Miranda's Viking

by Maggie Shayne

  He found he could scarcely force the words from his lips, but he made himself. He hadn't been aware how much more he wanted from her than simply to bed her. He wanted to have her as his exclusively, he realized now, to have the right to kill Morsi for touching her.

  "Is it that you prefer his touch to mine? Am I so much more detestable to you that—"

  She sat up quickly. "Is that what you think? Did it look to you like I wanted his filthy hands on me?"

  "You did not seem to fight his touch, Miranda. Not the way you do mine, at least."

  "If you thought I was enjoying myself so much, why did you interrupt?"

  The bitterness and the anger in her voice stunned him. He knew full well she hadn't welcomed Morsi's touch. He was only reacting to his unfounded jealousy. Yet he couldn't seem to stop himself. "I'll not trouble myself again, lady." She lowered her head, such sadness in her expression that he wished he could recall his impulsive words. She rose from his bed, her gaze on the floor as she moved toward the door. When she reached for it, Rolf's hand shot out to grip her wrist. "Wait."

  Her head came up, eyes glittering with anger. She wrenched her wrist from his grasp, slamming her other palm into his chest with such force he actually staggered backward. He stood there, searching her face.

  "You see why I am confused, Miranda? I am twice Morsi's size. Where was this ferocity when he was mauling you?"

  The anger faded. Her face became softer, her eyes seeming to search inwardly. "I… was too afraid. I wanted to fight him, but I—" She stopped, slowly shaking her head.

  "Are you not afraid to strike out at me? Miranda, I am a powerful man. I could do you a good deal more harm than that puny dog could."

  Her eyes met his and she denied his words quickly. "No, you couldn't. You wouldn't. Maybe that's the key to my reactions. I lash out at you because I feel safe in doing so. I know you won't hurt me."

  Rolf drew his brows together in bewilderment. "He is a civilized man of your time. I am a murdering barbarian from the past. How is it you feel safe with me?"

  She lifted her gaze, her eyes haunted. "Every age has its barbarians, Rolf. Even mine."

  "Do I see him touch you again, Miranda, I do not believe I can stop myself killing him."

  She almost smiled at the warmth that spread within her at the ferocity in his tone. Surely this was what every woman must crave—a man like this one, ready to kill for her at a moment's notice, even though she prayed he wouldn't take it that far. "Then you didn't mean what you said… that you wouldn't bother helping me next time."

  "I meant none of what I said to you. I was angry."

  "Why?"

  He turned from her, pushing both hands through his golden hair, lifting it from his shoulders as his fingertips raked his scalp. "I dislike the notion that you might prefer another man's touch. Or even that you might loathe the touch of another less than you loathe mine."

  Miranda was stunned by his admission. "Really?"

  He nodded, facing her again with a grin that was slightly sheepish. "I was not aware you honored me by feeling safe in battering me."

  She swallowed hard, licked her lips. "I don't loathe your touch, Rolf."

  His brows rose in disbelief. "No?"

  "No," she said, shaking her head.

  "But in your car—"

  "It wasn't your touch that frightened me," she forced herself to say.

  "I do not understand."

  "I know." She wished she could explain, but she couldn't. Not unless she wanted to see Jeff tossed overboard and Rolf behind bars. Reluctantly she gripped the door handle. "I should go."

  "Nei." Rolf placed his hand over hers. "You will sleep here tonight."

  As propositions went, she thought, it wasn't exactly poetic. "I'm not sure I'm ready for—"

  "It matters not. You say you trust that I will not harm you. I know it to be true. Of Morsi, I am not so certain. He looks at you with anger, with rage." He stared so intensely into her eyes she shuddered with the force of his gaze. "Will you tell me yet what went between you?"

  "Between… Jeff and me?"

  He nodded curtly. "You intended once to wed him. Why did you not?"

  She looked away. "Marrying Jeff would have been the worst mistake of my life."

  "On this we agree." Rolf cupped her cheek, turning her to face him. "You did not part as friends."

