‘You’re keeping me because it suits you and because you hate to be thwarted.’
‘Question my motives if you wish. It won’t change the outcome.’
‘Probably not.’
She moved away from him and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over herself. Leif made no reply, though his face was thunderous. He finished undressing and doused the lamp. A few moments later the bed creaked and she felt the mattress shift beneath his weight. Although he made no move to touch her, she could feel anger flowing off him. Silence thickened around them until she could hear the blood beating in her ears. Her throat tightened. Once she would have given anything to hear those words from him, to believe he really did want her for herself, but that was wishful thinking. The woman he really wanted was lost and his anger was rooted in that knowledge. She could only ever be second-best. To fall for glib assurances would be naïve indeed. He already had too much advantage; she wasn’t about to hand him that one as well.
* * *
Leif lay awake for a long time, staring into the darkness. He hadn’t expected Astrid to be overjoyed by his decision to keep her with him but he’d never imagined the construction she would put on his words. Did she really believe him to be such a monster? That he wanted to spend the rest of his life destroying hers? His jaw tightened. Somehow he was going to have to disabuse her of that notion. It was his fault for allowing a note of teasing to creep into their earlier conversation. He shouldn’t have done that but, at the time, hadn’t been able to resist it. It had never occurred to him that she would swallow it whole. As to the rest, she was staying with him whether she liked it or not: his enemies couldn’t touch her here.
He sighed. It wasn’t just about her safety, important as that was. It was more that he couldn’t imagine being without her. After the disaster of his marriage he’d never imagined he might one day come to feel such a depth of attraction again. But, from the day he’d met her, he hadn’t been able to put Astrid out of his mind. Marriage was not his intention and he’d said so, but he had wanted more than a brief casual liaison. Back then he’d believed that the surest way to quench passion was to satisfy it. Yet far from getting her out of his system it had only deepened desire. She was under his skin, in his blood. He wanted hers to be the first face he saw when he woke and the last one he saw before he slept. Somewhere along the line desire had become fused with need. He would keep her because he had to. She belonged with him. You mean I belong to you. He grimaced. Both were true and, eventually, he would make her understand that.
* * *
The hangings were pulled aside and a gust of cool night air swirled into the tent as the man entered. The lamplight shone softly on his helmet and the naked sword in his hand. Astrid started up on to one elbow, her heart thumping as he advanced nonchalantly towards the bed. When he reached it he stopped, looking down at her for a moment. Her throat dried. She wanted to run but the fur coverlet was all that lay between her and intruder. Beneath it she was naked. Wide-eyed she watched him sheathe the blade and remove the helm, tossing it aside, but with the light behind him his face was in shadow, familiar but unidentified. Without taking his gaze off her he unfastened his sword belt and let it fall. The studded leather tunic followed and then, unhurriedly, the rest of his clothing before he joined her beneath the furs. She slid away from him to the far side of the bed but he reached for her waist and drew her back again. Her protest was silenced by a kiss. Gradually her mouth yielded to his, opening to receive his tongue. Strong warm hands caressed her skin, hands whose touch both alarmed and aroused. She stirred restlessly but he continued to explore her, the touch bolder, moving to her sex. He drew a finger lightly through the slickness there. She gasped as, deep inside her, warmth flared into being...
She opened her eyes to grey dawn light. The tent was gone, and the shadows, but not the man. This time when she looked into his face she knew who he was.
‘Leif.’
As memory began to return, it was accompanied by confusion as her mind tried to separate dream from reality. The hard-muscled body was present in both, like the bed and the fur coverlet against her skin. She frowned. When she had retired last night she had been wearing her shift; now she wasn’t. As she glanced at her nakedness confusion was replaced by indignation.
Leif had no trouble interpreting the expression. ‘The shift was in the way so I removed it.’
‘Why, you...’
The words ended on a sharp intake of breath as his mouth closed over the peak of her breast and sucked gently.
‘Leif?’
‘Mmm?’
‘It’s not going to work.’ She suppressed a shiver as the nipple hardened under his tongue. ‘If you think I’m going to...that I’ll...’ She gasped and the rest of the sentence became incoherent.
His mouth travelled a little higher, kissing her neck and throat. Where his lips touched the skin seemed to burn. Meanwhile the delicious stroking sensation continued.
She swallowed hard. The man was outrageous, utterly without conscience. He couldn’t be allowed to get away with this. He gently tugged the lobe of her ear, sending a shiver through her flesh. She ought to resist, make him stop.
His fingers found the nub they had been seeking, and stroked gently. Her breathing quickened and suddenly she didn’t want him to stop. Deep in her body’s core the warmth intensified and became heat with a coil of tension at its heart. Her blood raced. She closed her eyes, reaching for the elusive sensation she had felt before. The tension increased and rippled outwards, sending a tremor the length of her. It was followed by another, stronger this time. She gasped as her body shuddered beneath his hand.
‘Merciful gods!’
He entered her then, slowly, letting the length of him slide into her, but she was impatient now, hungry for what she sensed was almost within reach. Instinctively she closed her legs around him, pulling him deeper. Still he made her wait, teasing, tantalising, building the fire inside her, taking her with him. Astrid writhed, arching against him, her nails raking his back.
