a Wicked Conquest Read online

  Title Page

  A WICKED CONQUEST

  by

  VALERIE SAXON

  Publisher Information

  A Wicked Conquest first published in 2006 by

  Chimera Publishing Ltd

  PO Box 152

  www.chimerabooks.co.uk

  Digital edition converted and published by

  Andrews UK Limited 2010

  www.andrewsuk.com

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  Copyright © Valerie Saxon

  The right of Valerie Saxon to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  This novel is fiction – in real life practice safe sex

  Introduction

  The lanky one leered down at her, his cock engorged with excitement. ‘Watch and learn, my friend,’ he taunted the fat one. ‘Watch and learn. Mayhap women would be more willing to open their legs if you had something more exciting to offer.’

  Rowena’s eyes glazed over purposefully. If she thought of other things he would not be able to touch her, not the part of her that mattered, anyway. But to her dismay his cock had steel and he knew how to wield it to pleasure them both.

  ‘Come,’ he said, panting into her ear, ‘let’s have a good fuck, you and I.’

  Chapter One

  Rowena spread her arms wide, glad to be free of the burh. It was beautiful in the forest and so far removed from all the evil that was fast winging its way towards them. She had spent the entire morning in earnest prayer with her mother. Then, feeling the need for some respite, she had gone for a walk, slipping away foolishly despite Grainne’s warnings. It had not been easy; she was forced to bribe one of the guards on the ramparts in order to exit the stronghold. Now she must make haste to return before her absence was noticed.

  She touched her breasts uneasily. Eadred had been stubborn, refusing to allow her through the gate. She had sighed with disappointment, her bosom rising with her intake of breath. Eadred’s eyes almost popped out of his head, giving her an idea.

  She sighed deeply again and watched with satisfaction when his gaze settled longingly on her womanly shape. ‘Of course,’ she said hesitantly, fluttering her eyelashes at him, ‘I would reward you well if you please me.’

  ‘How well?’

  His eyes had not risen once above the swell of her bosom, and she leaned into him with a sly smile. ‘I shall leave that to your imagination.’ Despite her virginal state the thought of Eadred, a fine looking man, touching her breasts, taking the nipples in his mouth and sucking them as she had seen him do to her cousin Gilda, made the roseate tips blush and swell. The tender bud that lay between her legs began to throb and she dropped her head with shame. What was she thinking?

  But the seed was sown. Eadred’s mouth dropped open and he nodded quickly, as though the gift of speech had deserted him, and casting a keen eye around them allowed her through the gate to freedom.

  A loud noise startled her, and she cast her eyes nervously around for any sign of danger, for there was plenty in the forest. Bands of thieves roamed there and a body was not safe in such territory.

  Satisfied that the noise had been that of an animal, or a branch falling from a tree, she let out a relieved sigh. But her relief was not to last; a thunderclap rent the air, followed by a fork of lightning. Clouds cloaked the sun and it felt as if the very ground she stood on was charged with danger. It was as though the land was possessed, aware of the peril that awaited her father and brothers, all of them if the men were not successful this day.

  Her green eyes widened in fear, the balmy afternoon had been transformed into a raging tempest, the sky so overcast it was like night descending. Trees that had previously shaded her from the glare of sunshine took on an avenging profile as they swayed against the storm. Her clothes flapped around her, but gritting her teeth she clutched the hood of her mantle and made her way through the forest heading for the burh.

  The wind took her breath away, forcing her to gasp for air. A few yards hence she shuddered to a halt as a large, dark shape took form out of the shadows of the trees. The strangest uttering poured forth from its inhuman face and Rowena dug her nails into the brooch that held her mantle, as though its solidity would give her courage, rid the forest of the monstrous being. Rain began to fall heavy as stones and in moments she was soaked through. But still she could not will her limbs to move, motivate herself away from the apparition of evil, as evil it must surely be.

  The flapping of wings distracted her, as part of the apparition appeared to change itself into a bird. She closed her eyes against the spectre, trying to persuade herself it was a figment of her imagination brought about by the stress of the day. She prayed silently. Why hadn’t she listened to her mother, who warned her against the terrors of the forest often enough?

  Her ears strained for sounds above that of the thundering wind, the pounding rain, the nearby stream, already turned into a rushing torrent. There was a strange gurgle. She forced herself to look, and as lightning forked the sky she saw blood and feathers mix with the water of the stream, a toothless smile as the old hag held out her arms in supplication to ancient deities.

  Rowena was overcome with relief and felt suddenly foolish. ‘Cwendritha, ‘tis you. You almost frightened me out of my skin!’

  The old crone looked down at her crude shrine before facing Rowena warily. She had been found out! Picking up the wooden idol she thrust it beneath her mantle. ‘I did not think to see anyone here.’

  Rowena shook her head and scolded, ‘You know it’s wicked to practice the old ways, Cwendritha. Father Edwin has already warned you about such things.’

