Читать книгу Forbidden Nights With A Viking - Michelle Willingham, Harper St. George - Страница 19

Never in his life had he wanted a woman this badly. Caragh’s hands around him had awakened an arousal he couldn’t deny, instead of lending comfort. He wanted to lay her back and taste her bare skin. Learning what pleased her body.

But then, she was a virgin. Asking her to be intimate in this way would likely embarrass her instead of bringing her pleasure.

‘Or you could return to your tent.’ He offered the escape, uncertain of whether she would seize it.

When he heard no movement from her, the air within the tent seemed to grow warmer. He went rigid at the thought of what was about to happen between them.

At first, he’d believed that she would run away. Instead, she’d met his challenge, leaving him with no choice but to continue.

‘I want all the time that remains between us,’ she murmured. ‘Even if it’s stolen.’

He moved to her, not touching her, but so close he could feel her breath against his cheek. ‘If you stay, you obey my commands. Without question.’

She took his hand and laid it beneath her gown upon her heart. Beneath his fingers, he could feel the harsh beating of her fears and inhibitions. But he lifted his hand away.

‘Remove all of your clothing,’ he ordered. ‘Lie down upon it.’

In the darkness of the tent, he could not see her. But he imagined the delicate skin, the soft curves of her breasts. Her nipples a pale pink, her slender waist flaring to hips he wanted to hold while he drove himself within her.

‘I’m ready,’ she whispered.

He heard the nerves in her voice, the uncertainty. But he would have traded every last piece of silver for this night. He would give rein to his desires, the forbidden dreams of her.

And, if the gods were willing, he would free himself from Elena and one day make love to Caragh the way he wanted to.

He stripped away his own clothing, lying across from her. ‘Do you feel the cool air upon your skin?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m going to tell you where I would touch you now, if I could. You’re going to touch yourself where I command it.’

Caragh said nothing, but her breathing remained unsteady.

‘Place your hands upon your breasts,’ he said. ‘Stroke your nipples until they harden.’ He moved beside her, gritting his teeth against the taut erection. It was torment, telling her all the places where he wanted to touch her.

Yet, he would not dishonour Elena by lying with another woman, much as he wanted to. his conscience warned that this act between them was nearly the same.

But his wife no longer wanted him. And Caragh did.

‘It aches,’ she confessed. ‘I feel it all the way between my legs.’

‘Don’t stop,’ he ordered. ‘Use your fingers to roll the tips and imagine that I am the one touching you now.’

He heard her emit a shuddering gasp, her body arching against the pile of clothing.

‘Lick your fingers and then touch your nipples,’ he commanded. ‘As if it’s my mouth on top of them. Suckling each one, and imagine my tongue against the sweet tips.’

A moan broke forth from her, and he couldn’t stop himself from curling his fist around his erection, squeezing the shaft and imagining that she was impaling herself upon him.

‘Now move one hand downwards,’ he ordered. ‘Over your ribs and your belly. Down between your legs.’

‘I—I’m wet,’ she said, as if not understanding what was happening to her.

‘It’s your body preparing itself for lovemaking,’ he said. ‘Take one finger and slide it inside.’

She let out a low hiss, and he added, ‘Keep touching one of your breasts while you slide it in and out.’

‘Styr,’ she pleaded. ‘I can’t. I need you.’

‘No.’ His voice came out in a low growl. ‘You will not argue with me. Tonight, you are my prisoner. And you won’t leave this tent until I hear you cry out in release.’

His words were nearly as erotic as the touch of her own hands. Caragh had never imagined her body could be awakened like this. And though it was wicked, she wanted to know what it was to take a lover. He was guiding her, teaching her mysteries she’d never known.

She obeyed because she trusted him implicitly.

‘Two fingers now,’ he ordered. ‘Stretch yourself and move your fingers in and out while you caress the other breast.’

She did, and the added pressure of touching her breast echoed the rhythm below. It should have shamed her to be openly touching herself, but she imagined that it was his hands upon her body. That it was his thick manhood invading her flesh, sinking against the wetness and withdrawing.

She was trembling now, her breathing quickened into short gasps. Something was happening to her, and she couldn’t know what it was.

‘Remove your fingers,’ he ordered.

‘I don’t want to,’ she murmured, revelling in the sensation that was so close, the trembling feelings rising up within.

‘Obey me.’ He reached for her wrist and removed it, guiding it until the heel of her hand rested upon her mons. With his fingers, he commanded hers, bringing her to a small fold of flesh above her entrance. ‘Circle your finger over this,’ he said. ‘Keep stroking yourself until you start to tremble. And imagine that it’s my tongue upon you.’

The words shattered her inhibitions, and she found herself experimenting with the pressure, learning how to touch and how to bring forth the deep arousal she’d conjured earlier.

‘Do men do that?’ she whispered, arching when her body responded with more warmth. ‘Use their tongues upon a woman’s—’

‘Sometimes,’ he said.

