Page 22 of Her Rogue Viking
“It was the lady’s wish, Jarl. She told us we would be whipped if?—”
Ulfric silenced the miserable slave with a wave of his arm. “Get that shifted and a new tub brought in. A large one, the one I use. Then fill it with hot water. Get others to help, as many asyou can find. And send someone in to light a fire in here. Quick, or I shall take a whip to you myself.”
The boy shot past Ulfric to grasp the handle on the side of the tub but with the weight of the water he was unable to lift it. Neither could he drag it unaided. With another curse Ulfric grabbed the other handle and helped the boy to heft the icy bath from his quarters. He left the lad to run for the new tub and summon such assistance as he might. Ulfric returned to Fiona, dragging his leather tunic over his head as he did so.
Back in his bed Fiona still lay, shivering, her eyes open and wary. Ulfric flung himself beside her and gathered her in his arms again. This time her chilled torso was in direct contact with his bare skin. It was like hugging a block of ice, but he wrapped his arms around her to share his warmth as he had the previous night. He dragged a blanket over the pair of them when Harald scuttled in with an armful of kindling and started to set a fire in the cold grate. The servant worked quickly, clearly anxious to be out of the furious Viking’s immediate orbit, and soon a small blaze crackled in the corner of the chamber. Harald scurried away.
“She… She…”
“Hush. I know. It is over now. I am here.”
“The water, so c-cold. She made me…”
“I am sorry. I should have…”What? What should he have done?
“She said I w-would be whipped if I did not do as she instructed. And you t-told me I must obey her, as well as y-you.” It was all his little Celt could do to get the words past her chattering teeth.
“I know. It was not your fault.”
“I… I hate the cold. And I am terrified of the whip.” She was weeping now, her sobs soft and low and heartrending in hermisery. Ulfric cursed his own stupidity; he should not have left her here alone.
He held her in his arms as Boyd, Harald, and two other youths trooped in and out. First they delivered the large bathtub normally reserved for him and others of his immediate kin, then they staggered back and forth bearing a succession of buckets brimming with water. He was gratified to see the steam rising from each one as they passed him, their heads bowed.
None was prepared to meet his furious gaze or to face his wrath, though Ulfric knew it would be futile to heap the blame upon helpless servants. They did as they were told. They had no choice, just like Fiona.
When the water level was within a few inches of the brim Ulfric dismissed the servants with instructions that he was not to be disturbed again, for any reason. If—when—Brynhild returned they were to inform her that he wished his sister to await him in the longhouse. He had much to say to her.
“Time for another bath, little Celt. A hot one this time.”
She actually whimpered, as though she did not trust his words. Ulfric wasted no more time. She needed to be warmed up. He cradled her in his arms, her nude body still trembling though he believed she was already thawing a little. The fire had helped, the warm water would speed the process. He stood and carried her to the tub, then bent to allow her to dip her shackled foot in the steaming water.
“How does that feel?”
“It is hot…”
“Too hot? I can have them bring?—”
“No! No, it is good. Thank you.”
Ulfric supported her as she slowly lowered herself into the warmth, then as she sank back against the edge of the tub. Her eyelids lowered and her lips curled in an expression of utter contentment. She would be all right. This time.
He knelt beside the tub and for the first time allowed his gaze to drift over her nakedness. This was his first glimpse of her breasts, though he had known the plump curves would be quite breath-taking when he finally bared them. He had been right. Her nipples were hard, swollen, and he promised himself he would ensure they remained so even after the effects of the frigid bath were gone.
He ventured further, admired her softly rounded belly. Under the water he could make out the dark curls at the apex of her thighs. He longed to touch her, to explore her thoroughly now he had her here, but first he must see to her comfort. He stood and fetched a lump of soap made of the kernels of horse chestnuts, and found a rough flannel on the floor. He assumed the latter had been previously supplied by Brynhild, but it would do for his purposes. He dipped the cloth in the hot water and rubbed the soap in to create a lather, then went to work.
Kneeling behind Fiona, he started on her shoulders. He drew the soaped flannel across them, first the left, then the right. He kept his touch light initially, then increased the pressure as he sensed that she was starting to relax. He lifted each arm in turn and soaped those, then dropped the flannel into the water and continued with just his hands. He stroked her slender limbs, then urged her to lean forward as he turned his attention to her back.
He caressed her shoulders, then worked his way down her spine, noting each ridge and hollow as he went. He reached the indent at the base of her spine and paused to admire the swell of her bottom as it shimmered beneath the water. He chose to ignore her gasp when he slid his fingers down the deep groove between her buttocks, but did not insist that she lift her body up to allow him full access. Instead he worked his way back up to her shoulders and held the delicate curves in his palms forseveral moments. Then he commenced his descent once more, this time reaching around to cup her delectable breasts.
She stiffened, but did not resist. That would be futile in any case. She was his, and though he had sworn not to rape her and he would keep his word, otherwise she was his to explore as he chose. Still, he had no wish to cause her any unnecessary distress.
“Fiona, you know I will not harm you?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I am coming to believe that.”
“But…?”
“But I… I do not know. This is so strange. I should fight you.” She lowered her head, her chin tucked in to her chest.
