had mothered her for so many years, the lush green grounds themselves. Esme shook herself, mentally chastising with that harsh inner voice she often heard. Focus Esme! Your survival depends on it!

              She glanced over her shoulder at the viking who was still watching her. He'd leaned back in his chair by the fire and was sipping wine while she stood shivering in her wet garments.

              Ugh!

              She scowled at him and pulled her overskirt up and off. Then her kirtle. She turned rapidly, holding her dress before her, lest he get a good look at her bottom through her thin shift.

              He raised an eyebrow and stood, pulling his clothes off. Her jaw dropped as his board chest and shoulders were revealed. The firelight danced over the chiseled muscles. He looked hard, as if he were made of stone. And yet somehow, her fingers itches to touch him.

              He pulled his hose down and she gasped, turning swiftly away. But not before she got a good look at his hard flat stomach, heavily muscled thighs or the organ that lay between them.

              The very, very large organ.

              Behind her he chuckled.

              Insufferable man!

              "Here."

              She could feel the heat coming off him. She opened her eyes a crack and saw that he was holding a clean bathing cloth out for her. She took it with one hand and wrapped it around her, finally letting her other clothes fall to the floor.

              "You can turn around now Esme."

              She sighed heavily and turned, half expecting him to be bare as the day he was born. But he was decently covered up by a large cloth wrapped around his waist. Thank the old ones!

              "Come. We will use the bathing hut now."

              She didn't like the sound of that 'we' but she longed for a bath and clean clothes. Twould make her feel human again. Then she would more easily think of a plan to escape!

              Esme followed him docilely through the building to a side door, ignoring the stares of the servants and warriors alike.

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              Magnus sighed as he eased his sore body under the hot water.

              Why had he promised not to ravage her? The girl seemed to have taken it as some sort of oath. Truth be told, she looked to be in remarkably good spirits, for a newly captured slave.

              Was she really so fearful of his touch? Normally women clamored to share his bed. He'd had many bed partners in his twenty seven years. All of them had been smiling come the morning.

              He frowned, a foul mood settling in for the evening. To make it worse, the whole settlement was celebrating the riches of yet another successful raid. He could hear them carousing outside, waiting their turn in the bathing hut.

              But he had yet to get what he was after.

              "Thrall. You will come into the tub now."

              "No! Not until you come out."

              He sighed deeply.

              "How are you to wash me if you stay over there?"

              "Wa-wash you?"

              "Aye, tis one of your new duties. If you wish to remain in my good graces you will do as you are told."

              "Oh."

              He could almost hear her thinking this over. The woman was adorably certain of her place in this world. Sadly, he'd have to put an end to that if he ever expected to get any decent service out of her.

              But he loathed to squash her spirit completely. He would be patient with her, he decided. Her tender sensibilities would be handled one at a time.

              Starting with this unnatural fear of his body.

              "Esme-"

              He was about to order her into the tub when a soft splash made him open his eyes. Through the steam he saw a shapely body disappear under the water. He grinned. She was still wearing her undergarment.

              Not for long.

              Her face appeared suddenly above the surface of the water.

              "Tis hot!"

              "Aye."

              She seemed to consider for a moment.

              "I like it."

              He smiled.

              "Come here woman and wash me. Then you will wash yourself."

              He thought for a moment.

              "Nay- I will wash you!"

              Her eyes got wide, nearly taking over her face. She disappeared below the water again. She really was quite sheltered. He tried to remember that.

              Her innocence had less to do with youth and much more to do with the way she'd been brought up among old women and children. She really had no concept of the ways of men. He frowned, imagining what would have happened to her if he hadn't claimed her for himself.

              She would have been taken over and over again. They would have hurt her, even without meaning to. Mayhap even killed her.

              That thought was most disagreeable.

              Her head appeared above the water again, closer this time. She was frowning, trying to convince herself to do what he asked of her. What a complex little creature she was.

              And bright too.

              But that was inconsequential compared to those glorious tits of hers that he could see bobbing just below the surface.

              He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her against him.

              "Enough of this. If you will not wash me, I will have you."

              "But you said-"

              "I said I would not have you at that moment. But I grow tired of your disobedience."

              She chewed her lip thoughtfully.

              "If I am obedient, will you promise not to-"

              He sighed deeply.

