had volunteered, swearing before
Odin that he would raise the boy as his own, Jonakr had no choice but to back
down. He’d never forgiven Valgard for the offense.
Lifting the largest chest of treasure from the heap, Valgard
strode proudly through the village towards the longhouse where Jonakr held
council. Swinging the great oaken door open, Valgard approached Jonakr’s chair.
The rotund man’s eyes glinted at the sight of the chest, but he made no move to
greet Valgard. His wife, a gray ghost of a woman called Idonea, stood by his
side with a horn of ale.
“Jonakr Agmundson, my headman,” Valgard proclaimed, his
voice echoing through the hall. “My warriors and I have returned from a
successful raid, bringing the wealth of the Picti back with us.” He spilled the
chest open on Jonakr’s table, revealing gleaming chalices, torques, coins, and
other fine riches. “This, I offer to you as a token of my loyalty.”
“We are glad to see our brave warriors return triumphant, as
always,” Jonakr said in that oily voice of his. “Let us hope that you might
stay amongst us for longer this time.”
Something about the tone of his voice raised the hair on
Edda’s neck. She’d never liked Jonakr, but surely it was just her bias on
Valgard’s behalf.
“That’s my hope,” Valgard said merrily, his muscular arm
encircling Edda’s slim waist. “I’ve missed my wife and my home fiercely. And on
that note, if you’ll excuse us...”
Jonakr waved a dismissive hand. Edda breathed a soft sigh of
relief as Valgard ushered her back out, strong hand on the small of her back.
“I hate that man,” she muttered to her husband as they
strolled back towards their plot of land. Valgard laughed, hugging her close.
Edda’s heartbeat raced as she pressed herself close to him.
“Let’s forget Jonakr right now,” Valgard whispered into her
ear. “I had other things on my mind.” Edda squealed as he scooped her up in his
strong arms, striding quickly across the village commons. Friendly shouts
followed in their wake as Valgard swooped down the path leading to their home.
“What about your share of the treasure?” Edda asked suddenly, recalling that he
hadn’t taken any of the chests.
“My men will save it for me,” Valgard said indulgently. He
kicked the door to their house open, tossing a giggling Edda onto their bed and
slamming it behind them. “I am far more interested in reacquainting myself with
your ample charms!”
Edda watched with hungry eyes as Valgard stripped off his
tunic and jerkin, revealing the muscular planes of his chest and stomach. Edda
ached to trace the lines of his scars. Suddenly desperate to feel his skin
against hers, Edda wiggled out of her linen tunic, shivering a little as her
bare skin was exposed to the cool air. She flushed with heat again, though, as
Valgard’s eyes raked over her body, nearly predatory in their intensity.
“You may not believe me,” he said huskily as he lay beside
her in the bed, “but I have not been with another woman since we were wed. Many
of the other men take their pleasure where they will when we are away, but I
cannot, knowing who is waiting for me at home.”
Edda cried out softly as his rough, sword-callused hands
stroked her breasts with surprising tenderness. Her soft, pink nipples began to
harden immediately under his caresses. Edda rolled on top of Valgard, urgently
pressing her lips to his. Their tongues lashed against each other as Valgard’s
hands stroked up the backs of her thighs and under her skirts, pushing her
against him as he gripped her buttocks firmly.
Edda squirmed against Valgard’s growing bulge, feeling the
slit between her legs grow wet. She, too, had been faithful to him over the
long weeks—there had been oblique offers, certainly, but Valgard was not only
her love but her hero, her savior. Edda would sooner cut off her own arm than
betray him.
Valgard, though, was maddeningly patient. Hoisting her up
slightly, his
Odin that he would raise the boy as his own, Jonakr had no choice but to back
down. He’d never forgiven Valgard for the offense.
Lifting the largest chest of treasure from the heap, Valgard
strode proudly through the village towards the longhouse where Jonakr held
council. Swinging the great oaken door open, Valgard approached Jonakr’s chair.
The rotund man’s eyes glinted at the sight of the chest, but he made no move to
greet Valgard. His wife, a gray ghost of a woman called Idonea, stood by his
side with a horn of ale.
“Jonakr Agmundson, my headman,” Valgard proclaimed, his
voice echoing through the hall. “My warriors and I have returned from a
successful raid, bringing the wealth of the Picti back with us.” He spilled the
chest open on Jonakr’s table, revealing gleaming chalices, torques, coins, and
other fine riches. “This, I offer to you as a token of my loyalty.”
“We are glad to see our brave warriors return triumphant, as
always,” Jonakr said in that oily voice of his. “Let us hope that you might
stay amongst us for longer this time.”
Something about the tone of his voice raised the hair on
Edda’s neck. She’d never liked Jonakr, but surely it was just her bias on
Valgard’s behalf.
“That’s my hope,” Valgard said merrily, his muscular arm
encircling Edda’s slim waist. “I’ve missed my wife and my home fiercely. And on
that note, if you’ll excuse us...”
Jonakr waved a dismissive hand. Edda breathed a soft sigh of
relief as Valgard ushered her back out, strong hand on the small of her back.
“I hate that man,” she muttered to her husband as they
strolled back towards their plot of land. Valgard laughed, hugging her close.
Edda’s heartbeat raced as she pressed herself close to him.
“Let’s forget Jonakr right now,” Valgard whispered into her
ear. “I had other things on my mind.” Edda squealed as he scooped her up in his
strong arms, striding quickly across the village commons. Friendly shouts
followed in their wake as Valgard swooped down the path leading to their home.
“What about your share of the treasure?” Edda asked suddenly, recalling that he
hadn’t taken any of the chests.
“My men will save it for me,” Valgard said indulgently. He
kicked the door to their house open, tossing a giggling Edda onto their bed and
slamming it behind them. “I am far more interested in reacquainting myself with
your ample charms!”
Edda watched with hungry eyes as Valgard stripped off his
tunic and jerkin, revealing the muscular planes of his chest and stomach. Edda
ached to trace the lines of his scars. Suddenly desperate to feel his skin
against hers, Edda wiggled out of her linen tunic, shivering a little as her
bare skin was exposed to the cool air. She flushed with heat again, though, as
Valgard’s eyes raked over her body, nearly predatory in their intensity.
“You may not believe me,” he said huskily as he lay beside
her in the bed, “but I have not been with another woman since we were wed. Many
of the other men take their pleasure where they will when we are away, but I
cannot, knowing who is waiting for me at home.”
Edda cried out softly as his rough, sword-callused hands
stroked her breasts with surprising tenderness. Her soft, pink nipples began to
harden immediately under his caresses. Edda rolled on top of Valgard, urgently
pressing her lips to his. Their tongues lashed against each other as Valgard’s
hands stroked up the backs of her thighs and under her skirts, pushing her
against him as he gripped her buttocks firmly.
Edda squirmed against Valgard’s growing bulge, feeling the
slit between her legs grow wet. She, too, had been faithful to him over the
long weeks—there had been oblique offers, certainly, but Valgard was not only
her love but her hero, her savior. Edda would sooner cut off her own arm than
betray him.
Valgard, though, was maddeningly patient. Hoisting her up
slightly, his
Similar Books
