Silk Dreams - Songs of the North 3 Read online

  Chloe cast an appraising glance at Valdis. “She is well-formed and moves with grace despite her size. Her height is most unfortunate, but cannot be helped. No doubt you saw other qualities in her that outweigh her obvious deficiencies.”

  Valdis flinched at the candid assessment. She'd felt gawky around the smaller women of the house at times, but she never expected pity from a woman without a nose.

  “Valdis must be intelligent enough, else you would not have trained her,” Chloe said. “In three weeks' time, our progress will please you, my master.”

  Damian gave a quick nod and strode from the courtyard.

  “What a pig!” Valdis said in Norse. Then she switched to Greek. “I'm sorry he forced you to remove your veil in public. It was wrong of him.”

  The covering shifted and Valdis suspected Chloe's lips lifted in a sad smile.

  “He only did it to teach you. Besides, my punishment was deserved. Do not fault the master for my sins,” she said. “If not for him, I would have died in the streets long since. Damian Aristarchus is a great man.”

  “I hardly think the term 'man' can be applied to a eunuch,” Valdis said with a sniff.

  Chloe's eyes flashed a warning. “Do not judge people based on what they have lost. What remains is the most important. Testicles do not define a man. Courage and heart make a man. And if you add compassion, it makes an exceptional man.”

  “If he's set on delivering me to a harem, he's not shown much compassion.”

  Chloe cocked her head at Valdis. “Where did the master find you?”

  “At an auction.” Valdis shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

  Chloe narrowed her eyes. “And in the time since you have lived beneath his roof, has he beaten you?”

  “No.”

  “Worked you to exhaustion?”

  Valdis shook her head. “Frustration, yes. Exhaustion, no.”

  “Starved you into a more biddable frame of mind, perhaps?”

  “If anything, I've gained flesh since I came to Miklagard.”

  “So has the master made you sleep in the stables?”

  “No, he has treated me well,” Valdis admitted. “But going to a harem, being some man's property—”

  “You are already that.”

  Valdis sighed. “I have known no man. To be taken without care, without love ...” Her voice caught in her throat. “I don't think I can bear it.”

  “Then you are not as strong as you look,” Chloe said with bluntness. “A woman can bear a great deal more than she thinks.” A shadow passed behind her large shimmering eyes. “Even the death of love.”

  Chloe seemed to retreat into herself for a moment, then she clapped her slim hands together and assumed a graceful pose.

  “Come, Valdis. We dance. And maybe you will forget that the world is only about yourself.”

  * * *

  Valdis perched on the edge of the fountain and splashed cool water on her face. What Chloe called dancing felt more like contortions to Valdis's gangling frame. She learned to writhe like a serpent and isolate parts of her body to move with sinuous slowness while holding the rest immobile. Valdis created graceful waves with her long arms, making sure to tuck her thumbs and keep her wrists supple. After all the undulations, Valdis felt as if every joint in her body were loose as an unpinned carriage wheel.

  “Very good, Valdis,” Chloe said. “You have made exceptional progress. I had no idea someone so large could move with such grace.”

  “And I had no idea someone so small could hurl insults without a qualm,” Valdis returned. “In my country it is said that a fox baits a bear at his peril.”

  Chloe cocked her head. “You are right. I should not berate you for your oddity any more than you should pity me for mine.” The little woman settled beside Valdis as if they were dear friends instead of prickly acquaintances. “Forgive me. You are the first new person to see me unveiled in a long time. The shock on your face was ... unsettling. Living here with those who know me and care for me, I had forgotten how hideous I must be. I am sorry for taking my anger out on you.”

  Valdis was stung by Chloe's apology. “You aren't hideous. You said you deserved your punishment, but what could you have done to warrant such a thing?”

  Chloe spread her graceful hands in a self-deprecating gesture that was purely Eastern. “As the master said, I was a favorite in a great man's harem, but I took a lover. When I was found to be guilty of impurity, my punishment had to be vicious and highly visible as a warning to others.”