  "No. The truth is, we were engaged for six months. During that time we… well, we slept together. I never… I didn't—" She broke off lamely. It was difficult to speak so frankly about something she'd never discussed with anyone.

  "Morsi was not able to pleasure you," Rolf filled in with uncanny insight.

  She nodded, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks. "I was ashamed, so I hid it. I… I pretended."

  "Ashamed? Why, Miranda?"

  "I thought I must be frigid. My father was constantly telling me that I wasn't like other women. That a career was all I needed in my life. That a husband and a family could never make me happy. My time with Jeff was… was my last-ditch effort to prove him wrong. Instead it seemed like I'd only confirmed what my father had been saying all along." Miranda crossed the room, sinking onto the edge of the bed. "I got tired of pretending and decided to tell Jeff the truth." She averted her face from Rolf's all-seeing gaze. "He didn't take it well."

  With an expression of deep concern, Rolf came to her. He caught her chin, tilting her head up as he searched her eyes. "Miranda, what—"

  "Would you mind if we didn't talk about it anymore right now? Please, Rolf?"

  Eyes narrowing, he nodded at last. "I do not trust Morsi. Will you stay here tonight, under my protection?" She hesitated, not because she was thinking it over, but because he'd asked her, rather than ordered her to stay. Mistaking her pause, he hurried on. "I'll not rest do you return alone to your cabin, Miranda. You may rest upon my bed. By my sword, I will not touch you. Only watch over you."

  "Yes, all right. I should go to my cabin for a nightgown, though." She rose as she spoke, but found her legs oddly watery. Whether from reaction to Jeff's assault or nervousness, she didn't know.

  "Your knees wobble too much to walk, and I've no desire to leave you unguarded while I fetch the garment for you. Here." He handed her the oversize robe she had bought for him, and promptly turned his back to her.

  She began unbuttoning her blouse, but her fingers trembled and she swore softly at her clumsiness. He faced her at once. In two steps he stood before her. His hands closed on the front of her blouse and he gently released each button. His gaze dropped to the swell of her breasts, now visible above the lace-edged cups of her bra. He cleared his throat and turned away once more. "You may wish to consider making me sleep beyond the door, lady. Plague of the North or not, a man would have difficulty remaining honorable when you lie so close."

  She peeled off the blouse, shimmied out of her slacks and pulled on the robe. Tying the belt around her waist, she said simply, "I trust you." She slipped into the bed and pulled up the covers.

  Rolf faced her again. "It amazes me that you do. I am still unsure I believe it." He took an extra blanket from the foot of the bed and threw it over his shoulders like a cape. When he'd settled down directly in front of the door, Miranda studied him, feeling guilty for making him sleep on the hard floor.

  "Well, it's true. I trust you. If you want to share the bed, I won't object."

  He closed his eyes as if in pain. "Think before you speak, woman. Have you not yet realized how much I want you?"

  She sat up, tilted her head to one side. "You do? I can't understand it."

  He laughed very deep in his throat. "That you have no idea how desirable you are only makes you more so, Miranda. Do you allow me in that bed, you'd do well to sleep with your gun beneath the pillow. The blade, as well, perhaps."

  She smiled a little. "You underestimate yourself. You wouldn't touch me if I objected."

  His blue eyes raked her. "There is much about yourself you do not know."

  "Li
ke what?"

  "There is a fire that burns inside you, lady. I have felt its heat. I think, perchance, you would not object at all."

  Chapter 13

  She studied his face, feeling the warmth of his gaze and sensing the desire behind it. "Do you really believe that?" she asked, shaken by his observation.

  "I do."

  She shook her head quickly. "Rolf, some women simply don't respond—"

  "This I know. You are not one of those women, Miranda."

  "How can you know that? I told you, I'm not inexperienced. I never felt anything with Jeff."

  "When Morsi kissed you, you felt nothing?"

  Her gaze fell to her hands clenched in her lap. "No. Nothing."

  "And when I kissed you?"

  Her gaze rose slowly then and locked with his. "I… I felt…"

  "You see, lady? The problem before was in him, not in you."

