“Your woman’s left,” said a sleepy man. “She’s not my- where’s she gone?” “Outside with Kjartan. Into the village.” “What!” He shoved his horn of ale at his informant and strode towards the door. * * * Aelfwyn desperately tried to stop Kjartan touching the delicate folds of skin between her legs. His fingers pushed hard upwards but she squeezed her legs together frantically. His other hand squeezed her breast, squashing her against the wall with his weight. He made a noise of exasperation and pushed her down on the hard, cold ground, holding her down with one hand and undoing his belt with the other. He pulled down his trousers a little and hitched up her skirts. She screamed, but his hand covered the noise. “Give in to me, woman!” he snarled. He was suddenly wrenched off her and flung aside by a furious Ragnar.
