Viking Ecstasy (21 page)

She picked up the balm again and poured a single, thick drop of liquid onto her forefinger, then she slowly-smoothed the balm around her lips, making her mouth glisten and shine.

"Watch," she said then, and there was a commanding tone to her voice that had not been there before.

Tanaka waited until Tabor opened his eyes, then she bent forward and kissed him lightly, tasting him briefly before taking him in deeply. Tabor made a growling sound, the predatory animal noise that used to frighten Tanaka but now excited her because she knew that she had affected him. She had stripped away whatever levels of civility he maintained and touched him in the core of his warrior's soul.

His body tightened from head to foot. When his eyes closed, Tanaka released him. "No," she said sternly. "You must watch. You will think of no woman but me."

Uncharacteristically exasperated, Tabor replied, "In the name of Thor and all that is holy, Tanaka, I cannot possibly think of any woman but you! Not now! Not ever!"

"And that," she said, her dark, sultry eyes boring into his as she moved down slowly to capture him once again, "is exactly the way I want it."

T
anaka tossed a grape into her mouth. "You look almost as weak as you did when you were on the boat," she said. Now that Tabor was so strong, it seemed acceptable to make light of those horrifying days and nights on the longboat when she did not know if he would live another day or whether Sven would kill her if Tabor died.

"Weak?" Tabor gave her the best stern look he could manage while lying sprawled out on his bed, naked, basking in the afterglow of an orgasm that had left him drained of energy. "Come here and I'll show you how strong I am!"

Tanaka laughed again, a tinkling laugh of pleasure. These were the times that she enjoyed most with Tabor, when he did not feel it was necessary to be either a predator or a protector, when all he had to be was her lover, a role he handled spectacularly.

When Tabor reached for Tanaka's ankle, intent on pulling her across the blankets to him, she slipped out of reach. She knew that she had pleased him, but his passion was far from sated. Before she would joyously tumble into his arms, she wanted him to chase her; and until he did, she would remain out of reach.

"Not yet," she said. "You'd better get all your strength back first. I'm . . . hungry tonight."

"So I see."

"You'll have to be especially energetic."

"I will do my best," Tabor said, running his palm up Tanaka's calf. "Will my best be good enough for you?"

"It always has been."

Tabor liked this new Tanaka. He knew it was because she was in her own home that her confidence had risen to such daring levels, and he was only too happy to be the benefactor of that confidence.

"We'll have to get you suitable clothes," Tanaka said, her cheek puffed as she nibbled on freshly cut fruit.

"What's amiss with the clothes I have?"

"They're too warm for here. The sun will cook you."

A cat walked through the curtained doorway. Tanaka stretched a hand out to stroke it, then turned her attention back to Tabor. Cats were a part of her divinity ceremony, and several roamed the palace, accorded the status of divine creatures. Tanaka did not recognize the cat and wondered if it belonged to Kahlid. She would have to ask about other changes that had occurred in her absence.

"Besides, I think you would look absolutely delicious in a nice silk robe," she continued. "And maybe a headdress — one made of gold. That would suit you."

Tabor frowned. Tanaka was making decisions for him; and though he enjoyed her newfound confidence while they were touching and caressing each other, he did not appreciate her taking control of his life.

"I need no robes," he growled. "I have the clothes of a Viking warrior. That is what I have always been; that is what I will always be. Why try to look like someone I'm not?"

"Because, my magnificent barbarian, I will think that you look even more handsome than you already do, and there's absolutely no telling what will happen then," she said, deciding she liked barbarian as Tabor's sobriquet. "I can't control my . . . appetites now," she continued, lingering erotically over the word so that the sensual, timorous quality touched Tabor. "I shudder to think what I'll be like with you wearing . . . hmmm? . . . let's see, what color would be best with those blue barbarian eyes of yours?"

