Passion: His Savage Embrace

by Bobbi Smith

  Dynna immediately thought that he had somehow reinjured himself in their coming together. Her expression turned serious as she sat up and reached for his other shoulder, thinking it was paining him again.

  “No, wench. It is not my shoulder that aches, but here,” he caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “A kiss should cure it, I think.”

  Her eyes sparkled as she realized his jest, and she gladly doctored his pain, kissing him warmly.

  Brage had not expected that simple kiss to rouse him again so soon, but it did. He thought for a moment that she was a witch who had cast a spell on him, but as she moved over him, taking him deep within her body, he ceased to think at all.

  It was much later, when Dynna slumbered beside him, that Brage realized the power of what he felt for her. She had done as she had said she would. She had matched him in all things. He watched her sleep, knowing she was the only woman who had ever shown him such courage and openness. There had been no maidenly shyness in their joining, and it pleased him to know that he had given her pleasure.

  Even now, having taken her twice, he felt a desire for Dynna stir in his loins at the thought of tasting her passion yet another time. Unwilling to sacrifice even one minute of the black silken night, Brage kissed her awake and began to caress her once more.

  When at last exhaustion claimed them both, Brage held her in the circle of his arms and kept her safe and warm through the balance of the night.

  Dynna awoke as dawn stained the eastern sky and the morning birds offered up their song. She kept her eyes closed as she nestled against Brage’s chest. It was heavenly to be so protected, so safe in his arms.

  Dynna felt no guilt over what they had shared through the long hours of darkness. She had wanted to make love to him. Though their futures were uncertain, at least now she would have last night to remember. She moved slightly, and Brage came instantly awake.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked immediately alert and reaching for his sword.

  “It is dawn,” she said softly, still not wanting to leave his embrace.

  “Then we must move, and quickly,” he said.

  Brage started to get up and dress, but somehow the temptation of her sweet body pressed so tightly against his, heated his blood again.

  Dynna felt the response in him and smiled invitingly. Warren had been a good lover, but never had he been as passionate as Brage. “Must we leave right away . . .?”

  Her question brought only a growl of torment from him as his logic warred with his physical need. The sense that had always kept him alive told him to fight the passion she roused in him, so he could keep her safe, but it was her safety that gave him the strength to deny himself that which he wanted most.

  Brage kissed her, deeply, wildly, letting her know by his embrace that he was not rejecting her. “I cannot take a chance with your life, love,” he told her in a voice that betrayed the conflict within him. “We must move while we can.”

  Tears burned in her eyes as she lifted her hand to caress his cheek. No one else had ever put her safety and happiness first. It touched her that this man, this Viking who had been her prisoner, now was protecting her with his life. “I will be ready in a moment.”

  She rose up to kiss him, sweetly, gently, then moved out of the haven of his embrace to wash at the edge of the stream. She thought about donning her own gown this morning, but found it still slightly damp. Resigned to wearing the stolen garments again, she dressed quickly.

  Brage had tugged on his own clothes as he had kept watch over Dynna. It had been all he could do not to join her at the water’s edge and help her with her bathing. There could be no forgetting the satin of her skin and the sweet weight of her breasts in his palms. His body stirred against his will, and he turned his thoughts to food.

  He tore them off each a piece of bread and cheese, and they ate as they walked on, leaving their secluded paradise behind. Together, they headed out into the unknown.

  It was late that afternoon when Edmund and his men rode into the small farm. After looking about for a while, they finally located the farmer and his wife working the fields. Edmund did not give any thought to the fact that his horse was trampling the crops that they were working so hard to tend. He cared only that he had to find Dynna and the Viking—and soon.

  “Tell us, have you seen a man and a woman?” Edmund demanded.

  The peasant stared up at Sir Edmund. He wondered why he had come to them. “We have seen no one, my lord.”

  “And nothing unusual has happened?”

  At this the wife interrupted. “Tell him, Dorcas. Tell him about the missing food and clothing.”

  “Food? Clothing?” Sir Thomas repeated her words. “While we were working the fields yesterday, someone entered the house and took bread and cheese from our larder,” the man explained, “along with my extra tunic and pants. Odd, that. We saw no one and heard nothing.”

  “There was no trace of a trail? No hint to the direction the thief fled?”

  “None, my lord. It was near dark by the time we returned to the house, and by morning, whatever trail might have been there was lost.”

  Edmund glanced back at his men. “Spread out in all directions away from the fields. Search everywhere. Find them.”

  Sir Thomas assumed the lead. The men had been riding every daylight hour since the rain had stopped. Their horses were growing weary at the task, but there would be no quitting until the Black Hawk was found.

  Sir Edmund knew Hereld would be returning at any time, and no doubt soon after him the Vikings would come to pay the ransom. Time was of the essence. There could be no more mistakes made. They had to find the Black Hawk.

  It was near dark when one of the men came to the place by the stream where Brage and Dynna had crossed.

  “Here, Sir Edmund!” one man called. “They forded here!”

  Edmund’s avidness to find them intensified as he studied the bank and then rode his horse across to the other side. For the first time since leaving the tower, he knew they were closing in on them.

