UPDATE: The winner of the gift cars is…Eniko!
Conquests really does have something for everyone’s tastes—if you love rough warriors with big swords who can also be tender when needed. And then there’s Evey’s story. A Viking leader’s shieldmaidens take protecting his heart very seriously. Ready for a little f/f/f fun? Promise, Sweyn’s just as sexy in bed!
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Little Warrior by Evey Brett
A woman braves a pair of daunting shieldmaidens and her father’s wrath
in order to take her sister’s place as bride to a Viking warrior
Gyrid, one of the shieldmaidens guarded Sweyn’s room. The torch left her face shadowed, but I admired her sharp, chiseled features and the ropy muscles in her arms. Her eyes narrowed at my approach. “What do you want?”
“I’ve come to speak with Sweyn on Ethelfleda’s behalf.”
“Does your father know?” She crossed her arms and stared.
I met her gaze and kept it. “No. I came of my own accord.”
She laughed. The sound drew Gunhilda out of the next room. “Ah. It’s the plucky sister.”
I clenched my fists. I had enough teasing from my sister and didn’t need it from two women I admired. “Will you let me see him or not?”
“And you’re sure it’s only speech you’re seeking?” Gyrid’s pointed gaze raked me up and down. “A young, unmarried woman sneaking around at night only has one thing on her mind. Go back to your room, child. You don’t have the stamina for a man such as my brother.”
Heat flared in my face, and I was grateful for the lack of light to hide my embarrassment. I turned to go when Gunhilda caught my arm and asked, “What’s this?”
I couldn’t see the mark she was pointing to on my shoulder, but I knew what she meant. “I’ve had it since birth.”
“It looks like a tree. Don’t you think so, Gyrid?”
She went behind me to look and traced the mark with her finger. “Definitely.” Coming in front of me again, she asked, “Do you have any sacred trees near here?”
I shrugged. “Not sacred, but a single ash tree grows upon a tor near here.” I wondered why they were so interested.
The two women exchanged a glance I could not decipher. “Come,” Gyrid said. “Gunhilda will join us shortly.”
Inside, the room had been made comfortable. The women had a fine collection of swords, knives, and shields, all displayed prominently and within easy reach. There were other niceties—braziers full of incense, combs and bottles of scent. They might be warriors, but they had not forsaken femininity.
I was nervous at being alone with her. “Are you sisters?” I asked, as much to hide my nervousness as because I was curious.
She laughed. “Sisters in battle but not by blood.” She cupped my cheek in her palm. “You are not as pretty as your sister, but no matter. We will make do.”
The words stung, but they were no more than the truth. Ethelfleda had inherited Mother’s softness and delicate features. I’d taken after my father, tall and rugged.
“Have you ever known a man?”
My father had kept me so pent up I wasn’t allowed to be alone with a man, whether servant, tutor, or guard. My maid had lain with men and told me things, so I wasn’t entirely naïve, but I didn’t dare to lie. “No.”
“Thought so. How did you think you’d be able to pleasure Sweyn if you don’t even know what pleasure is?”
I gazed downward, unable to answer. All thought of tempting Sweyn into ruining me, and therefore forcing a marriage, fell to pieces.
Tilting her head, Gyrid touched her lips to mine. The touch sent a tingle through me. This was no sisterly kiss, but something hinting at more. I didn’t draw away. I took in the scent of her skin, warm and fresh from bathing, and was overcome by a sudden, indescribable need.
I didn’t notice Gunhilda slip in until she wrapped her arms around my waist and tucked her firm body behind mine. Without speaking, the two women worked as one, untying the laces on my dress then pulling it over my head. I stood there in my shift, trembling despite my determination not to be afraid.
“What’s wrong, little warrior?” Gyrid kissed my cheek, my neck, and down the slope of my shoulder. “We won’t hurt you. Quite the opposite.”
“Indeed.” Gunhilda drew off my shift.
I shivered in the sudden chill, but her body warmed me as she embraced me from behind. She cradled my breasts in her hands and I froze, shocked by the presumption.
“These people are such prudes. So afraid to feel something good,” she said.
“Mmm,” was Gyrid’s only reply. Her fingers found that private place between my legs. I flinched, but Gunhilda held me too tightly for escape. Gyrid’s gentle fingers probed me, rubbing at tender parts I’d never dared to touch, until I squirmed from the tingling discomfort.