by Joanne Rock
Gwendolyn wondered if she might be coming apart at the seams.
Not just her garments, which certainly were falling away as if of their own volition. But her.
Control slipped. Defenses flattened. Fear did not even exist. All of the dark emotions she’d stockpiled about men and—this—melted in the light of Wulf’s sworn vow, his sensual arrogance and his toe-curling kisses.
She hardly recognized herself, but she liked to think this daring side had always existed. She just hadn’t appreciated it since the rest of the world wanted to call her troublesome and outspoken.
Now, the desire bubbled up so fast it seeped right through her skin. A fever took hold of her and she wanted Wulf’s lips everywhere at once to soothe it.
How could one man please her so much?
Her fingers tangled in his hair as he fastened his mouth to her breast, tracing the outline of her nipple through the fine linen of her under dress. The damp material clung to her even after he lifted his head to observe his handiwork through eyes grown slumberous with arousal.
Blindly, she tore at the neck of the garment, wanting it gone. Needing her skin exposed to his every touch. When her efforts failed, Wulf slid the linen up, bunching handfuls of fabric in his fingers as he dragged it out from under her gown and hauled it over her head.
Flames leaped in his gaze as he watched her. She knew no shyness, only hunger for his approval. His caress.
“I want to supplant bad memories with new ones.” Stretched out beside him under the night sky, she shared the wish she’d made when the shooting star had streaked past them earlier.
She did not understand how his wish for pleasure had become hers, but it had happened and she yearned for fulfillment at his hands.
Wulf took her mouth in his again, as if he knew exactly how to incite more of the heat she wanted. While he kissed her, he reached beneath her skirts and slid his hand up her calf.
Over her thigh.
She could not help a tense moment. This was where Gerald had usually begun his attentions—such as they were. A hand thrust between her legs.
She closed her eyes tightly, not realizing Wulf had replaced her gown.
Disappointment warred with relief. And yes, anger at how a cruel hand could reach from the grave to hurt her even now.
“Gwen.” Wulf spoke her name between the kisses she craved so much. “You are not ready—”
“Yes.” By the saints, she would not be robbed of her adventure. Her night in his arms before she returned to a world of rules and restrictions, duty and dowries. “Yes, I am. I will not be denied this pleasure you have promised.”
She heard the mutinous tone in her voice and he must have, too, for she saw a flash of white teeth in the darkness.
“Tell me, fickle widow, what do you want from me?” He nipped her lower lip and rolled it gently between his teeth before letting it go.
And sweet, merciful heaven. The sensation echoed decadently between her thighs.
“Let me,” she whispered, taking his hand in hers and placing his fingers upon her bare calf once again. “I will not be nervous when I am in charge.”
She hoped. Nay, she insisted.
Gamely, she slipped both their hands beneath her skirt, her fingers pressing his palm tight to her leg as they slid surely upward.
“You are so soft. So smooth,” he crooned sweetly to her, and she marveled that a man capable of fierceness could take care of her so tenderly.
At the middle of her thigh, she halted, her path unclear.
Wulf tapped the back of her thigh with his pinky finger. “If I cupped your hip, I would press you to me until you were fully ready.” He tapped his forefinger on the front of her thigh. “But if I journey north in this direction, I would test your readiness for myself and tease you gently until you begged for more.”
Her womb contracted hard at both scenarios, heat sweeping through her like a wildfire until she let go of his hand to concentrate on the feelings. Perhaps she did not want to be in control after all.
“You decide,” she murmured, her eyelids falling closed as tension began to coil deep inside her. “I am all yours.”
Even before she finished her words, his fingers grazed the damp curls between her legs. She gasped at the feel of him there, patient and attentive, gliding closer and closer to—
Oh.
He grazed the slick folds of her sex, eliciting a moan she hardly recognized as her own. When he did it a second time, she fastened her arms about his neck, clinging to him and the fiery feeling he gave her.
“That is wonderful.” Other words came to mind, all in that same vein. Marvelous. Amazing. Delicious. They played over and over in her mind as Wulf pressed harder and her legs parted for him.
If she was tormenting him, he never showed it. She sincerely hoped not, but oooh. He knew what he was doing. He had not spoken a single bragging word. Wulf understood pleasure and—
It thundered through her like a mad rush. All her muscles clenched. Held. Tightened. Wave after wave of bliss drenched her insides, breaking over her like the high tide and dragging her down into unimaginable depths.
She knew she cried out because her throat was sore afterward. Her breath heaved her chest as if she’d run up and down the battlements ten times. Liquid pleasure filled the veins where her blood once ran.
“Wulf.” She said his name like an invocation, replete with the joy he had shown her.
A joy she’d never really believed existed.
She wanted more. Soon. But for now, she just wanted to soak in the moment and the feelings that—
“Go inside.” Wulf barked a command at her as if she was one of his men.
Confusion mingled with frustration. Was Wulf a bit like her husband after all—angry when unsatisfied? Then, she collected herself to notice he was on full alert.
His whole body tensed. Coiled. His hands were off her and at his sides, finding his weapons as he came up to his knees.
Fear didn’t just whisper through her. It bellowed.