  His frustration had been great. He had tried to use the hounds, but the scent had been lost in the rain just as he had feared, and they had proved useless. Since then, it had been a matter of searching every possible route to Dynna’s parents’ home, and now finally, it would be only a matter of time before the Viking was back in his control and Dynna in his bed.

  “Do we search on or make camp for the night and begin anew with the morning?” Sir Thomas rode up beside Edmund in the clearing where the lord sat on his mount.

  Edmund wanted to continue, but he feared that if it grew too dark they might miss something. “We will stay the night here and ride on at first light.”

  “I will tell the men,” Sir Thomas replied.

  Alone again, Edmund dismounted and stared around. Only a short time before, Dynna had passed this way. He smiled a cruel smile. Soon he would have her back. Soon she would be his. The thought gave him respite for the night. Yet, knowing they were so close, he did not sleep well. He remembered his father’s stem admonishments to return as quickly as possible with the Viking. He vowed he would not rest easy until the Black Hawk was found.

  Dynna and Brage moved rapidly across the countryside, distancing themselves ever more from the tower. Still, no matter how many miles they crossed they both knew danger could be awaiting them as close as the top of the next hill.

  Brage had been hard pressed to keep his mind on their flight. He had never let a woman intrude on his thoughts when he was raiding. Yet he found himself constantly aware of Dynna. Memories of her loving were seared upon his soul and haunted him. No woman who had ever given so freely of herself, and none had satisfied him so completely. He found himself wanting to stay near her, to touch her every chance he could. These new emotions were foreign to him, and he had to battle them down. He could not allow himself to be distracted from keeping careful watch.

  Dynna had kept up with Brage as he walked at his fast, long-strided pace. Sh
e was exhausted but understood that he was driven, as she was, by the need to reach safety. She offered no protest to his speed but stayed with him. Occasionally, he would glance at her to make certain she was all right, and their eyes would meet. It was then that she could see he was remembering what had passed between them, and she would smile at him without saying a word. It was all the communication they needed. Brage would lead on again, taking the most difficult route to throw off anyone who dared to give chase.

  Near midday, they stopped to drink from a cool, clear stream and to rest for a while and share more of the bread and cheese. Brage had been thinking of Warren. He wanted to know more about him.

  “Tell me of your husband, Dynna,” he asked casually, though his feelings were hardly cool on the subject

  “What of him?” she returned with caution, not sure why he was asking.

  “What kind of man was he? Surely, he was nothing like Edmund.”

  “They were as different as the bright sun of the morning is from the black darkness of the night,” she said quickly in Warren’s defense. “My husband was a good man, kind of heart and generous with those he loved.”

  “Has he been dead long?”

  “Less than a year. A hunting accident took him unexpectedly. It was always my sorrow that I never had the chance to say good-bye to him.”

  Brage saw the real sadness in her eyes, and asked, “Did you love him?”

  “He was good to me, gentle and caring.”

  “But did you love him? Did you want the marriage to him?” Though he knew not why, it was so important to him to know the truth of her feelings for her dead husband.

  Before last night, Dynna would have quickly answered in the affirmative, but having spent hours of splendor sharing Brage’s lovemaking, she was no longer certain of anything. Struggling for an answer to his question, she replied, “My marriage to Warren was arranged for the benefit of both of our lands, but I had no objection to it.”

  Brage listened to her evasive response and still was uncertain of her feelings. It seemed that Dynna would not or could not tell him that which he wanted to know. Had she loved Sir Warren, he reasoned, she surely would have confessed as much. There was no shame in loving your spouse. The thought that she could not answer him straight out made Brage inexplicably happy.

  Dynna had suffered Brage’s questions, and now found herself wondering about his past. She suddenly worried that he might have a wife waiting for him. The possibility struck at the very heart of her.

  “Now there is a question I must ask you,” Dynna finally ventured, garnering enough strength to hear the news she expected—that a woman who loved him was keeping his home for him while he was off raiding.

  Brage’s brows rose at the tightness he heard in her voice. “What do you wish to know?”

  She paused to draw a breath before asking the dreaded query.

  “This worries you?”

  “If you have pledged yourself to another, what has passed between us would be wrong in the eyes of God and man.”

  He smiled softly at her honesty. “Do not fear, my Dynna. I have no wife to count the nights till my return or to mourn the news of my death.”

  Dynna did not attempt to hide her pleasure, and the smile that lit up her face sent a surge of desire coursing through Brage. He could not stop himself from going to her right then in the light of day and taking her in his embrace. He gazed down at Dynna for a long moment before kissing her. She responded without reserve, looping her arms around his neck as she clung to him. When at last Brage ended the kiss, they were both hungry for more. Only the knowledge that it was daylight and they might be discovered kept them apart.

  “We must go,” he said regretfully.

  They gathered their few possessions and headed onward toward the haven at the end of their journey.

  It was late before they stopped for the night. Darkness was settling its sheltering grace across the land as they finished off the last of their food. An aura of anticipation existed between them as they remembered the promise of the embrace they had shared at their midday meal.

