Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

"Mama, wake up!"

Dunne bolted upright, jolted from the most licentious, forbidden, exquisite dream she had ever had. The interruption was as welcome as having the contents of an icy bucket thrown in her face while she was luxuriating in the sunshine.

"What's the matter?" she panted, looking at her daughter.

"Are you all right? You were moaning, like I do when I have a tummy ache. Do you have a tummy ache, too?"

Mm, no, the ache was situated lower. In fact, her whole body felt afire, on the brink of something she had never experienced before. As if that was not bad enough, the place between her legs was throbbing, urging her to put an end to the discomfort. But how? She had no notion of how her body worked. She suspected the place where a man joined with her was the place that could give her the satisfaction she was after, but she had no idea how to achieve that satisfaction. Should she squeeze her legs, use her hand? In what way?

In any case, she was not alone in the pallet, but next to her innocent daughter. She had better wipe such licentious thoughts from her mind.

"I'm all right, sweetie, don't worry. I…Maybe I ate too much of Aunt Frigyth's bread last night. It's nothing, anyway, I will be fine." She kissed the mop of curls. "Go back to sleep, it's the middle of the night."

Thankfully Dawn did not argue and shuffled back to her side of the pallet where she promptly fell back to sleep. Dunne collapsed back onto the furs with a sigh. She had been dreaming of Bj?rn and was on the verge of…something. Something she didn't quite understand but knew instinctively would have been glorious.

His hands had been all over her, caressing her, his lips at her neck, his tongue licking her skin, his?—

Dear God. He had been making love to her in a way that bore no resemblance to what she had experienced in Toland's bed and, as a result, the sensations in her body had been unprecedented, delicious. Although it had only been a dream, she could still feel the embers of the brazier glowing, even long after the flames had been extinguished by Dawn's interruption. The caresses had been a product of her overheated mind, but the burning they had created in her body was all too real.

This had been caused by their ride that afternoon no doubt—and possibly his talk of her carrying his child.

As irate as she had been at the time for the liberty he had taken, the idea had inflamed her imagination, there was no denying it. Because, to be with child, she would have had to lie with him and welcome him inside her body, the most intimate act a man and woman could share together.

How would she bear to face Bj?rn after what they had done in her dream? His fingers had been inside her, for heaven's sake, stoking her need! Well, not truly, but…It felt as if they had. She would not be able to look at his hands, his mouth, his groin, without blushing like a young maid. Not that she should be looking at these in the first place, or try to imagine where to place her lips on him when she looked at him…

Oh, what a silly, silly goose she was being.

Why would Bj?rn, who was the epitome of male beauty, be interested in someone like her, an older woman of unexceptional appeal, a widow with a child, when all the girls in the village lusted after him?

When the sun rose, she still didn't have the answer to that question.

She decided a good dunking in cold water would help restore her to her senses. Leaving Dawn with Frigyth, she set off for the river. It was chilly, but the sun was shining.

With luck, she would emerge from the water with her blood—and her imagination—cooled.

Bloody bleeding hell.

Bj?rn had never been one for swearing out loud but if ever there was a time to emulate Sigurd, who had always been some sort of a role model for him, this was it.

In front of him, standing on the riverbank, was Dunne. Stark naked. No. Worse than naked, or rather better than naked, his frazzled brain amended.

Somehow the wet, transparent shift plastered to her body made the vision even more spectacular, even more tempting. He could see almost everything, the pebbled nipples, the generous breasts, the soft stomach, the rounded hips, the dark curls at the apex of her thighs. And what he couldn't see he could all too well imagine. The smooth skin, the tight buttocks, the soft petals hidden between her legs.

Head thrown to the skies, back arched, arms up, she was wringing water from her glorious hair. How was he going to get this image of pure decadence out of his head? It had been bad enough trying to forget her when he had only seen her dressed but now…Now he had no chance.

He was as hard as he had ever been, so hard it ached. In an effort to alleviate some of the tension twisting his body, he put his hand over his straining member and squeezed. Damn it, he was ready to burst.

He should go, stop spying on her, leave before he did something he regretted, but his feet were glued to the ground. His mind had gone blank. His limbs felt heavy and light at the same time. His throat had forgotten how to swallow. The only parts of him that seemed to work were his eyes, which looked their fill at the goddess in front of him, and his cock, which demanded immediate release.

He squeezed harder.

Just then Dunne opened her eyes and saw him. Her gaze fell to his hand, which was still wrapped around his shaft and her lips parted in shock. And little wonder…It would have looked as if he was stroking himself while spying on her nakedness.

Bloody bleeding hell.