“Wulf?” Her hands fisted in the blanket as she peered around the dark woods beyond the circle of flames. “What is it?”
“A noise. Someone’s here.”
With that cryptic statement, he leaped to his feet and darted into the trees, swift and silent. He had the keen hearing of a wild creature, for she had only been aware of the rush of her blood and the fire he’d started within her.
Heart pounding, Gwen blinked away her moment of happiness and hurried to the cabin. Could Wulf be in danger? If Alchere had come for her, he would kill Wulf on sight. She’d also neglected to warn him about her in-laws. And who knew what cruelty Wulf’s Norse enemy, Harold, might wreak if he came upon him alone in the forest.
As the darkness of the cold cottage surrounded her in all its stuffy staleness, she was only certain of one thing. Just now, she definitely did not want to be rescued.
7
THE TRACKS HAD DISAPPEARED at the water’s edge.
Wulf rushed toward the crumbling shelter, plagued by the knowledge that someone had come so close to them tonight. This time, it had not been Erik.
His cousin would have remained in the distance and sought him after Gwendolyn slept. Whoever had been in the forest tonight did not wish to be discovered.
Should he tell Gwen what he suspected? That Harold might have tracked them to dole out vengeance over Hedra’s death?
Gwendolyn peered from the shelter as he neared it.
“Did you see anyone?” Worry threaded through her voice, her dark brows a flat line in the moonlight.
“No.” It was true enough. “But the fire may have attracted attention from thieves and outcasts who dwell in these woods. It may have been a curious vagrant.”
“But you don’t think so.”
The certainty in her voice told him she could read him well for a woman he’d known so briefly. Looping his arm about her shoulder, he steered her back toward the shelter, eager to ensure her safety. The shadows all arou
nd them reminded him how vulnerable they were in the dark. He could have taken her back to his encampment, but he’d wanted to have her alone. All to himself.
Now, he cursed the foolishness of selfish desire.
“Actually, that is the most logical answer.” He had gone through the scenarios over and over again on the way back here. Harold would never know to look for him in the middle of nowhere without his men. “But there is a chance your overlord’s men have found us.”
“I doubt it would happen so soon.” She ducked into the lodging, her long skirts brushing his leg as she passed, reminding him how thoroughly undressed she’d been when he’d departed earlier. “I do not think he could spare many men to search when he and King Alfred are investing so much in protecting the Wessex borders from you.”
King Alfred had proven a most effective deterrent to the Danes. Unlike the Sussex and Mercian kingdoms, the people of Wessex had fought mercilessly against the widespread colonization prevalent on the east coast. Wulf admired Alfred’s tactics and found him a worthy opponent, preferring to avoid his army where possible.
“I hope you are right, for I am not willing to give you up.” He pulled a set of iron tongs from the hearth and went outside to transfer the hot coals indoors.
When he returned, Gwendolyn had laid firewood in the hearth and swept the ashes. In fact, the entire cottage had been straightened and neatened at some point that day. He had not noticed earlier, but she must have tended those things while he chopped wood in an effort to quell the need for her that had ridden him all day. Could she have been as desperate for distraction as he’d been?
“Do you think it is safe to let the fire burn?” She sat on the pallet, ensconced in blankets and his fur. She toyed with a small leather pouch he had not seen before. It must have been something she’d brought from her keep.
Something she’d concealed?
“There is no sense hiding from one who has already seen us.” He hoped it was a hungry outlaw searching for food. Or even Alfred’s army. Wulf would find a way around either. But if Harold had discovered him at last, there would be a reckoning.
He’d paid the wergild, man-price, for Hedra to her brother, even though Wulf had not taken her life. It had been a peace offering to Harold and his people since they held him responsible. But Wulf had always known the day would come when Harold’s honor demanded Wulf’s death. And Wulf, tired of endless seafaring and raiding, had hastened that day yesterday by stealing treasures right under his nose.
Meeting Gwendolyn made him regret rushing Harold’s justice. Wulf would not die at Harold’s hands in a fair fight. But if Harold attacked at night with his followers?
No warrior could overcome such odds.
“You think someone else follows us.”
He looked up sharply at her where she sat calmly, tying the straps of the satchel to a ribbon under the hem of her kirtle. The garment appeared to have been made specifically to hide things. Apparently, whatever was in her pouch was valuable to her.
“Why do you say this?” He stoked the fire enough to keep the cottage dry and insects at bay.
She made a neat knot, looping the tie of the pouch through the ribbon sewn above her hem. Then she flipped her skirts back into place, so that you’d never know she hid things there.
He crouched at the foot of the pallet, hands clasped between his thighs. Waiting.
“You do not seem concerned if outlaws discover us and you know Alchere’s pursuit is highly unlikely, yet I can see you are anxious about whatever—whoever—is out there.” Her fingers splayed over the fur the same way she’d touched him earlier.
Did he dare let his guard down enough to take her tonight? To return to the pleasures they’d only just begun to explore?
Curse the fates. If his window of time with her was shrinking, he would make the most of every second.