  Dynna had been shocked to find herself burning with the need to be one with Brage. All afternoon she had followed his lead, her eyes constantly on him. She had marveled at his strength and endurance, watching the fluid way he moved even over the roughest terrain, watching the play of his muscles across his arms and back as he led the way. Occasionally, when their gazes had met she had seen in the depths of his intense blue-eyed regard the heat that had branded her last night, and knew that it had not been a dream.

  Dynna rose and without a word spread her gown out on the grass. Brage was confused by her action.

  “Is the gown still wet that you would spread it out again to dry? If so, the dew will dampen it even more by morning.”

  “It is already dry, my lord Viking.”

  “You do not wish to wear it again?” He had thought she would put it back on once it had dried. The material was of the finest and would wear far more softly on her fair skin than the peasant’s things.

  “I have found it is far easier for me to match your steps in these trousers. Matilda, I fear, would not approve of my brazenness, though,” she said, grinning at him as she found his gaze focused on her legs.

  Brage grinned back at her. Again, she was proving to be far different from any woman he had ever known. She was not the least concerned with her appearance, only with keeping her word to him that she would not slow them down. He closed the distance between them to hold her.

  “I approve most heartily of your brazenness,” he told her as he lifted her chin and claimed her lips in a hungry kiss. He felt complete now that he had her in his arms. “Then what is your game with the garment?”

  “I merely make your bed for your pleasure,” she told him huskily as she looked up at him.

  Hearing her words, passion flared in his eyes and the heat of it consumed him. She felt a shiver of excitement of her own frisson down her spine. He kissed her once more, and, at the touch of his lips, Dynna was lost.

  When they lay down together on the simple bed, they came together in a heated rush of desire that had been building between them all day. Their hands were eager as they caressed each other, and they rushed to strip away the garments that kept them apart. When at last all the barriers between them were gone, they became one.

  Brage sank within the depths of her body. He knew eventually he would be parted from her, and that realization brought an edge of desperation to their lovemaking, as if each sought that short time to feel free. They clung together, one in spirit and need, until the rapture of their release crested upon them. They collapsed together, spent, yet content, in each other’s arms.

  Dynna stared up at the star-studded night sky. She did not know how she had come to give herself so freely to a man who only a short time before had been her enemy. Yet, as she lay in the haven of his embrace, she felt no threat; instead, she felt as if nothing could harm her as long as she was with him.

  Her heart swelled as she realized they had only a short time left to be together. He would return to his own people, as she would go back to hers.

  “I want more of you, Brage,” she whispered, feeling more bold than ever before, for she had never before dared say such to a man.

  Her words were all the invitation Brage needed. He moved over her, claiming her body with his in one fiercely possessive move. She accepted him fully, glorying in the unity with him. His hands explored her silken flesh, tracing patterns of fire upon her, rousing her once again, until they were moving together in search of that ultimate fulfillment.

  Brage longed to tell her that he wanted her, too, yet he could not say it. They would be parted soon. He could not take her with him on his trek home. It would be far too dangerous. Far better that he saw her to her parents, and then left her there knowing she would be protected. It would not be easy to leave her behind, but he had no choice.

  They made love quickly and powerfully, and they were left br
eathless in the wake of the ecstasy that swept over them. They lay quietly together, their limbs entwined, celebrating the beauty of their loving, their hearts beating as one.

  They slept.

  When at dawn they awoke, the desire to remain in the quiet woodland, sharing their intimacy was near to overwhelming, but they both knew it was impossible. They could not forget the threat of Edmund.

  Brage held Dynna close for a long quiet moment before they gathered their things and started onward.

  They crossed several open fields that left them both nervous and watchful. They had no food and soon Brage would have to find more.

  It was just past the noon hour when Brage caught sight of the riders in the distance coming their way.

  “It is Edmund . . .” Dynna gasped, recognizing his steed from afar. She began to tremble, but knew this was no time to let her fears overrule her reason. They were at the edge of a forest, and Brage grabbed her arm and dragged her into the cover of the thick foliage.

  “Did they see us?” she asked, panting from the exertion of running beside him full speed through the tangled undergrowth. It reminded her dreadfully of that first day when she and Matilda had been trapped by Brage’s men. She could only pray that the same fate would not befall them this time.

  “I am not certain, but I will take no chance.”

  He ran on, never looking back, heading for the thickest brush. He knew it would be hard to track them there and difficult for the horses to maneuver. A ledge rose ahead of them, and though it did not offer much in the way of real protection for them, at least it would shield their backs as he made his stand against those who would attack them from the fore.

  “In here!” Brage ordered.

  Dynna was nearly exhausted, but she would not give up. Edmund was right behind them, and the terror of being taken by him again gave her the strength she needed.

  Brage pushed her into the protected area and stood staunch and ready before her. He held his sword in a death grip, his knuckles showing white as the tension of the coming battle filled him. He wondered how many men would come after him. He would not go back just to be slain. Better that he die here, weapon in hand and go to Valhalla than to be offered up in sacrifice to the Saxon’s devious and deadly plan.