‘And do women taste a man’s flesh?’ she enquired.

He was so quiet, she didn’t know if she’d offended him. ‘My wife never did,’ he admitted at last.

‘She never touched you?’ The very idea seemed impossible. Even now, she wanted to explore his body with her hands, kissing him And finding out what brought him pleasure.

‘I don’t want to talk about Elena,’ he countered. And he commanded her again to touch herself, to draw out the aching pleasure until she was starting to shake. The pressure was building inside, and she couldn’t stop her hitched breath, nor the keening cries as she came closer and closer.

‘Styr,’ she begged, not knowing what it was she needed.

‘Don’t stop,’ he commanded. ‘Keep going.’

The needs were so strong, she instinctively quickened the pace, crying out as her body tightened with a wave of heat so intense, she was hovering on the brink of collapse.

But when Styr’s warm mouth closed over one nipple, she lost control. The sensation of his tongue suckling her while her fingers moved upon her wetness was too much. She bucked her hips, gripping his head as a frenzied storm of shaking hot pleasure boiled through her body, making her so wet, she couldn’t stop herself from plunging two fingers inside. The rhythm of release shattered her apart, and she reached for him, closing her hand over his silken erection. He was hot and moist as her thumb brushed the tip of him. It took only a few strokes of her hand before he let out a harsh breath and spilled his own seed.

He murmured words in his own language, words that sounded like a blend of an apology and a curse.

‘Put on your gown and leave this tent. Now,’ he commanded.

‘Are you certain—?’

‘If you don’t go right now, I’m going to break every vow I ever made.’

With shaking hands, she pulled the gown over her nude body, her breasts sensitised against the fabric. Between her legs, she still longed for him, but she’d pushed him too far. For he’d nearly done what she’d wanted.

She left his tent, tiptoeing outside into the night. The coals of the fire glowed red, while flames licked the banked pile of wood.

His revelation, that Elena hadn’t liked to touch him, had revealed a side to their marriage she didn’t understand.

But more, he’d offered her a hope she’d never dared to imagine. He would see to it that Elena was safe. But afterwards…it might change.

He hadn’t turned her away tonight, and he’d given her a pleasure she’d never dreamed of. The only way it could have been better would be if he’d been inside her.

The unexpected kiss upon her breast, the feeling of his tongue swirling over the nipple, had been such a shock, she could only imagine what it would be like to share his bed.

As she curled up within her own sleeping space, her body was so warm, she hardly needed a coverlet.

But fear and worry slid over her sense of honour. Styr had made her no promises. Everything depended upon Elena and what she would say.

Though Caragh wanted to believe that Styr would abandon the marriage and stay with her, she didn’t know what would happen. He’d never spoken of his own feelings. If he held any at all.

Tears filled up her eyes, as she forced them to close. Tomorrow, their fates would be drawn together. Or irrevocably severed.

Styr awoke at dawn, surprised that he’d slept as late as he had. It was as if all the exhaustion of the past few weeks had caught up with him. Last night, he’d dreamed nothing at all, finding a peace.

But in the morning, he sensed the phantom fragrance of Caragh, as if she were still here.

He never should have bent his head to her breast, but he’d been unable to stop himself. She’d been so close, almost agonised in her need. And when his touch had brought her such a violent release, he’d revelled in it. If he could have spent the rest of the night watching her come apart, he would have savoured every moment.

Just the memory of last night brought him a physical ache, and he adjusted his erection within his hose, donning a padded tunic and chainmail to hide what he could. He crossed the sleeping camp, staring at the hills and wondering if he would find Elena this day.

When he reached Caragh’s tent, he opened the flap and ducked inside. She was still asleep, her hand half-open as if waiting for him to hold it. Instead, he reached into his pouch and withdrew the ivory comb. He laid it in Caragh’s palm, and the moment he did, she awakened.

Her face flushed, as if in memory of last night. When her hand curled over the comb, she asked, ‘What is this?’

‘A gift for you.’

She turned it over, examining the ivory. ‘It has a woman’s face upon it.’

‘The goddess Freya,’ he explained.

Her violet eyes met his, a sadness descending over her mood. ‘This was meant for her, wasn’t it?’

He made no denial. ‘I want you to have it.’

She sat up, and her gown slipped, baring one shoulder to him. At the sight of her skin, desire welled up once again. But the look on her face spoke of a woman who held regrets.

‘I don’t want a gift to remember you by,’ she admitted. ‘I’d rather have you.’ With her knees drawn beneath her, she looked like an innocent girl. ‘You’re going to find her today, I know it.’

He nodded. ‘I need to talk with her.’

‘I want to believe that we can be together,’ she said. ‘That I can love you.’