  “I've heard that harems are closely guarded. How could you possibly have taken a lover?”

  Chloe's dark brow arched with delicacy. “When one is in love, the how ceases to matter. Love finds its own way. In my case, my love was within the household walls. He was a harpist and I was deemed a fine singer. It was natural for us to spend time together practicing for each evening's entertainment.” Chloe closed her eyes for a moment, as if conjuring the feel of her lover’s talented fingers strumming across her body. “At first, the eunuchs were vigilant. Later they grew complacent and our longing seized every opportunity to sate itself.”

  “But you were caught?”

  Chloe nodded. “The priests tell us, ‘Be sure your sins will find you out.’ Mine certainly did. We were taken while trying to escape the household together.”

  Valdis let her new friend's sadness wash over her. “So your lover no longer wanted you after they cut off your nose.... That's what you meant when you said a woman can bear much, even the death of love.”

  Chloe's eyes seemed to sink deeper in their sockets. “No. He never saw me harmed, but I was forced to watch while they took him apart joint by joint. He died in agony, cursing my name. I could not fault him for it, but no sweet memory of our lovemaking can overshadow those ugly rants. That is the death of love.”

  Valdis gnawed the inside of her cheek. She decided she would not look for Erik outside her window when the moon rose full. She might dare much for him, but she couldn't bear the thought of seeing him tortured for her sake.

  “Only then, after he died, did the knife-wielders turn their attention to me. I thought they would kill me. That would have been a mercy. But they chose to do the more hurtful thing. I was maimed, cut as you see me and cast still bleeding to the streets. By disfiguring me in this way, my voice was altered. I was unable to support myself as a singer. I could either beg or prostitute myself to those pox-ridden wretches whom other whores would not accommodate. A noseless woman has no cause to be choosy, you see,” Chloe explained. “Or I could starve.”

  In the silence that stretched between them, Valdis heard only the patter of the fountain and the slight rustle of the breeze in the tip of the cypress.

  “Starvation. That was the course I had chosen for myself,” Chloe said. “And then the master found me, cowering in the Forum of the Ox. He remembered hearing me sing at a banquet and somehow still recognized me, though I can't imagine how. Damian Aristarchus lifted me from the streets and brought me here to work in this beautiful villa. And I serve him with a grateful heart. If I have regrets, it is that I no longer know a man's love.”

  Chloe gave herself a small shake. “But that is past. I have found forgiveness if not forgetfulness and if I can spare you my anguish, I am content. Be wise and learn of me, Valdis. Guard the flower of your womanhood, for it is the most precious gift you possess.”

  Chloe leaned back and closed her eyes, obviously enjoying the play of slanting sunlight on her forehead. “Learn this as well. Today is all we have and we gain nothing from dwelling on that which is lost. Today we are strong and the sun is shining. That alone is enough that we should dance.”

  She stood and clapped her thin hands. “Again.”

  “Of all the creatures the Lord God made, the horse is by far the silliest. Unless you count a man in love. Then the horse is a poor second.”

  —from the secret journal of Damian Aristarchus

  Chapter 9

  * * *
r />   “You've made some terrible mistakes in the past,” Erik muttered to himself as he stomped out of the small chamber allotted to him. The spartan cell adjoined the stables, a not-so-subtle reminder that the eunuch thought him little better than an animal. The way Erik was following his cock around, he wondered if Aristarchus wasn't right. “This is, bar none, the stupidest thing you've ever done.”

  He'd wrestled with himself on his narrow cot, alternately fighting sleep, then seeking it with urgency, ordering his body to rest, then unable to bridle his wandering mind. He finally abandoned the struggle for a moonlight stroll.

  And if he chanced to pass the chamber occupied by a certain blonde she-devil, so be it. Some things you had to toss to fate.

  Like reciting that love poem to Valdis.

  He winced at the memory. His attempt at winning her favor was so lame, if he'd been a horse, someone would end his suffering.

