Sirens - The Gripping Beast Part 18

She blinked at him. "Screams?"

"Woman, you screamed every time I took you. The servants thought you were dead when they brought the water in," he informed her. "The whole village is probably speaking in whispers, spreading rumors of my unusual manly proportions and vigor."

She felt her face burn with embarra.s.sment. "Oh, no."

"Oh, yes," he a.s.sured her with solemn concern. "So I suppose you must have your new gowns, after all."

She had no answer to that, and Erik laughed out loud at her discomfit.

"Come, woman, thank me," he suggested, touching his mouth to hers.

She opened hers readily, inviting his sensual invasion. Well had she learned the day's lesson, he thought. Too well. He was nearly on the brink of taking her again, and it was too soon. He would pain her if he gave her no time to recover. Regretful, he broke the kiss and rolled off of her before his l.u.s.ting body overrode his common sense.

"Come back here," Lorelei complained, reaching for him. "I thought we had a deal. If you make me hurt, you have to make it better. Presents aren't going to get you out of that one, Viking."

He turned to look at her, and frowned at evidence of the hurt she spoke of. "I may change my mind," he muttered. "If you leave my chamber looking like that, I will have Harold's sword at my throat no matter how well you are clothed."

She blinked. "Why? Did I turn ugly?"

"No. Never, sweet," he a.s.sured her, lifting her gently into his arms again and cradling her with infinite care. "But you bear the marks of my vigor." He touched her swollen lips and she grimaced.

"I think I see what you mean." She glanced down at her body, and groaned out loud at the darkening bruises that marked where he'd gripped her hips. Neither of them had noticed at the time. "Well, look at it this way, Erik," she suggested as she curled herself around him. "You'll have a fine reputation as a bad barbarian. This should put a good scare into the rest of your a.s.sorted slaves."

He refrained from telling her that he had already done that by dragging her into his chamber in the sight of all and then making her scream for hours. He had thought they were going to flee from him when he ordered water brought.

Deciding there was no need to mention that, Erik turned his attention to the woman in his arms. "How badly do you hurt?" he asked, touching her bruised hip.

"What? Oh." Lorelei looked at the bruise in question. "It's not as bad as it looks. I bruise really, really easily. I always have."

Still, he frowned looking at the evidence before him. He had been far too rough and there was no excuse. He would take more care with her in the future. "It will not happen again," he informed her, stroking her hip. "You need not fear my bed. I will be more careful."

"Erik, Erik," she sighed, shaking her head at him. "For a bright barbarian, you can really miss the point sometimes. You didn't hurt me, you big galoot. I bruise easily. It looks bad, but it doesn't hurt. It's here-" she took his hand and laid it over her dark triangle of curls"that I need some TLC. I enjoyed it at the time, but now I think we overdid it."

"TLC?" He asked the question softly while he stroked her abused mound with a gentle hand, petting her.

"Sorry. An abbreviation, for tender loving care. Which I need. Love me, Erik."

He laughed at her request. "Do I do so, you will need more of this loving care immediately."

"What a great plan," Lorelei murmured.

"A foolish plan," he decided. "But you spoke truly. I will gladly soothe all your hurts."

"Good." She cuddled up to him, splaying her limbs to allow his gentle petting everywhere, and allowed herself to be soothed.

Oddly, his touch felt comforting, warm and nons.e.xual, even when he stroked her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and the soft triangle of hair between her legs. He kissed the tender, abraded flesh of her inner thighs, taking away the soreness with soft kisses and the softer caress of his beard. From head to toe, he made sweet amends to every abused part of her body until discomfort had faded and need thrummed in her.

Erik felt the change in her, from la.s.situde to awareness. Her quickened pulse throbbed beneath his hands and her breathing turned shallow. Reacting to her desire, he tasted the sweetness of her breast and heard her moan softly.

"So, woman," he whispered, reaching to trace the womanly cleft between her parted thighs again. "You grow ready for my taking so quickly?"

She shuddered in response, and he dipped into her, finding her ready. At the partial invasion of his fingertip, she gasped.

The blood raced in his veins, firing him once more to madness.

No longer caring if she ached, lost to all reason, needing the sweet warmth she gave to him, he rolled her onto her back once more and drove himself into her.

When she woke again, Lorelei knew she was alone even before she opened her eyes. As if the hours in Erik's arms had left her keenly attuned to his presence.

There was a nearly palpable sensation of absence and it carried with it a faint, uneasy foreboding that had her sitting up and glancing around the small chamber as if she expected a threat to appear from every shadow.

Ridiculous, of course. Still, the mood lingered, clung, and irritated like a badly made designer knockoff.

"You are overreacting," she announced fiercely, even as she hugged her knees to her chest in a protective posture. "What are you, codependent? You don't need Erik with you every single minute to feel secure."

