Page 62 of Lord of Fire and Ice

“Don’t stand there gaping at me like a codfish.” Her tone turned strident, demanding his attention. “I asked you a question.”

Had she asked something? He hadn’t caught a word. All he could do was grit his teeth as his erection grew so intense the aching pleasure was a knife’s edge from pain.

“Aren’t you going to answer me?”

“Ja,” he stammered, shaken by the lust that lanced him. The punishing pace she’d set for him had kept desire at bay of late. Now, even though he’d already slaked his need not once but twice this night, it rushed back into him with the force of a cataract plummeting into a fjord.

“Give me a moment,” he said as he plumped up his pillows and laced his fingers behind his head beside her, hoping she’d repeat her question without his having to admit he hadn’t been listening when she asked the first time.

By the time he’d decided it was safe to look on her again, her wide eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“So you care for me not at all, then,” she said in a small voice. The hurt, the desolation he felt emanating from her slight form squeezed his heart.

“Not care for you?” Where had that come from?

Love talk had never passed her lips before this night. He hadn’t imagined her capable of it, let alone craving it. He expected a ripe and randy bedding, not talk of something as murky and changeable as a person’s feelings.

His chest ached at the hurt on her face, and this time he recognized the cause. It made no logical sense. It simply was.

Not care for her? He’d sooner not breathe.

“How can you say that?” he asked, mystified. He leaned toward her, stopping with his lips mere finger widths from hers, fighting to bridle himself. If his cock had any say in the matter, he’d be on her like a stag in rut yet again. He wanted so much more for her this time.

For both of them.

A tear trembled on her lower lid then tumbled to slide down her cheek. He lifted a hand to caress it away from her pale skin.

“Katla, how can you say I don’t care for you?” Brandr said softly.

Her night shift neckline fell forward, revealing the shadowed hollow between her breasts. He forced himself to meet and hold her gaze.

“I wouldn’t blame you. After all, I enthralled you,” she said.

“I might have done the same if our situations were reversed.” In the interests of peace, he decided it might be wise to appease her a bit by being agreeable.

“I know I’m not the most amiable person.”

He chuckled. “No, you’re not.”

She shot a wounded glare at him. Obviously, he wasn’t supposed to agree with her all the time.

“I don’t know why it should be so. Maybe why isn’t important, but there’s something about you that fits me.” He tucked a strand of her hair behind the pink shell of her ear. “We may not always have smooth sailing weather, but I’d rather fight with you than live in quiet, stagnant peace with anyone else.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

“How can I believe that?” Her chin quivered, and her night shift slid off one shoulder to bare a breast completely. “You’ve not said more than a handful of words to me for days. You didn’t seem to even see me anymore.”

Loki’s Hairy Backside, he was certainly seeing her now. He ran a hand over her head, willing himself to focus on just her emerald eyes.

“I see you. And I see what you want.” Brandr inhaled her scent. She smelled as fresh as new-cut grass. “Every soul longs for love, for inn matki munr.” Her long hair curled around his fingers as he stroked it, running his hand over its silken length. “’Tis the stuff of maidensongs and skald’s tales, not at all the kind of life a man clapped into thralldom can aspire to.”

“And you don’t want to settle for less now. I understand,” she finished for him. “Don’t let me trouble you a moment longer. My body is telling you to go.”

She threw back the covers and would have bolted, but he grasped her arm and held her fast.

He lifted her chin with his other hand and forced her to meet his gaze.