Nope. No controlling husband, babies, or government for her and no more Nordia. Let Coreen fulfill The Profetia.
As half consciousness slipped away into sweet blackness, she could swear she heard the sound of Thor’s Hammer and a deep chuckle against the background of sweet voices singing with joy.
* * * *
Gunnar glanced over at Noreen and saw her head loll off to the side. Amazed she’d been able to sleep the last couple hours, he figured she really was an experienced traveler who could probably sleep standing up. Still, with her head rolling around, she looked uncomfortable. Thinking to make her more comfortable, he gently pushed her back against the safety harness. They were approaching the convoy so he tapped a few keys into his onboard computer. Reluctant to wake her just yet, he sent ahead the message to connect them up smoothly and quietly. The rapid reply from his convoy commander pleased him.
As he drove the small transport into view of the slow-moving line of larger transports, he once again considered his plan for accommodations. He could move the both of them to a larger transport, more like a mobile dwelling, but decided not to. The smaller quarters gave her less room to avoid him. He may have sworn an oath to remain pure until he met The One, but there were many degrees of purity.
The only promise his grandfather had extracted from him was that he’d always use a barrier. If the flesh of his cock didn’t directly touch the flesh of his partner, then he was holding himself true to The Profetia.
He’d been all of eighteen, and recently educated in the sport of enjoying a woman, when he’d arrived in Ryadstholm to take control of his duchy. At the ceremony he’d vowed to get no children on any woman until he had at least two children by The One. He was, in effect, to remain pure.
Later, talking with the king, he’d defined the boundaries of what was considered pure. A man with a wife, two concubines and several children, the king had been reassuringly sympathetic to his plight. The king had also loaned him several books and disks of visuals on the subject of how to enjoy a woman and avoid unexpected offspring. That summer had been the most informative and educational of his young life. Several maids in the royal household had been most willing to further his book learning with practical lessons. With no small appreciation for the irony, Gunnar figured he owed the king many years of loyalty for the particularly illuminating education.
His grandfather, the bishop, had merely rolled his eyes in resignation and explained it was the child that was the important point. Use a barrier and save his seed for The One.
A gentle bump indicated their connection to the line of larger freight transports. One in front and one behind. In the middle of the convoy, they were well protected should a storm blow up. The larger transports would push and pull the smaller one along and keep them from being lost in the white-out conditions common this time of year. They also had more power to draw on from the larger transports and he didn’t have to be so stingy with the heat. Checking the settings for heat and communications, Gunnar eased out of his unzipped parka. It would be easier to prepare dinner without the bulk, and the heat from the small burner would warm the cabin nicely. Maybe then Noreen would take off at least the parka and mittens. He wanted a long look at what lay under her thin top.
Years of practice lent economy to his moves. With less effort than it had taken her to choose lunch, he pulled a pot from the small fridge and set it on the burner. Transport stew, the best he’d ever tasted. Rich gravy with large chunks of reindeer and plenty of wine. A few tubers and vegetables grown deep in thermal caves and they had a meal in a pot. But the real prize was the bread, baked fresh this morning. He pulled it from the food locker and set it on the small counter space. Too bad he didn’t have a real radiant-heat oven to warm it in. What he sacrificed in conveniences, he hoped to make up for with female companionship.
Besides, he didn’t think the show of wealth on the larger transport would impress her much. And, if it did, he didn’t want to spend time with her. No, better to let her assume he was a simple transport operator. Titled, but humble in origins. Not uncommon on Nordia. People didn’t have much use for nobility who put on false airs. Everyone worked on this planet. Their very survival in the harsh elements depended on it.
Truly, seduction hadn’t been on his mind until he’d watched her shimmy out of her jeans and sweater. The wiggle of her ass had made him drool like he hadn’t since that sensuous summer so long ago. Easy women had long since lost their appeal, and it had been many months since he’d sought one out to ease the frustration of not finding his destined mate. Neither his grandfather nor old King Bjorn had been of any help in guiding him to the right woman. Noble or common, he had no idea where to even look anymore.
For the next two nights, he wouldn’t worry about it. Moving at this pace, it would be late the day after tomorrow before they arrived in Stravicsholm, where he’d deliver her to Princess Coreen. Whoever she was, she had to be of some level of importance, because the palace had never made such a request before. At least not for a live person. Goods, yes, but a living, breathing being was usually flown directly to the nearest depot.
Noreen. Was it a coincidence? Certainly there were enough females with similar names. The king’s daughters, all nine of them, for starters. In addition, the daughters of nearly every common and noble family had at least one daughter with similar if not the same names. He’d even seen such variations as Foreen, Koreen, Goreen, Horeen, Roreen and Voreen. Multiple times over. Reen was the most common female nickname on the planet. She’d mentioned an aunt. Maybe her name came from there. She was about the same age as the king’s eldest daughter, so it could be a coincidence. Would she like being called Nory, just to be different?
He stirred the stew and inhaled the heating aroma. Good and thick, it should warm her nicely. A quick twist of his wrist and he pulled the cork on a bottle of the best red wine he could find. Mugs would have to do. He set one in the cup holder near her chair and bent over her to look at her face framed by the hood. Asleep, she looked like an angel. It was a shame to wake her.
“Nory?” he spoke softly.
“Hmmm?” she moaned, luxurious eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks.
“Nory, time to wake up, älskling.”
“Cory?” she murmured.
Cory? Who was Cory? Coreen?
“Nory, time to wake up. Dinner is ready.”
“Doan wanna eat. G’way, Cory,” she muttered and turned her head away.
He put a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently.
“Dritt, Cory, g’way. Just like you to wake me up when I haven’t slept in days, rot op, teef.”
Gunnar straightened and stared down at the woman now blinking her eyes in an attempt to wake up. Did she just tell the Crown Princess to drop dead… and call her a bitch?
“Noreen?” He tried again, this time using a deep authoritative voice. “Time to wake up.”
“Blow it out your ear, Bjorn,” she giggled. “Oops, I mean Fader, Your Majesty.” She giggled some more and then her eyes popped open.
Gunnar felt his jaw drop as he watched her eyes widen in horror. If he understood correctly, she’d just cussed out the two top members of the royal family…as if they were…her family.
“Who are you?” he asked more harshly than intended.
“What is it to you?” She pushed her hood back irritably. “What’s burning?”
“Dritt!” he cursed and stepped behind her seat. “Lean forward!” he told her. “You just pushed your hood into the stew.”
“Wha?”
It