Page 85 of The Bewitched Viking

Or was that what he’d intended?

Alinor shuffled to a sitting position, maintaining her full coverage of bed furs. She’d been sleeping soundly in a small bedchamber on the second floor of the keep. She usually awakened at dawn, by habit, especially with the roosters crowing their wakeup calls—but all the roosters seemed to have disappeared or been hidden away at Dragonstead. Besides, she hadn’t been able to sleep much last night after all of Tykir’s sexual teasing. As she yawned now, she realized that it was much later than usual…mayhap even late morning. It was hard to tell with the way Norway lost its sun for most of the winter hours.

“What are you doing up so early? And in my bedchamber?” she grumbled.

“We have a big day ahead of us.”

“We?” Alinor’s sleepy head suddenly became unsleepy.

“Yea, we.” He chuckled. “Now, get up, Alinor. Time is a-wasting.”

“What? You are going to help me and Girta make soap?”

He laughed, an ominous, deep-throated sound of mirth.

If she were a loose woman, inclined toward men with deep-throated, sensual laughs, she might be feeling a little tingle in the pit of her stomach now. Good thing she was far from loose. In fact, suddenly she was coiled tighter than a seaman’s rope.

“Nay, we will be making something, but it won’t be soap.”

“Stop talking in riddles. I am tired to death of your constant teasing. And, frankly, whilst on the subject of teasing, I do not much appreciate your slick kisses either.”

“Methinks slick is good when it comes to kissing. And you seemed to appreciate my kisses yestereve in the corridor and out in the snow, and back in Hedeby.” He tapped his chin pensively. “Or was it some other wench licking my back teeth?”

“You are unchivalrous to remind me of my slips in sanity, but I will tell you—”

“Slips in sanity?” he hooted. “That is the first time I have heard arousal termed thus.”

“Arousal? Ooooh, now you have gone too far. I was merely…um, curious. Yea, I was curious as to what all the fuss is regarding kissing. Maids and young men do make much ado about what amounts to naught, in my opinion. But now that I know, I have decided that I want no more.”

“Oh-ho! You have decided? Be forewarned, my lady, there will be more kisses in your life. And you will like them, too.”

Alinor inhaled and exhaled deeply for patience. “Listen, I am not such a muddlehead that I do not understand what this is all about. You have been insinuating for some time that you intend to punish me. It is apparent to me that your form of punishment involves coupling. Well, let us make a bargain then. I will lay back and spread my legs for you, and by the time I am done saying my Pater Noster, you will be done rutting and I can be about my soap-making chores.”

He went slack-jawed at her offer. Most men were unaccustomed to women being straightforward with them.

“What say you? Is it a bargain?” she asked. “Then can I expect a halt to the veiled innuendos and sly threats?”

He snapped his mouth shut. “Alinor, Alinor. What an innocent you are for such a long-in-the-tooth female! When we make love, you will be too involved to be saying your prayers. And I guarantee it will last more than a few moments.” He flipped the bed furs aside and prepared to drag her from the bed.

“Wait! Tell me what it is you want from me. What is all this gibberish about?”

“Your punishment,” he said and lifted her by the waist from the mattress, setting her on her feet.

She scrunched up her bare toes against the cold of the rush-covered floor. “There you go again with that punishment nonsense.”

“’Tis necessary, Alinor. Your discipline has been put off far too long…first due to our trip to Norway, then to my illness.”

“Why is it necessary?”

“A man must be a man in his own house and before his followers. You poisoned me, woman. My soldiers, even my cotters and house carls, will not respect me if I let you go without punishment.”

“That’s absurd. Dost not matter that you kidnapped me with no good cause…that I helped minister to you in your sickness?”

“Yea, it does. That is why you will not taste the lash. Nor die. But…” His words trailed off, and he studied her, as if weighing how much to reveal.

“But?” she prodded.

“But you must become my slave until that time when I release you to go home to Northumbria.”