Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

I must free myself of these obsessive thoughts!

Hedda craved release, but she was determined to deal with it herself—away from her captive's disturbing allure. Away from his growly, raspy breathing, punctuated by the occasional grunt, which only made her think of the sexual act. Away from the highly irritating temptation he presented.

Pushing through the foliage overhanging the hillside track, she repeated her conviction, determined to make herself believe it.

I don't need that arrogant bull of a man with nothing between his ears! I just need peace and quiet to see to my own pleasure, then I'll be able to think clearly again.

She'd woken drenched with sweat from lurid dreams. Each night it was the same, her sleep haunted with vivid imaginings of his tongue and of how his thick shaft would feel filling her sex. She longed for him more than she cared to admit, and the awareness gnawed deep.

Of course, she might wake him, ordering him to satisfy her, but to do so would be to admit the extent of her desire. Was he aware of the obsessive need that drove her? It was a repugnant thought.

The situation was fast becoming intolerable. She'd survived well enough before the brute had been foisted upon her. He was nothing but an inconvenience, and his proximity was twisting her mind. She would go to Bothild and ask to have him removed. Let some other woman house him, and Hedda would reclaim her sanity.

Gods help me, but I want him, though.

She'd soon reach the pool where she liked to bathe. There she'd use her own hand beneath the cool water to quench the flames licking at her insides.

Coming upon an opening in the trees, she paused, catching her breath. The sea was particularly beautiful tonight, glimmering under a near-full moon. What lay beyond that wide horizon of shifting tides? Other islands, other lands, and other people, such as she could barely conceive…

She wished she knew more, but the men had never liked to share tales of their journeying—at least, not with the women of H?y. It had always riled her, that secrecy. Their menfolk had liked to withhold knowledge—not just of foreign climes but of their special rituals. Einar had kept it that way, denying the women in as many ways as possible to keep them ignorant of what he called ‘men's sacred truths.'

Where were they now, those men who'd abandoned their wives? In some new place with new women to warm their beds, new families and a new life, all thought of this island set aside as a cursed memory? Or were they simply bones beneath the unfathomable waves?

What did she care?

Turning back to the path, she scrambled over the last rise, high above the woodland canopy, to where the pool lay sunken, fed by a small waterfall from the craggy ridge. There were many such pools across the hillside, but this was her favored spot. Few came here, preferring other places where the track was less steep, though this was closest to the village as a bird might fly, directly above their dwellings.

Removing her shift, she stood for a moment, relishing the night air. Then she crouched upon the flat, smooth rock surrounding the bathing spot, and dangled both feet in the water. Sometimes, on hot days, she remained long like this, letting the sun warm her bare skin while the water cooled her lower limbs. It made submerging wholly beneath all the more refreshing, diving right in so that the pool closed over her head—an exchange of light for shadowed silence.

Tonight, she settled for lowering herself to the next shelf of rock beneath the water line where she might sit comfortably. Hedda dipped her shoulders, letting the water soothe her. With the perspiration of her night dreams and the steep trek washed away, she rested back her head. Closing her eyes, she raised one knee, reaching past her splayed lips to her softest velvet flesh.

Her strokes brought with them the image of the man tied to her bed—abhorrent yet oddly compelling. She dove deeper, caressing with her fingertips, yet imagining his driving inside her. His body pressed close. His hand hard on her breast, while his cock, insistent, made her body stretch to accommodate him.

She pictured him wanting her as badly as she needed him. Though she would protest at the roughness of his thrusts against the unyielding rock, she'd gasp and sigh as he held her—not only with his body but with a gaze that pierced her just as brutally, showing her that she was everything he desired.

Hedda pinched her aching nub.

Einar had never ignited desire like this. No man had.

The throb was all-consuming, making her shudder hot and cold. She bit at her lip, ready to surrender to delicious shivering spasms.

"Well, well, well…"

Her eyes flew open. The voice was male, deep and rasping.

