‘My name is Maida,’ she offered.
He nodded, wary of making further conversation lest she take it as some sort of invitation. He was in need of a woman, but his wife was the woman who made his blood boil. Yet, when he made to walk away, he looked up and made eye contact with Gwendolyn. Her gaze took in the scene with him and Maida. Apparently, it looked suggestive, because she scowled, her eyes narrowing much as he was certain his own eyes had when he’d looked at Wulf sitting with her.
‘Maida.’ He looked back down at the woman and her eyes widened in anticipation. ‘How long has Wulf been sitting with my wife?’
She frowned, clearly unhappy that he’d mentioned Gwendolyn. She lifted her shoulder in a shrug, still not letting go of the tankard. ‘Since they came in, I suppose. Rodor came in to eat with them, but he left already.’
‘Thank you, Maida.’ When she didn’t move, he gave a pointed look at her hand and she took it back.
‘My lord?’
He raised a brow.
‘If you’ve need of anything, you only have to ask.’ She offered him a smile as she took her leave.
Countless women had presented him with similar offers over the years and he’d rarely had cause to turn them down. Weeks ago he wouldn’t have turned Maida down. She was pretty and seemed eager to please. The problem was that he only wanted his wife.
She was steaming by the time he’d reached her. At some point during his talk with Maida, Wulf had left, so she was alone when he approached. She didn’t sit and wait for him, though. She rose and would have stormed off had he not reached out for her arm and stopped her.
‘Don’t forget our mead.’
‘Take your mead and stuff it up—’
He couldn’t help but laugh at her fury. If only she knew how jealous he’d been of Wulf. She was a beautiful woman and, now that he appreciated that, he saw plainly how many of the warriors did want her for their own. It was gratifying to know that she was jealous of him as well. ‘You seem angry, Wife. Have I displeased you?’
‘You...’ Though her voice trailed off, her gaze shot back to where he’d been talking to Maida, though the servant was long gone. She also must have realised that to give voice to her anger would be the same as admitting to her jealousy. Pride would be her downfall. Instead of answering him, she crossed her arms.
‘Drink, Gwendolyn, then we can retire.’ He held the tankard up to her lips.
‘Perhaps you’d prefer sleeping in the stables,’ she said, her eyes flashing fire.
‘Drink.’ He kept his voice steady, but he deepened it so that it was clear it was an order. She hesitated, but then she parted her lips and he tilted the cup. His gaze flickered to her throat as she swallowed. He wanted to run his tongue along her flesh there and taste the salt of her skin. The idea of her submission, given so freely, made his blood thicken.
Something quiet and hot passed between them. When she drew back, she wiped her hand over her mouth without breaking his stare. Then before he could say anything, she hurried towards their chamber.
Chapter Fifteen
Gwendolyn had expected Vidar to stay below until long after she’d gone to bed, so she was surprised when she was pulling back the blanket and the door opened. He stood framed in the doorway, his eyes taking in her nightdress. It reminded her of the last night they’d spent together in this room when he’d almost seen her touching herself. She still couldn’t believe that she’d done that. Heat rose to her face at the memory and she hurried to get beneath the blanket as if he might somehow figure out what she was thinking.
The movement seemed to break him from his spell and he shut the door behind him. As he walked over to the bed, he shrugged out of his tunic and slung it over the trunk for a servant to pick up in the morning. She couldn’t help but notice that his mood had changed. He wasn’t smiling any more. In fact, his brow was furrowed and he didn’t look over at her again. He was probably angry that he’d been caught flirting with Maida. Good. He should feel some of the anger she felt having to watch that exchange. Maida had always been a good worker, but this wasn’t the first time Gwendolyn had caught her flirting with a warrior, though Gwendolyn had never concerned herself with it before. The girl was free to keep company with anyone she wanted. Anyone except Gwendolyn’s husband.
Blowing out the candle on her side of the bed, she settled back against the pillows and pulled the blanket up to her chin. He appeared to be ignoring her as he tugged his shirt off over his head and tossed it away. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed to work off his boots. Something about his silence annoyed her. He was behaving as if she was the one in the wrong.
‘A pity you didn’t take up my offer for the stables.’
‘Gwendolyn.’ His voice was pitched low as he tossed his boot away. A warning. It only fed her anger.
‘Do not talk to me that way. I was not the one—’
‘What is between you and Wulf?’ he asked. His voice was louder than it had been and when his boot fell with a thud he turned and pinned her with his gaze.
She was so shocked that her mouth fell open. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘You and Wulf. He was so happy to see you that he didn’t leave your side all night. I’m surprised he allowed you to seek your bed alone.’
Vidar was mad to think there was anything like that between her and Wulf, but a tiny part of her preened at the fact that he was jealous. ‘Wulf and I have been friends since we were children.’
He grinned, but it was without humour. ‘Aye, just as you and your betrothed had known each other as children. That proves nothing, Wife.’
This was getting ridiculous and the tiny glimmer of satisfaction changed to anger. ‘What are you accusing me of? If I had any intention of pursuing any sort of relations with Wulf, I’d have done it long before you came here. We are friends. But I don’t have to prove anything to you.’
