Page 34 of Her Rogue Viking

“That is our way and I make no apology for it, nor would Eirik. He died doing what he was born to do and resides now in Valhalla with all our ancestors who lost their lives in battle. The Celt who swung the axe which felled him perished also in that skirmish, but this is not enough for Brynhild, nor for Eirik’s family who hold me and mine responsible for his loss.”

“You? But how…?”

“I commanded that raid. Eirik was on my longship and I should have protected him. My wife was also of the Bjarkesson family and her loss has exacerbated matters. Astrid died unexpectedly of a fever just a few weeks after Eirik was lost. It could not be helped but she died in my longhouse, so her kin added that tragedy to their grievances against me. I have offered goods and slaves in reparation, which the people of Bjarkesholm have accepted, but they always seek more and continue to blame me. The blood feud is not resolved and I see no prospect of peace between our families, which is one of the reasons I have needed to construct a harbour here at Skarthveit. I no longer have access to the moorings at Bjarkesholm, and Hafrsfjord is too far away to offer a practical alternative.”

“All this over the death of two people, one of them by misfortune at that? Had this not happened, you might not have had need of slaves, you might not have attacked Pennglas…”

“Possibly. Probably. But we are where we are. I just wanted you to better understand the circumstances, and perhaps in knowing you might manage to get along with Brynhild. Maybe, a little…”

“Thank you, Viking. I do prefer to know, but I fear it will not help since your sister’s wrath is irrational. I am not responsible for her misery but I fear she will never accept me, never let me be.”

Ulfric suspected she was right, but was never a man to dwell on that which he could not change. He would seek to reason with Brynhild again, encourage her to consider other suitors among the many who would be glad of her hand. His sister was beautiful, accomplished, an adept homemaker and she could run a farming homestead with ease. Eirik might be gone, but Brynhild could still make a good life for herself if she would just let go of the past.

He was not unsympathetic to his sister’s feelings. He had grieved for Astrid, but had known he must move on, for Njal if not for himself. He dismissed those musings for now and turned his thoughts to the more pleasing matter of the slight figure beside him.

“Remove your clothing, little Celt, and spread your legs.”

As ever, Fiona was quick to obey. She had not relished her role in his household at the outset, he had no illusions on that score, but she had quickly discovered a lurking enthusiasm for the pleasure he offered her. Fiona was a sensual little creature, quick to arouse, responsive and appreciative of his attention. He had fucked her almost daily since her arrival, and swore he would never tire of burying his cock within her hot, tight little body. He relaxed back onto his bed as she disrobed before him,then he beckoned her to lean over him and place one of her nipples in his mouth.

He had taught her well, instructed her in what pleased him and made note of what she seemed to most enjoy. Now he suckled lazily on one engorged bud as he squeezed and tugged on the other with his fingers. He increased the pressure until she squealed, then he pinched harder still.

Fiona was starting to pant so he thrust his spare hand between her thighs. She was dripping, her cunt wet and welcoming as he drove his fingers into her. It was the work of moments to find that sweet spot just inside and to rub mercilessly until she started to convulse around his digits. He dragged his fingers out.

“On your hands and knees, wench.”

She hastened to obey, quickly placing herself on all fours, her bottom raised up higher than her shoulders. Ulfric took his time undressing, pausing often to drop a sharp slap on one upturned buttock or the other. Fiona’s hips quivered in response and her cunny glistened as her arousal pooled. When he was naked he moved to kneel behind her and positioned the head of his cock between the lips of her cunt.

“Do you like that, wench?”

“Yes,” she ground out.

“You want more?”

“Yes. Yes!”

He slapped her bottom again, then inched in, just a fraction further.

“How much more?”

“All. I want all of it. All of you.”

He leaned over to lift her heavy mass of dark curls and murmur right into the shell of her ear. “Then you will beg me for it, my slave.”

“Please, Viking, I need you to fill me…”

“Is that all? I suspect you can do better than that if you try.” He started to withdraw his cock.

“No! Do not stop, please. I need you inside me, all of you.”

“All?”

“Yes, all. Deep, and hard, and… and… Oh, sweet Jesus, please, I cannot wait. I need you so much I might die of longing.”

“I doubt you will. You want me to fuck you? Is that it, my little Celt?”

“Yes, Viking,” she ground out.

“Then say it.” His tone was silky smooth as he murmured into her ear. “Say exactly what it is you want from me.”

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