Page 114 of The Outlaw Viking

After the meal, some of the children helped Blanche clean up. Others assisted Ubbi in dismantling the long trestle table. The one-piece wooden top was leaned against a far wall, and the benches arranged near the fireplace wall with straw-filled mattresses for sleeping. Other mattresses lay on the floor in front of the fire.

The children yawned sleepily with full stomachs and the heat of the blaze, but still they listened attentively to the bedtime stories Rain was telling them while she ran a comb through one after another of the little girls’ hair. Head lice had been a severe problem in the beginning, but better hygiene had already eradicated most of the pesky varmints. She intended to keep it that way with careful supervision.

“Once upon a time there was a little girl named Red Riding Hood,” Rain started, and as she related the cherished stories of her own childhood for her mesmerized audience, she had trouble keeping her eyes off Selik, who sat on a pile of bed furs with Adela nestled snugly on his lap like a contented cat. The darling little girl even rubbed her cheek against his wide chest every so often in a kittenish fashion.

Selik was peeling apples for the children His long fingers—his wonderfully slender, hands which could perform magic on her body—removed the skins in long, curly spirals and carefully cut the fruit into slices in a manner she must be crazy to find erotic. But she did. With a joyful chuckle, he offered pieces to each of the children, who opened their mouths for him like newborn birds. She imagined those same fingers peeling off her clothing, skimming her body, separating her secret folds. When his tongue flicked out and licked the juices from his fingertips, she imagined…Oh, Lord.

“Finish the tale,” one of the children whined, and Rain realized with embarrassment that she’d stopped midway through her story. Selik smiled at her and held out an apple slice. She reached for it but he held it out of reach, forcing her to open her mouth for him. When he placed it in her mouth, his fingers lingered for a second on her lips, and her tongue licked the sweet nectar from his fingertips. Her eyes locked with his, and Rain saw the deep want in their silvery depths, matching her own.

This is your beloved, the voice said.

Rain quivered inside with deep agreement.

She noticed the children staring at her in question. And Blanche rattling her pots jealously. Trying hard not to stammer, Rain continued with her story. “And then Red Riding Hood said, ‘Grandma, what big eyes you have….’”

While she continued with other bedtime stories she thought might interest them—Robin Hood, Aladdin and His Magic Lamp, Peter Pan—she saw Selik reach for a small block of wood and a paring knife. She even told her own version of Little Orphan Annie, thinking it would have particular significance to these homeless children.

She brightened suddenly on thinking of one particularly relevant tale, Beauty and the Beast. When she finished with, “And they lived happily ever after,” Selik raised an eyebrow and asked, “Hah! Now I know where you get your halfwit notions. Were you thinking to turn my beastly self into a prince with one of your kisses?”

Rain just smiled.

Then Selik related sagas of legendary Norse heroes—Ragnar Hairy-Breeches, Harald Fairhair, and others. As he talked, Selik’s fingers drew magic from the lifeless piece of oak with his sharp knife. First the ears of the wolf emerged, then the eyes and muzzle, even the fine details of the animal’s fur.

The figure that emerged was a crude, quickly executed rendering, the edges rough and unfinished, but his artistic talent shone through. He handed the wood sculpture to Rain as if it were a priceless object of art, which it was to her.

“For remembrance,” he whispered.

Tears welled in her eyes at the reminder that he wouldn’t be with her much longer. And she choked back a plea for him to change his mind. Her time for resistance and fighting to mold Selik into something he was not had ended. Now she just wanted to cherish every minute of the remaining time they had together.

Selik stood and laid the sleeping Adela on a nearby cot, pulling a woolen cloak up tenderly to her tiny shoulders. Then he picked up three of the bed furs and held his hand out to Rain, leading her toward the ladder.

“Yer goin’ to sleep up in the loft?” Ubbi asked incredulously. “’Tis colder than a glacier up there.”

“Rain will keep me warm,” Selik answered huskily, pushing her ahead of him up the ladder.

And she vowed that she would.

Selik wanted this night to last forever. With bed furs piled under and over them, and a dozen candles illuminating their bed place, he paid slow, soul-searing homage to Rain’s body. Meticulously, his fingers explored every part of her form, memorizing, storing pleasures in his mind for future retrieval. With each whimper and mewling cry of pleasure he drew from her, his heart soared. Truly, a woman’s pleasure was man’s aphrodisiac.

No dark shadows of the past haunted Selik tonight. He thought only of now, and the memories he must make and cherish with Rain, his beloved Rain.

“Will I ever see you again?” she asked, her soft voice breaking as she bravely tried to stifle her sobs.

“Mayhap.”

“But, Selik, if you die, then I’ve failed. If I was sent back in time to save you, and I—and I can’t, then what was the point?”

He smiled gently and pulled her into the crook of his shoulder, caressing her gently. He fingered the edges of her hair, tenderly traced the line of her jaw, brushed her collarbone with a whispery caress. “I think your God accomplished all that He wanted—if ’twas He who sent you. Can you not see that you have healed me of my shame? You have melted my heart, taught me to love again. Even if we never meet again, I cannot regret that.”

“If that’s true, then why do you have to leave?”

“Steven,” he said flatly. “I could stop blaming the entire Saxon race for Astrid’s and Thorkel’s deaths, perchance even give up my vendetta, but not against Gravely. I love you, Rain, but honor demands I remove his demon presence from this earth.”

She resigned herself then and gave herself up to their mutual enjoyment.

When he knelt between her legs and lay upon her body, his thundering heart pounded against her breasts. She looked up at him in wonder, murmuring, “Our hearts seem to beat with the same rhythm.”

“Yea,” he answered softly, putting a hand over her breast, between their two hearts. “They seem to be repeating one word—love, love, love, love….”