by Ree Thornton
"Caliph, I will have my men deliver the wares to your camp."
"Good. Good." Her father waved his hand absently.
"And you have my word that I will send you those warriors willing to fight for you next summer," Valen continued.
"How do we know you will follow through?" Her voice shook as she asked the question her father would expect, barely keeping control of the grief clawing at her insides. Why did making the right decision feel so wrong?
Valen leaned back and raised an eyebrow at her. "I always keep my promises, Princess."
She shivered as the deep rumble of his voice washed over her. What was he saying?
"Caliph, I know you are a man of your word. I am sure we can have open, honest negotiations. The men will require gold for their services, but they will fight well for you."
A flush of heat warmed her cheeks as the hidden meaning in Valen's words hit her—of the two of them, it was she who had lied about her identity. She welcomed the bite of her fingernails digging into her palms. The man needed reminding that he wasn't a pillar of honesty either.
"Shall I have your goods delivered to the north tower?" she asked, her voice thick with saccharine sweetness. A surge of triumph filled her when his jaw tensed at the mention of where he had first tasted her.
Before he could respond, Fareed, head of the Haras guard, stepped inside and bowed. "Pardon the interruption. I must speak with you, Caliph."
Her father rose to his feet. "One moment please, Jarl. I shall return," he said, and then crossed to the far side of the tent conversing in hushed whispers with his most trusted man.
"So, the delivery?" she prompted. It would be faster to finish the last trades without her father here to argue every detail, and she wanted this over. She could not continue to look at him much longer without falling apart.
Valen nodded at her, his lips curving up slightly in the corners. "Já. Deliver them to the tower. Have you tasted peaches, Princess?" He plucked one from the basket he'd brought along. "They are the first of the season. Picked fresh by Inga this morning."
"Peaches?" She frowned at the abrupt change of topic and looked down at her notes. What was he doing? She had recorded the peaches trade hours ago.
"You must try one." He cut the fruit into pieces with his dagger, and placed it on the plate in front of her.
She set down the quill and eyed him warily. What game was he playing?
"Try it," he urged.
She took a piece and cautiously bit down. The rush of soft delicate sweetness filled her mouth and almost made her groan aloud.
Delicious. "I've never tasted anything so sweet."
When he shifted in his seat, her eyes flicked down to the prominent bulge of his groin. She looked away so he couldn't see her blushing cheeks.
"I have, Princess. I've tasted the sweetest forbidden fruit."
Her eyes snapped back to his, following the slide of his tongue across his lips, the flush of her skin deepening further. Her heart raced as her body warmed. She picked up the quill, resisting the urge to crush it between her fingers. The temptation he presented seriously tested her newly-formed resolve. She'd been very clear that this could not go on and she knew he'd understood.
"Do not do this," she demanded, her tone icy. He was chasing her because she had denied him, but she would not be his plaything. No matter how thrilling it was to be chased by the Viking, he would not conquer her.
"Would you rather negotiate Viking steel?" He lounged back casually in the chair, ensuring his hips thrust up to display the hard length of his member pressing against the front of his pants.
She stilled at the sight, her nipples hardening against the fabric covering her bust. Do. Not. Look. She could not react. He would sense even the slightest weakness and use it to get her to concede, to continue the affair. She schooled her features and twirled the quill absently.
"Mayhap..." she said, feigning indifference.
When he grinned knowingly, she knew she had failed. He knew he was affecting her and now he would press his advantage.
"Do you want Viking steel, Princess?"
Her breath hitched at the double entendre, but she refused to yield. The affair must stop, for both their sakes. Instead, she raised an eyebrow and pinned him with the chilly unimpressed stare she'd perfected at court. If he continued with these underhanded ploys, he would soon find himself severely outmatched.
"The price is too high." She opened her mouth and slid another slice of peach inside, deliberately chewing slowly and then licking the juices from her lips.
