She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt him touching her. His hands caressed her breasts slowly and gently. She shivered as she felt her nipples tightening in response.
He lowered his mouth and took a nipple into his mouth, suckling at it softly. He latched onto her other breast, repeating the slow, unhurried caress. She lay stiffly as she felt the sensations his mouth was creating within her, her fists clenched at her sides.
Joran’s mouth left a blistering trail across her ribcage. She was trembling as she felt his golden hair fall across her chest. She dared to sneak a glance downward, and saw him watching her before his tongue teased across her abdomen to her belly.
He was lavishing it with such attention she felt a sudden tightening in her loins. His head moved lower still. She gasped aloud as he opened her slender legs. His fingers parted her there and delved into her moist feminine folds.
She jerked as his mouth kissed her there. He teased the flesh with such slow gentleness, she became flushed and heated, the sensations so intense; she gripped the furs at her sides.
Allisande closed her eyes in denial as pleasure washed over her with such intensity she thought she would shatter from it. His tongue lashed at the sensitive bud of her desire until a soft cry of surrender escaped her parted lips. She tensed when she felt him insert a finger inside her, and he soothed her with soft words.
Soon he was thrusting his finger inside her slowly as his mouth and tongue drove her wild. She bit her lip as the shudders of delight wracked her body again, arching under his mouth, uncaring anymore if he laughed at her for responding to him.
The tense hands that gripped the furs now slid into his silky golden hair, clutching him to her tightly as he lifted her from the bed to bring her more fully against him. Her eyes widened as his pressure increased. She arched frantically under his sensual ministrations, soft cries escaping her as spasms began to hit her.
The heat in her loins was so intense she sobbed and gripped his head between her thighs tightly as she began to shake violently. She was dazed when he rolled above her, her violet eyes dilated as they met his.
Joran fit his big body over hers gently. He slid his hands under her hips as he thrust deep inside her, filling her, and stretching her to accept him with such gentleness, she felt no pain this time. He held himself above her, his face taut as he slid with such aching slowness within her.
Joran’s eyes were dark with desire as they met hers. She enjoyed the feel of their bodies joined. The ache within her began anew. He dipped slowly, back and forth, going deeper still. She tensed as she prepared to feel pain. She was stunned as the friction between their bodies caused her to move with him.
Joran groaned aloud, and felt her meet the movements of his body with eagerness, gripping his shoulders as he rose and fell above her. His lips covered hers, drowning out her cries as he drove into her harder, feeling her nails dig into his shoulders in response.
He was determined to go slowly this time, but soon her body was undulating under his with such fervor, he forgot his best intentions. He began to stroke harder inside her, gritting his teeth as he felt her clenching around him.
Joran moaned harshly, closing his eyes as passion claimed him, so overwhelmed with the woman in his arms, her name slid past his lips. Allisande looked up at him and saw the power she wielded over him as he rocked hungrily within her, bringing her to ecstasy with each maddening stroke.
The tension grew between their sweat-slickened bodies. As a wave of such intense pleasure hit her, she wrapped her arms around his neck to get closer to him. Joran gasped as he felt her shaking around him, tightening until he too exploded, emptying his seed deep within her with an exultant cry, his head flung back as their bodies strained together.
When he lay still within her, panting harshly, she opened her eyes expecting to see his mockery. She was shocked to see the tenderness in his eyes. He rolled to his side now and brought her with him. His hands stroked her tenderly as he held her.
No words were spoken as he pulled the furs around them and held her tightly against his wide chest. She was confused by what happened between them, and felt so exposed to him in that moment; she couldn’t bear it if he laughed at her.
Joran dropped a kiss upon her shoulder. She lay sprawled across his chest, feeling the golden hairs there tickling her nose. She found the closeness strangely comforting as they lay together.
Allisande stole a glance up at him and saw he was now fast asleep, an expression of such contentment upon his face, she stared at him in fascination. His face was so different in repose from the harsh man she had come to know, she found herself enjoying this moment while he was so softened and vulnerable to her.
She noted the healed wounds upon his chest and shoulder grimly. She tried to kill him, and expected to die for it, yet he allowed her to live. She waited expecting to meet certain death any day that stretched past, not to feel such pleasure in his arms this night.