  Cwendritha wiped the chicken blood from her knife on the leaves and moss at her feet, and had the grace to look mildly ashamed. She was fond of the thane’s daughter with the sweet oval face. The girl was so beautiful it puzzled her that she could remain so completely unaware of her attributes. She suppressed a smirk. She had seen many a man ogle her with hot eyes, wishing their aching members could be eased in the secret garden that lay between her sweet thighs.

  Rowena was waiting for an answer. Cwendritha shrugged her shoulders. ‘‘Tis my duty to offer up a sacrifice for protection,’ she explained defensively, tucking the knife away safely.

  ‘We shall all need protection if the northmen are not defeated,’ Rowena replied soberly. ‘And you would be better served offering your prayers in the church than to some pagan god.’

  The old hag sniffed disdainfully. ‘I can’t see the harm in honouring both. I’m sure the situation warrants as much help as possible.’

  Rowena saw the stubborn set of Cwendritha’s mouth and knew it was pointless arguing with her. If Father Edwin could not reason with the old woman, what chance did she have?

  ‘I must get back to the burh,’ she said with a sigh, turning away. ‘Mother will need me. And you should return too, Cwendritha.’

  The woman followed in Rowena’s wake, her shoes squelching in the mud, her claw-like fingers held determinedly on to her headrail as the wind threatened to steal it away. ‘The poor lady has more reasons than most to be afeared this day.’

  Rowena nodded her agreement, h
er head down against the driving rain as she managed to avoid some foraging pigs that were guzzling acorns. Her mother, Grainne, an Irish princess, had been stolen away from her land by the Norse as a young woman. Luckily, she escaped when they continued their plunder along the English coast.

  Rowena’s father, Athelwine, had found the lovely young girl and promptly fallen in love with her. He had taken her to his home and made her his wife. She served him faithfully and gave him two more children, Rowena and Athelstan.

  Cwendritha’s thoughts ran along the same path as Rowena’s, for she knew more about it than most. The Irish princess confided in the old woman. It had seemed like yesterday when Grainne came to her hut, her eyes brimming with tears.

  ‘What troubles you, mistress?’ she had asked worriedly.

  ‘I am so ashamed, Cwendritha.’ Her beautiful hair was a dark cloud around her white face. ‘And I don’t know where else to turn. You seem to brew much magic and you have healing powers.’

  ‘What can I do?’

  She wrung her hands. ‘When I was taken by the heathens their leader touched me between my legs.’ Her tears ran faster. ‘I tried to protest, tried to stop him, but he would not listen. His massive head came down to my level and he kissed me.’ She shuddered. ‘It was horrible. His hands grabbed my breasts and the more I struggled the more forceful he became.’

  She had been quite overcome and Cwendritha encouraged her. ‘Go on. If you will not confide in me I cannot help you.’

  ‘He bore me to his bed and forced me to remove my clothes.’ She wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. ‘As I stood there naked and trembling he kissed my breasts. I was repulsed by him, and… and yet I felt my body thrill to his touch. I was so confused that when he lifted me and lay me down I only half struggled because part of me, that wicked part deep inside, wanted him.’

  Cwendritha nodded. ‘Was he handsome?’

  ‘He had the finest pair of shoulders I have ever seen, and the reddest beard and the bluest eyes,’ she said dreamily, before hanging her head in shame.

  ‘‘Tis only natural to feel so when an exciting man touches you.’

  ‘Is it natural to want him to fondle me in all my private places? I pushed my breasts towards his mouth and almost swooned with ecstasy when he sucked the nipples. His hands made whorls on my stomach, his fingers so rough and yet so tender.’ She shivered with the memory. ‘When he covered my mound I opened my thighs to him, my pulses racing and the private place between my legs weeping with need.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘He stroked me, down there,’ she said, inclining her head, blushing profusely. ‘I had never believed anything could be so wonderful. By this time I’d have given all I possessed as long as he did not stop. Then he disrobed and I was amazed to see he had a massive staff between his legs, and a great sack that he said contained his seed. He bade me touch his staff and when I did it grew even bigger.’ She bit her lip. ‘I am ashamed to say that I was thrilled to feel the wonderful power of this rod, to see the tiny droplets that came from its eye. My red-bearded heathen bid me slide it up inside my private tunnel. I did and it was the most lovely feeling I had ever experienced. Although I’d thought it far too big, it fit me well and I sighed as he drove in and out of me like a bull.’ She dropped her head once more. ‘We did it many times in the weeks I was with him and he was most kind to me.’

  ‘So why did you run away?’

  ‘I escaped because I was ashamed of what I was doing. I was enjoying a man without wedlock, a man who worshipped false gods.’

  ‘What’s the trouble now?’

  She began to cry again, distressed sobs that rent Cwendritha’s heart. ‘I am about to wed Athelwine and he believes me to be untouched. When he realises I have lain with another he will cast me out.’

  Cwendritha smiled. ‘There is an easy way out of this dilemma. ‘‘Tis a trick women have used time and time again. I will give you a pig’s bladder filled with blood. You must secrete it somewhere on your person. When your husband takes you pierce the pig’s bladder and when he sees the stain he will believe he deflowered you himself.’

  Grainne had been radiant with gratitude and relief, and Cwendritha kept her secret well – although the princess never returned for the pig’s bladder, leaving her to wonder what she told her husband on their wedding night.