He swallowed hard, his eyes following her every move. "Some things are priceless," he croaked, and then hastily rose to his feet as the Caliph approached.
"Forgive me, Jarl. A matter requires my immediate attention. I must leave it to Samara to finish the negotiations."
Valen inclined his head. "I too must return to my duties, however I can meet with Samara later this eve to conclude our business. My apologies, but as I am sure you understand, the demands of being Jarl are many."
Blasted man! She knew what he was doing. That was no invitation to negotiate, it was a ruse to get her alone again.
"Indeed they are," her father replied as he shook Valen's hand. When he turned to face her, her stomach dropped at the disappointment and doubt she saw in his eyes.
"Do what is best for our people, Daughter. Remember Karim should you falter."
To Valen it meant naught, but the mention of the man that had betrayed her to Leif made her gut churn. The warning was plain—if she were a traitor she would suffer the same fate as Karim and be forever banished from court and ostracized.
Samara nodded and watched her father leave with Fareed. Her chest ached at the thought of never seeing her lands or people again. She missed the cheeky smiles of the children peeking out from behind their mother's skirts in the bazaar, the soft breeze on her skin as she sat under the night sky, and the heartfelt songs of the gypsy musicians, the kawlīyya. Home. She missed home. The threat of losing everything she loved was more than she could bear. She could not betray her people, she would not.
She rose to her feet. "I cannot come to your room," she told Valen, her tone colder than a winter storm. "This is over. Soon I will return home and marry. We have been playing a dangerous game. It has to stop. Every sun must set."
"The peaches are a gift," he replied, and then leaned in close.
The heat of his breath on her ear made heat pool between her legs. Curse him for being harder to resist than cardamom coffee on a cold morning.
"I will wait for you this eve. I hope you will come." The ravenous glint in his eyes as he pulled back spoke volumes—he was determined to get her back into his furs.
She backed away from him, shaking her head. "I cannot," she whispered, and then swallowed the sob in her throat when strode away.
Chapter Sixteen
Valen
Valen paced back and forth in front of the fire, looking at the door. He'd sent his warriors out on patrols, claiming the additional guests warranted heightened watch, and then he'd walked along the wall, debating his good judgement. Would Samara come?
She had told him it was over, but he still hoped she would change her mind. He didn't know what had happened at the meeting with the Caliph that had made her pull away. Mayhap it was something he had said, or she thought being together was too perilous? Whatever it was, she had decided there would be nothing more between them. He stopped in the center of the room and ran his hands through his hair. She wasn't coming. He couldn't blame her, but it still hurt, more than he cared to admit.
A heartbeat later, the heavy oak door creaked and groaned open, letting in a cool draft.
"Valen?" Samara stepped inside, her small frame covered by the dark woollen cloak that fell to her feet.
He breathed deeply. She was here, probably wondering if it was a mistake to risk everything to be alone together, but she was here.
She closed the door, pushed back the hood that hid her fa
ce, and hesitated.
"I am glad you came." He crossed to where she stood and slid the metal bar into place across the door. None could bother them now. Wise or not, he'd made his decision that night in the tent with her and there was no turning back.
Her eyes darted nervously around his home.
"We are alone." He took her hand gently and linked his fingers though hers, the skin on skin contact creating a delicious shiver that made the hair on his neck stand on end.
The tension eased from her shoulders at his words. "I should not have come."
"Why did you?" Had she come for trade or because she wanted to see him? It felt like his heart stopped beating as he awaited her response.
"I could not stay away."
A swift and violent surge of triumph had him leading her hastily to the far end of the room before she could change her mind. His blood heated as he held back the drapery that provided privacy so she could enter his bedchamber.
She paused and looked up at him tenderly before stepping inside, her fingers brushing along the palm of his hand as though she couldn't bear to let go.
