“Itismy concern. I will not have any woman harmed if I can prevent it. So I will go with you, make sure no harm comes to either woman, and that’s all there is to it.”
A tense silence filled the clearing. Three pairs of eyes, one black one filled with hatred, one brown one shiny with hope, one green one swirling with questions, were staring at him. Haakon remained impassive. At last, the man turned around without a word and walked back to his horse. His daughter followed, casting a pleading glance in his direction. The green-eyed Saxon added her own silent entreaty.
Haakon had no choice but to go with them.
There, he encountered another problem. Having no mount, he would have to ride double with someone. Walking alongsidethe group was not an option, as Eadhild’s father would no doubt take this opportunity to leave him behind. The only choice was to climb on his supposed betrothed’s gelding with her. Fortunately, the horse appeared strong enough to bear his weight and the Saxon was only a slip of a girl.
There was no time to hesitate. The man had already nudged his mount into a trot. Before he had time to question the wisdom of his decision to help, Haakon found himself sitting on the bay gelding, cradling a sweet-smelling woman in his arms. No, not sweet-smelling exactly. The scent wrapping around him was sharp, floral, and altogether intoxicating, which was way, way worse.
First, Edita, who had thrown herself at him and then this woman who had been thrown into his arms. Literally.
This was fast turning into a disastrous day.
Nobody said a word during the ride and Haakon concentrated on ignoring the sensations assaulting his body. It didn’t take him long to see that it was a lost cause. The woman’s elusive scent, the sway of her buttocks rubbing against his groin, the feel of her hair against his chest, everything conspired to send the blood pounding in his veins.
At this rate, they couldn’t reach the Saxon’s home soon enough. But eventually they did, and they dismounted in a narrow, dirt-filled street.
Gytha wasn’t sure what to do.
The Norseman’s unexpected support had ensured that Eadhild had not suffered any immediate punishment but all was not over yet. Alberic was glaring at her, suspicion gleaming in his black eyes. She could tell he did not quite believe she was betrothed to the blond man by her side, who looked as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to be here. He would start interrogating his daughter as soon as they were home. Under pressure, her friend would never stand her ground. And then she would bepunished, not only for lying but also for choosing to be with Halfdan. Gytha could not allow any of this to happen.
For Eadhild’s safety, her father had to accept they had really gone to the village for Gytha’s benefit. Following her instinct, she wrapped her arms about the Norseman’s waist to draw him close to her.
At first she felt him tense. Understandably, the move had taken him by surprise. They were worse than strangers, they were strangers who had started on the wrong foot. In a moment, he would push at her chest and ask what the hell she was doing. This would not do. They were supposed to be betrothed, there was nothing odd in the fact that she would press herself against him to say goodbye, or even that he kissed her.
Yes, that was the solution. After witnessing a kiss, Alberic would not doubt she’d gone to the village to see him, dragging Eadhild with her.
She turned to place herself straight in front of the man.
“Kiss me.” She spoke against his throat, low enough that they could not be overheard above the din of the passing traffic. “Please.”
This was decidedly odd. When had she begged a man to kiss her before? Never. Nor had she thought she ever would. Yet here she was, begging this man she had met only a few moments ago, to kiss her and possibly even… Yes, even looking forward to it.
He made no move to lean in.
“Please. Eadhild’s father is watching. He really needs to believe we went to the village to see you.”
To her relief, after one last hesitation, he complied. His hands clamped around her waist and he gave a masculine growl before dipping his head and crushing his mouth over hers.
Lord, she had asked to be kissed, not to be…kissed. Gytha felt like a woman who had asked for a sip of ale only to then be pushed into the vat headfirst. The Norseman did not merelyplace his lips over hers, he used his teeth to nibble at her, his tongue to take possession of her mouth.
He devoured her.
And yet there was nothing aggressive in his actions. This was a seduction, not an assault. It was as if he were incapable of doing anything else, even while pretending. And why should he? In all probability, the only women he had kissed had been the ones he intended to woo. Why would he have learned to do anything other than give them pleasure with his kisses?
After what felt like an eternity of bliss, he drew back and bit his bottom lip, desire flashing in his hypnotizing blue eyes.
“Happy now, Saxon?”
She could not be anything other than happy. Her aim had been achieved. After such a masterful demonstration, no one could have doubted the two of them were madly in lust with each other, if not quite in love just yet. Surely it would be enough to convince Alberic that his daughter had not lied. She certainly hoped so. The point of the kiss had been to convince him,notto feel heat swamp her body from the base of her skull to the tip of her toes.
“Yes. Happy. Thank you.”
This whole exchange was so formal it was ridiculous. She had begged him for a kiss and now she was thanking him for having complied. Because they were so close, she heard him scoff. So he agreed that everything about this was ridiculous. And yet he was still holding her, like a man loath to let her go. Against her stomach she could feel the proof that the kiss had stirred the same desire in him as it had in her. The reason for the kiss might have been invented by Eadhild, but the sensations it had provoked in them had been all too real.
“Come. I haven’t got all day!” Alberic called out.
“Can’t a man say goodbye to his sweetheart properly?” the Norseman growled, letting go of her at last.
