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Murdina nodded and ushered her sister and niece from the dwelling. As soon as the door closed behind them Brynhild rose to her feet and stood before him.

"You will no doubt wish to use your belt again. I believe the current tally to be twelve."

"And I believe you to be far too eager to invite punishment." He slipped into the seat she had vacated and pulled her onto his lap. "Be still, and quiet. And eat."

She would have wriggled out of his arms but he held her firm until she relaxed.

When she sat still Taranc selected a piece of cold mutton from one of the platters laid out by his aunt and cousin and offered it to her.

Brynhild frowned at the meat, but took it between her fingers and tasted it, then shoved the entire piece into her mouth and chewed.

So far so good. He chose another slice of meat for her, then one for himself.

He poured her a mug of ale made from the local heather and apologised for the lack of the mead which he knew to be the usual preference at a Viking table.

Brynhild shrugged and took a sip of the ale, grimaced, then took another.

They ate the rest of their meal in silence.

Brynhild tried everything set before her—roast pigeon, the rich cheese made of goat's milk, oatcakes and a soft pear pudding sweetened with honey.

Taranc, too, was ravenous and delighted to sample again the familiar flavours of his home.

Eventually Brynhild shook her head when he offered her another mouthful of the pudding.

"I have had enough. Thank you. It was—nice."

He smiled. She was trying, at least.

"I have much to attend to so I must leave you for a while. You should sleep."

"I am not tired."

"Rest, then. The bed is in the far corner."

"The bed? Just one bed?"

"Aye, just the one. Make yourself comfortable.

I shall ask Annag to find fresh clothes for you since your own still have the salt of the sea upon them.

" He planted her on her feet and gave her a shove in the direction of the large raised cot in the corner.

"I shall see you in a couple of hours or so.

And remember, do try to be nice to everyone. "

His tour of the village took longer than he had anticipated since he was called upon to pause at every dwelling to share news of those still in the Norseland.

For the most part he was able to reassure his people that their loved ones were safe but still there was sadness, anger, resentment, and puzzlement at the presence among them of one of the hated enemy.

It would pass, he knew, and much would depend on his own attitude toward Brynhild.

If he accepted her, welcomed her, then his people would too.

He wanted her to be happy here. It mattered to him, more than he might have imagined.

On every occasion he declared Brynhild to be a fine woman, honest and hard-working, skilled at weaving and home-making, a woman who had lost her own home and family through no fault of her own, so had opted to accompany him to Scotland when the opportunity arose.

Not entirely the true state of affairs but he felt it judicious to smooth the way for her. The rest was up to Brynhild herself.

Taranc returned to his house as the sun was setting.

He entered, and was pulled up short by the sight of Brynhild seated in the small tub he used for his bath.

She was submerged up to her shoulders in the steaming water which rippled about her breasts and bent knees.

Her eyes were closed and her head tilted back.

Behind her, Annag sat on a low stool and rubbed a soap made of mutton fat and scented with lavender into her hair.

Both women turned to him as he stood in the doorway.

"I can assist Brynhild from here. You may go, Annag."

"But—" His young cousin clearly found this suggestion less than wholly appropriate.

Taranc smiled and reached back to open the door, then gestured his kinswoman through it. Brynhild remained where she was, though she watched him with suspicion from the safety of her bath.

"You appear more refreshed than when I left. I trust Annag has taken good care of you."

"She has been very kind. She brought me fresh clothes, and she offered to prepare the bath. I did not ask it of her."

Taranc nodded, though he would not have considered it unreasonable had Brynhild made such a request. He should have suggested it himself.

He moved to take up the position recently occupied by Annag and drew a pail of fresh, clean water close to his knee.

"Allow me to assist you in rinsing your hair. "

"I can manage..." She started to sit up, then seemingly realised this would reveal her naked breasts to him. She sank back into the water, her arms crossed over her chest.

Taranc made no comment, just proceeded to pour jugfuls of clean water over her now perfectly cleansed locks. The brightness of her flaxen curls, even when wet, near dazzled him as he drew his fingers slowly through her hair to tease out the tangles.

"Your hair is beautiful. It was the first thing I noticed about you."

She snorted. "The first thing I noticed about you was that you are quite ridiculously tall. And that you lacked the proper respect due to a Viking woman of the Jarl. You were far too ready with your demands."

"Aye, I daresay. And now you appear to be struggling to exhibit the required degree of deference due the chief of your village. Perhaps I should make more demands of you."

"What... what do you mean." She stiffened, her slender shoulders tightening as she tensed.

Taranc released his grip on her hair and laid his palms on the soft skin which covered her clavicles.

He drew his hands in towards her neck, thumbs outstretched, then began to trace lazy circles with the pads, right at her hairline.

She flinched, and he increased the pressure, seeking out the spot where tension lurked.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was a breathless whisper.

"Making demands. Relax, be still. Enjoy."

"I cannot. I do not like you to touch me..."

"Liar. I shall not hurt you, and you know it." He kept up the relentless, sensual pressure, leaning in to kiss the outer shell of her ear as he did so. Brynhild let out a soft gasp, but offered no further objection.

Her taut and rigid body softened under his ministrations.

He was not certain she even realised she had done so when she released her tightly folded arms to lay them along the rim of the tub and leaned back into his gentle embrace.

He allowed his hands to move, reaching forward, then lower to cup the soft swell of both her breasts.

She gasped, her posture tensing again, betraying her disquiet. But she allowed it.

Taranc caressed the lower curves, his thumbs now rubbing across her stiff, pebbling nipples.

He longed to take one of the deep pink buds between his teeth but decided to save that pleasure for another occasion.

For now, he had her where he wanted her.

She accepted his touch, at least this far, his intimate exploration of her body. She was learning to trust him.

He continued to toy with her nipple as he drew his fingertips down the length of her sternum, pausing to explore the hollow of her navel before continuing on to tease the pale blonde curls at the apex of her thighs.

He did not suggest she spread her legs for him as he knew what her answer would be.

Instead he kissed her neck as he slid his fingers through her soft folds.

, seeking out the pleasure nub he knew he would find there.

Brynhild almost leapt from the tub when he reached his quarry. He tightened his grip across her chest to hold her in place.

"Relax. Be still. Enjoy." He repeated his sensual demands.

"What are you doing to me? That feels... wrong. It is not usual to feel so."

"No, perhaps not until now. It will become usual, I promise.

" He continued to draw the tip of his finger across the sensitive nubbin, noting the way it swelled under his touch.

Brynhild trembled in his arms, her tension mounting.

Undeterred, he continued his assault on her confused, untried senses.

He was merciless, his goal clear. As her body spasmed he took the quivering bud between his finger and thumb and squeezed lightly as she shattered in his arms.

Brynhild lay still, her breath coming in quick pants.

Her eyes were closed, her head against his shoulder.

The water was cooling now but she appeared oblivious to it.

Taranc was not and he did not wish her to become chilled.

He stood, reached into the tub to take her in his arms, and lifted her dripping wet form.

. He carried her to the cot and laid her on the blankets there, then quickly pulled the top one around her.

Brynhild did not resist when he rubbed her all over to dry her, then discarded the moist blanket and wrapped her in another before tucking the rest around her.

She was deeply asleep by the time he straightened to survey her still body, her relaxed features softened by satiated lust. Her pleasure had been a long time coming, but she had needed it and it would not be her last, he swore.

Taranc turned to regard the cooling water in the tub and let out a long sigh.

He quickly removed his damp clothing and sank into the bath.