‘Don’t you? I am your husband.’
She rolled her eyes and turned over. ‘Goodnight.’ This conversation was getting them nowhere and only making her angrier.
‘Do not turn away from me,’ he said, his voice exasperated.
‘You’re an ass. I won’t entertain a conversation with an ass.’
He laughed. ‘You flirt with a man at our table and I’m the ass?’
That was it. She sat upright, the blanket falling to her lap as she turned to face him. ‘Blast it all, for the last time, I was not flirting. Wulf is a dear friend and he was confessing to me that he’d asked his sweetheart to marry him.’ His face showed surprise and she felt a moment of gratification. ‘You are the one who was flirting and do not try to deny it. I saw you with Maida. I saw the way you held her hand with our tankard of mead between you.’
Much to her surprise, he didn’t look chastened at all. He smiled at her and it was a very smug smile. ‘So you are jealous.’
She tried to deny it. She wanted to deny that he had any power to hurt her. ‘It was very distasteful.’
‘Distasteful because you were jealous. Because you want me for yourself and can’t stand the idea of another having me.’ His eyes were so knowing. Of course they were knowing, he’d felt her desire for him.
‘Because I am your wife.’ It was as close as she could come to admitting the truth to his words.
His grin only widened, and he stood to begin on the lacings of his pants. Her gaze dragged a path down the broad expanse of his chest to the trail of golden hair that disappeared into his trousers. His long fingers moved gracefully over the fastenings. Excitement skipped along her skin, but it was followed by guilt and anger that she would feel that after all he had done to her. After he had only recently flirted with that servant girl. She forced herself to look away.
‘I wasn’t flirting with the girl, Gwendolyn.’ His voice became calmer. ‘She approached me and, aye, she
did flirt, but I don’t want her. I didn’t take her up on her offer.’
Perhaps not yet, but she didn’t trust that he wouldn’t. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘You’d believe me if you weren’t jealous...if you didn’t care. But the truth is that you do care. You want me, Wife.’ He paused with his hands at the top of his trousers, giving her warning before he pushed them down. She turned her head away so she’d avoid the temptation to look at him. She could feel the blood pounding through her veins as physical interest awakened inside her.
‘You’re an ass,’ she said again.
‘Perhaps, but I’m yours and I only want you,’ he said as he finished undressing and slipped into bed underneath the blanket.
Something about that felt very good to hear. She tried not to smile even though it tugged at the corners of her mouth. Genuine relief weighted her body as she sank back against the wooden headboard. She knew that he found her desirable, but to hear him say that he preferred her over others was unexpected...and welcomed. And it had never felt as if he was hers, so to have him say that made a surge of possessiveness run through her. She liked the idea of him belonging to her, even as she wasn’t sure how to handle belonging to him.
She glanced at him from beneath her lashes to see that he’d settled himself with his back against the headboard with the blanket pooled in his lap. His strong and graceful hands rested on top of it. The shadows cast by the single candle played over the twin muscles of his chest and emphasised the strength of his arms. Shadows and light dipped across the ridges and planes of his stomach.
‘And I know you want me.’ His voice had lowered. ‘I could make you scream so loudly, there’d be no doubt to Maida or anyone else who I want in my bed.’
Her nipples beaded and pleasure began to coil in her belly. She gritted her teeth to stop the whimper that tried to escape her. She had no idea how he’d make her scream, but it sounded like something she wanted to explore. Instead of answering, she flopped down on to her side away from him. But it was too late to stop the visions that played themselves over in her mind. She remembered him stroking that male part of him. In the brief glimpse she’d had the morning after they were married, he’d been hard and thick and something about that had appealed to her in a way she’d never known.
What would it mean to give in to him? How could she keep herself if she did? Would she be the same? Would it mean that he’d won this push and pull for power between them?
He shifted, lying down, and the skin along her back felt extra sensitive, attuned to his every movement. When his fingertips trailed over her thigh and hip, she nearly jumped out of her body. She’d forgotten to pull the blanket up so it was only the fabric of her nightdress between his fingertips and her flesh. His touch nearly singed her through the garment. She didn’t want to move away, though. It took every ounce of will she possessed not to move closer to him. Flickers of heat moved over her skin, urging her to seek more of his touch.
‘You want me to touch you, Gwendolyn.’ He moved closer, so close that the heat from his chest warmed her back and his breath tickled her earlobe. His fingertips continued their slow path upwards, over her waist, which made goosebumps rise on her skin, and up her arm to her shoulder. Then he traced a slow path down her arm and back.
She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to pretend that she didn’t want to turn into his arms and have him kiss her. She almost groaned aloud as she remembered his fingers touching her there between her legs and how they had made her throb. Her body was aching for his touch now. She wanted to turn into him and place his hand right there between her legs where she ached for him. She’d only had a taste that day and she wanted more. She wanted to know what would have happened had they not stopped.
He must have known how he affected her, because his hand moved over her ribcage to rest just below her breast. He moved in even closer, so that his hardness just barely nudged her bottom. The phantom touch of his thick chest against her back reminded her of how large he was. Surprisingly, she liked feeling small next to him.