Allisande blushed when she thought of how good it felt, remembering his words weeks ago when he promised she would like this thing she dreaded. She lay her head down upon his rising and falling chest, and did not realize it when the movement lulled her to sleep at last.
****
Joran awoke first that morning and stared down at her beautiful face as she lay across his chest, his arms tightening possessively around her. He smiled in relish as he recalled how good it was between them the night before. He enjoyed each and every detail of her complete surrender to him at last. His body was so satisfied, he had no desire to rise and meet the day’s responsibilities.
He was stroking her cheek with his finger when her sleepy violet eyes opened and met his. He could see the anger there first, than the confusion in her eyes. He lowered his mouth and caught her lips with his. He kissed her so thoroughly she was breathless, and hadn’t the strength to deny him as he rolled her beneath him.
His hands slid over her with slow insistence as he readied her again, his body hard and throbbing against hers. She gasped as he thrust hungrily inside her at last, her knees coming up to bring him deeper within her.
Joran growled in delight as he bore her into the bed, his body driving so deeply within her, she hardly recognized the sounds coming from her throat. She was breathing raggedly as he thrust hungrily inside her, her fingers digging into his back as she met each stroke of his body in matched ardor. Joran was on fire, the passion raging within him as he rolled over her, feeling her long legs wrap around his hips.
Joran’s lips met hers as their cries mingled together at the last. He closed his eyes as he shook within her, his hot seed erupting within her. He splintered apart and shuddered. Allisande felt her climax hit her. She cried aloud, holding him fiercely. Her lips parted in delight and wonder.
They lay entwined for what seemed an eternity before he rose up to look down at her. She saw the same look in his eyes mirrored in her own, and couldn’t look away as his lips met hers in a slow, tender kiss. Joran delighted in his lovely slave meeting him halfway in their passion, too enchanted to stop. After he rested, he eased her atop of him and guided her to control their pleasure, his groans of satisfaction his reward as she sat upon him in uninhibited eagerness.
They dressed in silence some time later. Allisande found a fresh gown in his chest and donned it, feeling so out of sorts from what they shared. She couldn’t meet his eyes, fearing he would shame her with her responses to him.
Joran was in no hurry to leave her. He seemed to enjoy the quiet that existed between them for once and refused to break the peace. She cursed as she tried to drag a comb through her hair, and she was shocked when he took the comb from her and sat her upon his knees.
He patiently untangled the long, curling mass, his hands deft and efficient. She thanked him softly, and would have gotten up, but his arm slid about her waist and held her there. She turned and saw the tender look in his gaze and wondered at it. He looked into her eyes and his hand touched her cheek.
“Do not fight me anymore, Allisande,” Joran whispered low, his voice soft and gruff with tenderness. “Hate me all you want, but do not fight me.”
Allisande could say nothing, lost in the fathomless blue gaze that met hers. He patted her bottom and she got off him. She looked at him as he opened the door to his room, unsure of what to say to his heartfelt words.
She refused to answer him. She couldn’t bring herself to destroy the fragile peace by railing at him all the reasons she had to fight him. He led her down into the hall, and every eye was glued upon them as he seated her next to him at the table.
Janna looked positively gloating as she met Grogan’s stunned look. The men hid their smiles as they noted the satisfied expressions both wore as the meal was served that morning, all agreeing the pair had finally come to an uneasy truce.
****
Collin paced angrily before the fire in his room at the castle as he thought of his earlier conversation with the king. He would get no royal intervention from King Alfred to reclaim his sister.
The king was crying light coffers and claiming he hadn’t the funds to meet Joran the Stonehearted’s ransom demands. Collin was frustrated when his plan to keep the siege a secret backfired.
One of his sentries erred and rode to court to tell the tale of the Viking attack. He left court for his home, having missed his servant’s arrival and the news was out. The king’s men arrived to survey the damage. The Earl of Ulsted learned his intended had been abducted by Ivar’s bastard son.
Ulsted took it well, gazing over his lands pityingly before he renounced his intention to wed Allisande even if she was returned unharmed. Collin’s lips tightened when he realized his sister was forever ruined. There would be no ransom.