‘Leif, please...I beg you...’
The words caught in her throat but her gaze spoke what she could not, the violet eyes darkened now with desire and with aching need. The rhythm increased and he thrust deeper and the coiled heat in her pelvis became exquisite, lifting her, carrying her with it to the edge of a precipice. Leif let go of restraint and the tension exploded outwards in shock waves of pleasure—and with a cry she went over the edge with him into free fall and heart-stopping delight so intense she thought she would die. For a moment the blue-grey gaze burned into hers, fierce and ardent. Then she felt him shudder and heard him cry out before the last deep rush of release. Panting, overwhelmed, she closed her eyes, every part of her resonating to him, sated yet burning too, stunned by the response he had drawn from her. This time it went far deeper than mere physical possession; this time he had stolen her soul and she was now irretrievably lost. Mingled with that was the knowledge that he would take this in his stride; that she was just another conquest in every sense of the word. His emotions were not engaged. He loved someone else and she wished with all her heart that it were not so.
* * *
Leif glanced down at the woman drowsing in his arms and then closed his eyes too, surrendering to temporary physical torpor. He’d long since recognised the inherent sensuality in her nature and had set himself the challenge of arousing it. By catching her off guard and totally relaxed he’d finally been able to overcome all resistance as he’d hoped. Nevertheless, the experience had been beyond his wildest expectation. His entire being reverberated with it and yet satiety had not displaced desire. On the contrary...
* * *
Some time afterwards Astrid was woken by a hand stroking the small of her back. She opened her eyes to see Leif watching her, the expression in his eyes unmistakable. The look set her flesh tingling but in her mind all the old doubts re-awakened. He was an experienced lover, and if he had gone to so much trouble to give her pleasure it had been for a reason. He
must have known what the result would be, the mental turmoil it was going to create. It could not have been accidental.
‘Why are you doing this, Leif?’
‘You must have guessed by now.’
The words reinforced all her former suspicions. ‘Have you no mercy?’
The blue-grey eyes glinted. ‘None,’ he replied.
Astrid stiffened and would have pulled away but the hand on her back prevented it. He surveyed her in surprise.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
‘I’m not doing this, Leif.’
He smiled. ‘Would you care to wager on that?’
‘I mean it.’ She sat up, clutching the coverlet close. ‘You’ve had your fun.’
His smile faded a little. ‘I was under the impression it was fun for you too.’
‘That’s not the word I was going to use.’
‘Oh? Then what word would you choose?’
‘I could give you quite a few: incredible, wonderful, heart-stopping...it was all of those things.’ She turned to look at him. ‘It was also cynical and ruthless.’
Leif propped himself on an elbow. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Don’t try to deny it. You did it on purpose.’
‘Of course I did it on purpose. It was intended to give you pleasure. Why is that cynical and ruthless?’
‘You know why.’
‘No, I don’t. Explain it to me.’
‘Stop this, Leif.’
She tried to turn away but he caught hold of her shoulders, holding her fast. ‘Stop what? What is this about?’
‘Can you pretend you didn’t know what the effect was going to be? That the whole thing wasn’t just an exercise in emotional manipulation?’
‘The effect was exactly what I hoped it would be,’ he replied, ‘though I’ve never heard it described in that way.’
Astrid tried unsuccessfully to free herself. ‘You wanted my feelings to be more deeply engaged and you deliberately set out to do it.’
‘That’s right.’ He tipped her backwards, pinning her there, his gaze locked with hers. ‘And before I’m done your feelings will be so deeply engaged you’ll never look at another man or think of one either. You’ll belong to me, body and soul.’
Astrid struggled, fighting his hold. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
His grip didn’t alter. ‘Above all else.’
‘Of course you would.’
He frowned. ‘I think you’d better explain that.’
‘How delicious it must be to have your captive fall for you; how very gratifying. Yet it won’t stop you from breaking her heart later.’
He paled and the expression in his eyes caused a host of winged creatures to take flight in her stomach.
‘I’d like to think I had the power to break your heart, but I’m not so deluded.’
‘You’re not interested in my heart. The one you want is lost.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Your wife. She’s the woman you can’t forget.’
He released his hold abruptly. ‘You’re quite right. I can’t forget her no matter how hard I try.’
Astrid sat up. ‘She’s the reason you’ve never remarried, isn’t she? Why you avoid all but temporary involvement with women?’
‘It’s not your concern.’
‘Ten years is a long time.’
‘Not long enough.’
‘Why did she leave you, Leif?’
‘Let it go, Astrid.’
‘Was it after Sigurd died?’
‘You speak of what you don’t know.’ He swung his legs over the side of the bed and, retrieving his clothing, began to dress.
‘Have I come too near the truth?’
His expression was chilling. ‘Not another word.’
She fell silent, wanting to pursue it and knowing she’d better not. It had already gone too far. He finished dressing and, pausing only to give her a last icy stare, he departed.