Loosening his grip on the fabric, he let it fall, shutting out the rest of the world. He watched her scan his bedchamber, taking in the glowing embers of the fire, two comfortable chairs near the hearth, and his bed covered in a pile of furs. When her eyes returned to his, they were lit with a fiery passion that matched his own.
"Let me take your cloak." In three strides, he was at her side and eased it from her shoulders. He swallowed hard as she walked away, her blue dress revealing womanly curves every bit as tantalising as her shimmering bronzed skin.
"By the gods, I need you." He had to have her, feel her in his arms again, and worship her. He tossed her cloak over a chair and moved toward her.
She backed away, the soft glow of the fire in her eyes reminding him of molten gold. "I want you too."
Before he even realized what he was doing, he'd pulled his shirt over his head, tossed it aside, and closed the distance between them. He reached for her, placing his hand beside her head as she bumped into the wall. His gaze fell to where her teeth bit into her bottom lip, and his chest vibrated as he held back his wild growl of approval. She liked him chasing her, this rougher more demanding side of him.
"I want to claim you, hard. But I'll not do that to you, not yet, not unless you ask."
Her eyes widened and a rush of pink stained her cheeks. "Já," she whispered.
"Princess..." He bent at the knees, wrapped an arm around her thighs, and lifted her. He was taking her to bed, now.
Her hands rested on his shoulders to steady herself. "What are you doing? Put me down."
"Very well." He loosened his grip, allowing her to slide slowly downward, his skin ablaze as her breasts brushed down over his bared chest.
"Not fair, Valen," she said, as her feet settled on the floor. Her hands rested softly on his chest, a cooling touch on the heated flesh beneath them.
"I don't follow rules." He grinned at her shamelessly. He'd felt the hardened peaks of her nipples through her dress, and her gasp when she'd felt the hard length of his cock pressed into her stomach. She wanted him too.
Her dark lashes lowered and her gaze fell to his lips. "I do like no rules."
Freya, have mercy. He needed to see her, feel her, now. In moments, he had her dress up over her head and tossed aside. He released a throaty groan, his cock hardening instantly.
"By the gods, woman. Where is your shift? You are naked."
She smiled demurely and ran her hands up his chest, hiding her breasts from his view. "You're not the only one with tricks."
"I shall show you tricks." He hoisted her up again, his hands cupping the firm globes of her ass as he crossed the room and lowered her into his bed.
"Promise?"
Had he died and gone to Valhalla? He'd known she was feisty, but he'd never thought she'd tease him like this in the bedchamber. She was so much more than he deserved, so damned perfect for him.
She stretched out across his bed like a lazy cat in the sunshine with her waves of dark hair fanned out behind her. Her eyes filled with lust as she watched him undress, her fingers trailing across the soft furs that caressed her bare flesh.
"See something you want?" he teased. He put his hands on his hips and stood proud for her inspection, relishing the heat in her gaze as she took in the sight of him.
She bit her lip. "Já, but I shouldn't."
"Nothing is forbidden between us, Princess." He slowly lowered himself between her legs, inhaling sharply as his hard cock pressed against her soft flesh. Then her arms wrapped around his neck and he was lost, lost to the press of her mouth on his, to the sensual dance of her tongue and the heated press of her beneath him. He deepened the kiss, unleashing all of his pent up need, and then dipped lower to suckle on her tender breasts. Thank Óðinn that this time he didn't need to go slow, that this time he could show her how a Viking satisfied his woman.
"Hurry." She writhed beneath him, the soft folds of her sex rubbing against his throbbing staff sending lightning bolts of pleasure through his body.
He slid his hand between her legs to prepare her. "Do you like this?"
"Já." Her eyes drifted closed as he pleasured her. Before long, her hands gripped his shoulders and urged him upward. "Now, Valen. I need you."
Unable to deny her desperate plea, he held himself above her, his eyes closing as his thick rod aligned with her sheath. He paused, rocking slightly back and forth to savor the sensation of her wetness and warmth along his length before he gave her what she wanted.
