audience, and I have never met the woman who birthed me. Lady Gráinne has been my only guide since I can remember.”
“Yet, when I asked who was Kenneth’s daughter you came forward.”
Gritting her teeth, she sought to explain what she meant. “All say I am his daughter, but I have yet to meet him or be claimed by him.”
“You have ne’er been to court?”
“Nay.”
“Were you not ordered to Sumbarten by the king of the Scots?”
“’Tis not unusual for the king to send his wards for training.” The bite of temper clipped her words and heat warmed her cheeks. All her life the gossips had claimed her a goddess and a sorcerer, yet she lived as but a simple, blind female with not a magikal hair on her head. “I am one of many females sent by him to the abbey.”
“’Tis said your goddess pleasure increases a warrior’s strength and wisdom tenfold.” His voice held a twinge of amusement and her ire surged. The scoundrel had pleasured her for his own gain. She was sore tempted to pummel him with her fists, scream at him until her throat was raw, or brew and feed him the emetic tea used by the abbey to treat those suspected of poisoning.
“I have no magikal powers, sir. You will have gained naught by bringing me to pleasure this eve—”
He cupped a hand over her mouth. “Stay your wrath. I gained all by pleasuring you. Ne’er have I known the ecstasy I found with you this eve, Skatha. Goddess or no, you took me to Valhalla, wife.”
Valhalla, the Viking’s version of heaven. Skatha bit the insides of her cheeks so hard she tasted blood. “’Tis the purpose for which you stole me from all that I have known? To increase your strength and wisdom? For what reason? To wage war on an enemy? To raid and pillage Scottish—”
He stopped her words with a kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, and she cuffed him again and again, until he teased the roof. A delicious shiver of fire and ice washed her from head to toe. He gentled his invasion, and her rage fizzled under the sweetness of his caresses. His fingers slipped under the furs, and he rubbed his thumb over her nipple. A low purr rumbled up her throat.
She kneaded his shoulders.
He groaned and lifted his lips from hers. “I naysay you, wife. Your tongue is pure sorcery. By ThMrr’s hammer, you purr your pleasure. ’Tis not akin to any kiss I have ever experienced.”
“You confuse me, sir.” In more ways than she could name, his touch inflamed her, and his tongue disarmed the defenses she’d built over the unseeing years.
“You dismay me, wife. I have gone from your voice husky with desire, moaning my given name, to your abbess-prim sir. I knew you would have the temper to go with your passion, but ’twill serve me well to put a table or bed ’tween us should I see the tips of your ears turn rosy as they did a moment afore.”
Heat flushed her entire body, and she clenched her hands into fists to halt the need to touch an ear. None at Sumbarten had ever spoken of her ears showing her ire. What other signs did she show unknownst to her?
“I stole you to ransom for my sister, Hjørdis, who was taken by King Kenneth’s cousin, Baron Loudon, in midsummer.”
What news this? She shook her head. More confused and determined than a swarm of fleas attempting to cling to the last strand of fur on a mangy dog, she tried to sort truth from lie. “I understand you not, my lord. I am not of value as a hostage.”
“I intercepted a missive from King Kenneth which says otherwise. He ordered Hjørdis taken to Sumbarten to be trained alongside you. Know you any of this?”
A sudden draft iced her toes and fingers. Tears welled, but she blinked the weakness back. “Nay. Lady Gráinne would not have allowed such to happen. To accept a child stolen from her family for training? You know not the abbess. She obeys God’s commands above all others. Nay.”
He snagged his arms tight around her, kissed her forehead, temple, and nose. “Cry not,
“Yet, when I asked who was Kenneth’s daughter you came forward.”
Gritting her teeth, she sought to explain what she meant. “All say I am his daughter, but I have yet to meet him or be claimed by him.”
“You have ne’er been to court?”
“Nay.”
“Were you not ordered to Sumbarten by the king of the Scots?”
“’Tis not unusual for the king to send his wards for training.” The bite of temper clipped her words and heat warmed her cheeks. All her life the gossips had claimed her a goddess and a sorcerer, yet she lived as but a simple, blind female with not a magikal hair on her head. “I am one of many females sent by him to the abbey.”
“’Tis said your goddess pleasure increases a warrior’s strength and wisdom tenfold.” His voice held a twinge of amusement and her ire surged. The scoundrel had pleasured her for his own gain. She was sore tempted to pummel him with her fists, scream at him until her throat was raw, or brew and feed him the emetic tea used by the abbey to treat those suspected of poisoning.
“I have no magikal powers, sir. You will have gained naught by bringing me to pleasure this eve—”
He cupped a hand over her mouth. “Stay your wrath. I gained all by pleasuring you. Ne’er have I known the ecstasy I found with you this eve, Skatha. Goddess or no, you took me to Valhalla, wife.”
Valhalla, the Viking’s version of heaven. Skatha bit the insides of her cheeks so hard she tasted blood. “’Tis the purpose for which you stole me from all that I have known? To increase your strength and wisdom? For what reason? To wage war on an enemy? To raid and pillage Scottish—”
He stopped her words with a kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, and she cuffed him again and again, until he teased the roof. A delicious shiver of fire and ice washed her from head to toe. He gentled his invasion, and her rage fizzled under the sweetness of his caresses. His fingers slipped under the furs, and he rubbed his thumb over her nipple. A low purr rumbled up her throat.
She kneaded his shoulders.
He groaned and lifted his lips from hers. “I naysay you, wife. Your tongue is pure sorcery. By ThMrr’s hammer, you purr your pleasure. ’Tis not akin to any kiss I have ever experienced.”
“You confuse me, sir.” In more ways than she could name, his touch inflamed her, and his tongue disarmed the defenses she’d built over the unseeing years.
“You dismay me, wife. I have gone from your voice husky with desire, moaning my given name, to your abbess-prim sir. I knew you would have the temper to go with your passion, but ’twill serve me well to put a table or bed ’tween us should I see the tips of your ears turn rosy as they did a moment afore.”
Heat flushed her entire body, and she clenched her hands into fists to halt the need to touch an ear. None at Sumbarten had ever spoken of her ears showing her ire. What other signs did she show unknownst to her?
“I stole you to ransom for my sister, Hjørdis, who was taken by King Kenneth’s cousin, Baron Loudon, in midsummer.”
What news this? She shook her head. More confused and determined than a swarm of fleas attempting to cling to the last strand of fur on a mangy dog, she tried to sort truth from lie. “I understand you not, my lord. I am not of value as a hostage.”
“I intercepted a missive from King Kenneth which says otherwise. He ordered Hjørdis taken to Sumbarten to be trained alongside you. Know you any of this?”
A sudden draft iced her toes and fingers. Tears welled, but she blinked the weakness back. “Nay. Lady Gráinne would not have allowed such to happen. To accept a child stolen from her family for training? You know not the abbess. She obeys God’s commands above all others. Nay.”
He snagged his arms tight around her, kissed her forehead, temple, and nose. “Cry not,
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