Page 34 of Lord of Fire and Ice

But perhaps not as much as if he were a freeman. She was still his mistress, after all. Still in control.

And she needed to be seen to be in control.

He rose up on his elbows and grinned down at her. “I’d like you a good deal less dressed too. Mayhap next time we’ll pick a place where that’s possible.”

“Next time?” she said as he slipped out of her. “What makes you think there’ll be a next time?”

He arched a brow at her. “Because you and I both liked that. A lot.”

“You presume too much.” She pressed against his chest, but he didn’t budge. “Let me up.”

His smile faded. “Did I hurt you? What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “But we’ve been gone too long with naught to show for the time wasted. We need to get back.”

With a dark frown, he rolled off her.

She quickly smoothed down her skirts to cover her legs. Her silver brooch was partially hidden in the grass, but she leaned over to retrieve it now. She lifted up the corner of her overtunic to cover the damp spot on her breast and refastened the brooch. Her nipple was still perked and tingling under the thin linen.

“Did we lose everything in the basket?” she asked, studiously not looking at him.

He didn’t answer. His silence forced her to meet his gaze. He regarded her through narrowed eyes, as if she were a type of beast he didn’t quite recognize, and he wasn’t sure whether she was a threat or not.

“Did that mean nothing to you?” he finally said.

She swallowed hard. It meant worlds. She’d never felt the like, but it wouldn’t do to let him know it. A woman had to be strong, lest a man run roughshod over her. How could she remain his mistress if he knew how adroitly he’d controlled her, how weak she was in his hands?

“It was a pleasant diversion,” she said simply. “And that is all.”

She rose to her feet and was chagrined to find her legs wobbly. The basket was upended near the cliff’s edge, and all the gull eggs were either lost or ruined. The meat pasties she’d packed must have tumbled into the sea, but one of the drinking gourds was still intact. Katla took quick gulp and held it out to Brandr.

“The sun is near setting,” she said, “and we have work to do at home.”

He waved the gourd away and stood to pull on his trousers. “As you will, princess,” he said with a scowl. “As you will.”

Chapter 12

The sun sank into the western sea, and the coracle skimmed over shadow-dark waters as they skirted the island. The basket that should have been filled with gull eggs was empty, but the air around them was overflowing with frustration and bewilderment and unspoken rage. Katla’s stiff posture and deliberate failure to even glance his way signaled she wasn’t inclined to talk about it.

It was just as well. Brandr was still so dumbfounded by her abrupt change toward him, he didn’t know what to say.

She’d been so passionate, so unabashedly needy, so soul naked and hungry. In satisfying her needs, his own had been met beyond his wildest imaginings. He’d never experienced anything like her.

Then in a few blinks, she was as ice bound as a frost maiden. As if she hadn’t just melted under him. As if they hadn’t held each other’s souls inside their joined bodies.

The woman took her pleasure like the worst of men, who used their partners and moved on without the least acknowledgment that, if for only a moment, they’d taken part in something special.

Something precious.

He’d had his share of lovers, mostly married women, so there could be no mistaking the relationship for anything other than an arrangement to satisfy mutual needs. But he’d never run so flaming hot and then so suddenly cold with any of them. When the physical relationship burned out, the association ended with genuine affection and usually abiding friendship.

Katla’s glossy hair still shined in the rosy light of the dying sun. Her skin still glowed. No man worthy of the name would deny she was a beautiful woman.

But if Brandr wasn’t careful, she’d eat his heart for night meal and serve up his balls for breakfast.

By the time the coracle sidled next to the wharf, Finn was there to meet them. He held out a hand to help his sister from the craft. While Brandr leaped out and secured the coracle, he wondered how Katla would explain coming home empty-handed after being gone all day.

A skald could turn her near-plummet to the surf into a tale that would earn many a night meal, but Katla didn’t strike him as the type to dramatize her own exploits. The real tale of how they tumbled into each other’s arms after her scare was ripe enough for the makings of a maidensong—a forbidden love story.