Page 2 of Seduced by the Viking (Bound and Betrothed #5)

CHAPTER 1

Early morning, after the men’s ship has wrecked upon the island

Was he dreaming?

If so, it was the best sort of dream.

Warm breath skimmed his neck. Lips grazed upward, working upon his earlobe. Her teeth gave a playful nip.

Aye, my lovely.

Rutger turned toward the alluring woman—all curves and yielding softness. She was a keen one, saucily licking his cheek before passing the tip of her tongue across his lips.

That’s it, sweet one. Kiss me deep.

Spluttering as the questing tongue filled his mouth, he drew back, but the lass pressed upon him with unbridled enthusiasm.

Unexpectedly, she gave a snorting sneeze.

Rutger’s eyes flew open.

‘Twas dark, but he could feel the heat of the wench above him and smell her too—a piquant, earthy tang.

Straw prickled against his back and bare buttocks.

Not again!

He’d vowed not to let himself be lured into swiving in places such as stables. Not after the last time, when he’d rolled into a pile of something pungent. No man should be scrubbing that sort of muck from his arse-crack.

Rutger’s arm was wrenched back as he shifted to sit up.

Odin’s moldy toenails!

He gave a grunt of pain. What was this? Something rubbed about his wrist. Rope, was it? Had the wench tied him? He jerked against the binding and found it surprisingly firm.

Despite the discomfort, he gave a low chuckle.

He liked feisty women. ‘ Twouldn’t be the first time he’d let one bind him and have her way.

He reached with his free hand to liberate himself, only to have a sharper pain stab him across the fingers of his left hand. By the gods! It felt as if they were broken. Tentatively, he curled them up and gave forth a string of curses.

How drukkin was I yester eve? Head-soaked enough to fall and not remember?

He recalled carousing in the longhouse, drowning his sorrows, and giving his weasel brother a piece of his mind. He’d landed a good one and been rewarded by Ragnut skulking off with his nose bloodied.

The rest was indistinct, but wasn’t he supposed to be setting off with Eldberg this day? The sooner, the better, as far as Rutger was concerned.

The woman he’d sought consolation with might be real, but he did remember dreaming of something else—of rowing down the fjord, away from Skálavík, and out onto the open sea. There, the wind was brisk in the sails. A long, strange, rambling dream it had been, ending with a storm on the waves and a mist that had surrounded them suddenly, as if from nowhere.

Rutger gave himself an inward shake.

If he was late in joining his jarl upon the dock, he’d be at risk of receiving a bloody nose himself.

Though how I’m to row with this pain in my fingers, I don’t know.

“Help me, woman.” He groaned. “You’ve had your fun. ‘Tis time for me to show my face elsewhere.”

He assumed he’d given satisfaction. Ale wasn’t the best companion to prowess, but his staff was generally reliable. Even now, it was standing to attention—as it always did first thing in the morn.

The wench said nothing beyond making a mirthful bleat of sorts.

Rutger screwed up his eyes, then opened them again.

Dawn light was creeping beneath the door of wherever he was.

Above him, the wench stared back with wide-set golden eyes.

By the gods, how drukkin was I?

He’d a healthy regard for all womenfolk, having five sisters of his own, not to mention a goodly number of aunts and female cousins, his own mother still living, and his grandmother, too.

But this woman…

He’d never seen such a nose. ‘Twas large and flared, breathing heatedly upon his face in short puffs.

And her hair…

He liked a redhead, and this wench had a copper-colored mane, but was that a tuft on her chin?

‘Twas a step too far, being tickled by a woman’s beard while giving her a kiss.

Leaning in, she gave him another of her frolicsome licks, then butted her head full against his chest, knocking him back into the straw. Looming over him, she twitched long ears, while down below, the weight of a heavy udder brushed his leg.

Thor’s gonads!

Rutger moaned in disgust.

A female, but no human one!

What trick was this? Had J?rgen brought him there, leaving him to the creature’s amorous attentions? ‘Twould be like him to create such a jest at Rutger’s expense !

No doubt, he was laughing himself stupid.

Rutger turned his head away as the animal extended its tongue once more. With its hooves planted on either side of his body, he was trapped.

He could only hope J?rgen would return to free him.

Once he’d done so, Rutger would devise some way to have his revenge, and he’d laugh twice as hard.

Rutger was ruminating on that when the door flew open. Light flooded the space, and women’s voices drifted in.

“Urgh! The stench in here! Is it just him or that daft goat of yours making all this stink?” the first said, sounding snappish.

