They entered a long, wooden structure. Vikings apparently had a “thing” for all things long. Long boats, long swords, long houses. Long beards. Now, just what were they compensating for? She grinned at the thought, imagining Mr. Fondle would own a very expensive sports car if he’d lived in the future. Lara was carried to the rear of the building and dumped on the floor inside a small room.
“Stay here. Punishment will not be kind if you disobey,” the warrior warned. Her look of fright must have assured him of her obedience, for he turned on his heel and strode away, closing the door behind him.
Lara glanced around Reece’s “quarters”. Not much by way of furniture, but plenty of warm bed coverings. She dove into the pallet on the platform built into the wall and huddled beneath the blankets and hides, attempting to regain some body heat.
Reece arrived some time later. She was certain he’d been busy doing his Vikingly duties. Whatever those might be.
“Reece?” she called.
“I thought you might be asleep,” he said, removing the wicked helmet from his head and running his hands through his dark brown hair. It was longer in the front than the back and had a habit of falling over his right eye. “Are you hungry? I think I’m expected at the party. You’ll probably have to serve me and keep me in mead. You think you can handle that?”
“Reece, we have to do something to help those women escape.”
He glanced at her and shook his head. He ground his teeth together and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “I’d like to, but we can’t risk it.”
“What? Why not?”
“We could change history forever. I know it seems cruel, but we can’t interfere with these events. It’s dangerous enough that we participate in them.”
“So we just let them be used and abused by these horrible people.”
“They aren’t so bad,” Reece told her, removing the fur that covered his shoulders and then the jacket underneath. The jacket was cloth, but had parallel rows of metal studs covering it. “Just doing what they must to survive. Now, slave girl, go find me some warm water so I can wash.”
“What?”
“Well, you don’t expect me to go get it, when I have a perfectly good slave to do my bidding,” he said, removing his undershirt now.
She stared at his bare back, her mouth going dry. He turned to look at her. “Are you going to laze there in my bed all evening? If that’s the case, I might have to join you.”
She crawled from the bed, heart thudding. “Well, I can’t have that!” she said. Her pants got tangled in the bedding which had tumbled to the floor. By the time she managed to free herself from the dastardly hides and blankets, her pants were at her ankles. Reece had the audacity to chuckle.
“Get yourself a decent saucy-wench dress while you’re at it. I can’t have my gorgeous captive slave looking like a beggar.”
She scowled at him.
“You promised to play along,” he reminded her.
“In public. We are not in public right now.”
“We will be. The longer you stay in this room alone with me, the more obvious it will become that you are most certainly not a fair maiden.”
He stalked across the room like a predator seeking his prey. He stopped before her and stared down at her hungrily. “On second thought, that’s exactly what I want them to think.”
Lara squeaked when Reece’s arm circled her waist. He pulled her against him and leaned closer until she could see the green flecks in his hazel eyes. Her stupid body went limp, melting against his as she anticipated the kiss she craved. “You know if I kiss you now, I’m not going to stop,” he said. “Not until you call my name in that sexy way you do when you come really hard.”
Her eyes ached as they widened to unnatural proportions. When she what? He didn’t really just say that did he? Heat crept up her neck and cheeks. She’d never been more embarrassed—or excited—in her entire life. How dare he speak to her like that?
“I still remember how good it feels to be buried in your hot, tight pussy.” His tongue slid between his lips and brushed against her upper lip. She gasped, but didn’t move away. “Like a glove of warm, slick satin.”
Pull away, she thought. Don’t let him talk to you like that. It’s indecent... And so sexy. Lara’s heart rate accelerated out of control and she knew she was panting but couldn’t help it. Nor could she help that her nipples were taut and her... pussy was hot, swollen and pulsating with need.
“I’ll fuck you deep and hard, Lara,” he said, his voice low. “My fingers digging into your ass to hold you still so I can grind against your clit with each thrust.”
Every nerve ending in her body was alive with excitement. She didn’t understand any of this. She wasn’t the type of woman who got all stupid and excited over a man and a few vulgar words. It just wasn’t her. Was it?
He grinned at her. “Don’t look so mortified, sweetheart. It took me months to figure out that you like dirty talk. It really turns you on, doesn’t it?”
“Does not!” She shoved him away, too flustered to be angry about the knowing chuckle he emitted.
“Why don’t you go see if someone has something you can wear?” he said, as he continued undressing. “If you keep dropping those pants, I can’t be held accountable for trying to get in them.”
She scrambled out of the room, holding up her pants with one hand as she fled the room. She wasn’t going because he told her to. Or because she was so aroused that she’d probably let him get into her pants with no protest. Or that he was getting naked and she so wanted to ogle every inch of him. She was fleeing his presence because she wanted to. Yeah.
She closed the door behind her and went to find someone who looked like they knew what was going on. A tired-looking, middle-aged woman stood near the center of the main room, stirring a pot of stew over the fire. Along the walls of the longhouse were bunks built into the wall. Situated in front of the bunks were long, wooden tables. Some of the men were sitting on the bunks talking amongst themselves and enjoying enormous mugs of what Lara decided was mead.
As Lara passed one of the bunks, she heard a loud grunt. She caught sight of a large, blond man rhythmically thrusting into the flushed woman beneath him before he grunted again and collapsed on top of her. They were having sex right out there in the open! No one seemed to notice but Lara. Wide-eyed, Lara diverted her gaze and made a beeline for the woman standing over the fire.
“The chieftain would like some warm water so he can wash,” Lara said in perfect Norse, surprising herself again.
“Well, I ain’t about to get it. I’m cooking here, if you can’t tell.”
“I will get it. I just need to know how.”
Lara glanced down at the interesting stew bubbling over the fire. Various roots and chunks of meat floated to the top and sank beneath the rich broth again as the woman stirred. It didn’t look very appetizing, but it smelled edible. Lara’s stomach growled. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she last ate. They’d been offered no sustenance except for a bit of water on the boat ride here.
“Well, fastest way would be to grab a pot of snow and melt it over the fire, now wouldn’t it?”
Lara realized the woman was insulting her intelligence, but she had no choice but to ask. “So where do I find a pot.”
The woman nodded towards a wall near one of the bunks.
“Thank you,” Lara said, “My name is Helga.” She hadn’t meant to say Helga. She’d meant to say Lara. She tried again. “Helga, my name is Helga.” Every time she tried to say Lara, Helga came out instead. “Helga. Helga. My name—”
“Your name is Helga, I understand.”
“No, my name is,” Lara gritted her teeth, concentrating very hard to say her real name, “Helga.”
The woman gave Lara a very strange look, which she definitely deserved. With a frustrated huff, Lara gave up on niceties and went to collect a pot from the wall. She hurried to the end of the long house, tripping over the ballooning legs of her
pants. She pushed the heavy door open and stepped outside. At once, she realized she was missing something important. Shoes! She’d taken them off soon after climbing into Reece’s bed. It was freezing. She did a high-stepped march to a bank of snow next to the cleared walking path, scooped snow into the pot and high stepped it back into the building. It had been a long day. She knew she had lost her reasoning ability, but walking barefoot through the snow seemed a tad over the top. But not nearly as ridiculous as being unable to say your own name.
“Lara. Lara. Lara,” she repeated under her breath on her way back to the fire. People were staring at her as she passed. Not that she blamed them. She could do this. She could tell the cranky, tired lady her real name. She set the pot of snow next to the fire and stood up confidently. “Helga!” she announced loudly.
The woman shook her head.