Astrid collapsed on to the bed, her heart thumping unpleasantly fast. She’d never meant to goad him so far, but somehow hadn’t been able to help herself. All the same, she derived no pleasure from his reaction. It was like probing a wound, and she knew it caused him pain. It had also confirmed what she’d suspected: his wife was the only woman ever to have won his heart. She shared it with their dead son. That would never change and that was what hurt.
Until now she had never known what it was to be jealous, but then, she had never loved before. She’d spent so long fighting the attraction that she had failed to call it by its right name. Self-deception was no longer possible. Last night had stripped away the last shreds of pretence. It had also left her more vulnerable than she had ever been.
* * *
Leif quit the hall and went out into the early morning air. It was fresh and cool and peaceful, unlike the bed of thorns he had just left. How was it possible to share such soul-shaking intimacy one moment and then be at daggers drawn the next? The accusations she had made were still ringing in his ears. It had stung to know that she really believed him capable of the kind of ruthless, emotional manipulation she had described. Mingled with that was a twinge of guilt. His earlier motivation had been highly questionable but it had been informed by red-hot anger. He’d also been so certain of the justice of his actions. So much had changed since then, changes so gradual he’d scarcely been aware of them but they’d taken place and they were profound.
As for the rest... The vixen was so skilled at finding all the chinks in his armour. She seemed to know just where to thrust the knife. He sighed. The wounds were only superficially closed, which was why he’d overreacted. Old habits became ingrained. His had been to bury the past and never to speak of it, but doing so had not laid the ghosts. Astrid had recognised that, even though she was wrong about so many other things.
He let out another long breath. This whole situation was beginning to spiral out of control and allowing himself to get angry and defensive would solve nothing. You have no idea who I am. The charge she had levelled at him not so long ago was also applicable the other way round. However, he could do something about that. He hadn’t found the words before, but now they were welling up thick and fast and he was good and ready to spit them out. Perhaps then he could put an end to this situation once and for all. Making up his mind, he strode back into the hall.
Astrid was still abed, although she wasn’t asleep. She looked up as he entered, evidently startled. He noted it with satisfaction. It wouldn’t hurt to have the vixen on the back foot for a change. At least he might get a chance to say what needed to be said before she leapt in with more accusations. He picked up her shift and gown and tossed them over.
‘Get up.’
Chapter Nineteen
Astrid eyed him with misgivings. He had rarely seemed more forbidding than he did now, his anger the worse for being cold. It was tempting to ignore that arrogant command, but she knew she didn’t dare. She donned her shift and slid out of bed, keenly aware of his scrutiny the while. The gown and overdress followed in short order and she slid her feet into shoes. Her hair was still loose but he seemed not to notice or at least not to heed it. Taking hold of her arm, he hustled her out of the sleeping quarters.
When they got outside Astrid darted a covert look at his face. ‘Where are we going?’
‘You’ll see.’
The reply was not calculated to inspire confidence, nor was the grip on her arm. His stride was so long that she was compelled almost to run to keep up. He led her away from the buildings towards the pasture and thence along the track to the burial ground. Apprehension prickled.
‘Leif, what are you about?’
He vouchsafed no reply but strode on. By the time they reached the place she was panting and her heart hammering. Without a word he drew her through the gateway and thence to the edge of Sigurd’s grave. She shivered.
‘Why have you brought me here?’
‘Because I have things to say and you’re going to hea
r me out.’
Astrid licked dry lips. ‘What things?’
‘It’s time to straighten out some of your misconceptions about the past. My past.’
‘Leif, I didn’t mean...’
His gaze burned into hers. ‘You wanted to know about my wife and son, did you not?’
She nodded, dumbly aware now of having trespassed in a dangerous place. At the same time, she wanted to hear what he had to say, wanted to understand. Besides, they’d come too far to retreat now. Slowly some of the fire went out of his eyes and he slackened his hold on her arm.
‘I told you my marriage was a love match and so it was, at first. For a year or so we were as happy as any two people could be. When Thora told me she was carrying our child I was overjoyed.’ He paused. ‘It seemed as though the gods had favoured us in every way. She was delivered of a beautiful, healthy boy.’
‘Sigurd.’
‘Yes, Sigurd. He was...perfect. I thought no man ever had so fine a son.’
Astrid smiled wistfully. The domestic happiness he described was what she had once wished for herself.
‘But, after the baby was born, everything began to go wrong. Thora sank into a deep melancholy. The older women said that it sometimes happened after the birth of a child and that she would come out of it. Only she didn’t.’ He sighed. ‘Nothing I could do or say made any difference. Indeed she developed an aversion to me and to our marriage bed. She couldn’t even bear me to touch her. She also resented the child.’
‘The child?’
‘She didn’t want to pick him up when he cried or change his cloth or talk to him or play with him or do any of the other things a mother usually does with her baby. She hated feeding him. She asked why he should demand her milk when he’d already had her blood.’
Astrid stared at him, appalled. ‘What did you do?’
‘Some of the other women rallied round to help where they could. The child drank goat’s milk in the end but he seemed to thrive on it well enough.’
‘I have heard of this,’ she said.
‘I still hoped that all might yet be well and that Thora’s dark mood would pass, but instead it grew deeper, blacker.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I did not know how black until one night she put poison in my food.’
Defiant in the Viking's Bed Page 18