“Of course.” She frowned. Was he criticizing her lack of experience? She’d been nervous enough, and she’d gotten it over with as quickly as possible. “It won’t happen again,” she promised. “You can go back to Clár with a clear conscience.” She tried to pull her hands back, but he refused to allow it.
“The problem is,” he said slowly, “I’ve been thinking about it ever since yesterday. And I don’t know why.”
Against her better judgment, her heartbeat quickened. She tried to keep her tone unassuming. “Gunnar, I meant nothing by it. Truly.”
Never in a thousand years would she admit to him that she had imagined him kissing her back, the way he’d kissed Clár. There was no reason to humiliate herself, not when it would never happen. Best to pretend it was of no importance.
Gunnar released her hands, but she didn’t move. He leaned in so that his mouth rested against her ear. “I don’t believe you.”
A chill rose upon her flesh, a tightness at the lie. His fingers moved lightly up her back, and an almost violent tremble poured through her. He was so close, she could smell the light scent of oak and wood ashes upon his skin.
She didn’t dare move, terrified he would stop. Within his posture, she sensed a mixture of interest and shielded anger at himself. It took everything she had to take a step away from him. “I’m going back now. And I think you should return to Clár.”
But he took her hands and trapped them against her own waist. She could feel his warm breath against her mouth.
“What are you doing, Gunnar?” she breathed.
“Damned if I know.”
There was hesitation in Auder’s eyes and a shocked awareness. Though there were a hundred thousand reasons why Gunnar shouldn’t kiss her, the doubts about Clár were growing darker. He liked the widow, but before he made any commitment to her, he needed to know if he was making a mistake. If perhaps, there should have been something more.
Auder’s gentle brush of lips lingered with him still. It had haunted him last night, and perhaps kissing her again would end all of the forbidden thoughts. It might solidify his decision to choose Clár and settle for a quiet, pleasant handfasting.
He slid his palms upon her nape. Strands of her hair had fallen about her face, despite the braids pulling it away from her cheeks. When he bent his mouth to hers, she caught her breath, their lips merging in softness. He nipped at her upper lip, coaxing her to open more.
She faltered at first, as though uncertain of what he wanted. But then, when he kissed her harder, she melted into him, her hips seeking his. Her arms wrapped around his neck, as though she needed him to keep her balance. The softness of her breasts pressed into his tunic, and he couldn’t stop the roar of desire that awakened.
She had an instinct of what to do, and as he deepened the kiss, her tongue slipped against his. “That’s right,” he encouraged her, threading his own tongue with hers.
Sleek and wet, she let him invade her mouth, kissing him back as though he were the only man left in the world. There was an eagerness, a willingness to please, that made him forget all the reasons he was courting Clár. His hands moved down Auder’s back, over her taut bottom. He kissed her until his mouth grew numb, until he caught himself rubbing his shaft against her, needing to satiate the rigid lust.
Gunnar let go, jerking away as though she’d caught fire. Auder’s breathing was unsteady, her shoulders trembling. Her hair hung over one shoulder, against the breasts he wanted to touch. He wanted to peel off her gown, to expose her skin and watch the nipples pebble in the wind. To take the tight buds into his mouth, making her moan with the same lust he was feeling right now.
God help him, he needed to cease this madness.
“Was that…a real kiss?” she ventured. She clenched her waist as though trying to hold herself together.
“I’m sorry.” He strode past her, to the exit of the souterrain, furious at himself for starting this. He’d been caught up by her innocence and the way she’d responded to him. If he hadn’t stopped himself, he’d have taken her right here, claiming her with his body.
Gunnar didn’t look back, for his thoughts were in complete disarray. He wished he’d never kissed Auder, for it had only driven home what he’d already suspected.
It couldn’t be Clár. Not anymore.
The light at the edge of the souterrain was shielded by the underbrush. The sound of voices outside caught his attention, and Gunnar’s hand went to the battleaxe at his waist.
Without warning, the branches moved, and men charged inside the souterrain.
