Delivering Kadlin (8 page)

Finnr stood in the shadows with his panpipe and played the last note of his song as Kadlin reached her groom. The others gathered around them, and she was unsure of what to do next. Bjorn looked beyond her shoulder and smiled, and the three other couples stepped backward. Kadlin turned and followed their gaze then stared open-mouthed as Grima entered the circle.

The old witch reached out to Kadlin, fished a thin braid from above her ear and slid an amber glass bead onto the end. “I wouldn’t have been able to see the nuptials if you hadn’t left this behind,” she said with a wink.

Kadlin gathered Grima into a hug. “I’m so happy to see you,” she whispered.

Grima patted Kadlin between the shoulder blades then extricated herself from the embrace.

“You’ll need these,” Grima said, passing a large braided gold band to Kadlin and its smaller mate to Bjorn.

“Your sword, Viking,” she said.

Bjorn withdrew his sword from its scabbard and held it in his left hand with its tip pointed to the ground between him and Kadlin. He balanced the ring on the end of hilt and focused his gaze on his bride.

“Bjorn, do you swear to love and honor this woman, to share with her all that is now yours and to protect her always?” Grima asked.

“I swear it,” Bjorn said and tipped the sword handle to Kadlin. She lifted the ring with her right hand and slid it on the heart finger of her left.

Bjorn held the sword upright again. He nodded at Kadlin. She took the hilt in her left hand and balanced his wedding band on the end.

“Kadlin, do you swear to love and honor this man, share with him all that is now yours and turn yourself over to his protection always?” Grima said.

“I swear it,” she said and carefully tipped the sword to him.

Bjorn slid the band on his left heart finger then wrapped his hand over hers. Grima grasped them at the wrists and slowly pushed downward until the tip of the sword disappeared into the soil. She drew a strip of cloth from her pouch and wrapped it loosely around the couple’s hands, capturing the sword handle inside. Each of the witnesses stepped up in turn and repeated the rite until they’d created a colorful nest of ribbon.

Grima stepped back to Bjorn and Kadlin and touched the bundle. “With this handfasting you are bound to one another. The friends that have gathered here offer these strips of tightly woven threads as their promise to uphold, honor and support your commitment to each other.”

Grima began unwinding the ribbons. “But, even as you are bound by your own vows and the good intentions of these witnesses, you must remember that your union is only as strong as your love for one another, the fullness of which lies ever secret in your own heart.”

When the last of the bindings had been removed, Bjorn’s hand remained over Kadlin’s, and she thought she would never be able to fully express the love she felt for him.

Grima stepped back and lifted her hands to the sky. “Odin, guide them. Thor, keep them safe. Freya, fan their love and bless them with children.”

She touched their shoulders. “Bjorn, sheathe your sword, and kiss your bride. Now, we celebrate!”

Kadlin was barely aware of the cheers from the others. The center of her universe was the place where her husband’s lips met hers.

* * * *

The torches had burned low, and the full moon had climbed high above the revelers. A bonfire had been built over the spot where Bjorn and Kadlin had promised themselves to one another. All had eaten their fill, and the wine cups were kept full. Grima had retired to a pallet in the longhouse, and the others had dragged Bjorn’s great armchair into the yard. Bjorn held court with Kadlin cradled in his lap while they watched the celebration. The women had sung sweet love songs, and Finnr had played his panpipes throughout the evening, stopping only to swig mead. As the night wore on, the men took over the singing and the lyrics became bawdier.

Bjorn’s arm was around Kadlin’s back and he stroked the side of her breast with his thumb. The men began singing about storming the castle with a battering ram.

“And he
rammed
at the door and he
rammed
at the door and the whole castle shook when he
rammed
at the door.”

They raised their voices and cups when they sang, “rammed.”

Bjorn joined in and jerked his hips with the words. Kadlin felt him harden against her thigh, and her sex tingled and grew wet.

When the song ended, the drunken guests lost themselves in laughter. The men grabbed their wives, kissed them hard and groped them without shame.

Bjorn squeezed Kadlin to his chest and whispered in her ear, “Will you come to my bed now, wife?”

