The Pagan's Prize (29 page)

"My lord!" came Yakov's high nasal voice as
the steward brushed past Zora at the last moment, almost tripping over his own
feet in his haste to reach Rurik first. Clearly agitated, the spare,
middle-aged man shook a piece of paper at him. "My lord, you must see
this! It's a list of things she wants me to buy at the market—"

"If you're referring to my wife, Yakov, then
address her properly," said Rurik, sternly rebuking the steward who
appeared just as startled as Zora that he had done so.

Taking the paper, Rurik perused the list and saw that
it was made up of common household items such as woolen cloth, needles, thread,
and so on. Certainly nothing threatening. He lifted his gaze to find Zora
watching him, her expression grown anxious, but he turned his attention back to
the steward.

"I see nothing here that should cause such alarm."

"Then . . . then I am to do what she says . . .
forgive me, what your wife has requested of me?" asked Yakov, his pallid
face flushed with indignation. "I thought I should seek your counsel first
. . . it's so irregular . . . I mean, I've always been the one to see to what
is needed without any interference from—"

"Do you want these things, Zora?" Rurik
interrupted him, finally understanding just what the steward perceived his
problem to be, a case of someone encroaching upon his duties.

"Yes I do, but not for myself," she answered,
her beautiful eyes very wide as if she couldn't believe that he would ask her
opinion. "Those items are for the people who lost their homes in the fire.
I—I've been around to all of them to apologize and to ask if there was anything
I could do to help. The women told me that there wasn't enough extra cloth to
be found to make a change of clothes for their families, so I thought perhaps
we could buy enough to see them through until more can be woven."

"And you are protesting this?" demanded
Rurik, glaring at the steward who gaped back at him round-eyed as if he didn't
know quite what to say.

"Not . . . not that the cloth isn't needed, my
lord, but that this woman—"

"For the last time,
this woman
is my wife, Yakov, whose wishes will be obeyed. If she
requests something from the market in Novgorod, you need not come to me first.
I trust that she is well trained in the workings of a household, however large,
and I expect you to respect her judgment in such matters. Are we understood?"

"Yes, yes of course, my lord," the steward
said in a nervous rush, his hands shaking as he took back the list.

Rurik turned to Zora, finding that it had given him a
great deal of pleasure to speak out on her behalf. "Does this satisfy you,
wife?"

Chapter 21

Zora couldn't have been more astounded. After how
coldly Rurik had treated her earlier this afternoon, she would never have
expected him to be so solicitous. Suspicious, yes. Brusque, yes, but to
champion her as the mistress of his household?

"Y-yes, thank you. I am well satisfied."
Staring into his eyes, she knew that she was genuinely smiling at him as
perhaps she had never done before, but she couldn't help it. That Rurik had
publicly stated his faith in her, at least as far as domestic matters were
concerned, gave her a powerful surge of pleasure that had nothing to do with
her plan. Perhaps that was the most startling thing of all.

"Is there any other way I can assist you, then, my
lady?" Yakov's eager-to-please tone now lacked the resentment it had held
earlier.

It was hard for Zora to tear her gaze from Rurik's, for
he seemed just as content to be staring at her as she was at him. Yet the
steward's question was a sobering reminder that she must think again of her
plan, especially now that she feared her growing feelings for Rurik were
battling against her. This latest reaction to him proved it! The sooner she
took up her duties within the compound, making it appear to all that she was
accepting her marriage, the better.

"Yes, Yakov, there is something." Zora hoped
Rurik would miss the tinge of desperation in her voice. "I'd like to visit
the weaving house if I may, to see if anything else should be ordered from the
market, then the cooking house and the storehouses where the foodstuffs are
kept, the brewery, the dairy—"

"It pleases me that you've taken an interest in
the welfare of my retainers and the needs of my household but it grows late,
wife," Rurik interjected, trying to contain the mistrust that had leapt
into his mind at this new request. His better judgment was telling him that she
had to be nursing some plot, but he was determined to honor Arne's advice.
Anything if Zora would smile at him again as she had been a moment ago. "Tomorrow
Yakov can show you all of those places, but for now we must ready ourselves for
supper. Everyone will be gathered in the hall by dusk."

