The Viking's Captive(62)

He withdrew and released her hair, smoothing it with the palm of his hand.

Tilting her chin so he could examine her face, he smiled down at her. “I know my seed in your mouth won’t make us a son or daughter.” He paused, still breathing fast. “But damn, it feels like Valhalla.”

“I enjoy it too.” She smiled.

“As I enjoy your pleasure on my tongue.” He wiped his thumb over her chin, capturing the moisture there. “You should stand now.”

Before she’d made any move to get on her feet, he’d cupped her beneath her arms and drew her upward. “Halvor!”

“My love.” He pressed his lips down on hers. “That pleasure release will be the first of many, not just tonight but going forward.”

“I don’t understand, well, about tonight I do, but…?”

“I have paid Nadir a gold coin to purchase material to make us a screen around our bed. Toby will not be able to see us coupling from his cot in the future. I know that is something that concerns you.”

“It does, and that’s a good idea.”

“He will thank us for our coupling when he has warrior brothers at his side when he goes into battle.”

Duna didn’t like the thought of her son fighting, but she agreed Toby would be glad of siblings.

“So you should get used to us having more pleasure time.” His gaze drifted to her chest. “Every night in fact when the chill allows.”

“We might find in the dead of winter it’s a good way to warm up.”

“Ah, that is why I took you as my wife, full of good ideas.” He grinned, gripped her dress at the neck line, and tugged.

“No, no, please don’t tear this one.” She placed her hands over his. It wouldn’t do to lose this dress, she only had three.

He stilled. “If you wish for it to remain intact you should have removed it before I arrived home, wench.”

“I’ll do it now.” Quickly she stepped away, stooped, and pulled it off.

He watched her with a slight smile on his face.

Before he had time to ask, she removed her undergarments and boots.

His eyes flashed as he let his gaze roam her body. “You are very pleasing.”

“I’m glad you think I am.” She ran her hands over her hips, then up to her waist and finally her breasts. She cupped them, tweaking her nipples, which were darker now since she’d borne Toby.

“It will not be long before my cock is hard again.” He pushed at his breeches, removing them completely along with his boots. He then pulled at the cotton tunic he wore so that he too was naked.

For a moment Duna enjoyed watching his body move with grace, and his cock bobbing as he placed his clothing to one side, but then her attention was caught by a length of rope he’d retrieved from the shelf.

“What’s that for?” she asked.

“To keep you in one place while I punish you.”

“What? I have done nothing wrong.” She hesitated, surprised by his words. “I took my spanking for the broken eggs.”

“Aye, you did, but think back to two days ago.”

“Two days ago?” A tremble caught in her belly. What had she done?

“Are you thinking?”

“Yes, I’m trying.”

He tossed the rope upward so one end of it landed over a rafter. “Come here, my beautiful Celt wife.”

Duna knew better than not to obey, so she moved to him, wondering what he had planned and what misdemeanor she’d committed.

“Arms up,” he said. “Hands together.”

She swallowed as nerves caught her breath. Raising her arms, he bound the rope around her wrists to capture them. He then pulled the opposite end of the rope until she was standing tall, her spine elongated, breasts jutting forward, and her heels off the floor.

“Master, I cannot think of anything I have done wrong.”

He didn’t answer; instead he walked to the hearth and retrieved the switch that hung on a hook next to it.

The switch!

She gulped. Only once had he used it on her, when she’d allowed the sheep’s trough to run out of water in the summer for a whole day and several beasts were sick with dehydration.

“Halvor, please,” she said, tugging on her wrists. But freedom would not be hers; she was well and truly harnessed to the rafters.

He flicked the switch, his biceps bulging and the veins in his forearm on show. The slim branches made a whooshing sound through the air.

“Halvor,” she said again.

A slow smile spread on his face, then he tossed the switch upward, the way she’d seen him to with his dagger, so that it spun over itself. He caught the smooth leather wrapped handle in his palm.

“Do you remember?” he asked, coming close and resting the ends of the switch on her right shoulder. “What you did?”

“No, Master, I really don’t. I’m sorry for not remembering and I’m sorry for what I did.”

Slowly he slid the ends of the switch downward, over first her right, then left breast until it rested on her opposite shoulder.

“I told you,” he said, leaning close so his lips were almost touching hers. “That I wanted potato with our dagmál, yet you served oatmeal.”

“What? I did?” Was that really a crime? Halvor always ate whatever she put in his bowl—except for mushrooms.