The Wolf and the Warrior, page 9
For years the warrior fought other men’s wars growing tremendously in wealth and power. He bedded their wives and daughters with the same detachment he fought their battles. An elusive, near mystical being, he owned fealty to no man save himself. A solitary figure, he became known as the ‘Golden Wolf’, a name to which he adapted with ease. A renegade conquering by sheer strength and cunning like the wolf cast out by his pack, he was just as deadly.
In time, the man became known for his swift retribution in the name of his patrons. “I command you to open in the name of Lord — and the Golden Wolf!” became the most dreaded cry a noble could hear without his castle walls. Many a man learned to his despair it was better to avoid confrontation with the fierce golden-haired giant at any cost. One look into those translucent eyes fired with the frenzied lust of battle cowed even the bravest man.
So the mighty Beowulf must have appeared locked in a death battle with the mighty Grendel and his Dam. There was nothing courtly about the Viking Wolf inflamed with the bloodlust of battle. Every inch the scourge of the sea, Thor, son of Sweyn, carved the blood-eagle torture without a flinch. The harsh glitter of his eyes betrayed the ice surrounding his heart. The Golden Wolf showed the same mercy to his opponents he had known since his father’s death: absolutely none.
Over time, the Viking earned the friendship of many powerful lords in Normandy and his native England. He renewed his friendship with Henry, Earl of Northumberland, and eventually gained the attention of his father, David I, King of Scotland. While grateful his newest recruit was but a throwback to a bygone era and not the head of a Viking raiding party, David grew genuinely fond of the harsh young man his son held in such high regard. Over time, the young man proved more than just a loyal friend. He proved himself capable of serving the crown in many worthwhile ways. David rewarded his servant accordingly with riches, lands, and titles.
The Viking became Lord of Ruthven, so named after the lands accompanying the barony, at nineteen and Sheriff of Lothian at twenty. The next year he received the overlordship of the mighty mountainous district of Crawford in Clydesdale. A few months later, Thor received the Lordship of Tranent as well. In more than fifteen years, David never once regretted placing the young man in charge of the large hundred-mile shire of Lothian, nor did he regret placing chunks of Perthshire and Clydesdale under his rule as well. The Golden Wolf proved his worth many times over as the years went by as he still continued to do.
Studying his surroundings through pale amber eyes, Thor, Son of Sweyn, Sheriff of Lothian, and Lord of Ruthven, presented an imposing figure riding through Stirling burgh on the massive fawn destrier. That he also claimed overlordship and maintained control of the untamed mountainous district of Crawford, enhanced his already formidable reputation amongst the burgh’s inhabitants. Few men came near his extraordinary six feet six inches of height or immense breadth of shoulder. As few men could control the spirited animal he rode so effortlessly.
Thor inclined his head to acknowledge the bows and curtsies made in his direction. He relished the power of his position as strong arm of the king. Were he honest with himself, he would acknowledge the respect with which people of all stations treated him was more the result of the swift, total retribution he exacted in the king’s name than any real desire for justice. For this reason, few men in the whole of Scotland were as feared or revered as the Viking Sheriff of Lothian. In his favor, none could say he abused the powers entrusted to him. All knew the mighty warrior was above all else an honorable man.
Thor caught the inviting glances cast in his direction by more than one female. Such behavior he accepted as his due. He knew he wasn’t a handsome man, but his gargantuan size and tawny coloring were striking. He made an impressive figure sitting astride the enormous beast surveying his surroundings through amber eyes so pale they often seemed without color. His features were too starkly aquiline, the planes of his narrow face too angular, to be handsome.
He was instead as coldly, hauntingly intriguing as the fjords of Denmark from whence came his ancestor, a lesser king in the service of the mighty Bjorn Ironside. His slightly full, sensually shaped lips were the only hint of softness or warmth about him. Despite this, they were most often drawn into a thin, stern line. The thick mane he wore tied loosely in a leather thong was the same golden color as his sun-burnished skin. He had no need for vibrant colors. He stood out enough on his own.