She answered with a hard kiss. The Viking stood and led her into the house without saying goodnight to the others. Grima was snoring loudly from her pallet by the door, and the sound nearly drowned out the laughter from the dooryard.

By the time they reached the master chamber, Kadlin was only aware of the pounding of her heart. Bjorn closed the heavy door, and Kadlin looked over the room. It glowed from the flames of a dozen small lamps. The sweet scent of herbs and flowers filled the air. Aromatic bundles were scattered about, and the tall bedposts were hung with garland.

Bjorn removed his cape then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his hard body. He kissed her tenderly then stood back and lifted the crown of flowers from her head and tossed it on a stool. He followed the long braid behind her and rolled the amber glass bead between his fingers.

“Let me look at you,” he said, sitting back on the bed. With shaking hands, Kadlin opened the brooches and let the apron fall to the floor. Her shift followed, and she stood naked before him. Her skin tingled as his gaze swept over her. The look of adoration on his handsome face warmed her. She crossed to him and stood between his knees then unlaced his bracers and boots and dropped them beside the bed. She pulled off his tunic then he stood and stepped out of his trousers.

Kadlin took a step backward and appraised her magnificent man. The lamplight etched dark shadows in the valleys between his muscles, and she traced each line with her gaze. The trail of hair extending down from his flat navel shone the colors of bronze and copper in the flickering light. It fanned out and was thickest between his sculpted thighs. His erection rose from the curls, and Kadlin’s juices flowed when she remembered how it filled her so completely.

When he made no move to touch her, she reached out to him and stroked his face as if committing each nuance to memory. She caressed his jaw line, then his neck, the rise of his thick shoulders and down his hard arms. She moved her hands to his chest, and when she brushed over his nipples, he closed his eyes. His belly was tight and divided into symmetrical rows of muscle. She traced each furrow before finally taking his hardness in her hands.

He groaned then bent to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he lay back on the bed, pulling her down on top of him. His hands roamed over her back while his tongue probed her mouth. She drew up her legs until she straddled him and moved her hips so that she could feel the underside of his shaft sliding over her slick, hardened bud. He kneaded her round backside then rolled over, pinning her beneath him. While he teased her wet opening with his erection, the Viking lifted his upper body and stared down at her. Kadlin slid her hands down his back and grasped his hard buttocks.

“Love me, Bjorn,” she whispered.

He pulled back his hips and positioned the thick head over her opening. “I do love you, Kadlin,” he said and then pushed forward.

He filled her slowly, stretching her inner walls as he advanced. When his pelvis was pressed fully against hers, he rocked side to side, massaging her sensitive pearl between them.

Kadlin rolled her head against the furs. “Ah. More. Please, more,” she begged.

He drew back his hips, and she yanked him into her again. Each stroke was ecstasy. Hooking his arms behind her knees, he spread her legs wide, and the tempo of his thrusts increased. Heat rushed into her sex, and she felt herself racing towards completion.

He lowered his head and sucked hard at one nipple, and that was her undoing. She cried out at the exquisite balance of pleasure and pain, and her hot sheath clamped down around him. Releasing her nipple, he crushed his mouth on hers and growled against her bruised lips as his seed spurted into her.

He lay atop her while his breathing slowed then he rolled onto his back, taking her with him. She nestled against him with her cheek on his chest and drifted off to the sound of his beating heart.

* * * *

When Kadlin woke, most of the lamps had burned out and their bedchamber was nearly dark. She stroked the Viking’s chest, and he flexed his arm, pulling her close.

“Was that coronet the only thing you had from your family?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“How long did you carry it with you?”

“For a very long time. After my father died, I kept it with me always, hidden from everyone.”

“I am sorry then that you had to give it away.”

Kadlin propped herself up on her elbow. “I didn’t give it away. I traded it for our freedom.”

Bjorn brushed his knuckles along the line of her jaw. “Still, I am sorry. I have no recollection of my family—nothing before Grima found me under the tree. At least, you had something to remember your past by, and now—because of me—that’s gone.”