He turned and fled like a murderer would flee the scene of a crime. It was the coward's way out but nothing he did would make this any worse. She already thought him the most shameful voyeur so he might as well do what he needed to do. As soon as he reached the protection of the trees, he tore at his braies. He was going to die if he did not relieve the pressure building in his body. Once he had granted his body the release it needed, he might be able to think straight and decide on the best course of action. At the moment, he was in too much pain to do anything other than ease the pressure boiling in his veins.

With a grunt of frustration, he took himself in hand and started to pump his steel-hard shaft. Blood was drumming in his ears, rushing to his groin. He was so primed, it was over in a moment. The groan he gave when he came seemed wrenched from his marrow. Ah, if only he could expel his craving for the maddening Saxon as easily as he forced his seed out of his body! He had no idea where all this would lead but he feared he was not ready for it.

Panting, he tucked himself back into his braies. Now what? Dare he go back to the river and speak to Dunne, explain himself? No, of course not. What could he say anyway?

Forgive me, I got so hard watching your naked body I had to go stroke myself while I imagined you writhing under me. I hope you're not offended.

He had better run back to the hut and pretend nothing had happened. With luck Dunne would do the same and they would be able to get past the awful moment. He turned—and found himself staring into bright amber irises.

Dunne stared into Bj?rn's sky-blue eyes as understanding dawned.

Not only had he needed to bring himself to climax now, after seeing her emerge from the water, but the previous day, on the horse, he had fled precipitously because he'd needed the same relief. He'd gone to stroke himself away from her, just like he had now. Now she knew why he'd been so embarrassed, so gruff when he'd come back from behind the bushes.

"You…When we rode together yesterday, did you jump down from the horse because you wanted to?—"

"Bloody hell!" he exploded, going red to the roots of his hair. "No, it's not what you think, I?—"

She stopped him with a raised hand. It was better if she put an end to this conversation. She should never have asked the question in the first place. But even if he had not brought about his release then, he had definitely done it now. As she had approached the clump of trees, she had seen his hand move frantically in front of him, she had heard his satisfied grunts when he'd reached his release. Though she had never felt pleasure herself, she was not so innocent as to mistake what he'd done.

Heat flooded her veins.

Why had he felt the need to relieve himself out in the open with such urgency?

Was it because he had seen her in a shocking state of undress? She could well imagine that a hot-blooded youth would find the sight of a half-naked woman arousing, especially if the imperfections of her body were hidden under her wet shift. Bj?rn would have fantasized about what he couldn't see rather than lust after what he could glimpse. But then, what about yesterday, on the horse? She hadn't been naked then, or even close, she hadn't even been looking at him.

Then it all came back to her. They had been talking about Gertrud at the time. How could she have forgotten that all-important detail? His blood had become overheated imagining what he could do to the pretty girl, that was all. It had had nothing to do with her, a woman old enough to be, if not his mother, as Leodred had teased, at least his aunt. And right now, the sudden sight of her exposed curves had taken him by surprise, flooding him with uncontrollable desire. His body had reacted before his mind could comprehend who he was seeing.

"Why did you follow me?" Bj?rn asked, getting over the embarrassment of the moment faster than her.

Dunne didn't know what to answer. She'd thrown her mother's blanket over her shoulders for modesty before following him, but she had no idea what had compelled her to go to him in the first place.

"I'm s-sorry," she stammered, unable to explain or understand the urge. "I shouldn't have."

"No, you shouldn't have."

For a long moment they stared at each other. Dunne's heart was drumming hard in her chest, fire was rushing through her veins. To think she had come to the river to cool her blood and forget about her lascivious dream! So much for trying to put the desire she felt for this man at the back of her mind! Now she would have to imagine him giving himself pleasure while he thought of her.

She turned and fled without a word.

This had been a disaster.

"I'm leaving the village."

When Ingrid stared at him, Bj?rn wished he'd been less abrupt. "You're leaving?"

"Only for a time, don't worry. A few months at best."

Time enough for Dunne to find herself a new home and leave the Norsemen village. He could not stay here, not when the need for her was torturing him every moment of every day, not when he had embarrassed himself not just once but twice in front her. After the humiliating incident on the horse and what had happened this morning, he was never going to be able to face her again. He dreaded to think what she would think of him.

Nothing good, in all probability.

As far as the woman of his dreams was concerned, he was nothing but a randy, excitable youth who went around spreading lies about fathering children onto her, spying on her half-naked body, and touching himself while he thought of her. It was a disaster. And so he had to go.

Ingrid made a face, as if she weren't sure what to think of his decision. "What brought this on?"

He shrugged. How could he tell her that he lusted after the woman she saw as a friend and had most probably scared her away with his crudeness? "I should be back before summer," he said instead of answering the question. "Will you be all right here on your own?"

