“Aye, you did promise, but I do not think it all your fault. You wanted me to come back to life and you could think of no other way to force me to.” She wasn’t in the least surprised that he was awake. “I have done much thinking, Magnus. It is time for me to leave—”
He sucked in his breath, fully awake now, instantly enraged with her. He lurched up, taking her with him. “I will never let you leave—”
“—or it is time for me to be your wife.”
“Ah,” he said, and she was surprised when a deep shudder went through him. He pulled her tight and they were naked and pressed against each other. He kissed her nose, her jaw, her eyes, smoothing her eyebrows with his fingertips, pushing her hair from her face, and saying, “I won’t ever force you again. I could no longer bear it were you to lie beneath me crying, your hands fisted at your sides while I came inside you. I will no longer abide that, Zarabeth.”
“Then I think you should lie on your back and I will come over you.”
She’d surprised him yet again. “Soon. I want to feel all of you against me now.” He moved over her, on his elbows, his back slightly arched, his sex rubbing against her, but not yet entering.
He leaned down to kiss her as he moved over her breasts. This time it was different. She opened to him, rubbing her hands up and down his back, down over his buttocks, and she shivered at the feel of him, the smoothness and warmth of his flesh, the depth and contour of the muscles in his back. She moved her legs, loving the heaviness of his thighs over hers, the crinkling of his hair against her.
He felt her opening, the end of her resistance to him. He lay still on her then, kissing her deeply, his hands fisting in her hair, his sex pushing against her. “Open your legs, Zarabeth,” he said into her mouth. When she eased them apart, he came up on his knees between them and looked down at her.
He cursed, for he wanted to see all of her clearly. He leaned forward and splayed his fingers, his hands covering her breasts, kneading them now, then coming downward to encircle her waist, lower still to rest on her belly, then banding around her to take her buttocks. He lifted her to his mouth. As much as he wanted her, he refused to take any chances that she wouldn’t gain her woman’s pleasure. He brought her to his mouth, and when his warm lips touched her, she cried out. He smiled as he caressed her with his mouth, and when she was thrashing beneath him, panting, he stopped a moment and whispered to her, “I want you to scream for me now, Zarabeth. I want to feel your shuddering, feel your legs stiffen, feel you opening and yielding to me.” He lowered her then and eased his middle finger into her. “I want to feel you convulse around my finger.” He began caressing her again, and his finger was moving deeply inside her, and she screamed, arching upward, her eyes wild and savage.
Her hands gripped his shoulders, her fingers digging into his flesh, and she screamed again, and at the moment of her scream, other screams and cries came to him . . . but no, they were within him, those screams, deep inside him, and he wanted her desperately.
Zarabeth quieted but the screams continued, more loudly now, and Magnus heard his name yelled out. He trembled to come into her now, but another yell pierced through him. He shook his head, trying to get a hold on himself, trying to understand.
“Magnus!” It was Tostig’s voice, and he yelled again, this time flinging open the bedchamber door.
“By Thor, Magnus! We’re being attacked!”
25
Magnus leapt from the bed, grabbed his trousers, and tugged them on as he said, “Quickly, Zarabeth, dress yourself, then wait in here until I see what is happening.”
He was gone and Zarabeth heard the shouts and screams. Then she smelled smoke. The longhouse was on fire.
She was dressed in a moment and running into the main hall. The smoke was growing heavy, for the roof was afire. The thick beams still held, but for how long?
“Zarabeth! Quickly, get everyone out of here. Save what you can!”
She didn’t think, didn’t allow herself to slow. She gave orders, calmed where she could, moved quickly, not thinking, trying not to breathe in the ever-thickening smoke. Men, women, and children, all were carrying out their belongings and a chair or a chest or cooking implements. Two women were carrying out the huge upright loom, all the shuttles they could carry, and Eldrid’s distaff.
Eldrid! Where was she?
Zarabeth ran back into the bedchambers. All were empty. Save for one. Eldrid lay on her side on the dirt floor and she was unconscious, overcome by the smoke. Zarabeth grabbed her beneath the arms and dragged her out into the main hall. Thank the gods one of the men was there. She shouted to him and he lifted the old woman over his shoulder as if she were naught but a bag of cabbages. Zarabeth grabbed the rest of the cooking pots, directed the others to carry whatever they could hold. Clothes and blankets were dragged along the dirt floor, outside to safety. The smoke was thick now, and her still-raw throat burned and she was coughing, her eyes watering. Magnus was there beside her then, and he grabbed her arm. “Come, it is unsafe now.”
“Your chair!”
One of the men shouted that he would fetch it.
She saw Magnus’ tunic on her own chair and she wrenched free of him, stumbling, as she ran to fetch it.
Magnus wanted to beat her, but when he saw the smile on her smoke-blackened face when she held up the tunic, he could only shake his head.
They were all outside now, all their people gathered around to watch the longhouse explode into flames. Their faces were blank with disbelief. It wasn’t possible, yet it was happening and they were watching it happen. The other huts surrounding the longhouse were made of stone, but their thatch roofs were quickly aflame. The heat grew stronger and stronger.
Zarabeth was looking around, trying to count heads, to see that everyone was safe. Eldrid was coughing, sucking in the fresh air. At least she was alive. She saw then old Hollvard, the gatekeeper, and he was lying huddled on his side, an arrow sticking obscenely out of his back. Two other men, both guards, lay near, both dead.
What had happened hit her full force at that moment. She turned to her husband, waiting for him to finish giving instructions. Then he turned on his heel and she grabbed his sleeve.
“Hollvard,” she gasped, “someone killed him, Magnus! And two others as well.”