              "I do not promise anything. Other than you will not like what happens if you continue to defy me."

              She blinked at him, her huge green eyes full of worry. Then she took a cloth from the side of the tub and poured some oil onto it.

              "Alright Magnus, you win."

Five

              Esme stared doggedly into space as she ran the cloth over the Viking's wide chest. He was watching her with amusement, his head titled to the side.

              "I think that spot is clean thrall."

              She glanced at him, blinking.

              "You may continue washing me."

              She nodded and fetched more of the cleansing oil, pouring it onto the cloth. The heat from the water was making her feel drowsy and less inclined to argue with his commands. But she didn't have to like it.

              "You may wash my stomach now thrall."

              Esme inhaled sharply and lowered her hand beneath the water. The Viking sighed contentedly and leaned back. She wished she could relax so completely.

              That's when she felt it against her hand. His rod. It was his rod.

              It was blazing hot and hard as stone, bobbing in the water. She jerked her hand away, appalled. His hand closer over hers viselike.

              "Are you finished?"

              "Aye- yes. I am."

              He smiled at her cooly.

              "Good. Then tis my turn to wash you."

              "What? No, tis not necessary. See? I can do it quickly."

              She rubbed the cloth over her skin rapidly, hoping to appease him. Too late, she saw the warning look of anger in his eyes.

              Within an instant, she was flat on her stomach, resting on his thighs. His hand came down on her buttocks, hard and fast.

              She let out a squeal of pain, unable to stop herself.

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              Anger was waging a battle with desire inside Magnus, each gaining and losing ground in equal measure. Each time she whimpered in pain, his anger increased. She had brought this on herself! And yet the firm roundness of her buttocks beneath his hand inflamed him with each slap.

              She showed a startling lack of respect!

              She would learn to respect him! And fear him as well!

              The girl was fighting him, flailing against his lap which only served to stir his lust even further. He stopped abruptly, seeing blood on the water. He yanked her up and stared at her obstinate little face.

              Her lip was bleeding where she'd bitten it to hold back her cries. Her eyes were watering and her face flushed. And yet her spirit was unbowed. She looked like a Valkerie, ready to avenge herself.

              He glanced at his hand. It was red from the force of his slaps. He frowned, realizing he had overdone the punishment.

              By Odin, he did not know his own strength. She was a gentle maid, not an opponent in battle. He'd harmed her without meaning to.

              He pulled her against his chest and soothed her with long strokes along her back. Hot tears stung his skin. She tried to push away but he held her

              "Shhhh… hush now… I won't hurt you again."

              She only cried harder. He knew he wasn't going to win this battle with brute force. He cradled her in his arms and was surprised when she didn't pull back from his nudity. Too busy crying to notice he supposed.

              Still the girl craved tenderness. Perhaps he had gone about things the wrong way.

              "I promise I won't force you, alright?"

              "You won't?"

              "Nay. But you must allow me to try to convince you of the rightness of my thinking. And be obedient in all other things as well."

              "Oh."

              He squeezed her reassuringly.

              "Are we agreed?"

              She nodded, her face still buried against his chest.

              "Yes. We are agreed."

              He smiled, resisting the urge to kiss her brow. Twas a first step in the right direction. The proper direction.

              Toward his bed.

Six

              Esme was not sure she had been wise in agreeing to his bargain. The Viking had insisted on patting her down by the fire and applying a salve.

              To her bottom.

              Her
bare
bottom.

              The shame of it made her cheeks burn but she'd nodded and allowed him to guide her face down over his lap. He'd said little as he arranged the blanket covering her so that he could access her sore buttocks. Now she was waiting for him to do whatever it was he wanted to do so she could get dressed again.

              Oh god, her dress was practically in shreds after the pat few days… what was she going to wear???

              She jumped when his hand landed softly on her cheek.

              And stroked her.

              "Be still."

              The Viking's voice sounded gruff, huskier than usual. She fought the urge to bolt as his hand make circles on her flesh. She glanced over her shoulder at him. The man seem transfixed.

              "So soft and pleasing…"

              "Are you going to apply the salve or just continue to maul me?"

              He grunted but didn't stop what he was doing. He ignored her completely. His touch was doing strange things to her… making her feel warm and squirmy inside.

              Magnus used two hands now, kneading her flesh with vigor.

              "Ouch!"