She sat cross-legged, a light blanket thrown over her thighs to modestly cover her, her breasts exposed to Tabor's hungry gaze. Tabor was leaning back against the wall, the opposite end of the blanket thrown across his loins. As Tanaka studied him, she marvelled once again at the man's extraordinary size and strength . . . and at the incredible way that Tabor could miraculously make her feel tall and strong and powerful with a look, a touch, or a word.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, studying Tanaka as he sipped from the gold goblet, quenching his thirst with the hearty beer that had surprised him with its splendid taste.

It took a moment for Tanaka to regain her composure. It was an unsettling possibility that Tabor might be able to read her thoughts.

"About you . . . you and all the different things about you that I don't know yet but would like to."

"I'm not a difficult man to know," Tabor said. He shifted on the blanket, clearly uncomfortable. He did not like speaking of himself.

"You're not a difficult man to love, perhaps," Tanaka replied.

She bit her tongue instantly, afraid that she had gone too far by implying a permanence with Tabor that he could not accept. For a second or two, their gazes held, one sea blue and the other midnight black, each asking silent questions of the other, neither having answers.

Tanaka was the first to look away. She promised herself that she would never again speak the word love while she was in Tabor's company.

When she spoke again, it was clear that she and Tabor would both simply pretend that she hadn't mentioned the word at all.

"You'll have to see Pharaoh Abbakka soon. He's anxious to meet you." When she turned back toward Tabor, her eyes held a mischievous twinkle. "I've told him some stories of you. He's quite impressed. Neenah wants to hold a huge celebration on your behalf," she said, knowing how Tabor would dislike such a public display of emotion, particularly if it were for him.

"And what stories did you tell him?" Tabor asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Just . . . stories."

Tanaka laughed and picked another delicious piece of fruit from the large bowl. This was better, she thought. Laughter and teasing with Tabor worked best. It was only when she mentioned words like "love," or in any way implied there might be some future between them that the happy moments vanished like a puff of smoke, leaving behind only the residual sensations of suspicion and doubt.

"Moarain is very interested in talking to you about sailing and shipbuilding. His men have already looked at our boat — "

"Our boat?" He raised an eyebrow.

Tanaka scowled, refusing to accept the singular Viking anomaly to an egalitarian society that said no woman could own a ship. In all other aspects of Viking life that Tanaka had gleaned while with Tabor, women had far more rights than they did in her own land. But whenever it came to ships, the Vikings were as prejudiced as Egyptians.

She huffed, bringing a smile to Tabor's lips, and said, "The boat that I was on for how long? That boat!"

Tabor nodded, remembering how astonished Tanaka had been when he first explained to her that Viking women were allowed to divorce their husbands if they were not treated properly and were given half of all the property that had been accrued during their marriage. To Tanaka, that had been unthinkable.

"Pharaoh Abbakka wants to know how you built your boats. Your people seem to sail farther than ours."

Tabor shrugged his broad shoulders. If Pharaoh Abbakka wanted to learn a Viking's way of shipbuilding, he had no objections. Perhaps it would even be possible for him to learn something from the Egyptians. Either way, Tabor was already planning for the time when the winds would blow hot and strong from the south, and when he would want a good ship beneath him and many strong warriors around him for his return to Hedeby. He had a score to settle with Ingmar the Savage, and he would not rest until it had been settled and he'd regained the battle-axe that had been in his family for three generations.

From all Tabor had been able to see in his brief time at the palace, the pharaoh was a man of extraordinary wealth and power. He would be an ally worth having, and an enemy worth avoiding.

"You can tell your pharaoh that I will gladly extend myself on his behalf."

It was Tanaka's eyes that narrowed suspiciously this time. That didn't sound like the Tabor she knew, but she was too happy that he was being cooperative to question his motives.

"And you will find," he continued, a devilish brightness now glittering in his eyes, "that I will extend myself on your behalf as well." He looked down at the blanket, which was slightly tented. "As you can see, I am already somewhat . . . extended."