Looking around, Thor easily located the tavern where he always stayed. It was one of the few places where he could relax before beginning his judicial duties. Harold, the tavern keeper, ensured his privacy and comfort. Harold's eldest daughter slaked his more carnal appetites. With a smile, Thor handed the horse’s reins to the stable boy and strode into the tavern. He meant to make the most of his two days of peace before his twenty-man entourage arrived and the work began.
The interior of the crowded tavern was every bit as dark, sooty, and loud as he remembered. He quickly scanned the room for a glimpse of Joanna’s brown head bobbing among the customers. He heard her tinkling laughter a few moments before she emerged from the back storeroom with a couple of tankards of ale and a warm loaf of bread on a slab of wood. With a squeal of joy, she tossed her tray on a nearby table and threw her arms around his neck.
“M’Lord!”
She was such a pretty little thing with her clear sapphire eyes and golden-brown curls tumbling wildly to her waist. Her easy laughter lightened Thor’s mood when he was with her, and the nights spent with her lush, young body pressed beneath his was a sensuous pleasure.
“Is my room ready?”
“Aye, M’Lord, shall I show you the way?”
“Aye.” He fixed her with a knowing look. “Perhaps you’d best get Sarah to mind the room for the rest of the day.”
“Aye, M’Lord.”
In a few moments, Joanna returned with a buxom, dark-haired girl. Sarah smiled pleasantly and bobbed Thor a quick curtsy before picking up the tray Joanna left behind. Harold had already received the generous purse of coins he’d discretely pressed into his daughter’s hand a few moments earlier. Though not necessary, it was only fair for Harold to receive reimbursement for Joanna’s time away from her duties.
Thor followed Joanna up the narrow stairs to the largest room in the inn. While most of the tiny rooms had only a pallet spread over the flea-infested rushes, this room contained a bed, clothes trunks, and a couple of comfortable chairs by the fireplace. The furnishings were his and ensured the innkeeper of his patronage whenever his rounds brought the sheriff to town.
Before their arrival, someone had lit a fire in the fireplace and made the bed. This same person had thoughtfully left a tray of viands on top of the only table in the room. Such considerations were likely the work of Joan, Joanna’s mother, quite a comely woman in her own right. Thor sat in one of the chairs and pulled his lover down on his lap.
“Well, M’Lord, what can I do for you?” Joanna greedily dug through the pouch at his waist searching for one of the trinkets Thor always brought her.
The gifts meant little to the sheriff, but Joanna was already quite a wealthy young woman from their liaison. She could wed the man of her choice, or not wed at all if she chose. She’d often expressed her desire to open her own shop. While a rare feat for a single woman, it was a dream she could easily accomplish with his patronage.
“Are you looking for this?” Thor pulled the small pouch out of his sleeve.
“A key?” Joanna’s gaze was puzzled.
“It’s the key to the shop on the corner.” The one she’d longed to have.
“It’s mine?” Dare she believe it so?
“You can open tomorrow if you wish.” Thor was nothing if not a man of his word.
“Thank you, M’Lord, thank you!” Joanna threw her arms around his neck. “You have made my dream come true.”
Thor nodded. It was the least he could do. He and Joanna had reached an understanding long before he took her to his bed. That understanding was they enjoyed each other’s company without any drama. He would find pleasure in her lush body and sharp mind. In return, Joanna would realize a degree of independence impossible without his patronage. She’d kept her word and he’d opened doors for his mistress usually barred to single women. Their arrangement suited them both admirably.
It was also what kept him returning to Joanna's bed the past four years, despite knowing she had aborted the two babes she’d conceived by him. Had he known, he would have claimed his children. While he wouldn’t have married a tavern-keeper’s daughter, he would have provided for Jo and his offspring as a father should. He hadn’t known. Not until after the fact. While a part of him was pained by her actions, his practical side didn’t see the point in ending an otherwise beneficial business arrangement, so he hadn’t.