  She took that in with silent wonder. Could he be right?

  For so long she'd considered herself immune to desires of the flesh. It boggled her mind to think she might not be. But she had begun thinking it, and to know he thought it, as well, gave added credence to the idea. When Rolf had held her, had touched her, she realized that she had felt something… something powerful. A tingling awareness throughout her body, a tight ball of longing deep within her. She drew a deep breath and held it. She wanted to explore these new feelings. She wanted Rolf to be the one to guide her. No one else would do, for no one else made her feel this way.

  "Rolf?" His head lifted once more. "I want you to kiss me again."

  He rose to his feet, the blanket falling from his shoulders like a cascade. Slowly he came to the bed and lowered himself onto its edge. She waited, sitting straighter as he leaned forward, his arms braced on either side of her. His lips came to hers lightly, teasingly. He nibbled the lower one, suckled it softly. Then his arms closed around her and he kissed her deeply. His tongue swept into her mouth as it had done before, and it elicited the same response.

  Miranda considered the sensations crashing through her, trying to analyze each one. Her arms crept around his neck and she pressed herself closer. When his head lifted from hers, his eyes glittered with unmistakable passion. Her voice hoarse, she whispered, "My God, you're right. I do feel it."

  "It is only a whisper of what you could feel, Miranda. Do you allow me, I would show you."

  She licked her lips tasting him on them. She nodded once, and closed her eyes as she waited. His strong hands slipped beneath the covers, tugged the belt loose. They returned to her shoulders and pushed the fabric down over her arms. Her eyes fluttered open to find his hooded and focused on her breasts.

  "You are beautiful, Miranda." He slid the back of his fingers downward over her breasts. When the roughened skin skimmed her nipples she sucked in a breath. She felt them harden as he turned his hands over to cup her in his palms. Then, so gently she marveled, he rolled the taut crests between his thumbs and forefingers. A shudder rocked her, and as her head tilted backward, his moved lower. His lips closed over one nipple and she gasped again. Tenderly he suckled her, and in a moment Miranda realized that her hands had gone to the back of his head to hold him closer. Rolf lifted his head, a look of wonder in his eyes. "You wish me to stop, Miranda? Speak it now, if you do."

  Too breathless to speak, she shook her head from side to side.

  He pressed her gently back until she was lying flat. Slowly, giving her time to object, she thought, he pulled the covers from her. She wore nothing now, and she squirmed inwardly as his heated gaze moved over her from head to toe with agonizing deliberation. "How did I ever mistake you for Adrianna?" he whispered. "Her beauty pales beside yours."

  Again he leaned over her, suckling her breasts, nibbling them, flicking his tongue over her nipples until she was panting with a longing she'd never felt before. One hand slid lower, his palm flat on her belly. His fingers tangled in her soft curls, then circled down, until they parted her. He touched a hidden spot with his forefinger and her eyes flew wide at the surge of sensation.

  Slowly he lay down beside her, his right hand still sending spirals of heat through her. His lips lingered over her throat; his tongue laved her skin. He caught her earlobe in his teeth and worried it softly. His fingers moved lower, leaving that magical place he'd discovered to slip easily inside her. She felt the dampness there and wondered at it. But as his fingers probed more deeply, she tensed with the anticipation of what was to come.

  "Relax, my lady. I only seek to show you pleasure, hmm? Relax and allow it. Do not think or worry. Only feel. Feel my touch. Never would I harm you. You need only tell me to stop, and I will."

  She closed her eyes and his mouth traced a path along her jawline to find her lips again. He kissed her harder this time, demanding greater access, thrusting his tongue deep within her and touching off fires all through her.

  When he moved again to her breasts, she writhed with pleasure and yet she felt fear. He must have sensed it, for he stopped and searched her face. "Miranda… let me pleasure you. By the gods, I will not harm you. I will not remove a stitch of my clothing unless you ask it. I swear by Thor's hammer."