“A Dane is never anxious.” He reached to touch her ankle just below the hem of her skirt. Her stocking covered her skin, but there was something sweetly forbidden about touching her there. He ringed her ankle with his fingers like a manacle, then tugged her down the length of the pallet. Closer to him. “But if I give the matter additional thought, it is only because I have a woman in my care to consider. I take that guardianship seriously.”
Not allowing her time to think, he stalked her. He stretched out over her, liking the way she did not show the least bit of hesitation.
If anything, her eyes narrowed in sensual speculation, as if she tried to calculate what might happen next.
“You must take good care of me,” she demanded, her fingers lifting to the ties of his tunic and loosening them. “I agree completely.”
The desire for her that had been interrupted earlier came roaring back tenfold with no more than the soft brush of her fingertips against his chest.
No matter what the future held for them, countries and worlds apart, he planned to have this night with her—together—to remember forever.
GWENDOLYN COULDN’T UNDRESS him fast enough.
The scare they’d had had given her new perspective on her time with Wulf. It might not last long. If she didn’t act now, tonight, she might lose the chance to be touched with tenderness and passion. Why should she not enjoy every moment?
Her hands fumbled awkwardly at ties and clasps, her inexperience apparent. But when she freed him of his tunic, her reward was stark masculine beauty that she would have appreciated even without the glow of the low fire in the hearth.
She recalled an illustration her father had shown her once from a Latin text.
This is a Titan, Gwennie. A race of giants.
Wulf looked like that illustration. The memory had faded and would have been lost if not for this moment with Wulf. He could have walked among the Titans with his strong, straight shoulders and his steely chest cut like armor but sheathed in warm skin that came alive beneath her touch.
She was so enamored by all she’d unveiled that she scarcely noticed her own clothes disappearing until a wave of cool air hit her bare legs. He dragged her under dress up her body and over her head, exposing her completely. Even her stockings had given way to his hands, drooping down her ankles and sliding away from her feet.
“You are much better at this than I,” she complained, returning to the fastenings of his braies.
“It is a matter of focus,” he explained, as if undressing her were a topic for serious consideration. “I force myself not to get distracted by the prize so that I can work quickly.”
He reached to help her with the ties, then arched up to remove the pants altogether.
“I’m afraid there is a great deal more to distract me,” she admitted. “In fact, I can’t take my eyes off the prize.”
She marveled at the size of him. Everywhere. Her mouth went dry as a whisper of the old reservations returned.
Wulf hastened to lie back down beside her and cupped her chin, forcing her gaze to his.
“Do not worry,” he ordered, charming her anew with his oddly thoughtful demands. “You will think about the kisses.”
His chest pressed to hers and she felt her body mold to his. Would the rest fit so well?
“I wouldn’t have to just think about them if you were providing some.” She arched up off the fur-lined pallet, her mouth already watering for the taste of him.
“We can start here.” His breath curled against her cheek, and she turned toward his lips. Anticipating.
Lightly, she rubbed her mouth along his, hoping it whet his appetite the way it stirred her own.
“But I’ve got another kiss in mind,” he whispered. His feral smile sent sweet shivers over her skin.
She hummed with readiness, her head tilting to one side as his lips grazed her neck. That kiss sent a roll of heat to her breasts, the peaks tightening until they ached. She raked her nails lightly over his shoulders, urging him on. He seemed to follow the trail with his mouth, soothing each place in turn while inciting another beyond reason.
She twisted and moa
ned at every contact of his lips. He flicked his tongue carelessly over each nipple, as if he had all day to find the spot that pleased her. Then, when she could bear those teasing strokes no more, he drew her into his mouth, suckling and tugging while heat built in yet another place…
Raw need had her squirming beneath him, ready for more. She gripped his shoulders and lifted herself, attempting to make her wishes known by fitting her feverish body to his. She was ready for this. More ready than she ever guessed a woman could be for coupling.
And for this first time, she glimpsed how rewarding the act might be. Her body craved Wulf.
When he eased back, opening a gap between their overheated bodies, she cried out at the loss. She could see his gaze narrow in the dull glow from the low-burning coals, and she shivered in response. Would this be the moment?
She parted her thighs, willing and ready.
But he did not position his hips between hers as she expected. Instead, he cradled her waist in his palms and slid his hands down her sides. Down, down. She reached for him, wanting the feel of him tight against her, but he knelt between her legs and gave her the most surprising kiss of all.
The shock of it made her squeal. His mouth pressed to her sex, his warm breath streaming over places that ached for a firmer touch. When his tongue darted out along the most sensitive bud at her tender center, she couldn’t even think of protesting. Waves of keen sensation blinded her to anything but the exquisite feel of him kissing her there.
At first, she stilled, too overwhelmed to respond. Then, bombarded with decadent delights, she could not help but twist against him. What sweet madness was this? But no power could have stopped her arching hips and clenching thighs. She knew the feel of her completion from his touches before, but this was different. Unique. The coiling tension started again, but this time the release hit her like a thunderstorm, drenching her in lush pleasure so intense she arched like a bow.
The pulsing bliss lasted longer this time, and when the last remnants of sweet contractions undulated through her, Wulf lifted his dark head and aligned his body with hers.