Page 2

CHAPTER 2

Late that afternoon

Adding a final ladle of water to the tub, Astrid dipped in her toes.

Ah! Sweet Freya! ‘Tis just right.

She wriggled down, adjusting a rolled-up cloth to support her neck. By bending her knees, she could almost entirely submerge herself.

She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the bath soothe her aching body. Fishing was hard work, dragging net after net. Not that she couldn’t manage. She had strong arms, and her technique was good—throwing wide from the stern, then catching the wind in her sail. On a good day, it took only a few hours to fill her baskets.

Except there had been fewer of those days lately.

The fish didn’t seem to congregate as close to the island as they once had, obliging her to sail further out, which made everything so much harder. As sturdy as the boat was, its size made it vulnerable to the stronger waves that broke around the outer perimeter of H?y, and she knew better than to risk being overturned.

Locating the soap, she turned it slowly, breathing in the honey and milk aroma as she lathered her hands. ‘Twas a new bar, given to her by Signy the day before.

Astrid was all too aware of how the scent of mackerel lingered, and ridding herself of that was more important than ever.

Now that J?rgen shares my bed.

She sighed wistfully.

Though he’s so eager to poke me with his thing, I doubt it would matter if I had a dozen fish strapped about me.

Having a man as handsome as J?rgen lusting after her was flattering, naturally, though she’d an inkling he’d behave the same with any woman who lay beside him at night. ‘Twas a wonder she’d kept him at bay so long.

The difficulty was not so much his efforts to copulate with her as her fear over what would happen once she’d given in to his seductions.

She’d seen it before—men telling women all sorts of love nonsense until they gained what they were after. Then, their interest vanished, and they were off, pursuing someone else.

People seemed to assume she didn’t notice what went on, but just because she didn’t gossip didn’t mean she was simple-minded.

J?rgen’s attention was focused upon her at present, but she knew how quickly that would change once she’d given herself fully to him. It would be na?ve of her to think otherwise.

Speculation already swirled over who J?rgen might be sent onto when her time with him was complete. Since he’d been working in the settlement, there had been ample opportunity for the women to gain a look at him, and they’d done so avidly. Astrid had seen how they devoured him with their eyes and wasn’t deaf to their lewd comments.

Oh, yes… there were women aplenty who were keen to take him on, and her three cycles of the moon would soon pass. One was already gone.

All the more reason to give in to passion, to find out how it would be—to have your body worshipped in that way, to know what it’s like to lie with a man.

Thoughtfully, she rubbed soap lather over her arms.

She’d never imagined herself belonging to any man but her father, and he’d never pressured her into a betrothal. She supposed it had suited him, having her not only working alongside but keeping house. Men weren’t interested in her in any case—or none she found attractive.

She knew what people whispered behind her back, not just that the scent of the sea clung to her but that she was strange in some way—too quiet, too shy, and had no conversation unless it was to talk of currents in the water or how to set a sail to take advantage of the wind.

She accepted she was different from other women, but was that entirely bad? If it wasn’t for her, who would go out to fish? The job had been that of the men. Now, only she knew how to navigate out of the bay. She’d offered to teach anyone who might like to join her, but none had taken up her invitation.

It had saddened her for a while, but she’d resigned herself to her life as it was.

She caught the fish, took a share to each home, and received something in return. There were many crafts she’d never bothered to learn, for others supplied her with what she needed. Bothild, Hevinda, and Agneta wove fine cloth; Signy and her mother harvested honey; Grethe made her mead and goat’s milk cheeses; Hedda hunted for game; Frida tended her vegetables; and Elin provided them with tonics and healthful potions.

Every woman of the island has their skill, a nd mine is to go out in the boat.

Even if I do feel lonely at times.

Except that she didn’t feel so set apart anymore, not since J?rgen had been around.

Each day, it became harder to resist the way he nuzzled her neck and wound his arms about her waist, the way his hand remained upon hers whenever she handed him something, his fingers lightly brushing her skin.

Irritated, Astrid punched the water.

Who was she kidding? Even knowing J?rgen was glancing her way made her tremble.

She couldn’t keep her gaze from straying toward him.

In bed together, oft times, she could hardly breathe for excitement, wrapped in his heat and his earthy scent. Very much aware of his hardness pressed into her bottom—that part designed to go inside her, to make the baby she was intended to have.

She wanted to give in to those feelings, and though her knowledge was scant, she had an idea of what to expect. When the ache grew strong between her legs, she was supposed to let him lie there. There was a channel from which her monthly blood flowed, and that was where his phallus would enter.

What he would do once he was inside, she wasn’t entirely sure. She’d seen the pigs and goats mounting one another, but it was all over so rapidly, there was hardly a chance to discern the mechanics.

J?rgen had told her it would be pleasurable, that it wouldn’t truly hurt or, at least, not for long. She wasn’t sure she believed him. It was both frightening and exciting to think of his thickness pushing into her body. Even more frightening to think of the baby that might grow—of carrying it, then delivering its huge head through that same tiny place.

What if the child ripped her in two?