"But I am ready," she insisted. As if to
illustrate her point, she glanced down at the rose-colored tunic that she wore,
the shimmering fabric cut to accentuate the lush curves of her body, and then
met his eyes. "Does this gown not please you?"

"More than I can say," said Rurik, noting her
deep blush, which thrilled him as much as the thought that she might have
dressed with his pleasure in mind. "But I have no wish to go to supper
with the stink of battle upon me." He held out his hand. "Come. I'd
like you to accompany me to the bathhouse."

"I can't go there!" she said, shocked.

Rurik frowned. "Why not?"

She stared at him in confusion. "You . . . you
would want other men to see me . . . ?"

Suddenly realizing why she was so flustered, Rurik
almost laughed aloud.

"Not the main bathhouse, Zora. True enough, it's
probably filled with my warriors. No, I have my own." He took her small
hand firmly in his, and drew her toward him. He lowered his voice so only she
could hear. "Do not think that I would ever allow another man to glimpse
your beauty. It is for me alone. Now come."

Zora could tell from Rurik's husky command that he
would not be swayed, and disconcerted all the more by the heat in his eyes, she
felt her urgency about her plan melt away. As they left Nellwyn, Yakov, and her
guards staring after them, Zora had to walk quickly to keep up with Rurik's
powerful strides, but they hadn't gone far before he chuckled and purposely
slowed his pace.

"Forgive me, little one. I forget that your legs
are shorter than mine."

Little one
,
Zora thought, undeniably warmed by the way in which he had said it, like an
endearment.

Suddenly she recalled another time when he had held her
hand, at their wedding only a few days ago. He had stroked her fingers and
asked her if it was truly that bad . . . she supposed that he had meant their
marriage. She had called him a heartless barbarian, believing he was mocking
her, but maybe he hadn't been after all. Maybe he had been touched by her
tears. Maybe even then he had cared . . .

Sighing to herself, Zora could hardly believe how much
had happened since she had come to Novgorod. Nor could she believe how Rurik's
mood had changed from when first she had seen him that afternoon, going as if
from night to day.

It seemed that already he was relaxing around her and
she had barely set her plan into motion. Was it possible that her simple
apology to his people had moved him? Or was it because she had greeted him
earlier, not with defiance and sharp words as he might have expected, but in a
softer manner? Maybe he had decided he no longer wanted to fight his emotions—

"You know, Princess, you surprise me."

Her heart pitching crazily, Zora glanced up at him. "I
do?"

Rurik nodded. "I would never have expected you to
call upon the families who lost their homes and tell them you were sorry, and
then ask if you could help."

"I would have done more if I could," she said
honestly, for in truth her actions this afternoon—other than choosing her gown
with an eye toward pleasing him—had been only partially spurred by her plan,
but mostly because she felt badly about her role in the fire. "I never
intended for such a terrible thing to happen." When he didn't readily
reply, she added, "I'm not a callous ogre, Rurik. I have feelings, too."

"I never said you didn't."

Distracted all over again by how intently he seemed to
be studying her, Zora looked away.

"I must admit your sudden interest in my household
has also come as a surprise."

She kept her gaze trained straight ahead, her heart
suddenly pounding. Holy Mother Mary, did he suspect . . . ?

"I don't see why," she answered as steadily
as she could. "Surely it is a normal thing for a wife to wish to please
her husband—"

Rurik stopped and faced her so abruptly that Zora
gasped. "Is that what you're trying to do?" His demand was strained
as he searched her eyes. "Please me?"

Seeing the same turmoil in his gaze, Zora was shaken by
the intensity of her guilt. Damn him, why could he make her feel like she was
betraying him? The line she was trying so desperately to preserve between what
she wanted him to believe and the emotions tugging at her heart was becoming
more blurred with their every encounter, a realization both frightening and
thrilling.

"Zora?"