Giggling aloud, Joanna didn’t object when Thor unlaced her wool bliaut or when he removed her cream-colored chemise. She merely smiled as he carried her to the bed. She was as eager to feel his hard body against hers as he was to bury himself inside her. He shook his head at the sound of her laughter when he tore one of his leg bands in his eagerness to shed the offending garments.
Her open amusement only inflamed him more. She reached greedily for him as he tossed his tunic to the floor. It was Thor’s turn to smile when Joanna’s laughter changed to mindless sounds of pleasure as he forcefully invaded her body. Unbeknownst to his lover, his mind was flooded with memories of the passionate responses of a tempestuous flame-haired siren.
A FEW HOURS LATER, Thor leaned against the headboard and closed his eyes enjoying the solitude. As expected, Joan had sent several stable boys with a tub and hot water for his bath as soon as she deemed it appropriate. Over the years, she’d learned his expectations, which included a bath as soon as the water was heated. Somehow, that water knew just when to boil, or someone was discretely listening outside their door to hear when the loving was over. While that thought should bother him, it didn’t. Joan’s timing was impeccable and unlike with Aimee, his relationship with Joanna was purely carnal.
Speaking of Jo, she’d bathed and dried him as she usually did before going below to fetch fresh tankards of ale. Left alone, he’d climbed into bed and propped up on his pillows to await her return. While he appreciated the effort and the ale was tempting, there were other activities he found more enticing. It had been weeks since his last interlude with a woman. Reaching down to fondle himself, Thor silently prayed Joanna wasn’t distracted by any of her regulars along the way. That was the last thing he needed in the state he was in.
“My lord, I’m sorry I was gone too long.” Gazing at his rampant need, Joanna handed Thor one of the tankards and urged him to drink as she set the other on a nearby clothes chest. Watching him drain the tankard, she pulled her chemise over her head basking in her lover’s appreciative gaze. Tossing the garment aside, Joanna kissed him and straddled his lap knowing just what he needed. “As hard as you wish, my lord, you know I can take it.”
Joanna smirked against Thor’s neck when he grasped her hips and complied with her wishes. They both knew there would be time for gentleness later. Right now, all that mattered was meeting thrust for brutal thrust until they crashed and burned in a field of carnal glory. Gasping and moaning at the brutality of their coupling, Joanna lightly nipped Thor’s bottom lip as she captured his mouth in a rapacious kiss. Tasting a hint of copper on her tongue, there was power in knowing that while she could hurt her massive lover, he would never harm her in return.
Feeling muscles bunch beneath her hands, Joanna threw her head back and allowed her release to wash over her. Subconsciously placing her hands across her belly, she felt Thor spasm within her and watched his orgasm play across his face. As much as she would miss these moments what she’d done was for the best. Hearing Thor’s satiated groan in her ear, Joanna pulled back to look him in the face. It was only a matter of time before he realized what she’d done.
Caressing Joanna’s back, Thor gradually decided that while a rough tumble with the woman was always relaxing, he felt ways he shouldn’t. Something was seriously off this time. He felt unusually languorous. Casting a reproachful glance at his lover, the sheriff realized much too late that his ale was drugged. He didn’t need the guilty look on Joanna’s face to confirm it. There was no other explanation possible. As he slipped into the void, Thor recalled that almost imperceptible aftertaste he’d so foolishly ignored.
Sliding off of her lover’s lap, Joanna dropped one last kiss on his shoulder as she stood up. While she cared deeply for this man, she refused to lose sight of the fact their relationship could never last. Were he ever to wed again, the sheriff would never wed a humble tavern keeper’s daughter. He would wed his equal and sire noble sons to inherit his immense wealth and titles. For four long years she’d dared to hope things could be different. It was time to accept the truth. If she couldn’t have him, Lady Alexandria was a worthy substitute. Silently Joanna unlocked the door allowing the men outside entrance to the room.
“He should sleep through the night.” If all went well with the dosing. If she knew Lady Zan, and she did, the woman would err on the side of caution. “You should have plenty of time to reach your destination.”