“Auder, get out!” he roared, as he unsheathed the axe and swung hard.
They were going to kill him. She was sure of it. Auder didn’t know what power moved through her, but instead of obeying Gunnar, she ran for one of the torches near the ladder that led above to the cashel. If he couldn’t see, he couldn’t fight.
A scream tore from her throat as she raced with the torch, using it to illuminate the narrow passage. She saw the Norman soldiers, their swords drawn, as Gunnar defended the souterrain with his battleaxe and the shield he’d dropped earlier.
One of the soldiers tried to move past him, but Auder swung her torch, the fire nearly singeing the man’s beard. “Is this how you honor your lord’s alliance?” she demanded. “By sneaking into our cashel like thieving animals?”
The leader of the men met her gaze, his expression furious. “We could take this cashel by force within a few hours. Then there would be no need for an alliance.”
Gunnar shoved the point of his sword at the man’s throat. “Try it, and you’d be dead.”
Auder’s voice froze within her throat as the soldier dove away from the blade, slicing his sword at Gunnar’s stomach. At the last second, the man’s weapon bit into the wooden shield, and Gunnar slashed the battleaxe at the man’s face.
Auder watched in startled fascination as Gunnar unleashed the force of his rage, like one of the legendary berserkers. One of the Norman soldiers fell to the ground, and whether he was dead or alive, she didn’t know.
When she saw another soldier coming up from behind, she cried out a warning. Gunnar spun, and caught a shield against the side of his head. Blood poured from his temple, and God help her, she couldn’t let the soldiers harm him. Not when she held the power to stop it.
“Don’t,” she pleaded. “I am the woman betrothed to Lord Maraloch. Release Gunnar, and I will go with you back to your camp.”
She lifted the torch, meeting the leader’s gaze. “We will keep the alliance and avoid further bloodshed.” Swallowing hard, she stared at Gunnar. His expression was like stone, impenetrable and furious.
A movement from the souterrain exit caught their attention, and she saw Trahern arriving with half a dozen men. More of the Ó Reillys came from the ladder above, surrounding the Normans on both sides.
“Go back to Lord Maraloch,” Trahern ordered the soldiers. “And tell him that he will only have his bride if he honors our agreement for peace.” In the torchlight, the chieftain’s face was rigid with anger. “I will have words with him about this treachery.”
The Norman took a step backwards, never taking his eyes off Auder. As they departed, they took the wounded soldier with them, and then they were gone.
Auder rushed to Gunnar’s side, touching the blood at his temple. “Are you all right? Can you stand?”
Gunnar caught her wrist, his eyes burning into hers. “You’re not going to go through with this marriage, Auder.”
She didn’t answer him, for though it terrified her to be living among these men, worse was the thought of war between them and her clan. His blood stained her fingertips, and everything inside her clenched at the thought of Gunnar coming to harm.
“I don’t have a choice.”
Later that evening
The Bel fires blazed upon the hillsides, and the clouded sky held off its rain. As the night of Bealtaine began, the Dalrata tribe members mingled with the Ó Reilly clan. Trahern sat in the m
idst of everyone, preparing to entertain them all with his stories. After the attempted invasion earlier, the atmosphere among the people was strung tight. Both the Irish and the Norsemen took turns guarding the cashel, though it seemed the Normans had indeed gone.
Her mother Halma sat with Maeve Ó Reilly, a matron who loved to gossip. Maeve sent Auder a nod of approval and continued speaking with Halma. It was the first time in many weeks that she’d seen her mother smiling.
When she went to join them, Maeve reached out to take her hand. “You’ve done the right thing, Auder Ó Reilly. I’ve been telling Halma that I can think of no one more courageous to marry the Norman.”
“I’m still not so sure,” Halma began.
“Nonsense.” A mischievous smile perked at the matron’s mouth. “With her looks, she’ll have that Norman eating out of her hand after one wedding night.”
Auder didn’t believe that at all, but she wasn’t about to ruin Halma’s evening. For now, her mother looked content. Not nearly as alone as she’d been. And for that, she was grateful to Maeve.