‘Stop denying it,’ he whispered into her ear, sending delicious chills down her neck. ‘You want this.’ His thumb traced a circle above her belly, dragging the fabric of her clothes over her sensitive skin. He leaned down even more, pressing his face into her hair and drawing in a deep breath. Then he moved his hips, nudging that insistent hardness against her bottom, and she couldn’t help but push her hips back into him. A rush of need went through her as they moved together in a subtle rhythm. The throbbing expanded outward from her centre until the entire lower portion of her body became leaden and achy and hot with wanting him.
His breath was at her ear when he spoke again. ‘No one has to know. Tomorrow you can pretend you didn’t give in. Tomorrow it can be as if it never happened. But tonight...’ His teeth scraped her earlobe, shattering every barrier she’d shoved between them as need made her tremble. ‘Tonight can be ours.’
‘Vidar,’ she whispered. It was a plea.
He nuzzled her ear and placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss on her neck. She trembled as heat flared across her skin. He took his hand from her belly to grab hers and she mourned the loss of his touch. She’d wanted him to touch her breast as she’d imagined him doing so many times, but he slowly drew her hand over her hip. Her eyes flew open when she realised his goal moments before he placed her palm against his erection. He covered her fingers with his, showing her how to squeeze him. Eager student that she was, she obeyed his silent commands and wrapped her hand around his impressive thickness, eliciting a satisfying groan from him in response. He felt massive in her hand and hot. An answering flood of warmth moved through that part of her that begged for his possession and she recognised it now as her body readying itself for him.
He left her hand to continue stroking him and moved to untie the laces holding the top of her nightdress together. She bit her lip, certain now that she would finally get what she wanted, but he stopped and whispered into her ear. ‘Tell me aye.’
‘Aye.’ She wasted no time in complying with his request. ‘Touch me, Vidar.’
His hand slipped into her nightdress and took her breast into his warm palm, rubbing against her sensitive and aching nipple. She let out a little moan of appreciation and he moved to take the puckered tip between his thumb and forefinger, plucking her gently. She cried out and pressed herself against him, needing more contact or something to ease the throb between her thighs.
He murmured something in his own language, something that sounded impatient or pained, and then he withdrew his hand. ‘Wait,’ she said, but he grabbed the fabric of her nightdress and began to yank up the skirt. Her heart started pounding in anticipation as she realised his intention. He pulled her thigh to drape her leg over his, opening her up for his touch, and it wasn’t but a moment more before his fingers found her. They slid between her lips and found her wet and so tender and swollen that she jumped when he touched her. She grabbed his arm with both of her hands and held him close.
‘Shhh...’ he soothed her, but his fingers didn’t stop moving over her. They caressed in soft circles before darting over that swollen flesh that seemed most sensitive. She moved her hips along with the rhythm and it wasn’t long before she realised that she could feel him on both sides. His fingers held her intimately, but his hard shaft pressed against her from behind. It was the single most pleasurable moment of her life. But it wasn’t nearly enough to soothe the ache inside her.
And he knew. Before long his fingers slid down, finding her entrance. His long middle finger gently pressed inside her and she clenched around him, begging for more, needing more as he moved in a teasing rhythm. She realised then that she was ready for him. She didn’t want his fingers or his teasing. She wanted his hard length to fill her.
‘I need you inside me, Vidar.’
Apparently it was the right thing to say, because he let out a groan and cu
pped his hand, pulling her backwards so that he grinded against her fleshy bottom. His face buried in her neck, he said, ‘Tell me again. Tell me you want this.’
She moved restlessly, trying to somehow get closer to the only part of him she knew could give her what she wanted. ‘Aye, I want you. I want this. Hurry.’
He removed his hand and grabbed the nightdress, tugging it upwards so she had to lean up so that he could pull the garment off over her head. She was naked before him in the light of the single candle, but she didn’t feel shy. She didn’t care. She was too far gone to care about anything but the relentless throbbing of her body and the need to have him possess her.
He came down behind her again, trailing hot kisses over her shoulder and up her neck. When he got to her face, he wrapped his hand in her braid and turned her head so that he could reach her mouth. She opened for him and he invaded her mouth, his tongue ravaging her as if he was claiming ownership of her. And she wanted that. His dominance fired her blood and made her groan in anticipation.
But she wanted him now and pushed back against him. His hot shaft pressed between the soft flesh of her bottom almost where she wanted him. ‘Gwendolyn,’ he moaned as he pulled his mouth away and she felt a swell of pride that he seemed as impatient as she was.
His hands pushed her forward, guiding her so that she laid flat on her front. Then he moved to his knees over her, drawing her hips up. Her eyes were wide as she waited, barely breathing, for him to do what she wanted. Finally, he moved forward and his thighs were on either side of hers. His fingers spread her open and the tip of his shaft nudged at her entrance, her slick heat causing him to slide away.
‘I’m told this may hurt you the first time, but I’ll go carefully.’ His voice was so raw and primal that it sent a wave of longing through her.
‘It won’t hurt,’ she assured him. Her voice was so filled with longing that she barely recognised it.
His hand paused on her hip. ‘You’ve done this before?’
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