The sexual banter both delighted and shocked Tanaka. Was she, High Priestess Tanaka, really joking about such things? Sometimes when she was with Tabor, she felt like she was another person or at least a new person that had not lived until he'd entered her life.

"On my behalf?" Tanaka asked.

"Only on your behalf. Always on your behalf."

Tabor tossed the blanket aside and stopped breathing for just a moment when he looked at Tanaka in her naked splendor. She moved toward him, but he placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. She looked at him questioningly.

"Does it hurt when you do that?" he asked, running the tips of his fingers along Tanaka's smooth thigh, then lightly brushing them higher.

"No. First we shave, then we wax. We do this from the moment that hair begins to grow. Eventually, the hair becomes soft and thin, and we hardly need to shave at all." It was difficult for Tanaka to talk of such things, but the unsettling need for Tabor's approval forced her to ask one more question. "Does it displease you?"

"I like everything about you," Tabor replied, the huskiness in his tone suggesting truth.

Tanaka leaned forward to plant a light kiss on Tabor's lips. "You are a good man," she whispered. "My barbarian . . . my beautiful barbarian." She took the container of balm and poured a drop onto her finger, then carefully smoothed the thick liquid against the entrance of her womanhood. "We use the balm after waxing," she explained as Tabor's eyes widened with approval. "It has, you will find, many purposes."

When she kissed him, then thrust her tongue into his mouth to explore further, his powerful arms wound round her slim voluptuous body. Soon Tanaka lay in a magnificent sprawl upon Tabor's bed, receiving his attention like a goddess receiving homage, taking glory in his extraordinary skill. Tabor added the balm liberally both to himself and to Tanaka, and when at last he was ready to become one with her, Tanaka was sobbing with the need for release.

"Please!" she begged, her legs entwined with Tabor's, her tiny hands pulling at his shoulders. "Now, Tabor! I need you — "

Her words were silenced as he gave himself to her, sharing with her his strength, his energy, the soul-force that drove him. And when at last culmination came, it struck with thunderous force.

Far down the hall, Habibah heard the sound of the high priestess's cry of passion. Discreetly, she continued to clean Tanaka's living quarters, pretending she had heard nothing, praying that the high priestess was not under a demonic spell cast by the blond barbarian from afar.

T
abor's reaction to Pharaoh Moamin Abbakka was a single thought: This is a leader of men.

The pharaoh's bearing was commanding; his visage, stern without anger; his gaze, appraising without condescension or judgment. Even though Tabor was considerably taller than Moamin, younger by more than two decades, and many times stronger, there wasn't a hint of trepidation in Moamin, and this impressed Tabor enormously. He had intimidated countless people in his life, most often unintentionally, and it pleased him that the pharaoh was not easily cowed.

Tabor sensed that in a war, Moamin would be a cool head of reason, a skilled tactician, a formidable foe or an invaluable friend.

"So this is the man who has brought our spiritual leader back to us, eh?" Moamin remarked.

Standing beside Tabor, Tanaka turned toward him and whispered under her breath, in Danish, "You're supposed to kneel to the pharaoh."

Tabor just glanced at her and replied, "A Viking kneels to no man."

Several seconds passed as Moamin waited for Tabor to bow before him as custom and propriety dictated. Then he accepted that Tabor did not understand the custom. But a moment after that, not even the language barrier could hide the fact that Tabor did understand that he was supposed to kneel to the pharaoh, he simply chose not to.

A murmur went through the crowd gathered in the room. Tanaka felt fear, warm but steadily growing hotter, flame in her stomach, spreading through her limbs. When she looked at Kahlid, she saw a glint in his eye. He was pleased. Tabor had jeopardized himself, insulting Moamin with his refusal to genuflect.

"Pharaoh Abbakka," Tanaka said, her voice soft though more than a whisper. She was not interested in having Kahlid listen to what she had to say. "You must understand that he comes from another land. A land that is far from here and has ways that are different from our own. He means no disrespect."