  What was he thinking?

  The moon had risen, a round shield of silver against an obsidian sky. Its bright light shone through the line of cypress, casting sharp shadows on his path as he circuited the large square of the villa.

  The rest of the house was dark, but the flicker of a candle glowed in the room he knew was hers. He stopped for a moment, only a moment he told himself, just to see if she would look for him.

  This was worse than folly. It bordered on madness. He had no business involving himself with a woman, especially this woman. Still, he had all but promised her he'd be here. He might be a murderer, but he had yet to break his word.

  The door to her chamber stood open with only a gauzy curtain floating across it, a wide portal to let in the fresh night.

  Or a fresh suitor?

  It did seem almost an invitation. A silhouette slid past the curtained door and his heart hammered like a woodpecker on gnarled oak. The shadow stopped, then retreated deeper into the room. He forced himself to breathe as he waited to see if she would come again.

  Every fiber of his being strained toward the billowing curtain, but he held himself back. He'd never entered a woman's bedchamber by stealth before and he wouldn't start now. Still, without his conscious volition, he took a step forward.

  The candle in her room winked out.

  * * *

  Valdis tried to lie down, but the moonlight tormented her, slanting silver rays through her filmy curtains and fingering across her sleeping couch. Surely he wouldn't be there, waiting for her in the dark.

  Perhaps she should see if Erik really was there. No, that could lead to disaster. She tried to conjure the image of Chloe's desecrated face, but instead she saw Erik, the heat in his ice-gray eyes, the power in his warrior's body. He could show her how a man might please a woman without disturbing her all-important flower. Curiosity was driving her to madness.

  She couldn't bring him to ruin.

  There was every reason in the world to stay in bed.

  Her feet hit the cool marble floor and she was pulling back the curtain before she could talk herself out of it. She looked out on the neatly clipped yard beyond. The world was awash in shades of gray, deep charcoal on the cypress trees, pale ash for the marble benches and nude statuary dotting the lawn, lead-gray for the paving stones of the garden path. She stepped through the door and onto the portico, silent as a wraith, her white night shift silvered by moonlight.

  She looked down the length of the villa. Damian's room was dark. No light showed in any of the other rooms. Her gaze swept once more over the garden.

  She didn't see Erik.

  Valdis sighed and tried to quiet the downward spiral in her belly.

  It's just as well, she told herself fiercely, trying to deny her disappointment. No good could come of—

  A flicker of movement drew her eye. A man stepped from behind the trees and stood motionless, his pale hair molten silver, his face hidden in shadow.

  Valdis stepped off the slate porch and into the cool grass, the blades soft and pliant beneath her bare feet. Her breath came in short gasps, as if taking in too much might cause her to float away.

  This is wrong, she reasoned.

  But she couldn't stop her forward motion. Like the strange furry lemmings of her homeland who were compelled to hurl themselves into the sea, she was drawn to this man. There was no right or wrong about it. Like the lemmings' suicidal migration, it just was.

  The night had the tiptoe feel of a dream, as if she were insubstantial as the shadows around her. She finally stopped an arm's length away from him. His lips were slightly parted, as if he didn't believe what he was seeing either. An eerie sense of unreality settled over her.

  “We mustn't,” she whispered.

  “I know,” he agreed.

  And then, suddenly, without knowing how, she was in his arms. His mouth was on hers, hungry and insistent, nipping at her lips and toying with her tongue. This was no kiss. It was a possession. Waves of desire washed over her. If he hadn't been holding her, her knees might have buckled and she'd have dropped on the spot.

  He was hard and strong, a rock of a man, and she felt herself melt into him, her insides going soft as warm butter. His mouth was everywhere, her cheeks, her closed eyelids, her earlobes. He grasped a handful of her heavy hair and pulled her head back so his lips could savage the hollow of her throat.

  She surrendered to his fierce exploration.

