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‘The day I lose deliberately is the day I stop being true to myself.’ She drew the cloak tighter about her. Her scars pained her slightly. ‘I should go and change. You were right. I’m not a shield maiden any longer.’
His eyes darkened. ‘Do you have clothes which fit? I do not want a repeat of earlier. My wife will be decently dressed in front of other men.’
‘I do have a few old gowns. My stepmother used to insist that I dress like a woman when I was not training.’
Her throat closed about the words. She could so clearly remember coming home after her first voyage, all excited about her success and her stepmother refusing to acknowledge her until she had changed. She had come out to the barn and screamed her rage out.
‘And you hated that.’
‘How can you tell?’
He caught her chin between his fingers, holding her in place. ‘I’ve been studying you. Intently.’
His thumb rubbed her lower lip. Off to one side, she heard the soft whoosh of the horses in their stalls. She hated that her body longed for his touch.
‘What clues?’ She barely recognised her voice.
‘That would be telling.’ He pushed her hair from her forehead. ‘Stop being angry with me for wanting to enjoy my wife. Stop finding reasons to deny the woman you are.’
His mouth descended, claiming hers. Hot and heavy, but asking. Her traitorous lips parted as that rebellious part of her rejoiced that her mind had misread everything.
His tongue entered and stroked her, penetrating her inner recesses.
Her arm curled about his neck and held him there as she drank from his mouth, revelling in the faint taste of sweet wine.
She knew it was a madness to want more or to think that this was anything beyond his need for her land and wealth, but her heart no longer listened. No one was here in this dimly lit place. Her body had hungered for this ever since she woke to discover herself curled up next to him.
The small banked fire inside her sprang to life as the kiss intensified and grew, intoxicating her with its illicit invasion. Her heart soared and she arched her body forward, seeking intimate contact with the hard planes of his body.
His hands roamed her back, pulling her closer and she was left in no doubt of his arousal as it hit the apex of her thighs. Instead of frightening her, it called to something deep within her. She arched forward, seeking more, needing more.
His fingers came around and cupped her breasts, gently flicking her already erect nipples.
The belt she’d wrapped around her middle gave way under his gentle persuasion. And her too-large trousers fell to the ground, leaving her standing barelegged in the tunic.
The shock of the cool air hitting her skin made her pull back. What had she been doing? Pressing her body against him, practically begging like one of the serving girls. Anyone could have walked in.
She should have more dignity. Such things between husbands and wives happened at night, in the dark. She wanted him to treat her with the proper respect. Her stepmother had been clear on that—men needed to know where the boundaries lay. A man should respect his wife, not treat her as he would another woman.
She bent down to retrieve the trousers.
‘Leave them.’ He captured her wrist, preventing her from moving.
‘But…but…’
Hrolf gave a very pleased male laugh as he ran a hand down her exposed flank. A shaft of sunlight caught his powerful throat. Her traitorous heart began to beat very fast as it whispered about the possibilities.
‘What is so funny?’ She narrowed her eyes and tried to concentrate on the large pile of hay.
‘I never realized the possibilities of trousers before.’
‘Do they have possibilities?’ She crossed her arms over her aching breasts. Even in the dim light she was aware that he could see her body, full of hard lines and sinewy muscle instead of soft feminine curves.
‘You really know very little about men. I keep forgetting that.’
‘I know quite a lot about being a warrior,’ she replied indignantly, clinging to the swift anger as a drowning man might cling to a wooden spar floating on a storm-tossed sea. ‘It is enough. What more is there to know? I can compete with any man.’
‘There is more to being a man than simply fighting and competing.’ A dimple shone in the corner of his mouth. ‘You are very refreshing, Sayrid.’
Her entire body burnt. ‘Refreshing?’
‘You are ignorant of your charms. I look forward to showing you what can pass between a man and a woman.’ He ran a finger down the side of her throat to where her shift caressed her skin.
‘Here? Now?’ She glanced over his shoulder.
‘We are alone and alone is good. I’ve burnt for you long enough. I thought I would run my sword through Bragi earlier just for looking at you in that too-tight gown. Little did I realize how delectable you could be in just a tunic.’