Was he being selfish? A few months after the shocking death of their parents, he was going to abandon her in turn. Should he not stay and find a solution to his dilemma? But Ingrid merely laughed.

"Me? Of course I'll be all right! I mean, what do you do here except make ale anyway? I'm the man of the house, in case you hadn't noticed."

He gave a reluctant laugh and kissed her cheek. They often jested that he was the one doing what was seen as a women's work and she was more independent than the average seventeen-year-old girl. Since the death of their parents back in spring, they had found a way to live together that did not fit the traditional model but suited both their temperament and abilities.

It had been good, but almost overnight this situation had become stifling. First his parents' son, then Ingrid's brother, Bj?rn had never a man in his own right, in a position to have his own family. He had to leave, go somewhere where he could be himself and not just someone associated with somebody else. Here in the place where he'd been born, where people had seen him grow, he would always be Rorik's first born child. It was time for him to be Bj?rn, a man with no past and a future of his own choosing ahead of him. In the village people treated him like a youth, dabbling with domestic chores, unable to speak their language properly and destined to marry one of their daughters, someone he had known all his life.

He wanted to erase that Bj?rn and finally be the man he could be.

Most of all, he wanted to free himself of the hold Dunne had over him. When he'd found out she was widowed, he had started to hope she could see him differently. But she did not. Worse, the few days he'd spent in her company had shown him that after her unhappy marriage, she was not looking for a man, much less someone like him, who was constantly being talked of as a boy.

"I love you, sister, you know that?" he said, engulfing Ingrid into his arms.

"I do, and I love you too." She sighed against his chest.

"I'll go pack now."

"Where will you go?"

"I think I will go board a ship bound for Denmark." The further the better. He needed distance from the intoxicating Saxon filling his dreams and fueling his wildest fantasies. With luck he would come back home cured from his infatuation.

"Denmark!" This time Ingrid looked alarmed.

"You know I've always wanted to go to the land of our mother and father. It's time I did. In the spring it will be the anniversary of their death. I want to be on their native land when it happens. I wish to honor them that way."

"I understand."

They both went to bed in a pensive mood.

At dawn, after a restless night, Bj?rn was ready to depart. But before he went there was something he needed to do. He walked over to Dunne's hut, hoping to find her daughter playing outside. He remembered Dunne complaining to Ingrid once that the child was an early riser. Luck was with him. The little girl was already out, and on her own.

"Bee?"

The little girl raised her head. "Bear?"

He smiled. The bear and the bee. That image never failed to amused him. Such a contrast between the two animals, just like between the two of them. He must be four times her size, as big and strong as she was small and delicate. Would she one day grow into a woman as beautiful as her mother? With those eyes and that dimple, it was almost certain. What fool of a man would long for her the way he was longing for Dunne, he wondered?

"I have something for you. Come."

Taking her by the hand, he led her to the hayloft. Barley was sleeping in her favorite corner while her brood tumbled about in the hay. The kittens had grown in the last few days and were now ready to be separated from their mother. Just like him, they were still young but strong enough to live their independent lives and have a chance at love. He reached out to the white female that had attracted Bee's attention the day they'd met. He smiled when he remembered how Dunne had struck him. It now seemed a lifetime ago. The bruises on his arm had faded and he hoped to repair his soul while he was away.

"This one is for you. You can take her home."

"For me?" The little girl was so stunned that she didn't even reach out for the animal.

"For you. On one condition. You have to promise to take good care of her. I think you will, because you love animals."

"I do," she said, finally taking the kitten from him and hugging her tight. The animal settled in her arms as easily as if she had always known her. "But why are you giving her to me?"

"Because she is now old enough to leave her mother and I want you to have something to remember me by. I'm leaving the village and we might never meet again." Simply saying the words out loud tightened his chest.

"You're leaving?" Bee sounded dismayed at the idea and suddenly he wondered if going to Denmark was such a good idea after all.

He steeled himself. It would be hard, undoubtedly, but it was the only thing to do.

"I'm leaving today. Tell your mother…" He cleared his throat. What would he want Dunne to know? He wasn't sure. Nothing he could tell an innocent little girl anyway. "Tell her I hope she doesn't mind you having a cat. I should have asked for her permission before I gave her to you."

The child nodded. "Thank you for the cat. I will call her…I don't know how I will call her. I've never had an animal before." Bee's face fell.

"It doesn't matter. You don't have to decide now. Take your time. The name will come to you when you're ready."

He ran a hand along the back of his neck to stop himself from lifting the little girl into his arms and giving her a hug. Damn it but he would miss her. Not in the same way he would miss her mother, but he would.

"Now, I have to go. Goodbye, Bee."