It must happen sometimes because there was always much screaming, and not everyone survived the ordeal. She’d tried to find out about it, but the older women refused to enlighten her, telling her ‘twas something she needn’t worry herself over yet.

Even if she didn’t die, she’d be left with a baby to look after. No doubt, someone would help her, but the ultimate responsibility would be hers. Would she be a good mother?

For the love of Freya, it was too much!

First, she thought she wanted something, then she decided not, only to find herself wavering again.

Perhaps Elin was right.

The last time Astrid had seen her, she’d confided a little of her worry.

Elin had said some things needed to be ‘felt’ rather than turned over in the mind, but she should take the time she needed to feel comfortable with J?rgen. She’d promised that Astrid would know when the moment was right.

Had that time come?

That morning, when J?rgen had tried to kiss her upon the mouth, she’d turned away, fearful of him discovering how much she longed for him. Her words could refuse him, but her lips would surely give her away, and she wouldn’t allow that to happen—for J?rgen to discover the extent of her rapture over him.

‘Twould be humiliating.

He’d surely pity her—the silly young girl mistaking lust for heart-filled sweetness.

When he went to his next chosen mate, they might lie together and laugh over how gullible Astrid had swooned in his arms.

Even so, she’d come close to submitting.

Never had she known such feelings as when he’d kissed her breasts and between her legs.

Holy Freyja!

His tongue inside her had near made her scream, bringing with it such a haze that she cared not for anyone or anything else in all the world—only that J?rgen wanted her, and she wanted him.

His finger had felt awkward, but at the same time, she’d needed him to push deeper. A yearning had taken hold to let him do as he willed, even if it did hurt.

Elin had warned her that there might be bleeding but that there wouldn’t be any real harm, and once she was used to the act, her body would crave more.

Running her hands over her breasts, Astrid thought back to when J?rgen had done so—the way he’d covered her with his whole hand, cradling her flesh almost reverentially. When he’d teased his thumb against her nipple, a stab had shot through her, low and deep, painful and pleasurable at the same time, and she’d almost grabbed his head to claim the kiss she’d previously denied.

She pinched her nipples, imagining his mouth upon them, kissing softly at first, then harder, tugging with his lips, then his teeth.

A groan escaped her.

Oh, yes, she did crave it.

Not just the roughness of his mouth but his heaviness over her. She wanted his thigh to push her legs apart and for him to nudge his arousal where his tongue had licked. Even if it hurt, she wanted it—to feel his girth stretching her, to have her closer to him than any other.

Joined together, they would mate, and she’d know how it was to be loved by a man’s body.

He would be hers.

With one hand upon her breast, she slid the other down to cup her mound and slipped her finger within, finding the place J?rgen had centered upon.

Astrid stroked, the ache there becoming a determined throb. When J?rgen was inside her, would his phallus caress that place as his tongue had done?

She tried to imagine but could not.

Perhaps she needed his tongue, after all.

Next time he lay beside her, dare she ask for him to do so again?

Could she be so bold?

To spread her thighs and ask him to kiss her there?

To abandon herself to that pleasure?

She could picture that—having him sup upon her, as if he were a starving man and feeding upon her cream for sustenance. So hungry that he grasped her legs and pushed them wider, refusing to cease until his need was satisfied.

Astrid tweaked her nipple hard, all the while touching herself. In her private fantasy, only her body could quench his thirst.

Only hers.

With a whimper, she shuddered, clenching tight as waves traversed her body. Writhing beneath the water, she gave herself to the man who filled her thoughts.

Someone was watching as Astrid surrendered to pleasure.

J?rgen had returned from his day’s work upon the hillside. As he passed the small opening at the rear of the hut, he heard the unmistakable moan of a woman in the throes of sensual delight.

He moved aside the goatskin which hung at the window.

Beside the firepit, Astrid lay in her tub. He was granted a tantalizing glimpse of her breasts. Her fingers roved there, caressing urgently. Clasping one rosy nipple, she pulled it, biting at her lip as she did so. Her other hand was hidden, reaching betwixt her legs. From the hungry sounds escaping her lips, ‘twas obvious what was afoot.

Arching her back, Astrid unwittingly offered more of her body to his view, raising her hips above the water. By the gods, she was delicious, indulging that wanton part of herself.

A pang, fierce and hot, jolted J?rgen’s loins.

Regardless of her virginity, she was passionate. He’d ached to possess what no man had yet claimed, to teach Astrid the wonders she was made for.

Yearning burned through his veins.

A maid so greedy for physical satisfaction needed a man.

He would take her, and when her initial resistance was torn down, she would welcome him inside her body, sheathing him in heat. She would gasp and writhe, undulating beneath him.

J?rgen’s mouth was suddenly dry.

He’d savor every moment, and by Thor, he was going to make sure she enjoyed it, too. Could an untried maiden reach her peak the first time of breaching? If ‘twas possible, J?rgen was the man to do so.

By the time he was finished with Astrid, she’d be opening her legs to him morning, noon, and night.

Grasping where his cock sprung eager, J?rgen rubbed himself through his braies and watched as the woman before him succumbed to ecstasy.