Tanaka spoke quickly, adding just the slightest change and inflection to her words, but it was enough to prevent Tabor from understanding all that she said. He was fully aware that he had insulted the pharaoh, but he could not — not if he was to continue to think of himself as a warrior and call himself a Viking—kneel to anyone, much less a man he did not know.

Turning to Tabor again, her dark eyes filled with a mixture of anger and fear, Tanaka hissed in Danish, "You're supposed to kneel! Why won't you kneel? He has the power to have you killed!"

"No, his guards have the power to kill me, but before that would happen, he would die by these hands."

Tabor held his hands out, the fingers spread, to emphasize his point. Tanaka —as well as everyone else in the room, though she was the only one who spoke Tabor's language —looked at his huge, powerful hands.

Pharaoh Moamin and Tabor locked gazes again, and this time there could be no disguising the Viking's insubordination.

"You are either very foolish," Moamin said, speaking slowly and distinctly, so that Tabor could understand him, "or very brave. No man has ever dared refuse me so."

"And no man has ever dared make such a demand of me."

The room was stone-silent. Then, finally, a smile creased Moamin's face. Not a full smile, but enough for the crowd to realize that Tabor would not be dragged away and hoisted high in the public square, impaled by spears.

The secondary dignitaries were soon dismissed, leaving Tabor with Moamin, Kahlid, and Tanaka. Though Tabor had learned Tanaka's language, she was still needed to translate many of the words the pharaoh spoke. He understood her better than he did any of the others.

"I owe you a great deal," Moamin said, walking slowly, his hands clasped behind his back, Tabor at his side. "For bringing High Priestess Tanaka back to us —back to me." He shook his head, recalling his emotions when he'd first learned that Tanaka had been kidnapped by seafaring barbarians. He had felt like a rudderless ship, adrift and helpless. For a week, Moamin had refused to see anyone, not even Kahlid.

Tabor listened to Moamin's praise and thanks, but his concentration drifted. He knew he had done the proper thing by taking her back to her home; but now that he was here, it was difficult for him to comprehend the differences between this land and his own. The pharaoh's fortune, Tabor guessed, had to be greater than the combined riches of Hedeby and Kaupang combined. Not only did he see gold statues, numerous guards, and an abundance of food and wine, but the sheer wealth necessary to build the palace was staggering. Among his people, Tabor had been considered an affluent man, but his wealth — even during the best of times after successful raids — was nowhere near that of Pharaoh Moamin Abbakka's.

"I understand you would like me to look at your ships and see how yours differ from those of the Vikings?" Tabor said as he rounded a corner and headed down yet another long hallway.

"If you would," Moamin replied.

Tabor nodded. "In some ways, my people seem far in advance of yours." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Moamin's immediate negative reaction to the comment. He heard Tanaka gasp behind him. "But in other ways, you and your people have advanced far beyond mine."

Tabor smiled then at Moamin, and both men realized they were playing a game —a game of politics. They were experimenting with their own power and with the power of the other, testing courage, honor, and dignity. They were leaders of men — one of many more men than the other — sharing the same goal of honorable leaders everywhere: To do what is best for their people.

"We have much to discuss," Moamin said. "And I don't really think we need anyone to help us with the language, do you?" Tabor shook his head. "Then, High Priestess Tanaka, Priest Kahlid, you may attend to your other duties."

Neither Kahlid nor Tanaka wanted to leave, but the pharaoh's dismissal had been clear.

"Don't start any arguments," Tanaka said quickly, in Danish. The smile she received from Tabor did not calm her.

"There now," Moamin said when he was alone with his Viking guest. "Perhaps I could offer you some of our beer? I believe you will find it most agreeable."

Tabor felt at last like the guest of a powerful man rather than an impoverished barbarian who needed the pharaoh's blessings for every breath he took.