  She had no clue how he could continue making love to her without removing his clothes, but she consented with a brisk nod. He was pushing her to a realm beyond the one she knew. Her body was taking over, sending urgent messages to her brain.

  Again he resumed his exquisite torture of her breasts until her nipples throbbed with longing. But his mouth left them to the chill air and moved downward. His tongue traced wet paths over her belly and probed her navel. She whimpered with suppressed desire as he persisted, licking a hot trail over her abdomen.

  Her hips moved against her will, and then his hands were gripping them, pulling her around sideways and toward the bed's edge. Vaguely she realized he'd shifted position until he was on the floor, kneeling. He gently spread her thighs open and bowed his head between them.

  She felt his mouth, his hot breath caressing her most intimate spot. Then his fingers parted her and his tongue touched her in ways she'd never dreamed of. He pressed his face to her, as if he, too, were deriving the same exquisite pleasure he was giving to her. He drank from her, like a man dying of thirst, desperately. Her fingers tangled in his hair. His hand moved upward, arms reaching until he caught her nipples again in his merciless fingers.

  Moving his mouth away only slightly, he spoke with an air of command. "Give me your sweetness, Miranda. Let it go, for I must have it." When his tongue dipped again, fiercely thrusting and swirling and tasting her, Miranda felt something inside her give way. She cried out as myriad explosions went off in the core of her. The final drafts he drank from her brought convulsive spasms of ecstasy. She shook from head to toe with the force of her release.

  She was still trembling when he lifted himself to lie beside her. She curled into his arms and felt their warmth and strength surround her. As she cuddled nearer, she felt, too, his arousal pressing against her. He'd shown her pleasure, given her release like nothing she'd ever known, revealed to her a knowledge about herself that would change her entire life. He'd asked nothing in return. More than before, she knew she could trust this man. He had kept his word to her, despite the obvious difficulties. It was so opposite what Jeff had done to her.

  She focused on Rolf, instead of on the ripples of reaction still shuddering through her body. She felt the thundering of his heart, heard his ragged, shallow breathing. He held her tightly, almost desperately. He was in a thoroughly aroused state, she realized. She could give him release. She could give to him as unselfishly as he'd given to her. She marveled as the truth hit her. She wasn't afraid anymore.

  He rolled away from her suddenly, sitting up and thrusting one hand through his hair. She gripped his shoulder when he started to rise. When he glanced down at her, she shook her head. "No, Rolf. Don't go yet."

  "I must. I'm a man, Miranda. Not a god. Do I not leave you now, I will be unable to—"

  "Stay
."

  He searched her face. "You are grateful for this lesson I have taught you."

  "Yes." She reached up to his bare chest and ran her hand over it. "And eager for another lesson."

  His eyes closed briefly. "Speak plainly, woman. Do I touch you again, I may not stop so easily."

  "I don't want you to stop." She met his gaze without flinching. "Make love to me, Rolf."

  He studied her face for a long moment. "As you wish it, lady." He stood, still holding her gaze. He removed his jeans carefully, then the briefs beneath them. He hesitated as her gaze moved lower. The state of his arousal alarmed her, but only momentarily. "Are you certain?" he asked, still standing, exercising obvious restraint.

  She swallowed hard. "You would never hurt me."

  "I would die first," he told her. He lowered himself onto the bed beside her. He rested on his side, facing her. She believed him.

  Shyly she slipped one hand lower to touch him. His soft moan told her how this affected him. A moment later, his arms were around her. His mouth possessed hers with a new urgency and he rolled her onto her back, covering her body with his own.

  Miranda's hands moved over his back as she returned his kiss. She traced the hard contours of him, felt the heat of his tight skin. At the heart of her she felt him nudge her moistness and she parted her thighs for him. Already the fires were burning brightly. She found herself more than ready for him when he entered her.

  Carefully he moved deeper. She arched her hips upward. Rather than discomfort she felt excitement as her body stretched to fit him. He withdrew slowly and began again, inching inward. His hands slipped beneath her to cup her buttocks, holding her to him so he filled her more completely this time.