She knew that he wanted an answer, but she didn't know
what to say, fearing that if she spoke at all she would reveal too much. Then
just as suddenly Rurik seemed to change his mind as if he sensed he was pushing
her too hard. Squeezing her hand, he set out with her toward a small wooden
building that adjoined his longhouse, not speaking again until they were almost
there.

"The stones should be red-hot by now," he
said, all trace of tension gone from his voice. "I sent word an hour ago
that I wanted the bathhouse made ready."

"Stones?" she asked, still unsettled.

"You'll see."

Zora was greeted by a hot blast of air as Rurik opened
the door and pushed her gently inside the lamplit, windowless building. She
heard him draw the bolt behind her, then he brushed past her to a large open
hearth in the center of the room that was piled with smooth rocks.

"You've never been in one of these before, have
you?" Watching as he dipped a ladle into a bucket of water, Zora shook her
head.

"Steam baths are a common thing in the north,"
he explained, smiling at her over his shoulder. "Every house has one. We
Varangians swear by them." He gave a short laugh. "Your uncle has a
steam bath in his palace big enough to seat his entire senior
druzhina
."

Zora started when Rurik threw water on the hissing
stones, steam filling the room. He emptied the ladle again and again until it
looked like a dense fog had enveloped them, and only then did he unbuckle his
sword belt and begin to strip off his clothes.

"Join me," he said in a low, teasing voice
that sent chills racing through her. "I think you'll like it."

It seemed Zora
had
joined him, for already her silk tunic was damp and clinging to her skin, sweat
tickling down her back. Yet she grew flustered at the thought of undressing in
front of him, despite the intimacy they had shared. Turning around modestly, she
gathered the garment to her hips and began to draw it up over her torso.

"Let me help you, Princess."

"Oh!"

Rurik had come up so silently that she hadn't even
heard him behind her. She sucked in her breath as he took charge, his splayed
hands caressing the tunic from her body. Within the blink of an eye she was
standing naked in his arms, even her thin linen underdrawers cast onto a bench
near the door.

"Thor's blood, woman, you're so beautiful,"
he whispered in her ear. He stroked her worshipfully, the curve of her hips,
her belly, then his hands glided upward to the soft undersides of her breasts
where he gently cupped her. "So beautiful."

Her head lolling back against him, Zora moaned as his
thumbs lightly grazed her tightened nipples, circling around and around. Yet
the wondrous sensation had no sooner begun when he released her, and she heard
him chuckle.

"Not yet, Princess. First the steam bath must be
enjoyed. Come and sit with me."

As Rurik took her hand and led her through the
billowing steam to a platform set around the walls, Zora could see that his
sun-gilded skin already glistened with sweat. Her eyes drifted down his muscled
back to the curve of his taut buttocks, her face firing with a warmth that had
nothing to do with the peat fire in the hearth. He was so magnificent, his hard
masculine body made all the more fascinating in her eyes by the nicks and scars
he bore from countless battles.

"Are you pleased with what you see?"

Embarrassed that Rurik had caught her staring at him so
brazenly, she could only nod as he turned her around and drew her down to sit
upon his lap, her back nestled against his chest.

"Lean your head against my shoulder and close your
eyes," he bade her and she did so, sighing within the security of his
arms. "That's it . . . now relax and let the steam wash over you." He
lightly kissed her temple. "It feels wonderful, doesn't it? So warm,
wetting your hair, your skin . . ."

It is wonderful,
Zora thought dreamily, but no more so than the sensation of his steady
heartbeat drumming against her back, the added warmth of his breath fanning her
cheek, and the way his fingers were toying with the damp hair that streaked her
breasts and shoulders. At one point she even felt herself sliding from his lap,
the moisture of their bodies a slippery sheen between them, but he only drew
her back with a husky laugh and held her that much more closely.

She couldn't have said how many moments had passed, the
engulfing steam and the incredible heat of Rurik's body like a cocoon shielding
her from all sense of time or place, when suddenly she felt him lift her and
stand her upon her feet.