To my vast relief, the first thing Rangrid did was send away her horse. She removed his tack, slapped him on the rump, and sent him trotting down an interior hallway toward a slave who waited with a bucket and halter. The saddle and bridle she dumped onto a rack; then she led me through yet another door into a suite of private rooms. These chambers were delightfully free of the scents of spilled mead, unwashed corpses, horse sweat, manure, and hay dust—of which the outer chambers and corridors reeked.
"I didn't know Viking halls were laid out this way," I observed wryly. "I thought it was a free-for-all in one big room."
She smiled. "Oh, we valkyries haven't lived out in the main chamber in centuries; not since separate bedrooms were invented."
She peeled off layers of armor, and I watched in fascination as tantalizing bits of her became visible. Once she was down to a linen undergarment that clung sweatily, she pulled her long hair up, and tied it in place, lifting her breasts delightfully beneath the nearly transparent linen. Then she turned to me.
"First, a bath."
I glanced down at myself. My clothes were in tatters, I was filthy from head to foot, and there were acid burns on my skin.
I grinned. "Sounds good to me. Got a hot tub hidden somewhere around here?"
She laughed delightedly and turned to lead the way into an adjoining chamber. The sway of her hips under the short linen shirt was hypnotic. I followed her like a mesmerized rat chasing the Pied Piper. Once I'd stepped through the doorway, I stopped abruptly.
"Well, I'll be damned... ."
She crooked a brow and her lips twitched. I laughed out loud. Sitting in the center of the room, raised a few inches above a bed of glowing coals, was an enormous oaken barrel full of steaming water. I dumped battered web gear and skinned out of my shirt. She unfastened my pants, and once she'd stripped off my boots and a pair of socks that stood stiffly at attention when she dropped them, she peeled off the rest of my clothes. Her hair fell in wisps out of the ribbon she'd used to fasten it up, and her skin was damp and flushed.
"There." She eyed me critically from where she knelt. "Yes, a good hard scrubbing will work wonders, I think. I do believe there's quite a man underneath all that dirt."
At the very least, there was quite a bit of me saluting her enthusiastically at her current eye level.
She rose gracefully and pulled off the damp linen in one smooth motion, treating me to a shapely back, trim waist, and firm buttocks. I groaned, and staggered after her.
"Unh-uh, not till we're both squeaky clean," she scolded when I reached out. "In you go." She pointed imperiously at the waiting tub.
I settled into the hot water with a delicious sigh. I closed my eyes, and let the heat soak into my bones. I heard her slip in beside me, and made a pleased sound deep in my throat as she began rubbing me from one end to the other with soap. When her hands roamed between my legs, my breath hissed out between my teeth. She laughed softly, and water flooded my eyes and nose. I coughed and spluttered as she dumped another basin of water over my head and went to work on my filthy hair.
"Witch," I muttered, trying to lean close enough to kiss her.
"Close your eyes before you get soap in them," she commanded.
I obeyed, and she rinsed my hair until it squeaked to her satisfaction.
"All right, lover; your turn."
She handed me the soap, leaned back, and waited.
I rose to the occasion.
Rangrid was soft and warm and slippery. I caressed every inch of her, teasing until she moaned. I soaped the length of her lovely back, and delicately nibbled at the base of her neck. She shivered. I licked her earlobes, then tugged gently on them with my teeth. Her head came back against my chest, and I reached around to trace her lips with one wet finger. She kissed it dry.
I trapped her against my chest and reached around to move my soapy hands across her until her breath came in soft little gasps. She shuddered once, and closed her eyes. A smile played across her lips. I ended by turning her around, and kneaded each foot in turn. I rubbed the insteps, digging in hard with both thumbs, and gently pulled on the toes, until she lay limply against the edge of the hot tub, head back and eyes closed.
Cupping my hands, I rinsed the soap from her breasts and shoulders, then covered her lips with mine. Her hands slid down to caress me, until I was crushing her against me and she was wrapping herself even closer. Her skin moved against me like silk. I sought her, and she pulled slightly away. I gave a heartfelt groan; then my breath shuddered when her fingernails traced lightly down me.
Then, moving decisively, she unwrapped her long legs and stood up, dripping onto my skin. I rose with her. Wordlessly, she slipped out of the tub and reached for a large, soft towel laid conveniently nearby. She tortured me mercilessly with that towel, until I splashed out of the tub toward her.
"No, you're all wet." She laughed, pushing me away. "Get the other towel."
"Where?" I looked and didn't see another.
She pursed her lips; then smiled. "Oh, silly Gerta, she's probably left it on the bed instead of in here."
Rangrid disappeared into an adjoining room, and I followed, still dripping onto the floor. "Yes," I heard her say, "there it is. Go dry yourself while I brush out my hair."
She had wrapped the towel around herself and was hunting for a brush on a nearby table. I spotted the towel in the center of her enormous bed, and leaned over to retrieve it.
She tackled me from behind.
I sprawled, exhaling sharply as her weight pinned me on my stomach.
Blind survival instinct kicked in. I heaved upward, spilled her onto her side, and rolled fast, pinning her flat on her back before she could move. An involuntary snarl escaped as I pinned her wrists and looked for weapons. Her eyes widened as she realized this wasn't just rough foreplay. Abruptly she lay very still.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I meant only to tease—"
Warily I held her gaze. Suspicion still flared; but I could find no trace of guile in her eyes. When I let go and sat up, there were red marks on her wrists. I scrubbed at my eyes, then stood up and found a wall to lean against.
"Look, Rangrid," I said wearily, "I've been through more than you'll probably ever understand. You're a goddess. I'm just Randy Barnes, the dumb troopie. It's your boss who's trying so hard to kill me. Not twenty minutes ago he was ready to split my skull wide open with his war axe."
I glanced up to see how she was taking this. Her eyes reminded me of a puppy somebody's recently kicked. Her lower lip actually trembled. I felt angry, betrayed, stupid, and loathsome, all at once. I'd never hit a woman in my life, and hadn't meant to start with Rangrid.
"Dammit, don't look at me like that! I'm not some low-life scum who gets his rocks off beating women! Think about this, Rangrid. Odin's called Oath Breaker for good reason, and you work for him. What else am I supposed to think when you attack me from behind?"
She came off the bed in one fluid movement. "I am a valkyrie! Not a coward! Those who have fallen to me in battle have died honorably. I have never taken a mortal outside of combat—never!—and certainly not with the coward's blow!"
Proud, furious, naked in a way that made her strangely vulnerable... How many of the "heroes" in that hall out there had seen Rangrid like this? Something told me, not very many. God help me, I didn't trust her; but I wanted her. I scowled and thumped the wall absently with one bare heel.
"Yeah, well, maybe you've got a sense of honor; but that bastard out there misplaced his. If he ever had one to begin with."