              She glared at him over her shoulder. He stopped immediately, having the grace to flush.

              "I didn't mean to bruise you, sweeting."

             
Sweeting?

              It was the first time he'd called her anything but thrall since they'd come here. Before it was 'woman' or a few times 'Esme.' Sweeting was something else entirely.

              She watched him pick up the bowl of salve and faced downward again.

              This time his touch was delicate as he

              "Ohhhhh…"

              He chuckled above her.

              "'Tis good?"

              Esme nodded, unsure if she should thank him. After all, twas his fault her bottom was sore in the first place! She decided to remain silent as he tended to her backside. He was done after a few minutes. He lifted her gently and set her on her feet.

              She felt her face redden, embarrassed by the intimacy of the act. He'd kissed her, bathed with her and now he'd tended to her. Being a thrall seemed to mean more than just having to serve someone.

              It meant that your body was theirs as well.

              The realization came crashing down on her with a suddenness that took her breath away.

              He owned her. Well and truly owned her. He could do what he pleased with her and no one would gainsay him.

              She was a slave. A non entity, without rights of her own. Not even the right to exact a promise from her master.

              Esme pulled the blanket closer around her and stood by the fire. The world had shifted, flipped upside down and she needed time to acclimate herself to it. She watched as Magnus dressed himself and then went to the curtained entrance.

              She was so curious about him suddenly. This man who would control her fate for the rest of her days… Unless she could escape him eventually. But how?

              "Bring something for my new slave to wear!"

              He looked awfully pleased with himself as he held out the coarse white kirtle one of the servants brought. She took it, unable to meet his eyes. This was the best she could expect now that her circumstances had changed.

              She slipped it over her head, the shredded under shift still clinging to her damp skin.

              "Remove that first, slaves do not wear undergarments."

              She swallowed and did as he asked, trying to shield herself from his hungry eyes. She pulled the plain gown over her head. It started to itch immediately.

              She looked up to see that he was frowning.

              Esme raised her chin proudly. She would not ask for anything from this man. Not kindness, not a reprieve, not even a softer dress.

              She would escape him somehow.

              She must!

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              Magnus stared at his slave. She looked… diminished somehow. The sparkle had dimmed. She still looked lovely, even in the white gown. The color was extremely becoming to her, even if it was shapeless.

              He took a piece of rope and tied it around her waist. There, twas a bit better. Now he could see her curves as she went about her day.

              Of course, he longed to see her in Viking finery fit for a queen.

              His queen.

              Perhaps, if she pleased him as he knew she could, he would reward her with fine things. And jewels.

             
If
she pleased him.

              "Why are you grimacing? Is it your bottom?"

              "Nay. Tis nothing."

              "I can plainly see that something is awry."

              She sighed full of exasperation. He almost smiled though he knew he shouldn't encourage her cheek. A bit of her spirit seemed to be back.

              "The dress. Tis scratchy."

              He leered at her.

              "Well, you can always take it off."

              She shook her head so quickly that he had to laugh.

              "Let me see."

              He reached out and ran the flat of his palm over her body. She gasped and tried to step away. He continued his exploration, starting to realize she wasn't exaggerating.

              The gown felt like it was made of crushed stone. And briars. He sighed.

              "If you behave well, I will find you something better to wear."

              "Give me a task then!"

              He smiled at her.

              "Alright. Fetch me some wine and two goblets and we will begin your first lesson."

              She nodded eagerly and backed away from him as if she did not quite trust him not to pounce on her. She was wise to fear that. He was already planning to pounce on her as soon as she returned.

              She was back quickly, bearing a tray with two goblets and a flagon of wine.

              She set it down on the small table by the fire and backed away. He poured them each a glass and held one out to her.

              "Come here Esme. Taste the wine."

              She walked forward and accepted the glass of wine from him before quickly stepping back again. By Odin, she was skittish!

              "Is it custom to share wine with a slave?"

              "Nay."

              She blinked up at him and took a sip.

              "More. Finish the cup."

              The wine was strong and would relax her. He knew he could force himself on her at any time and no one would gain say him. But he'd given her his word.

              Somehow he found the thought of frightening her distasteful.

              That didn't mean he wouldn't get what he wanted of her. It didn't mean he would be patient. He'd have his pleasure from her, and soon.

              Starting tonight!