“This was sent with thanks for all you have done.” The man held out the pouch of coins.
“Tell your master thank you. Now hurry before someone sees what you are doing.”
Joanna opened the door and surveyed the narrow hall. She motioned for the men to follow her to the back stairs. No one must see them or their burden as they left the tavern. No one must know how the Sheriff of Lothian departed the inn. Their lives depended upon their discretion. They all knew that.
REGAINING CONSCIOUSNESS long before his captors expected, Thor cracked his eyelids to survey the scene around him. It didn’t take long to realize he was propped against a tree with his hands loosely bound behind his back and his knees drawn up in front of him. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. He could work his hands free of the rope in a matter of minutes. His kidnappers hadn't bothered to tie his feet since they probably thought he would sleep through the night.
Obviously, someone had made a serious miscalculation. If he was careful, he could slip away before the men knew he was gone. Unfortunately, things didn’t work out that way. He was spotted as he slipped into the darkness of the surrounding forest. While Thor easily overcame one captor, in his drug weakened state he was no match for the other two men.
Since he couldn’t recall the journey from their campsite to the walled fortress they were entering, he must have been unconscious for most of the trip. As a result, he had no idea where he was or who his captors were. This had never happened before, and it wouldn’t have happened now if Joanna hadn’t done the unthinkable.
Opening his eyes briefly, Thor quickly closed them against the dust flurries rising from the ground beneath him. His mouth was filled with dirt and tasted of sour, unripe plums. A dull throbbing that intensified with each beat of his heart radiated throughout his skull. He found it difficult to believe Joanna betrayed him into the hands of an unknown enemy. Hell of a way to repay him for everything he’d done for her and her family over the last few years.
Twisting his hands inside their binding, Thor cursed to himself. The once slack rope chafed painfully against his wrists and ankles. He now lay draped across a horse’s back with his hands and feet bound firmly beneath the animal’s belly. In this position, he was at the mercy of his abductors. It seemed they weren’t as stupid as he’d thought. They’d learned from their earlier mistake.
Thor opened his eyes at the sound of a castle gate swinging open, then quickly shut behind them, as the inner bailey swarming with people came into view. He had no more idea where he was now than he had when he awoke last night. The events of the last day flooded over him like a nightmare. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He was the Sheriff of Lothian and the king’s right hand. No one dared touch his person until now.
He forced himself to remain limp as someone pulled him roughly off the horse. If they wanted him inside, they could carry him. He’d be damned if he would help. It wasn’t in his best interest to reveal he was conscious and aware of everything going on around him. Opening his eyes a mere slit, Thor noted a few dim stars twinkling in the inky night sky as well as the somber outlines of a keep he didn’t recognize.
He almost laughed aloud at the grunts and curses coming from the much smaller men as they fought to carry his immense bulk inside. Thor’s amusement ceased as he bit the inside of his lip against the bruising pain of his booted feet slamming against stone steps as the men roughly dragged him up the stairs. Gratefully they dumped their burden on the fur-covered bed. Thor opened his eyes a fraction when he heard a female voice.
“What have you done?” There was something vaguely familiar about the panicked tone. More than vaguely familiar. He thought perhaps he knew it well. “He is worthless to me dead.”
“He tried to escape, my lady. We had to restrain him.” The man’s voice was openly belligerent as he defended their actions. He wasn’t happy with being questioned when he and his men could have easily been killed. The mighty sheriff was more than they’d bargained for.
“I don't have time for explanations. Reina, help me take care of this. The rest of you, get out.” The woman wasn’t fazed by the servant’s hostility as she efficiently dismissed the men. Thor watched through half-closed lids as she rummaged through a small chest carefully arranging small pouches and vials on a wooden tray.
“My lady, he could hurt you!” The protest came from the same man who’d defended their actions a moment ago.
The spokesman for the group, Thor decided the man was probably the only one of the three capable of stringing together a sentence. The others probably stood around scratching their bellies communicating in grunts and gestures.