The Viking would be angry when he realized he would get nothing for Allisande. Thinking of the horrors his little sister must be enduring made him weep late at night when his tortured dreams awoke him.
He was bitter when his king reluctantly gave him the funds necessary to rebuild Lockwraithe. It was no gift. The loan would keep him a beggar to his king for the next decade. He would not see a profit from his holdings for many years.
Thinking of his father’s treachery made him grimace. Collin couldn’t afford to admit his father’s guilt. He must tread lightly or all was lost. Rebuilding Lockwraithe was all he could do.
Allisande was lost to him and his people for now. He was saddened if he would never see her again, remembering their bitter words before he left for court and wincing in pain. She was angry he was finding her a husband and refused to marry anyone he chose for her.
How ironic she got her wish? For if she returned, he would not be able to find one noble in the kingdom willing to marry her after being despoiled by the Berserker, Joran Ivarsson.
His father was stealing from his king for years in collusion with Ivar the Boneless for a portion of the stolen riches. When he discovered his father’s treason, he wept in rage, thinking of the many English families who died in Viking raids over the years, some of them relations to the baron’s own family.
His sire’s greed had made him careless. He turned on the Viking leader to his own detriment. Collin vowed to never admit his father’s guilt out of respect to his sainted mother.
Lady Edwina had been forced to hide behind a false cabinet dug out of the wall during the siege by her daughter. There wasn’t enough room for them both in the confined space and little warning when the marauding Vikings attacked.
Allisande saved their mother’s life that day. When the keep was lit on fire, Lady Edwina managed to get out as the Vikings departed and hid in the woods with her servants.
Lady Edwina wasn’t strong enough to endure the scorn of their class if it was known her husband was a traitor. Their lands and titles would be stripped. There was little hope they would ever regain Allisande’s release.
Collin stared into the flames in rage as he contemplated his monarch’s advice he wed a rich heiress to get the ransom for his sister. Collin grimaced at the irony of it. His determination to see Allisande wed led him into the same trap.
****
Allisande felt refreshed as she dressed and dried her hair in front of the fire. The inky black curls shown with blue-black luster and hung in fragrant waves to her hips. She felt restored by the bath and more than a little determined to escape Joran than ever before.
He made her feel things she never felt before. The inescapable fact that she was his slave made it all the more unbearable. She dreaded the prospect of sitting at his side for the evening meals, and be on display to endure the speculative looks from his people.
They shared an uneasy peace since the night she came to him willingly. The pleasure she found in his arms was dizzying. He left her breathless each night. She hated herself for giving in to him. She tried to deny him, but once he lowered her to his bed, all else was forgotten. It was the one thing they agreed on, and for now, it was enough.
Allisande reasoned it was nearly time to join the other women in the kitchen’s and rose to go downstairs. She paused on the stairs when she heard the men speaking below. She listened to them discussing another raid, and stiffened when she realized they would be leaving soon.
She hastened down the stairs. She was determined to learn more about the next raid, feeling excited she had some means of escape now. She joined the women in the kitchens to prepare the evening meal. Elwynn saw her and came forward tentatively.
“Are you well, Allisande?” She realized the older woman was concerned Joran hurt her. She bit her lip and nodded. The older woman smiled in relief and patted her shoulder comfortingly. “Don’t pay him any mind when he gets into one of his tempers. I have never known him to hurt a woman, even his wife, Aelynn, after her treachery was known.”
“What is this you speak of? Joran was married?” Allisande was suddenly eager to learn more about the man she loathed. Thinking of him being married to someone else made her wonder if the stonehearted man she knew had some measure of kindness in him.
“She died birthing her babe five winters past.” Elwynn’s expression hardened suddenly. “She was very beautiful and Joran loved her and offered for her. When he brought her here she changed. His raiding and absences made her sullen and withdrawn. She was often cruel to the slaves. Joran wanted to believe she would be happy. When he went away to raid, she began taking his men to her bed. She was never sure who sired the babe. Joran buried them both together. He has not seemed happy in years until this morning when he came down to join the men upon the practice field,” Elwynn finished with a sigh, and gazed at her knowingly making her blush and look away. She refused to believe she made Joran the Stonehearted happy at all.