“When I was married,” Maeve continued, “I kept my husband well satisfied. If I asked him to bring me the stars from the sky, he’d have tried his best to get them.” To Halma, she added, “Stop your worrying. She’s a brave girl, and you should be proud of her.”
“I am,” Halma said. And with the soft words of praise, tears brimmed in Auder’s eyes.
“It’s going to be all right, Mother,” she said. “Enjoy yourself tonight.”
When she left the two women alone, she blinked until the tears faded away. Maeve’s prediction couldn’t be further from the truth. Auder knew she thoroughly lacked the ability to please a husband.
Her doubts multiplied until she found herself walking toward the storytelling. She saw Morren moving among the people, seeing that everyone had enough food and drink while Trahern settled back to begin his tales.
The chieftain’s voice took on a mystical quality as he transformed the mood of the clan, capturing them in the spell of his words. As the evening drifted into night, children began falling asleep in their mothers’ arms. Trahern took his wife’s hand, and pulled her to his side. It was as if he drew strength and comfort from Morren, and Auder envied the love between them.
Would any man ever look at her in that way, as though she meant the world to him? The weight of her betrothal vow grew more difficult to bear, for she suspected the marriage was of little importance to the baron. He’d never even seen her face, though he’d agreed to wed her.
She forced her thoughts back to Trahern’s story, wishing she could lose herself within it. She needed to hear the tales, to drown out her fears of tomorrow.
Trahern spoke of a young woman named Sinead who was taken by the faeries when she neglected to give them an offering on the night of Bealtaine. “Her lover Kel went in search of her for a hundred nights,” he continued, his voice weaving its spell. “No matter how long it took or how many miles he had to go, he swore to find her. For she belonged to him in this world and the next.”
A strange prickle formed upon her neck while Auder listened to the story. Across the cashel, she saw Gunnar standing with Clár. The widow was speaking to him, and seeing them together broke something inside Auder. Though it shouldn’t have made any difference, she couldn’t stop the suffocating disappointment. It seemed that the kiss Gunnar had given her meant nothing, despite the feelings it had aroused.
She meant nothing to him.
Auder retreated from the crowd, needing to be alone with her bruised feelings. In the distance, she saw Gunnar watching her, an unreadable expression on his face. Nothing about her feelings was rational or reasonable. Her mind was in disarray, and her anger with Gunnar kept growing higher.
She wished he’d never kissed her a second time. Torches flared in the darkness, and for a long time, she stared at the rippling flames, trying to calm her wayward heart. Within the shadows, she found her refuge, turning her face away from everyone.
She returned to the gates, watching the darkness that lay beyond the torches. Were the soldiers still there? Or had they gone back to Maraloch?
She started walking over to the sentries, when a low voice resonated from behind her. “Don’t move another step.”
Gunnar had never felt so blindingly angry as right now. “Where are you going, Auder?”
“I don’t even know anymore.” There was a wrenching pain in her eyes, as though she were about to shatter. “It’s hard for me to watch the men and women going off alone together. My fate isn’t the same as theirs.”
“Then tell Trahern you won’t marry Maraloch. You have that choice.”
A single tear rolled down her cheek. Then another. “I’m not trying to martyr myself, Gunnar…But I don’t believe I can say no. Not after what happened earlier.” She tried to venture a smile and took his hand.
“You can’t trust them, Auder.” He needed her to understand it, to refuse the alliance. This was no longer about his friend endangering herself—it was his own unexpected jealousy. He didn’t want any man touching Auder. Not anymore.
He ignored the warnings that resounded through his brain, and claimed her mouth once again. Within her innocence, he tasted something else. A yearning, as though she needed him tonight. He kissed her back, letting the thunderous desire claim him, and she responded in a way that tore his control apart.