Yes, she did, her uneasy emotions whispered. Erik would keep her safe.

"That's the stupidest thing you've ever said," Lorelei lectured herself in a stern tone.

Too bad it felt so true.

Without his protective bulk beside her, she felt terribly small and alone. And defenseless.

Well, she'd just have to adjust. Anyone would be nervous in a strange place, let alone a strange time. She just felt it more strongly since she was both. But she was adaptable. She'd get the hang of this place for as long as she was there.

More to the point, she'd get the hang of Erik and convince him to get them both out before disaster struck. He had the key, she was sure of it. Somehow, Dane's story and the legendary armbands that seemed to belong to Erik were connected, and they'd brought her across time to him.

"Of course," she murmured, snapping her fingers. The armbands. Two of them, one in each time. Forming a bridge, of sorts. Only she was here before the pagan ceremony that ended with one left behind and one carried into the future. So it hadn't happened yet, but the fact that she was there was proof that it would. Wasn't it?

She wavered between hope and uncertainty. Was there such a thing as fate? Destiny? Did her presence mean Erik would listen to her and get her home? Or were the fatalists wrong? According to the theorists, multiple probabilities existed in which every physical possibility played out.

Hardly a rea.s.suring thought.

According to that, she could be in any possible past, and what happened would be anyone's guess.

With an effort, Lorelei mustered her bravado. She'd just have to think of Erik as a particularly difficult audience. No, more like a very important audition. Pivotal. It was imperative that she make a good impression. She could do that. She was good at it. She was very, very good at attuning herself to an audience and then shifting the audience to respond to her lead.

Meanwhile, she should pull herself together.

Towards that end, Lorelei hopped up and washed in the bowl of cool water undoubtedly left behind by her thoughtful Viking. Then she combed her long hair until it swept around her waist in a tidy, almost-tame fall.

Clothes were a problem. She considered various possibilities, and finally decided to find something of Erik's to wear. His breech-like pants were laughable on her, but with the remnants of her cords, she made a sort of belt and managed to keep them from falling off her hips. She tried one of his vests, but the size made that impossible; she would have been more modestly covered without it, since the gaping armholes and plunging vee displayed everything.

A shirt seemed the best solution, so she donned one.

She peered doubtfully at the result. It would have looked better by itself, she decided. But she didn't like the idea of running around bare underneath, for some reason.

Too vulnerable.

"Well," she murmured under her breath, "ready or not, here I come." Reminding herself that she was Lorelei Michaels, lead Siren, rock legend and so loaded she needed a private financial advisor, she straightened her shoulders and drew herself up to her full height. She had faced hostile audiences and played to crowds of thousands. She could face a few Viking-age villagers. Even if they had heard her screaming every time she came in Erik's talented hands. She nearly groaned at the thought and mentally d.a.m.ned him. Then she relented and grinned. No, she didn't regret his talents. And as for the lack of privacy, well, these people must be used to it. What was the oriental saying? Nudity was often seen, but never noticed? Well, maybe her vocal excesses would go unmentioned.

She could hope.

She drew a deep breath, threw open the door before her bravado evaporated and strode out into the hall as if she were strutting onto a stage.

Her hopes were dashed as the women cooking over the fire stared at her with mingled horror, pity and fascination.

Erik, she vowed inwardly, I am going to kill you.

Outwardly, she feigned confident unconcern and strolled towards them with a friendly smile. "Whatever that is cooking, it smells divine. Can I have some? I'm starved."

One woman let out a cry. "Do you hear? He starves her, also!"

Obviously, she was going to have to help herself. Lorelei searched for something to eat out of, found a wooden bowl and ladled the contents of the pot into it. Not seeing any spoons, she tipped it and drank the broth, pausing to chew vegetables and chunks of whatever kind of meat it was. Venison, maybe.

She finished and set the bowl down to see both women still staring at her.

"Poor child," whispered the second woman.

Sympathy shone in both pairs of eyes.

For some reason, it irritated her. And she wasn't sure which insinuation bothered her more, that they thought Erik was a monster, or that they considered her helpless in his power.

"I'm not a child," she snapped.

Although compared to their height, she probably did look younger than she was. And the oversized clothing didn't exactly give her an air of competent authority.

The women looked even more pitying. "Not any longer," the first one said.

Lorelei looked from one to the other and felt an overpowering desire to pound her head against the wooden table. Instead, she opted for a dignified retreat. She'd go for a short walk. Clear the cobwebs. Calm down. Without another word, she headed outside and into fresh air and freedom.

Once outside, she felt her good humor return. It was hard to hold onto a rotten mood when the sun never stopped shining. There was something not only cheery but positively invigorating about the extended daylight. Earthy scents like sun warmed gra.s.s, sweet blossoms and the salty tang of sea air a.s.sailed her senses, and everywhere she looked, she saw riotous color. The blue sky was bluer, the green gra.s.s and trees greener; everything was more vivid here. There was the sharp scent of wood smoke from cooking fires, and the mingled odors that went along with the presence of livestock.

