The Viking's Captive(22)

She shut the window frame up tight.

The temperate air of the longhouse was pleasing. As was the thought of soaking her smarting buttocks in a tub and taking a cask of ale by the fire.

She managed to bring a smile to her face, despite her situation. Yes. She would do just that. Strip away her clothes, soak her aching bones and hot skin, and let ale cloud her thoughts.

Within minutes she’d warmed another pot of water and tipped it into the tin bath. Then she set to removing her clothes. As she pulled down her undergarments the material scratched against her buttocks.

She winced as a fresh wave of pain washed over them.

She stacked her old clothes on the table, and was aware of the air circling her body. It seemed to lick over her spanked bottom, creating a tremble, which went up her spine.

Gingerly she rubbed over her tender skin. There was nothing to feel, no welts and no damage to the flesh. It was as smooth as ever, but oh, it did hurt.

She blinked back a tear of shame. Being upended had been humiliating, and the fact she’d been unable to match his strength, fight back, irritated her.

Walking over to the fish, she scowled at it. That had been the cause of her spanking. She tipped the pan over, sending the spoiled food into the flames. She hoped tomorrow Halvor would catch another fish. She’d cook that one properly. They’d both eat. That would please him and it would save her from feeling his shoe.

She slipped into the bath, holding her breath as the water smarted against her buttocks.

Damn him. I’ll be sore for days.

Eventually she lowered to the base, then blew out several long breaths as her tender skin adjusted to its torment. After a few minutes, she began to feel more comfortable. Bathing had been a good idea.

Reaching for a small bar of soap, she lathered her hair, her face, and her breasts. Taking her time, she allowed her mind to drift to thoughts of her new home, here with Halvor.

Home. Would it ever feel like home? Surely home was a place you chose to be.

She ran the soap between her legs and over the tender spot Halvor had touched, rubbed, and created such a strange feeling in. Shame nibbled away at her conscience that a man had placed his fingers there, but more than that was the confusion at her reaction to it. For some reason, like when he’d suckled her breasts, her thoughts had misted; all she could do was concentrate on a strange kind of pressure growing in her cunny. Her breaths were as fast as if she’d ran up a hill, and an urge for more… more of what she wasn’t sure… had come over her.

She tipped the pail over her head, rinsing the suds away. She wished she could ask her mother or her friend about her body’s reaction to Halvor, but of course she couldn’t. Maybe they would have been able to tell her if she was normal, or if she was twisted, sick, disturbed in the mind to have leaned into the caresses of a man who had stolen her away to another land.

It was then she heard it. A long, ear-piercing howl quickly followed by another.

Wolf.

She turned to the door, as if expecting to see a wolf there. Of course there was nothing.

Doubting herself, she leaped from the waters, sending splashes over the floor, and rushed, naked to the window. Had she shut it properly?

Yes. Thank goodness.

She grabbed a blanket and pulled it around herself. Her heart was thudding, she could hear the pulse in her ears.

But more than that she could hear something at the door—sniffing, snorting, and scrabbling. As if a beast was trying to pick up her scent from the small crack beneath it.

A small cry escaped her lips and she pressed her fingers over them. How many beasts were out there? She’d likely been circled by the vicious creatures. Maybe they were clever, maybe they’d dig their way in to get to her. Then she wouldn’t stand a chance. She’d be wolf dinner.

Finding some courage, she paced to the door and double-checked its lock. She then followed the perimeter of the long house, frowning at the ground and making sure there were no places where an animal could start digging. She didn’t find anything that caused her to worry any more than she was.

Still clutching the blanket, she returned to the fire, to warm herself and dry off. A large branch, the end bound with reeds, stood next to it. She hadn’t spotted it before, but was now glad she had. It was a torch. Should the creatures come in, fire would be her best weapon.

Another howl echoed around the room. It came from near the window. Its eerie, menacing pitch sent a shudder through her.

She wished Halvor was with her. He’d know what to do. Plus he had weapons. His sword, his dagger, both of which he’d taken with him.

She spotted his ale, half drunk in its cask and picked it up. Taking a sip, she stared at the flames. How long would the wolves wait? Until morning? Until Halvor returned?

Hoping they’d soon realize they couldn’t get access to the house, she drank the ale. There was nothing she could do. She was trapped. Halvor had no need to tie her up, tether her like an animal, or lock her in. The very land he’d brought her to had become her prison.

Thankfully, after some time, the sounds of the wolves around the longhouse faded. She didn’t believe they’d gone far, but was grateful they’d stopped howling and snorting beneath the door.

Her hair was dry, as was her body, and she’d drunk the ale. Now her eyes were heavy. Sleep was what she needed.

Returning to the bed, she reached for yet another blanket and wrapped herself up. The straw was soft, and she curled into a ball, the sinister howls of the wolves still filling her mind.