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She never looked up, just nodded. Her voice was tiny now in embarrassment. “Very separate. The fifth time was difficult for I was very tired, but Cleve just laughed and kissed me and wouldn’t stop. The pleasure he forced upon me, well, it nearly sent me into oblivion. But even then I fell asleep before he did. I have to admit it. I was glad he was kind enough to let me sleep. He said he fell asleep then? I wondered for he never slowed, never stopped touching me and giving me pleasure.”
Rorik strode off, shaking his head. Mirana looked at Chessa, saw the wicked gleam in her eyes, and began to laugh. “Ah, that was very well done of you. You rival Laren as a skald. My poor husband will now believe he’s failed me, Chessa. Actually, I can’t wait until tonight. He’ll believe he must prove himself. By the gods, all the men will feel as if their manhood has been called into question. Ah, the women will love this. Well done, well done.”
“I thought it was,” Chessa said, grinning like one of Mirana’s sons when he’d managed to fool his father. “I believe I’ll go to the bathing hut.” She turned. “Is five times more than a man can accomplish in one night?”
“I honestly don’t know. I hope to find out tonight. Rorik will do his best now that he knows the new standard. A standard that every man on Hawkfell Island will know before the day is out. Separate times. Ah, that was well done.”
When Chessa entered the outer room in the bathing hut Cleve was already dressed. She walked up to him, took his face between her hands and brought his head down to kiss him. “Hello, husband,” she said, and kissed him again. His hair was wet, the thick golden strands brushing his shoulders. He looked so barbaric, so wonderfully alive she never wanted to let him out of her sight.
“I’m going hunting with Merrik and Oleg and the Malverne men,” he said, clasping her wrists and pulling her arms down. “You will help the women dry meat and fish. We will need a lot of food when we leave for Scotland. I wish to leave in four days. I’ve already spoken to Kiri.”
“All right. I don’t know anything about drying meat or fish, but Mirana will show me. Do you have time for another bath, Cleve?”
He felt the hunger in her, felt her absolute acceptance of him, and he felt like garbage tossed in a refuse mound. He’d failed her, left her wanting and not understanding what it was she’d missed because he’d been such a frantic pig. He had to gather himself together. Even now, after she’d just kissed him, he wanted to fling her down to the pounded earth floor, rip up her gown and come into her. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t begin to imagine what Merrik would think of him if he knew how he’d treated his virgin bride the previous night. She wanted him to bathe with her? He shuddered at the thought, seeing her naked and wet, his hands slick with soap, stroking over her, seeing himself lifting her and coming up into her. By the gods, it was too much. He’d kill himself before he shamed her again.
“Nay, I can’t now, Chessa. I will see you later.” He kissed her quickly and strode to the outer door. He turned and said, “I’m sorry about last night. I don’t know what happened to me, but I just had to have you and that’s never happened to me before, but—” He looked furious with himself and embarrassed and desperate.
She said, looking at him straightly, “I want to touch you again, Cleve, wrap my fingers around you, listen to you moan, feel you shudder. The feel of you makes me very happy. Don’t you like it when I touch you there?”
He looked as if she’d just shot him with an arrow. He was gone in an instant.
Chessa looked down at her toes and smiled. Men were strange. They were also fascinating. She couldn’t wait to get him alone tonight.
What to do about Kiri? She grinned, remembering how the little girl had called in Kerzog and told the damned mongrel that he’d been right. She’d thought it all a game, the two of them in the same box bed, both of them naked, laughing, tugging at Kerzog, racing out of the small sleeping chamber. She’d lifted Kiri that morning after she’d finished her porridge, tossed her into the air and told her she was going to tie her to Kerzog’s tail so she couldn’t come in and attack her poor papa before he was even awake.
“Which Papa?” Kiri had said, laughed at her own cleverness, and wriggled out of Chessa’s arms.
She hadn’t known what to expect that morning, but she’d been hopeful. Her hope hadn’t lasted long. He’d acted ashamed, embarrassed. He’d quickly left the chamber, saying little to her. Now she understood. She wondered what the men had said, what he’d said to the men.
Cleve was red-faced, the cords in his neck pulsing madly. “You told Rorik I took you five times? Five times? Five separate times? And you asked him if it was enough? You asked him if men never tired?”
She looked down at her shoes. She gave him a furtive look, all shy and flustered. “Aye,” she said in a small little voice, scuffing the toe of her slipper into the dirt.
“Damn you, Chessa, stop it. I don’t believe your act for an instant. Look me in the eyes and stop the smiling you’re doing inside.”
“All right.” She grinned up at him shamelessly. “I thought Lord Rorik would drop his jaw on the ground. He wanted to question me to make sure I knew what five times really meant. He kept saying, Were they separate times, with time in between? It was very important to him that I understood.”
Cleve could still see Rorik’s face in his mind’s eyes, staring at him, marveling at him, wondering if he could have that extraordinary stamina. He sighed, saying, “What a day it’s been. It’s all the men can talk about. Surely you didn’t think Rorik would keep such a bit of wickedness to himself, did you? No, of course you didn’t.” Cleve sighed, plowed his fingers through his golden hair, loosening several strands to frame his face, and said, “I mauled you and then I fell asleep. That’s the truth of things and—”
“And what, Cleve? I’m pleased that you desired me so very much that you couldn’t slow yourself. I can’t believe you told the men you’d failed me. That’s ridiculous. You didn’t hurt me overly. I look forward to this evening.”
He wanted to shake some sense into her. Instead, he growled at her just like Kerzog when someone was trying to pull a stick out of his mouth, turned on his heel and strode away.
Laren came over to her and held out an apple. “Here, chew whilst I tell you about men.”
Chessa took a big bite.
“Men,” Laren said, staring after C
leve, who was nearly running out of the palisade gates, “can’t bear it if women take away something they consider to belong to them.”
“Men consider mating to be theirs?”
“Oh, yes. It involves their prowess, you see. Even more than that, it is how they see themselves, it is the very core of what they are. They must see themselves as the masters in this. It is they who decide how the act is to be done properly, and this is based on certain rules they’ve developed from father to son over the years. Women are never to talk openly about such things.”
“What rules?”
“A man such as Cleve is thoughtful, slow to temper, a man of thorough habits. Since I overheard what you said, why then, he feels as though he failed not just you, but himself, and all men. He’s ashamed. However, what you said to Rorik was excellent. All the men now consider Cleve near to a god’s throne. I’ve heard ‘five times’ more than I ever wish to hear two words again in my life. Actually ‘five separate times.’ And that embarrasses him even more because, Chessa, you made it up to hide what he views as his failure. You, a mere woman, are trying to protect him, to save him from humiliation. He can’t bear that.”