“Brunhilda doesn’t stink!” The second retorted. “At least, not usually. Mayhap ‘tis her heat. I put her in here for that reason. She deserves a rest before being mated again.”

The voices came closer, though Rutger could see neither woman, the monstrous goat blocking his view. He considered calling out, but the women were babbling away. One thing was for sure. They were fully aware of him.

J?rgen must have made some arrangement with the pair.

“By the gods! Look at that!” The first voice rang out again. “His perverted man-part is pointing to the rafters. ‘Tis Brunhilda that roused him!”

Color burned on Rutger’s cheeks.

As if my love-hammer would jut skyward for a goat!

What sort of man did these women think he was?

“His man-part is a good size.” The second voice neared. “But so crooked! Has Brunhilda sat on it, do you think? Mayhap, she’s broken it.”

As if! Rutger gnashed his teeth. Over his dead body would he let a randy goat sit on his phallus.

“All man-parts bend one way or the other.” The first woman cackled. “Surely you know that, Grethe? Don’t tell me Sven never presented you with a glimpse of his dangle-dong.”

The one called Grethe snorted with disgust. “I’m not talking to you about Sven, and I’ll thank you not to mention him or his man-part again. ”

“So tetchy! The sooner you get this one inside you, the better. It might put you in a warmer mood.” The first woman sighed. “But don’t let him talk you into any other shenanigans—nor leave the goats in here unattended. One tup may be enough. Sit astride his lap, then move up and down as I explained to you. ‘Twill take less time than to pluck a hen. We’ll soon know whether the seed has taken root. If not, we’ll keep trying. The mackerel entrails have been far from auspicious of late, so it may require another cycle of the moon. It would be well for you to look out for any favorable signs and use those to guide you. The night my Sven was conceived, the fish guts were full to bursting, which everyone knows is an indication of?—”

“Urgh!” The other woman interrupted with a retching sound. “I’ve no desire to hear about you and Uncle Knud copulating nor anything relating to Sven!”

Rutger inwardly growled. Whatever joke this might be, ‘twas going too far. If these two thought he was going to lie here while they did as they liked with him, they had another thing coming.

The talk of fish was making him queasy and, as for the business about his seed, it made no sense.

Unless ‘twas some cunning plan to trick him into marriage. Rutger’s blood went from a simmer to a boil. He’d been down that path before—or almost, he should say, having narrowly escaped.

Ha! If this Grethe wants a ride, let her try, and we’ll see who has the upper hand! I’ll make her sorry for trying, that’s for sure.

Closing his eyes, he kept still.

The advantage would be his.

Having ushered out both Aunt Ulva and Brunhilda, Grethe went to the rear of the room and pinned back the goatskin curtain.

‘Twas true that the place was over fragrant. A little air would be good, but she’d no intention of leaving the door wide while she performed any intimate acts. The matter was degrading enough as it was without someone poking their nose in to see what was afoot.

The man-beast was still asleep, which was a blessing. She’d no wish to stare into his eyes nor to talk to him. Freyja forbid, he was a chatty sort.

Not that he wasn’t handsome in his way. She rather liked the sharp cut of his jaw and neat beard, the straightness of his nose and manly brow. She wouldn’t mind looking at him while doing the deed.

In fact, she might go as far as to picture her former betrothed tied up on the other side of the hut, having to watch while she rode the stranger’s staff—all the while knowing he’d be getting no such attention. She hoped wherever Cousin Sven was, he thoroughly regretted abandoning her.

It was a regular daydream, imagining him tormented by thoughts of her—Grethe, the most beautiful and alluring woman he’d ever met or ever would!

It would serve the snake right to have been shipwrecked himself, just as these men were—except to wash up on an island devoid of anyone at all. Somewhere he’d have plenty of time to ponder on the mistake he made and to wallow in misery.

Grethe smiled to herself. Such musings were a comfort of sorts.

Spurred on by the notion of Sven filled with jealousy and remorse, she let her gaze roam the stranger’s muscular legs and arms, broad shoulders and chest, and taut abdomen. On every limb, as well as his torso, there were symbols inked. Some she was familiar with, having seen them engraved on cups and totems and on the hilt of the weapons and shields their men used to take with them on their long sailings, heading off to trade. Others were new to her.

None of the men of their island had painted those symbols on their bodies. At least, not that she’d ever heard about. Perhaps she was wrong. It wasn’t as if she’d seen any of them fully naked—not even Sven, though he’d tried plenty of times to get her clothes off.

A sour taste came to her mouth, as it always did, thinking of Sven.