The pale silver moonlight illuminated the cashel and the surrounding land. Upon the hillside, the bonfires blazed, while in the distance lay the threat of the Normans. Gunnar didn’t care about them or anyone else. Right now, he needed to convince Auder that she could never consider giving herself up. He wanted her in a way he hardly understood. It went beyond the casual friendship they’d shared or his desire to keep her safe.
Breaking free of the kiss, he held her closely. She trembled within his embrace. “Gunnar,” she whispered. “This isn’t right.”
He drew her to face him, locking his hands around her face. Her blue-green eyes were fringed with tears, her lips swollen from where he’d kissed her.
“I’m not letting you go.” He spoke the command while keeping her imprisoned in his arms. “You’re staying with me.”
“What about Clár?” she asked. Within her question, he sensed her unrest and belief that he didn’t truly want her.
“I told her that we wouldn’t suit any longer,” he said, running his mouth against her throat. “It’s why I spoke with her earlier, though she already suspected it.”
With his hands, Gunnar loosened the tie that bound her braid, bringing her hair to spill over her shoulders. “I want to know what sort of spell you’ve cast over me. Why my blood rises at the sight of you.” He leaned in, his mouth grazing hers in another kiss. “I want to know the woman who was standing in front of me all these months, the woman I was too blind to see. I’m not going to let anyone take you away.”
The need to claim her, to mark her as his, was rising hard within him. He invaded her mouth with his tongue, leaving her with no doubt of how much he wanted her.
Something about Auder had captivated him. When he’d seen her starting to surrender herself to the Normans, a primitive urge had taken him with no warning. He didn’t understand what it was, but this night, he intended to use every means to change her mind. Even seduction.
Breaking free of her kiss, he demanded, “If you tell me no, I’ll take you back to the others this very moment.” His hands rested at her waist, waiting for some sign. When she didn’t move, his hands moved up to cradle her face. “Or I’m going to touch you the way I’ve wanted to since the day you returned to Glen Ocham.”
Her lips were wet, her eyes wild as she stared at him. It had happened so fast, she could hardly breathe. Gunnar’s gray eyes were the color of smoke, his shadowed face fierce with sexual need. Tonight, there would be far more than a single kiss, if she allowed it.
Did she dare? Though her feelings ran deep, she knew what had to happen in the morning. She couldn�
�t abandon this alliance, despite her personal misgivings. She stared back at the torches outlining the cashel. Tomorrow, she would offer herself to protect her friends and family.
But tonight belonged to her.
She could stay with Gunnar, letting him do as he wished. Already she sensed that it would be different with him, that she would not disappoint him as she had her previous lover. The aching need and desire ran deep. She admitted to herself that Gunnar was the man she wanted more than any other, the man she’d dreamed of. She might never again have this chance.
She’d always felt so awkward and clumsy around men, never knowing how to behave. Reaching up to his face, she ran her fingers from his temple down his jaw. “I should say no to you.”
“But you’re not going to. You know this was meant to happen between us.”
Beneath her fingertips, she felt his pulse flaring. And when she leaned in to kiss him, it was as if she’d unleashed a storm. He devoured her mouth, cupping her bottom and nestling her hips close to his. The length of his desire rested between them, and she shivered at the thought of joining with him.
“I want to stay with you,” she whispered. “Even though I know it’s wrong.”
The air was growing cooler, and Gunnar held her close, warming her with the heat of his skin. “Come with me while I get a horse.”
“Why? Where are you taking me?”
“Far away from everyone else,” he swore. “Tonight, I want no one to interrupt us.”
The long ride was dangerous in the darkness, but Gunnar used the moonlit river to guide them. He brought her to a grove of trees, several miles south of the cashel, and far from the place where the Norman soldiers had made camp. “I’m going to build a fire,” he told her.
He removed his cloak and spread it on the ground. Auder helped him gather branches and within another half hour, he had a warm fire licking at the wood.
Against the flames, his silhouette reminded her of a conqueror, bold and demanding. She understood that the time for changing her mind was long past. This was a man who intended to claim her, and a surge of desire held her unable to grasp the threads of reason.
Pleasured by the Viking Page 3