Page 10 of Her Viking Saviour
He grabbed a bar of floral soap brought by a trader and a drying cloth. He entered the hut and saw she had already stripped to her shift. A pounding began to beat in his veins as his arousal grew.
“Ahh…Wynflaed, here you go.” He felt awkward as he handed her the soap and cloth.
“Thank you,” she said shyly as she grabbed the items, but he did not let go. His self-control was beginning to wane. In order to change the subject and shift the tension in the air away from the crackling heat between them, he decided to raise her temper instead.
“What caused you to be so offended with me earlier, Wynflaed? He saw a pink tinge spread from her face and chest to her arms and legs.
“I thought you were going to propose an improper task to me,” she told him in a slightly huskier tone and stepped closer to pull the items from his grip. He let them go but took a step forward as well. This was the last response he had expected from her.
“But I did not, so why do you still appear bothered by it, Wynflaed?” She was close enough now that he could see the arousal reflected in her amber gaze. He had not raised her temper but instead raised her lust, which was now burgeoning with his own.
She did not answer, just moistened her lips and he helplessly watched her tongue lave the plump pout. The slip of her little tongue was innocent but enticing and he groaned. His fiery little Wynflaed was not averse to him, but she was still an innocent maiden in a foreign land.
He did not want to take advantage of her, but every fibre of his being told him to capture those sweet, full lips with his own.He cupped her head and spread his fingers through her soft raven curls to pull her closer to his lips. She did not pull away but parted her lips in invitation, which he accepted with a soft growl as a primal urge took over.
He covered her mouth with his own and drank in her passion as she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her soft body to his. His tongue swept her mouth and she met it with her own, fiery and sweetly erotic as her inexperience fuelled her exploration. He pulled her tightly against his body, one hand still at the nape of her neck and the other at the small of her back. He throbbed against her as he imagined the soft wetness between her legs and kissed her hungrily. A voice of sanity reminded him that he was not a man to take someone's innocence, and he forced himself to let her go. He looked down at her ravished face and swollen lips as she breathed heavily.
“I am sorry, Wynflaed. I lost myself, my control. Forgive me. Take your bath and I will have Olga wait for you.” He reluctantly let her go and walked abruptly out of the hut. He sensed her confusion and anger, but he did not turn back. He could not trust himself. In the face of her obvious want and the throbbing ache between his legs, he was close to throwing any good sense aside and taking her then and there.
In the name of all the gods, what have I done?
Chapter Eleven
Wynflaed settled into the soothing warm water of the hot spring and swore an oath at her wanton behaviour. No doubt, Torben thought she was immoral.Maybe that is why he pulled away.Sniffing the cake of soap, she inhaled the scents of lavender, lemon balm and other florals she had yet to discover. She scrubbed her skin furiously with the soap before moving on to her tresses, massaging her scalp in an attempt to relieve the tension.
After she had scrubbed herself from head to toe, she grabbed a wooden bucket that sat on the edge of the bath and used it to pour water over her hair and body. She stood up, the water level just below her waist and enjoyed the water sluicing down her body. She repeated the action a few times before she set the bucket down and travelled her hands down her body. She felt the smooth curves of her breasts, then moved down to her waist and the small of her back before she spread her hands out across her buttocks.
She blushed as she remembered the heat that had emanated from between her legs at Torben’s kisses and moved her hand to the curls that covered the area, unable to refrain from touching herself there. She knew it was unholy but in this moment shedid not care. She was not a virgin but had little experience. She had only experienced the carnal knowledge of a man a handful of times and had found little joy in it. But the desire that Torben had wrought in her body was so delectable she wanted to know the feeling again and again, so she rubbed herself harder and faster, fascinated by the sensations spreading through her extremities.
She had not been aware her body could feel this way as she tensed and her breath started to come out in pants. All of a sudden something deep inside her exploded and she felt a wetness between her legs that was not from the water. She felt more free, more alive, and more satisfied than she ever had before. She sat back down in the bath to catch her breath and felt both slightly proud and slightly ashamed of the pleasure. She could not help but imagine how much more pleasure she could feel if Torben touched her, was inside of her.
She heard a tap at the door and Olga’s voice.
“I am here when you ready, Wynflaed. I have clean clothes for you,” she said.
“Yes, Olga, I just need to dry myself.”
Wynflaed quickly used the cloth to dry her skin and then wrapped the material around herself before she opened the door and poked her head out. Olga handed her a clean linen shift, a moss-green dress with long sleeves, and woollen hose for her feet.
“It gets much cold at night,” Olga told her with a smile.
Wynflaed returned her smile with thanks, closed the door, and quickly dressed herself. The clothes all fit a little loosely, but Olga had clearly taken the hem up in consideration of her shorter stature. The dress flattered her figure nicely after she tightened the strings around the bodice. A floral motif was stitched over the bust in a brown thread, and she fingered the pretty pattern. She pulled on the hose as high as they couldgo and then slipped on the leather shoes Torben had bought her. Lastly, she placed the cloak around her shoulders, another reminder of Torben. She gave it a sniff. It was due for a wash, but she would leave that for another time. She bundled up the rest of the clothing and stepped out to meet Olga.
“You have nice hair,” Olga said with admiration as her wet curls slowly dried and sprang back into shape while they walked through the crisp air back towards the hubbub of the settlement.
“Thank you, Olga. I will need to comb it out before it gets too unruly,” she said, laughing.
“I take you to room. Torben give you room next to Freydis in the main house.”
She could only assume this meant she would be sleeping in the same quarters as Torben. A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine.
“What of Hilde, Cynewin, and Cola?” she queried, realising she had not seen her comrades in some time now.
“Cynewin and Cola have been given hut and Hilde sleep in the women’s longhouse. Olga there, Olga take care of her,” Olga said with a reassuring nod.
Olga led her into a large longhouse that held colourful tapestries, ancient wooden carvings inlaid with precious metals, and luxurious pelts that spoke to the nobility of the Ulfsons. Men and women sat on wooden benches on either side of a long fire pit, perhaps waiting to speak with Torben, as they looked to see who had come through the door. The people smiled at her when she passed and she smiled back, relieved that no one here gave her any looks of animosity.
Olga led her through heavy fur curtains to a hallway with several doors. She pointed at each room.