Hedda twisted about, but a calloused palm settled across her mouth. She struggled but to no avail, for the fiend's hold was firm. He slid into the pool beside her, pinning Hedda against the rock.

"I see my woman is pleasuring herself." There, lit by the moonlight, was he who she'd left bound in her chamber.

How did he get free?

"‘Tis no great surprise." His tone was wry. "I know you for a carnal wench."

How dare he!

She'd been building to a sublime release before he'd shattered the moment. She hoped her eyes conveyed her anger, for his muffling hand prevented her from venting her fury.

He grinned. "If you vow not to scream, I shall let you speak."

She longed to bite that which gagged her, but the sheer size of his palm made that impossible.

He pressed closer, and she realized his chest was bare, the hair brushing her nipples above the water. In fact, he was altogether naked, his stiff organ poking her inner thigh. He'd only to shift a little and the fantasy of her imagining would be all too real. He nudged his hip to her thigh, forcing her legs farther apart while his forearm pushed against the inner side of her raised knee.

Where was her dagger? If she might reach the blade, its point against his ribs would make him think twice about treating her this way. Cursing, she recalled that it remained beneath her pillow. When she'd departed her bed, she hadn't thought to need it.

Swallowing, she nodded. She would feign agreement until she could take control of the situation again.

"I am Eldberg, jarl of my people." He moved the hand that covered her mouth, trailing downward, bringing his fingers to lightly circle her neck. "I deserve respect and demand that you answer my questions."

"Demand?" So, he was jarl. That explained his arrogance. All men lorded over women, but this cur had conceit beyond compare. Somehow, he'd freed himself and now assumed he was in charge.

"Aye, wench, demand!" His voice, so rich, slid into her belly.

His scarred face menaced above her, his nostrils flaring. His mouth, full and sensual, was close enough that he might force a kiss. She would be helpless against him—a thought that made her strangely breathless.

Whether she liked it or not—and she most certainly did not—this Eldberg brute was bigger and burlier than she, leaving little choice but to cede to him. Nevertheless, he could whistle for the respect he thought he deserved.

"What must you know?"

"We'll start with your name." The hand at her throat remained softly teasing, his finger extending beneath her chin, making her keep his gaze.

Hedda's heart increased its pace. As much as she hated his crude display of authority, she was quivering at his proximity.

"You need not know it." He could posture all he liked. It didn't mean she had to yield. If Hedda had her way, he'd soon be bound to her bedpost again.

"You've treated me with nothing but contempt." His voice was a growl. "We'll see you do better, wench." A cruel smile curved his lips. "To that end, I'm going to teach you a lesson."

Ignoring her squeals, he lifted her over the pool's edge, clasping her arms to her sides. The water streamed from her body, and he held her there a moment, a wicked gleam lighting his eyes.

The way the brute was looking at her, his gaze hot upon her breasts, lingering there before dropping lower, she could be in no doubt of his intent. A knot of fear gripped her, but that feeling was mixed with something far stronger. As much as she hated him, if he forced her legs apart to drive his hardness into her body, would she resist?

Judging by the yearning deep in her core, she knew she would not.

To her astonishment, instead of laying her back, he flipped her over to face the rock. He rose from the water, dragging her across his lap.

"Get off!" She fought to escape, scratching at his arms.

His strength, far beyond her own, soon put paid to her attempts as he clasped her wrists behind her back. Her efforts were rewarded by the slap of his hand upon her exposed backside. She winced at the sudden hurt, her desperate wriggling pausing on command.

He struck me!

Hedda couldn't believe it. Even Einar hadn't raised his hand to her.

"A good tanning of your hide will squash your impertinence."

"I-Impertinence?" She owed him nothing, least of all her name.

"You've dues to pay for the degradation I endured." His voice was raspier now, and she was all too aware of the size of his cock, pressed to her waist.

Another smack landed on her upturned arse.

"Stop that!" Hedda struggled to free her hands.