Her fingers dug into his chest. "Will it hurt?"
He looked down at her and shook his head, cursing himself. He should have known she would be afraid of the pain after last time. Her isolation and the secrecy of their affair meant she could not talk to her mother or a married relative to alleviate her fears.
"Not this time," he assured her.
Slowly, her hand curled up behind his neck to toy with his hair. "I trust you."
"Samara..." Her name fell from his lips as a reverent whisper. She trusted him with her body, and deep down he knew she was trusting him with her heart too. In that moment he resolved not to hold anything back from her, no matter how painful it would be when she left. He let down the barriers to his wounded heart, determined that his time he would make love to her with all his being, so that she would know what it felt like when two became one in bed.
Her hand stilled and she looked at him curiously. "What is it?"
"I trust you too."
Her eyes widened in surprise.
"Everything this time, Princess. All of me."
Tears filled her eyes as the weight of his words registered. "Everything..." she whispered.
"Já. Everything." Time slowed as he held her heated gaze and slid slowly into her wet heat, the two of them caught on the rising tide of honesty and raw emotion that flowed between them. He thrust slowly until she was breathless with pleasure, and then lowered himself to whisper in her ear.
"Slow is good ..." He rocked back, and then thrust hard. "But hard and fast is better."
"Oh!" she gasped as their hips met with a jolt, and then wrapped her legs around his waist.
"Let go." He slid his hands beneath her back and gripped her shoulders, loving the softness of her breasts sliding across his chest as he moved within her. He rested his head in the crook on her neck, breathed in the intoxicating scent of wildflower soap on her skin, and showed her how a man loved a woman.
"Valen. Oh!" She matched his rhythm, her nails digging into his ass as she pulled him into her harder and faster than he dared. She was nearing the edge.
His heart raced as he lost all restraint, thrusting with increasing abandon until he reached a furious pounding that bordered in-between pleasure and pain. He could tell from her breathy moans that she was there with him, teetering on the edge of release.
"Let go," he urged, and then teased her nipple with his tongue and
suckled on it hard.
She came apart in his arms, her back arching off the bed and her mouth falling open as she began to quiver around him.
He held her tight, one hand behind her back, the other between her breasts, and looked down at her as he thrust in to the hilt.
She was breathtaking—bronzed silky skin, mouth open in euphoric repose, full breasts thrust upward, and her face lit with utter abandon as she soared.
"Já!" He roared in blissful relief as she wrung the seed from his loins. He collapsed on her chest, his panting breath shimmering across her sweaty breasts. He was exhausted, replete. When his breathing finally slowed, he rolled to lay beside her and pulled up the blanket, his eyes drifting closed.
"Valen?" Her fingers scraped across his scalp as she toyed with his hair.
"Hmm." The heavy pull of sleep was dragging him down, aided by her gentle caresses.
"I love you..."
What? His eyes popped open.
Samara sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at him through her dark lashes, her tousled hair cascading down in waves across her naked body.
She loved him? His heart soared and broke simultaneously. He sat up and looked at her. Did she want him to say it back? That would just prolong the pain for them both when she returned to her homeland. Regardless of how they felt, neither of them could choose love over duty. She knew that.
"Samara..."
She shook her head and put a finger over his lips to silence him. "You needn't say anything. I know it is not what we agreed and naught can come of it, but I wanted you to know."
She loved him. Somehow, it was comforting knowing that the bond they'd forged had touched her too.
He cupped her face in his hand. "We will always have the memories of this time together."
"Já. That we will." She rose and eased her dress over her head, hiding her naked curves from him.
Her revelation made him consider his own feelings. Was he in love with her? It had been so many years since he'd loved Kalda that he couldn't be sure. What he'd had with Kalda had been innocent, pure and naive, but this bond with Samara was ruthlessly honest and entirely different. He fell back into the pillow and sighed. Now he was more confused than ever.