Allisande faltered when she remembered how she had brought him to the height of passion that morning, urging him to her with soft, lusty cries. He had left his room with eyes aglow, blowing a kiss to her before he went to join his men below, leaving her to dwell upon the serenity she felt in his arms now.
Surely she betrayed her family by what she did with the Viking? Discovering his heart had been broken long ago by his wife’s betrayal was a surprise. To know he had once loved and been hurt was a shock, for she thought him immune to such human emotions. Thinking of Joran loving another woman bothered her for some reason.
“Merta no doubt made him happier than I ever could,” Allisande argued a bit defensively, refusing to believe the man she loathed and had tried to kill recently was happy with her at all. He enjoyed bedding her. She was sure that was the extent of his feelings for her. Had she not watched her father and brother debauch half their female household and village women while she grew up? She knew men’s lust was a fleeting thing at best.
He would tire of her soon, and she would be returned to her cell. The thought made her feel suddenly bereft. It angered her to begin to feel insecure about his attentions. Why should she care if he no longer desired her? Why did the thought make her feel like crying? Her eyes narrowed. Why was she thinking about the Viking at all?
“He did not ask Merta to come here.” Elwynn met her disbelieving gaze with a wily smile. “She arrived at the last gathering with her brother, and wormed her way into his bed and was here every since. He never once seemed as pleased with her. You do not give yourself enough credit, Allisande. My Chieftain cares for you very much. It is obvious.”
“I do not want him to care for me! I want only to go home and forget I ever knew the man!” Allisande snapped, and gazed down at the bowl of carrots with tears in her eyes. “I wish to pretend none of this ever happened to me!”
“I felt the way you do now when I was taken in a raid many years ago by Johan, the former Chieftain here,” Elwynn said softly and covered her hand with hers and squeezed it comfortingly. “I was a serf in Mercia long ago when the Vikings came. I wasn’t treated as well as I am treated here. I was given my freedom finally, and could have left years ago. My children are here. It is my home. Perhaps one day you will feel that way too.”
Allisande chose not to answer the kindly woman. She was too busy plotting how she would escape Joran Ivarsson. She was soon humming under her breath as she helped cook the meal. She wandered out of the kitchen, and was brought up short by the huge Nordic wolf who sat sprawled in front of the hearth.
The animal seemed tame, but she was taking no chances as she gave him a wide berth. He whined and wagged his tail. She glowered at him as he began to follow her about, looking ridiculously less ferocious when she realized he merely wanted attention.
“Act like a damned beast, will you?” Allisande hissed down at him, and scowled as he jumped up and began licking her face. She giggled in delight, and pushed the huge animal down, and smiled as she patted his head. She was still smiling when she saw Joran standing in the doorway watching her with an unreadable expression. Her smile faltered. She looked away, and turned to leave the hall when she heard his voice call out.
“Allisande, you will sit with me,” Joran said quietly, and gestured to his seat at the high table. She scowled and went back to her seat at his side. Her only consolation was the wolf lying adoringly next to her feet, whipping her with his tail. She ignored the wolf, and he whined and soon she was petting the animal behind his ears.
Joran took his seat at the table. He looked down at her dark head turned to the animal, and longed to see her smile again as she had earlier. He watched her pet his wolf and wished she was petting him.
He smiled at his lustful thoughts. When a woman approached to pour him a tankard of ale, he drank thoughtfully as he watched Allisande scratch the wolf behind his ears. “You will spoil him and he will not leave you alone,” Joran warned in a soft, velvety voice, referring to him as well as his pet. She craned her neck and regarded him with look that spoke volumes. She was still angry at him. He could see it in her violet eyes, and wondered why he cared how the wench felt at all. She gave him a taste of Valhalla each night, and sent him spiraling back to earth with her acid tongue the next morning. She shrugged and looked at the animal with another rare smile that tugged at him.
“How did you come to have a wolf as a pet?” Allisande noted the animal’s incredible size. “It is strange to find one so tame. The ones near Lockwraithe were all vicious. I can remember being chased by them as a child when I wandered too far from the keep.”
