Walpurgis Night (9 page)

His blank look and a shake of the head told her he didn’t comprehend. She held up the cup of broth and made a drinking motion herself before she moved it toward him. He nodded and tried to push himself up. He looked surprised to find himself so weak he could barely move at all.

Fianna
sat next to him and lifted his head so that it rested on her knees. She helped him take a few swallows of the broth before he turned away from it, indicating he’d had enough.

Henrik
returned with his father and several other people following behind. There was much chatter, laughter and excitement among them when they saw
Ranulf
was awake and lucid.
Fianna
backed away, giving them room to crowd around the patient.

“Tell them they must not stay too long and tire him out,” she requested of
Henrik
. “He still needs rest to speed his recovery.”

Henrik
nodded. After speaking with a couple of the people present, he came back to her, took her arm and nodded to the other room. Before they could leave, though,
Henrik’s
father came over, took her hand and pressed it to his cheek. He said a few words in Norse that she could tell were meant to convey his gratitude.

“Tell him I did only what is in me to do as a healer,” she asked.

He nodded and passed that on to his father. The older man said something more and kissed her on the forehead.

“As I said earlier, you have but to ask whatever reward you will of him,”
Henrik
translated.

“I am giving it thought,” she said. When his father returned to the group crowding around the bed, she and
Henrik
escaped into the other room.

“You’ve eaten?” he asked. When she said she had, he said, “Come with me, then. We both need sleep. It was a hard night.”

“Aye,” she agreed. “But worth it.”

“Very much so.”

Fianna
went with
Henrik
back to his home. Though his touch, as always, evoked that deep body hunger for him, she was too exhausted to do anything about it, and she suspected he must be too. Still, it felt wonderful to rest with his body curled around hers, his arm under her neck, her back pressed against his chest. She slept deeply.

When she woke, he was already up. She didn’t see him in the room, so she rose and got dressed. He wasn’t in the large central room, either. Just as she was about to return to the house where
Ranulf
lay, he came back.

He smiled at her. “
Ranulf
continues to improve. He was complaining about the broth and saying he wanted real food.”

“That’s good, but do not let him go to it too quickly.”

“I told them what you said about it.”

“Good.”

He was watching her with a lazy grin that held a wicked hint of mischief in its depths as well. “Did you rest well?” he asked.

“Aye.
Very well.”

“Would you like to take a steam bath?” He paused a moment and there was a hot promise in his tone and in his expression when he added, “With me.”

“What is a steam bath? I’ve never heard of this.”

“Nay.
You
Anglish
know not how to get really clean. You’ll like it.”

“I’ll try it.”

The smile that spread over his face completely devastated her. He was so handsome, this Norseman, and so strong, loyal and kind. He was so much all she’d want in a man, yet she couldn’t lay claim to him. Still, she could treasure every moment with him and store up memories to cling to later.

Chapter Nine

He led her to a building that was some distance from the main settlement, near the shores of a swift-moving river. The structure had no windows and just one door. Smoke rose from an opening in the center of the roof. When they went inside, they were in a small anteroom that held a couple of benches and a series of pegs on the walls. A fresh set of clothes for each of them hung on the pegs. Another door led to the main part of the building.

“I had this prepared for us,”
Henrik
said. “You undress here before you go in.” He drew his leather vest off over his head and began to unlace his shirt.
Fianna
took off the borrowed clothes and hung them on pegs. She left her boots under a bench.

She
hesitated,
shy for a moment, before turning around to face him. In the dim light of the room, she could only just make out his shape, but it was beautiful. She wanted him so badly it was a knife stabbing at her heart. He came toward her, took her hand and led her to the door to the other room.

A blazing fire roared in a pit in the center of the small room, making it bright and very warm. Two rings of large stones circled the fire. Benches lined three walls. A row of buckets, filled to the brim with water, waited along the fourth wall. A stack of wood for the fire and a pile of cloths rested beside them.
Henrik
picked up a bucket and poured the water over the rocks, careful to keep it from flowing onto the fire. After two more, the room became so steamy
Fianna
felt droplets of moisture gathering on her skin. He led her to one of the benches.

“Sit for a minute and let it penetrate. You will feel relaxed.”

“’
Tis
very warm.”
She wasn’t sure how much of the heat came from her surroundings and how much was roused by her companion.

“So it should be,” he said. “Warm is relaxing and inspiring.”

“Warm is making me hot and…tense.”

“It is? I’m disappointed.”

She turned to stare at him.
“How so?”

His grin was so full of mischief and wicked
suggestion,
it made her heart flutter and her pulse rate speed up. “I thought I made you hot and tense.” He leaned over and kissed her, hard, deeply, dazzlingly.

“You set me on fire,” she whispered against his lips. She put a hand on his chest, purely for the pleasure of feeling his slick, sleek skin.

After a minute or two he drew away enough to let him pull her to him, lifted and turned her so that she ended up kneeling on the bench, straddling his lap, the hard length of his cock between them, pushing against her quim.

Watching his face as the contact worked its magic in arousing him delighted her. She still wondered at the amazing affect she could have on this tall, strong warrior, who preferred sex fierce and bold. In its way it was as astonishing to her as the times when she managed to know what ailed someone without having any idea how she knew. Both were mysteries that seemed to reveal something of the universe in their depths.

Henrik
bent to lick her nipples then began suckling them and scraping with his teeth. Need exploded within her, driving her into a frenzy of desire. Sensation washed through her as the mix of pleasure-pain from her breasts fired her blood. She moaned and gasped then squealed even louder when he reached down between them and parted the folds of flesh pressed against his cock. His fingers invaded the cleft and began tickling the bud until she couldn’t bear the need.