  Cwendritha realised she had been lost in the past and quickly resumed her conversation. ‘I thought the king had sent all the heathens off with fleas in their ears,’ she complained.

  Rowena was intent on keeping her footing on the slippery ground. ‘Father says there will always be the odd band of northmen coming from over the seas to try their luck.’

  It was the same ilk that was a danger to them now. They had threatened to attack if a price was not paid for peace. Athelwine had declared that he would not be dictated to by vermin and immediately set off, heading the militia, to fight off the invaders.

  Rowena shuddered violently and shrugged deeper into her mantle but, no matter what, she could not dispel the mixture of excitement and terror that warred in her belly. For if the militia failed the vermin would plunder the burh, taking many slaves when they left.

  ‘No doubt father has made contact with them by now,’ she remarked, with more conviction than she felt, wiping the water from her face with the hem of her mantle. ‘And taught them a lesson they will not forget.’

  ‘Would that you were right,’ Cwendritha replied, panting heavily from her exertions. ‘If not…’ She shrugged her shoulders; there was no need for her to go on. They were like a disease striking when least expected, leaving death and deprivation in their wake.

  Rowena stopped for the old woman to catch her breath, wiping mud from her new leather shoes with a stick. She smiled bravely. ‘If father is outnumbered I am sure he will agree to pay their price.’ She crossed her fingers as she spoke, for although Athelwine was a wealthy thane with much land, he had sworn to fight to the death before handing over any of his silver.

  When the earthworks of the sturdy timber enclosure came into view, Rowena regarded it sadly. The previous day it had been a hive of industry, now all was quiet. Many were in the church, and others went about their business silently.

  Parting from Cwendritha she spied Eadred, the warrior she had bribed earlier. He was guarding the ramparts and watching for her anxiously. He laid his shield aside and patted his sword meaningfully. ‘You’ll be the death of me, my lady. If your father finds out what I’ve done he’ll feed me to the dogs.’

  Rowena laughed. ‘Have no fear, I’m hear now.’ She had brought him wild flowers from the forest, considering them payment enough for his service. ‘These are for you.’

  Emboldened by her gesture Eadred edged close, pushing his ridged cap back from his forehead. He wanted nothing to come between him and the lovely vision of the thane’s daughter. ‘Can we meet up later?’

  His hand was shaking as he reached out to touch her shoulder and Rowena shook her head. ‘I think not, Eadred. ‘Tis not a day for assignations.’

  Recalling the reward he had been promised the young man licked his bottom lip. ‘I can make you forget the troubles. Just stick your fingers on me breeches and feel how hard my dick is for you. One suck o’ that and you’ll want no other.’

  His breeches were stretched over his large erection and Rowena stiffened. She had seen her younger brother naked but had never seen anything like that which Eadred was pointing to. She gave a small sniff. ‘You’d better pay attention to your duty. If my father finds you lacking he will do more than feed you to the dogs.’

  Rowena turned on her heel and his hot eyes followed her as she skirted the wattle and daub huts of the militia. He watched as she waved to Alfred the moneyer, who worked in the mint producing coinage, her dainty womanly figure making him ache for her. Then unable to stand any more he faced the timber fence and taking his peni
s from his breeches masturbated, thinking longingly of the soft flesh that had been so close to his own. He was so worked up that he spurted his seed within seconds and surreptitiously fed his cock back into his breeches.

  Rowena sought her mother in the church but Grainne had already left, so she said a prayer with Father Edwin before continuing on to her mother’s bower.

  The burh was cluttered with animals that had been brought in for safety, and she was obliged to push her way through some cross-looking goats and bedraggled geese who honked at her with disdain. The hens clucked disagreeably at being disturbed and waddled away with a flapping of wings and a flurry of feathers, causing Rowena to laugh.

  Passing the weaving sheds and kitchen, she shed her mantle and shook it in the doorway before entering Grainne’s bower. Her mother was busy at her needlework, surrounded by her ladies. Her gentle smile warmed Rowena’s heart and she marvelled at her composure, for she knew that behind that calm façade Grainne was deeply worried.

  She gave a gasp at her daughter’s disarray. ‘Rowena, where have you have been? You’ve been missing a goodly time and are soaked through.’

  ‘With Cwendritha,’ she replied quickly, hoping Grainne would assume she had merely been passing the time of day with the old woman. She did not wish to cause her mother distress by telling her she’d been wandering in the forest with the heathens at large.

  ‘You will catch your death, child!’ Aunt Elfrida clucked, horrified at her niece’s bedraggled state.

  Rowena smiled and dried her hair with the towel her mother handed her. ‘I should have stayed and worked my needle,’ she said contritely.

  ‘You should have a lusty husband to tend.’ Elfrida giggled. ‘A few inches of hard meat between those virginal thighs would soon put a twinkle in your eyes. You’re well passed the age of marrying. I can’t imagine what your father’s thinking. At your age I already had three children and was soon abed with my fourth.’ She nudged the knee of her friend. ‘My Alfred liked a good tumble, God rest his soul.’