“Thor was a pup when I found him. His paw was injured. He was lame for a time, and grew spoiled by my people. It would be cruel to set him into the wild again. He cannot fend for himself. How is it you once outran wolves, Wench?” Joran raised a golden eyebrow at her words. The girl kept surprising him. She was unlike any woman he had ever known.
“I wandered away from the keep. I was forced to climb a tree to escape them. For many hours they circled the tree. My chance to run came when a cow wandered out of the pasture and they turned their attention to it. I ran, but soon they were after me again. I had nearly a dozen on my heels by then. I was lucky my father’s men were in the practice fields that day to kill them all. You see, I always won the footraces at the keep.” Allisande looked up at him, her long-lashed violet eyes enchanting him. “I run rather fast, as you will see one day soon when I leave you, and escape this God awful land.”
“You may be able to outrun me on land, Girl, but you won’t get off this mountain without a ship.” Joran chuckled at her boastful words. “Unless you can run on top of the water, that is.”
“We shall see.”
“How is it a noble female takes up swords and knives? That is not a normal pastime for English ladies.”
Allisande snorted rudely. “You should know, Viking, having forced me to defend myself.”
“Your father must have been a weakling to teach his women to fight,” Joran taunted, desiring to know more about his enchanting slave.
“My father paid me no heed since the day I wasn’t born a son, Viking,” Allisande answered and shrugged. “My mother found her peace in her chapel, and neither knew of my interest, if you must know, only my brother, Collin.”
“Your brother trained you to use a sword?”
Allisande chuckled, her violet eyes filled with amusement. “You could say we trained each other.”
“Why are you yet unwed? You are old enough to marry.”
“Let us just say, I found no man worth marrying,” Allisande said stiffly, uncomfortable with his questions. “Why do you ask me all of this?”
Joran shrugged. “Why do you get angry I ask?”
Allisande didn’t understand why she felt defensive. She realized how odd it must seem for her to be unwed at her age, and her skills with a sword. She recalled the mockery of Collin’s peers at court and expected the Viking to laugh at her too. Why was it so hard to believe a woman didn’t wish to depend upon a man for safety and security? She’d seen where it got her mother. If not for her God, Lady Edwina would be miserable in her life.
Allisande petted the wolf. She ignored Joran as the meal was served and several of his men joined the table. She did not have to worry for his attention was drawn to Grogan, who was outlining the details of the next raid, much to her delight as she listened closely.
“We should take the long ships in through the bay to the left of Luxtley’s holding, and sneak in through the woods to hide our arrival.” Grogan went over possible strategies. “They will not be able to see our approach and sound the alarm.”
“You have forgotten the village which separates the woods from the keep,” Joran pointed out as he cut off a piece of gristle off his meat and tossed it to Thor. “We would have to pass through there first, alerting Luxtley of our presence.”
“We will have to be quiet,” Grogan muttered and grinned. “Until after we batter down their doors, that is.”
Joran shook his head and gazed down at Allisande, who appeared to be feeding his animal, but he was aware she listened to every word. He gestured to his companion for silence and they quit the discussion.
Allisande smiled as she petted the wolf. Luxtley was an old ally of her father’s. If she succeeded to stowaway aboard the long ship and managed to get off Joran’s ship when they made shore, she could run ahead of them to warn her father’s old friend, before they raided the holding. She smirked when she thought of Joran’s anger when he met English steel outside the gates of Luxtley.
Allisande had plenty of time to pick up their strategies in the next weeks. Men often disregarded women and spoke loosely. Joran would not believe she had the nerve to stowaway aboard his ship when he went on a raid. They would not be looking for her. There would be many places to hide during the journey.
She was feeling better about her situation as she picked at her meal that night once her plans were fully formed. She had months to prepare. She would need food and other supplies, as well as warm clothing, remembering the freezing air during their passage into Norway. She bit her lip when she realized she needed weapons as well.
She knew Joran had her sword kept somewhere, but hadn’t seen it since they arrived. Her brother made for her years before when he tired of her using his. She vowed she would not leave it behind.
Just thinking of Joran’s reaction when he returned to his longhouse after the failed raid to find her gone made the evening pass pleasantly. She was yawning when she felt a hand upon her shoulder.