Lorelei headed across a field, frowning in concentration. What had Erik told her, that he had sheep? Yes, he had. And as if her thoughts had conjured both, she saw him ahead with a group of men and the woolly sheep scattered like cotton b.a.l.l.s on the green landscape.

She knew the moment he became aware of her. His head turned towards her, and he extended an arm in invitation.

"You don't have to ask me twice," she decided. On impulse, she raced towards him and launched herself into his arms on a flying leap, trusting him to catch her.

He did, grunting at the impact. He tried to frown at her, but she saw the smile lurking underneath. She beamed at him, radiant with happiness. "Hi."

"Your greeting lacks-"

"Respect and caution, right? I know the drill. Aren't you happy to see me?" Lorelei leaned closer and gave him a smacking kiss on the mouth. "I'm happy to see you. I missed you."

"Woman, I left you to sleep." Now he did frown.

"I did sleep," she informed him. "Honest."

Then she turned her head to include the two men standing by Erik in her smile. "Hi. I'm Lorelei." Beyond them, she suddenly saw something that transfixed and utterly distracted her. "Hey! Horses! Erik, you didn't tell me you had horses."

On the point of delivering a lecture on the importance of staying where he put her and thinking before she acted and above all, never interrupting him, Erik paused and looked at the picture she made. She was staring at his horses in much the way a small child gazed at a forbidden sweet. Her lips were parted as if in eagerness and awe.

In his mind, he replayed the moment he had seen her coming across the field. He had been unable to resist opening his arms to her. And the sight of her running to him, her long hair flying behind her like a banner, had started a warmth inside that grew and spread and weakened him so that he could not find it in himself to say anything that might take away her pleasure in the day.

Instead of lecturing her, he asked, "Would you like to ride with me?"

His reward was a look of awed grat.i.tude and shining delight that turned her eyes the luminous color of very fine jade. "Oh, Erik. Could I?"

In answer he shifted his hold on her, tossing her up in the air and catching her against his chest. He grinned at Thorvald and Raynor and failed to notice their expressions of shock at his unprecedented good humor. "We will speak later at my father's."

With that, he turned and strode away with the girl in his arms. He let out a shrill whistle and a white stallion neighed in response. It came to the pair and waited while they mounted. In a flurry of galloping hooves, man, woman and horse wheeled about and shot into the distance like an arrow released from a bow.

The two men stood gaping after them for some moments. At long last, two pairs of stunned eyes met.

"Was that Erik Thorolfsson? Erik the Unsmiling? Black Erik?" Thorvald inquired. The last name referred to temper, not hair color. Erik was a cold, controlled man, some might even say grim, but he had a temper that even the Danes who were ever ready to fight took care not to provoke.

"It was," Raynor answered.

"He allowed a slave to be so familiar? To interrupt talk of business? And he leaves to indulge her whims?"

"It would appear so."

The two men stared after the vanished company in silence, stroking their beards in contemplation. The whole settlement had heard of the slave Erik had found in Hedeby and nearly fought over instead of buying. The returning traders had told a variety of tales. That she was mad. That she was a skald of extraordinary skill. That the two had fought the entire way home. And those who had not seen him drag her, half-dressed and kicking through the village to his home had heard that he used her so brutally that she was sure to die before the winter, indeed that she had already tried to take her own life to escape his l.u.s.t.

Now here she was, behaving as if she could not bear to be without him for a moment, and gazing at him as if he had all of Odin's wit and Thor's strength besides.

"It would seem," Raynor mused at last, "that Harold has not all the woman-luck in that family."

Oblivious to the rest of the world, Lorelei was laughing in delight as the wind whipped her hair back. Her head lay on Erik's shoulder and his arms held her in a secure grip. She rested in his lap with absolute confidence that he wouldn't let her fall. When he finally slowed the horse and stopped, jumping down with her, she smiled her pleasure into his eyes and wondered how she had ever thought that shade of blue icy.

"Thank you. That was wonderful."

Her voice was so enthusiastic that he gave her a long look. "Am I to take second place in your affections to my horse now?"

"Never," Lorelei vowed. She wound her arms around his neck and dropped her cheek against his chest.

"Never? That is a long time."

"I think it's safe to say that your horse will never be able to compare with you."

The teasing note in her voice pleased him. Everything about her pleased him. "And certainly my horse cannot compare to you. You are by far more pleasant to ride." He tumbled her to the ground and kissed her, finding his way beneath the c.u.mbersome shirt easily with questing hands.

"Mm," she sighed, melting under him. "Erik."

He smiled at the response and rolled to lay with his arms around her, looking into her eyes.

"What are you doing?"