“
Henrik
!”
She all but screamed his name. “’
Tis
…I need you. Please, please!” she begged.

He lifted her again, sliding her down over his cock, impaling her on its hard length. The feel of it within her was exquisite. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she began to pump herself up and down on it. Meanwhile he continued to tweak a nipple with one hand while he stroked her quim with the other.

The tension built fast and hard with so much sensation flowing from various points on her body. She moaned and even cried in the frenzy of need as she bounced wildly on him, trying to milk every tingle. Every time she lowered herself it drove him deep into her body and pushed some magic point that throbbed with pleasure beyond bearing.

She heard him moaning as well and encouraging her. “Oh gods, that’s so good,” he groaned in her ear. “Faster. I’m going to explode.
Ahhhh
.”

They climaxed together, her release squeezing him and milking his seed in long, potent spasms. For long minutes, she was frozen on him as the jolts of climax rolled through her over and over. She collapsed against him, still jumping with the aftershocks, holding tight to his neck as the glorious conclusion wound down.

When she was able to speak again, after she’d kissed him and combed her fingers through his hair, she asked, “Is this a common part of a steam bath?
No wonder ’tis so popular.”

“Not usually,” he said. “It was a special treat I arranged for you.”

“And I’m very grateful. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to bathe again without thinking of this.”

He pushed her away from his shoulder so he could see her face.
“’
Tis
not over yet.
We have time to ourselves and many more things to explore. We have sated the sharpest of the need. We can be slower and more relaxed next time. I don’t think you’ll be truly clean, in any case, until I’ve licked over every inch of you.”

“Every inch?”

“Perhaps not every inch.
All the most important inches,” he answered. He lifted her from his lap, set her back on the bench, stood up and eased her down until she lay facedown, stretched out along the bench. “A rub on your back, though, will help you get in the right mood. I will not be rushed this time.”

He threw more wood on the fire and splashed more water on the rocks. She looked up at him, and said, “Before we start, I want a bargain. Whatever you do to me, I must be able to do the same to you.”

His eyebrows lifted. “You would demand this from me?”

She drew a deep breath.
“Aye.”

He smiled. “So be it. This will be interesting.”

“I certainly hope so.”

He knelt beside the bench and began running his hands up and down her back, pushing and pressing in places. Initially she was surprised by the pressure he put on various muscles, the force he used in kneading some spots, but quickly realized how good it felt and how it helped relieve tightness in those areas. She sighed and reveled in the attention. His fingers seemed to know all the right places to touch and squeeze.

Eventually he moved down from her back along her buttocks. It changed the way she felt about what was happening, from being relaxed, to the beginnings of a new arousal. She liked the way his big hands worked her bottom, rubbing, tapping, patting. He stroked along her legs, tracing down to her feet and then back up. Her breath caught when his fingers ran up the insides of her thighs. Runnels of sensation tingled their way right up to her loins. The heaviness began to press again and moisture that might not be sweat gathered between her legs.

He rolled her over.
Fianna
lay on the bench staring up at him. The dampness in the air darkened his blond hair and stood in small beads in his close-clipped beard. The heat made his skin pinker than usual, which contrasted nicely with the light blue gray of his eyes. He was magnificent. She felt a heart-stopping thrill just in looking at him and wanted to wrap herself around him, hold him to her and never let go.

He dipped his head. She thought he meant to kiss her, but instead he was fulfilling his promise from earlier to lick all over. His tongue circled her lips to start with, ran up along her temple, forehead and down the other side, explored her cheeks and ears then went down along her throat. She shivered in the heat as the touch sent ripples of pleasure along her nerves.

The most important inches came in for a great deal of attention. On each breast, he began at the outside of the mound, circled around it then spiraled inward, making a slow, lazy, unbearably thrilling trip to the nipples. His tongue just skirted around the deep pink rims once or twice before he moved inward to lave the tips with concentrated attention. She was shuddering from the need and desire he’d roused by the time he finished with them.

Once her breasts had been treated thoroughly, his tongue glided downward again. Raspy and moist, it trailed a line of heat on her skin. He stopped at her navel to lick around the indent and probe into it with the tip. Then he continued down her abdomen to the crease of her legs. When he got there, he planted a kiss but moved over to run his tongue along the front of one thigh.

She groaned as the tingles followed along the path his tongue traveled down her leg to her foot. When he lifted the foot and drew each toe individually into his mouth, she squealed and writhed. Who could have guessed that toes could feel so much? He set down the one foot and started on the other, sucking each toe into his mouth, and then when he’d attended each one, beginning a slow, nearly unbearable ascent to her hips. He reached the crease and planted another kiss there.

When he tried to nudge her legs apart to gain access to the most important inches of all, though, she had a wild, wicked idea and resisted, refusing to let him move her.

“Part your legs,” he demanded. The tone of his voice suggested he sensed her resistance presaged something else, and he would indulge her.

She shook her head no.

“You refuse?” he asked. “You know what will happen?”

She looked up at him, loving the way he understood what she wanted, and the fact that he so clearly wanted it as well. “I know.”

He nodded and lifted her from the bench, flipped her over and set her back down gently on her belly. “Do not move. I’ll be back.”

He was gone for a few minutes. When he returned he carried four or five slender branches, all three to four feet long, cut from a tree. She sucked in a sharp breath and wondered if she’d been so wise after all. She didn’t believe he’d really hurt her, though.

She still cringed a bit when he stood over her holding one of those branches and brought it down on her bottom. The stroke was little more than a tap, however, that created a tiny sting. Five or six lashes later, the stinging was beginning to spread out along her entire bottom. It wasn’t terribly painful, in truth—more of a pleasant burn that was doing its part to feed the heavy, throbbing need building in her loins.