  He brought her palm to his mouth and planted a lovers kiss in its center before moving up to sample the thin, soft skin at her wrist and the crease of her elbow.

  White heat seared through her and settled in her loins. She shuddered with the intensity of the sensation.

  He whispered her name.

  She covered his mouth with her fingers. “We've had enough of words, you and I.”

  She kissed him then, with the same ferocity he showed when he'd taken her mouth. Erik might be a worthy tutor, but she would show herself an equally adept student.

  But just when she felt she'd mastered the art of the kiss, his big hands came into play. He found her breasts and teased her nipples to aching tautness, tracing slow circles around them with the pad of his thumbs, dancing close without actually touching the sensitive tips. She groaned into his mouth.

  A soft breeze washed over her fevered skin, setting her diaphanous night shift in motion, lifting it ever so slightly, cooling her steamy legs. His hands caught the billow and the heat of his callused palms warmed her thighs.

  He lifted her in an easy motion, then lowered her to the ground. Valdis stretched out with the luscious grass tickling the backs of her knees and her night shift bunched around her waist. Erik's mouth trailed a course down her neck to the tops of her breasts.

  A nameless longing engulfed her. Valdis trembled with need. She wanted, knowing not exactly what it was she desired. All she knew was that white-hot demand would grant her no peace.

  Erik seemed to know what she sought. He massaged one of her breasts with his thick, blunt fingertips, then suckled the pebble-hard nipple through the thin fabric of her gown. She was floating, lifted out of herself, as if she'd burst out of her own skin.

  “What are you—” she gasped.

  He covered her mouth with his to silence her, swallowing her halfhearted protest. Still, the action served to remind her that getting caught in this position would be dangerous.

  For both of them.

  Chloe's ruined face rose in her mind. Even more ominous, her dancing tutor's words came back to haunt her.

  The death of love.

  If Valdis feared only for herself, this wild maelstrom of sensation would be enough to tempt her to abandon reason. But to do so might be Erik's undoing as well.

  No. Valdis struggled under Erik and forced her arms between them. She pushed against his chest with all her strength, but she was no match for the big Varangian.

  “No,” she whispered fiercely. “Stop.”

  “You don't mean it,” he murmured into her ear as he grasped her ankle and a shiver streaked up her legs to her crotch. He ran his hand
up her leg, stopping to dally in the sensitive crease behind her knee. She couldn't summon the will to move.

  He kissed her again and as his tongue coaxed her lips open, his wandering hand caused her legs to part of their own accord. His skilled fingers found and teased the curls at the apex of her thighs. Liquid warmth met him. Her delicate folds parted easily and he slid a fingertip down the length of her moist cleft.

  Her breath caught as he gently invaded her. He stroked her soft secrets and circled her most sensitive spot with maddening slowness. Valdis's world spiraled down to the warmth of his breath on her neck and the intoxicating movement of his hand. When he finally grazed her point of pleasure, a jolt of exquisite anguish shot through her and she moaned.

  “You see. I can feel you don't really want me to stop.”

  The smugness in his voice pulled her back from the edge of surrender. Didn't he realize the danger if they were caught?

  I was forced to watch as they took him apart joint by joint...

  “Feel this.” She brought her knee up hard against his groin. Erik rolled away from her, clutching his damaged part. Valdis had wrestled with her brothers often enough when she was growing up to know a man's weakest spot. She also knew the debilitation was temporary at best, and she needed to make good on her escape before he found his strength once again. She scrambled to her feet and ran to her open doorway as if the dragon, Fafnir, flapped his leathery wings after her.

  Valdis didn't dare look back. If she saw bewilderment or hurt on Erik's face, she might be tempted to return to him.

  She shut her door and threw the bolt.

  Valdis leaned against the portal, willing her heart to stop cavorting in her chest and the blood pounding in her groin to subside. There could be no second chances. She didn't have it in her to pull away from him again.

  “No one is privy to the life of another's mind. Such is our blessing and our curse.”