The man before her had a pleasing body. ‘Twas not too hairy—a dusting of light brown across his chest, growing denser, to where his phallus sprang forth. His man-plums nestled high, which was another sign, according to her aunt, that the male was ready to mate.

Kneeling down, Grethe gave his arousal a poke, then flinched as the thing gave a sudden jerk.

Men’s bodies are so peculiar. How do they keep their minds on anything but their man-parts, having them swinging about in front of them all the day?

‘Twas a relief to think she wouldn’t need to spend much time looking at the thing. For all his handsomeness, it was far from ideal, performing the mating act with someone who had straw in his hair, goat lick on his face, and who hadn’t even had the chance to whisper sweetling words to her, telling her he’d burst if he couldn’t embrace her.

Pah! That was what Sven was like, and though I liked it at the time, what good came of it? All were lies, for he cared naught at all when the bitter moment came. Sailing away with the other men, he didn’t even bother to wish me farewell.

The only consolation regarding her current situation was that she’d claimed the stranger first. ‘Twould have been unbearable to wait in line for some other woman to finish with him before she might have her turn.

Her old rival, Vangreth, would be gnashing her teeth. She’d certainly be pushing herself forward for the man when Grethe had no more use for him.

A wayward thought snaked to the front of Grethe’s mind. Even if her bleeding time ceased, indicating she was carrying a child, she might pretend otherwise, simply to make Vangreth wait! ‘Twould mean keeping the stranger longer, but the annoyance would be worthwhile to see Vangreth grow ever more impatient.

The hussy had been always trying to lure Sven away. She’d practically thrown herself at him, obliging Grethe to make some concessions of her own. She’d made sure to keep Sven keen by giving his staff a rub now and then. Once, at his insistence, she’d put it in her mouth, though that hadn’t been pleasurable at all—having him shove it down her throat without a by-your-leave, so that she could hardly take a breath.

More agreeable had been letting him stroke his member between her legs. She’d almost enjoyed that and had gone as far as letting him enter her with just the tip. He’d wanted to do more, but it was far too uncomfortable, and she’d been a little frightened, truth be told .

Ulva had pulled Grethe aside when the betrothal was first arranged, explaining how babies came to be. To her surprise, it seemed her aunt fully expected Sven to make free with Grethe, even before the marriage, but advised against letting him spill his seed inside.

An awkward conversation that had been, though Grethe appreciated her aunt’s straight talking. ‘Twould have been humiliating to have people gossiping behind her back about how she’d forced Sven into a hasty performance of the wedding ritual because of expecting his child.

Well… there’s no point in delaying. I know exactly what to do, and if Aunt Ulva is right, perhaps one tupping will do the job. I shan’t need to bother with him again, though that won’t stop me from keeping him here—just to spite Vangreth.

‘Twas an ungenerous plan, but Grethe couldn’t bring herself to care. She doubted not that Vangreth would treat her just the same. As for the man restrained at her side, he’d have to bear it as best he could. He’d be safe, at least, and there would be time for those fingers to heal.

He deserved no more consideration. A man as attractive as he had doubtless turned a great many women’s heads and taken full advantage—just as Sven had wanted to with her. How many hearts had the stranger broken along the way?

Oh, yes, I have his measure! I refuse to feel guilty. Even if the cur stirs awake, he’ll hardly find me riding him displeasing.

Lifting her skirts, she sat astride his hips, feeling for his member. ‘Twas hot in her hand and firm in her grip, yet the skin was as soft as that of her inner thigh. Awkwardly, she positioned it, and as the head met the parting of her labia, she eased downward, taking the bulbous head within.

She gave a soft gasp.

Had it felt so with Sven when she’d let him toy with her in this way?

She wasn’t sure.

Perhaps it was because she was in control of her own movement and the stranger utterly at her disposal that she felt more at ease. Certainly, there was a wetness at her crux.

Proceeding, Grethe bit her lip, amazed at her body’s ability to accommodate him. Just a little farther and he was entirely embedded within her sheath. Sitting upright, she took several deep breaths, adjusting to the sensation of fullness.

A surge of satisfaction rose at having conquered the man’s phallus. All it had taken was the belief that she might do it. The courage to put her own needs first. Faith in herself to take charge.

“How easy was that?” With a smile of self-congratulation, she addressed the man prone beneath her.

Then, to her utter shock, he sat up abruptly and flung his left arm about her waist. She was clasped to him as tightly as could be, staring into eyes of a tawny hue.

Slowly, his mouth curved in a wicked grin.