"I don't think so. You need a man to put you in your place." His blows caught each cheek in turn. "And your rear was made for my palm." His laughter rumbled.

"Your name, wench!"

As suddenly as the assault had begun, it ceased.

Hedda lay speechless as his caress slipped between her buttocks, sliding down to explore the moistness of her sex. She attempted to clamp her thighs shut, but his hand forbade it. With the deftness of one well-experienced, he extended a finger. Locating her pearl, he lightly circled it, and to her shame, she found herself pressing back, wishing fervently for more of his touch.

"Tell me!" His voice was a silken growl.

Hedda swallowed her moan of pleasure. The bastard had her at his mercy. She was determined not to succumb to his interrogation but could hardly keep up with his approach. His strikes were hateful, but somehow, his seductive teasing was even harder to endure.

So many times, Hedda had imagined his touch; now, she was compelled to bear it. Tears of frustration pricked in her eyes. He had no right to do this. No right at all! Did he mean to torment her into submission?

"Why are you so difficult?" Withdrawing his hand, he pinched the underside of her bottom, following the tweak with another of his rough slaps. "You've done nothing but deny me."

"I fed you." Hedda intended to spit the words, but they emerged as a throaty gasp. "I tended your wound."

"Aye, you kept me alive… only to tease me." He folded over her, still holding fast to her wrists, and she felt the heat of his mouth where his smack yet stung.

"What are you doing?" She tensed as he gently bit the rounded orb, letting her feel the potential of his teeth.

"Discovering you." He drew the flat of his tongue over her flesh. "Exploring."

"Stop that." She squirmed, then groaned with helpless desire as his fingers found her slit again. He slid two fingers entirely inside. Nothing had ever felt so good. No need had ever seemed so urgent.

"As you wish." He withdrew immediately, and she could have cried in disappointment. "I do not seek to give you too much of what you want."

He spanked her once more, raining several swift strokes, each harder than the last, until she felt her backside blooming hot.

"Please." She whimpered, loathing herself. "Please…"

"Indeed I could… please you. In return, all I've asked is your name." His palm rested upon her cheek.

She ground her teeth. "Hedda."

"Hedda…" He tried the name for size. "Given the grandeur of your longhouse, I deduce you're a woman of some importance."

"I was married to our jarl." She almost choked on the words.

" Was ? Where is your husband?"

She tensed at her error. Of course, he wouldn't believe she could cope without a husband.

"He's dead." Whether it was true or not, he was dead to her.

"Dead?" He sounded surprised. "I'm sorry to hear it." His tone suggested that was a lie. To her relief, he didn't ask about the rest—why no man had deigned to visit him during his captivity. She didn't relish giving an explanation, nor had she any inclination to give him an honest answer.

"And my men? What of them?"

When she was slow to answer, he drew his hand back between her buttocks, but this time, he pressed to the ring of her anus.

No!

Hedda jerked as the pad of his thumb exerted pressure upon the entrance to her tightest place.

Damn him! Some small part of her rose in dark excitement, but this was a humiliation too far!

"They're safe," she answered breathlessly. She couldn't believe it had come to this, but her relief was immense as his thumb withdrew. "There are fivemore, each with minor injuries. Now, will you let me up?" She detested how she had to ask his permission. "Please?"

Chuckling, he eased her from his lap and back into the water, slipping in beside her once more.

She turned away, too ashamed to meet his eye. The water, at least, felt cool against her reddened skin.

What now? If she swam quickly, she might reach the far side first. Once running, she'd be lighter of foot. She could reach the village ahead of him, could awaken the others.

However, a strong arm about her waist put paid to such plans.

His breath was warm beneath her ear. "I knew you could be reasonable, and that you and I could be useful to each other."

"I've answered your questions." She was aware of his cock nestling against her behind, all too comfortably. "What more do you want to ask me?"

"Nothing at all, for the moment." His laugh came low. "I have other things in mind besides talking."