Kadlin pulled herself up his body and kissed him tenderly. “Oh, Bjorn, don’t you understand? I, too, was reborn under that willow. My life before you was only loss and loneliness. You have delivered me.”

Epilogue

The first weak light of dawn was seeping over the frost-dusted fields, and Kadlin stood in the doorway looking out over the sleepy farm. The animals would wake soon, and they’d have to be tended to, but this time was hers alone.

She brushed the hair back from her face then followed the braid down to the tiny amber bead. Despite the chill air, a cozy warmth spread over her body. Trailing her hand over her breastbone, she twisted the tiny protection amulet that hung around her neck and offered up a silent prayer of thanks for Grima. She swept her hand down her body and rested her palm against the growing swell of her belly.

Out in the barley field, a herd of deer was browsing for the tiny grains that had escaped the harvest. At the center of the group was a snow-white buck. The ghostlike animal raised his head and looked in her direction. When their eyes met, the child inside of Kadlin stirred, and she smiled.
His name will be
Hjortr—
the stag,
Kadlin thought.

She was so intent on the beautiful buck in the field, that she didn’t hear Bjorn rise from the pallet. He wrapped a thick arm around her, pulled her into his body and kissed her neck. He bent to rest his chin on her shoulder, and she leaned into his warm cheek. Bjorn laid his hand on top of Kadlin’s, and their tiny one fluttered in her womb.

“Your stag is back,” Bjorn whispered, and she knew that he too watched the herd. Kadlin nodded.

He rubbed his hand over her belly. “If it is a boy, we should call him Hjortr.”

Kadlin turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “That is a good idea, husband.”

Bjorn crushed his mouth against hers, and when he pulled away, his eyes were blazing. “Come back to bed, wife.”

Adoration and desire washed over Kadlin as the big Viking led her by the hand to the fur-covered pallet.

Gods watch over us. I love him so.

About the Author

Gabrielle Holly lives in the Midwest with her husband and two enormous, world-class-shedding dogs. She has worked as a freelance journalist, magazine editor, newspaper humor columnist, stand-up comic and morning radio show host. She has a short attention span and enjoys reading, cooking, crafting, hunting for antiques, attending live theater, spending time outdoors, watching movies, and coercing her husband into being her “research assistant."

Gabrielle loves to talk to her readers and can be found at:
Website:
www.gabrielleholly.com
Blog:
http://gabrielleholly.blogspot.com/
Twitter: @gabrielle_holly
Email: [email protected]

Also Available from
Resplendence Publishing

Devil’s Own
by Temple Hogan

A Season of Witches Series, Book One

Orphaned when her father is burned at the stake as a witch, Edra Corwin is now the ward of her aunt and uncle who are narrow-minded and superstitious. Having grown up in a house of learning and intellectual stimulation, Edra struggles to tame the special powers she knows she possesses, but can’t show for fear of retribution. Her life seems pretty dismal until wealthy Maximillian Payne, an old friend of her father’s, returns to rescue her.

Maximillian didn’t realize the girl he returned to take charge of has become a beautiful young woman, who possesses the same gifts that cost her father his life. He knows he must teach her how to protect herself, while honing her skills. He just doesn’t plan on falling in love with her, but what can a man do against a green-eyed witch who teaches him a few things as well?

The Pirate Bride
by Temple Hogan

Book Three in the Pirate's Booty Series

Red Charlie is the scourge of the sea, the devil himself, so imagine Jackson Shaw’s stunned disbelief when he recovers from a drunken night of revelry and discovers he’s married to the infamous pirate captain. Furthermore, he did not acquit himself with much sexual finesse on his wedding night. Now he wants to redeem his mangled pride, but a few nights in Red Charlie’s arms will make him forget about pride…

Charity, known to the world as Red Charlie ever since she was abducted by the same bloodthirsty pirate who killed her parents, relaxed her guard for one night and was ushered into a hasty marriage with a man who mesmerized her. But when the bridegroom mistakes her for a whore on their wedding night and expects her to perform sexual acts she knows nothing about, she runs away. But there’s no running away when Jackson captures her pirate ship and refuses to return it unless she spends two weeks as his wife, with all that entails.