She looked up and saw the look in his eyes and was startled by it. His eyes were darkened with longing as he rose and drew her up with him. She marched ahead of him, and could almost feel his breath upon the back of her neck when they arrived to his room.
She stepped inside and expected him to pounce upon her.
He merely undressed and lit a candle as he added more wood to the fire in the hearth. She removed her gown and got into bed. There was no point in denying him, for she couldn’t fight the pleasure she found in his arms. It was disconcerting, this passion she felt for the Viking she claimed to hate. She pulled the fur skin about her as he joined her in the bed.
He jerked her back into his chest and his strong arms held her close to him as he curled around her. His lips nestled in her hair at her neck, and inhaled the sweet fragrance there and he sighed.
“You make it hard to stay angry at you, Wench.” Joran placed a slow lingering kiss at her nape, making her shiver as gooseflesh spread over her shoulders. His hands wandered over her freely. She ignored the stabs of pleasure when he stroked her full breasts. Her nipples hardened and tingled in expectation of his caresses.
“You make it very easy to stay mad at you, Viking,” Allisande returned softly as he buried his face in her hair. He chuckled warmly at her words. His hands were caressing her with disturbing intensity, setting her limbs afire.
“My name is not Viking. Can you not call me by my name?” Joran enjoyed the feel of her lush nudity against him, liking the way her body pressed closer to him despite her constant denial of him out of his bed.
“Mine name isn’t Wench, either, Master” Allisande murmured in a scathing tone. He laughed softly and nipped playfully at her shoulder, making her yelp as he grazed her tender flesh with his teeth, more in surprise than pain.
The lips that met hers were once again determined.
She tried to force herself to lie still as he explored her with soft kisses and touches, but soon it proved impossible. She moaned as his finger found the hard bud of her desire, and soon she was trembling in his arms.
Joran held back his ardor. When he rolled her beneath him and entered her, she cried out in delight and arched under him, meeting his driving body with matched eagerness. He smiled in the darkness as he brought her to pleasure first, enjoying the way she clung to him. He shuddered as he soon joined her, marveling at the passion between them. When she wasn’t insulting him and making him angry, she pleased him as none ever had.
Allisande slept in his arms with her leg lodged between his. She looked so beautiful in the firelight; he could only stare at her. He brooded as he wondered if he could let her go come spring when the ransom arrived for her.
Joran could afford to give up the ransom, but his father would demand it of him. Ivar wanted no reminders of Harold’s betrayal. The baron’s daughter remaining with him indefinitely would be an issue with his sire should he think to keep the girl for his own.
He frowned fiercely as he thought of giving her up. His arms tightened around her possessively. He found little pleasure in thinking of her ransom these days. Every day that passed reminded him of what he would lose in the spring.
Joran didn’t want to feel this softness in him for Allisande, but it began on its own. He tried to deny it, but he knew the girl had gotten under his skin. Sleep came some time later.
Allisande was reliving the terror of the siege in her dreams. She felt the horror and whimpered in her sleep. She saw herself again forcing her mother behind the false cabinet, and felt the despair as the doors to the keep crashed open. She saw Joran and his men entering, and heard their howling war cries. She saw her father’s remaining retainers fall in vain attempts to protect those in the keep.
Ragged sobs tore her throat as the two giant Vikings backed her into the corner in the outer bailey, their eyes wild. She saw herself killing them again, and soon her screams brought her upright in the bed.
Joran sat up and attempted to comfort her. She sobbed and pushed away from him, her face buried in her hands, shuddering with the horrors of that day. Joran’s face was grim when he heard her words before she woke. He knew she was reliving the terror of the keep being taken.
When Allisande pushed away from him, he felt her sorrow acutely. When the sobs wracked her shoulders, she flung off his comforting hands. He sighed and lay back down. Knowing he was responsible for her pain and deserving of her hatred did not set well with him, despite her father’s treachery.
The innocent people who perished at Lockwraithe that day paid the price for Osgood’s misdeeds. There was nothing he could say or do to make her feel better, for he had caused the tears that streamed down her cheeks in a hot torrent.
She soon quieted and lay as far away from him as she could in the bed. He lay awake for some time feeling the huge chasm between them once more. He was aggrieved the fates had made her his enemy’s daughter.