Her words held an emotion he’d never guessed, and he moved closer, needing to touch her. But she shied away, turning her face. ‘I’m afraid, Styr. You’ve been with her for so long. When you see her again—’

He cut her off, embracing her. ‘Don’t.’ At this moment, he couldn’t say what would happen. But he let his actions speak for him, drawing her against him. ‘Wait for me here while we search. And when I return to you, we’ll go back to Gall Tír. We’ll start over.’ He took the comb from her and drew it through her long brown hair. The ivory contrasted against the dark strands, and when he glimpsed the carving of Freya, he believed there was a reason why he’d never conceived a child with Elena. It was never destined to be.

Caragh took the comb from his hand and returned it to him. ‘Give her the comb, the way you intended to. And don’t return to me until you are free.’

The solemnity on her face proclaimed her resolve. ‘My men will guard you.’

But Caragh shook her head. ‘No. My brothers are waiting for me. I’ll return home with them.’

Styr frowned, for he’d not bothered to look out from the shore. He left her tent, shielding his eyes against the sun. Just as she’d predicted, a small fishing boat lay anchored a short distance away.

‘I knew they wouldn’t let me go,’ she admitted from behind him. ‘My brothers are too protective. And I suppose they were right to come. It’s probably best that I don’t meet your wife.’ She drew a brat over her head and shoulders, wrapping the wool around her against the chill.

He hadn’t thought of it, but likely it would be terrible if Elena and Caragh shared the same vessel for travelling. Better if he gave command of his ship to Ragnar and let him take Elena and his men home again. Or anywhere else they wanted to travel. Then he could return with Caragh and her brothers.

‘I’m going to begin searching for them,’ he said. ‘Stay here, and don’t leave until I return.’

She nodded, and at the sight of her worry, he bent and kissed her cheek. ‘It will be all right. I promise you.’

But as he took his leave of her, a sense of dread filled him at the thought of what he must say to Elena.

‘Let go of me,’ Caragh demanded.

Onund had gripped her by the arm, holding her fast. ‘You are commanded to stay here until he returns. You may not follow them.’ His expression was like granite, his bearded face shielding any trace of sympathy.

His imperious attitude darkened her mood, and she tried to pry his hand away. ‘I won’t interfere. They won’t even know I’m there.’ She craned her neck to meet his eyes, hoping he would understand. ‘I just want to see them together.’

If she could see the look in Styr’s eyes when he saw his wife for the first time, she would have the answer she needed. She would know.

Onund loosened his grip upon her. He stared at her as if trying to discern her purpose. ‘I saw him watching you. And I saw him go to your tent this morn.’

She shielded her feelings from him. ‘He did nothing to dishonour his marriage.’ Though she wondered if that were true. In the end, he’d hungered for her, and she’d writhed at the touch of his mouth upon her bare breast. Even now, the memory sent a ripple of desire through her.

‘Their marriage is a shadow,’ Onund admitted. His expression narrowed upon her, as if trying to read her thoughts. ‘It was duty that kept him at Elena’s side. He should have put her aside long ago, choosing another woman to give him sons.’

His answer startled Caragh, for she’d not known that the others were aware of their marital difficulties. Nor had she realised the emphasis the Lochlannach placed upon bearing children.

‘Whatever choice he makes, I want him to be happy,’ she told Onund.

The man folded his arms across his chest, and Caragh doubted if he would allow her to take a single step inland. ‘Styr needs sons,’ he repeated. Taking her hand, he led her through the sand towards the hills.

As they approached the top, he added, ‘You will remain hidden.’ Onund reminded her, ‘You cannot reveal yourself. No matter what you see.’

‘I won’t,’ she swore. Grateful for his assistance, she walked alongside him. Styr had gone with a handful of men earlier, tracking the path of Ragnar and Elena. There was no way of knowing how far they’d gone or whether they would find them.

But with every footstep closer, her dread heightened. Within her bones, she sensed that Styr would never leave Elena behind.

Onund led her through the meadows, towards a river that wound through the land. Traces of smoke from a fire revealed the presence of a campsite.

‘Stay back,’ Onund warned. There was a small copse of trees, hardly more than a dozen, nearby. He guided her there, and when they reached the edge, he warned, ‘Not a word. You don’t reveal us, or Styr will have my head for it.’

She nodded, crouching low. Her stomach burned when she saw Styr speaking to another man who she supposed was Ragnar. Their features were similar, though Ragnar’s hair was a darker gold blended with brown, and he was shorter.

There was a tension between them, though she didn’t know what they had said to one another. Styr was eyeing his kinsman with suspicion, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Then, a moment later, the woman emerged from within a crude shelter. Her face softened with relief at the sight of Styr, and she looked as if she wanted to embrace him.

The ugly claws of jealousy sank into Caragh, though she knew Styr was bound to Elena and had shared her bed. the image of the two of them together made her lungs constrict, and she gripped her skirts at the thought.

‘Do you want to go?’ Onund whispered, seeming to read her thoughts.

Caragh didn’t move. She was waiting to see if Styr would deny Elena, if he would tell her the truth of what had happened between them. Instead, she saw the woman offer a tentative smile, her hands moving to rest upon her womb.

Then the shock of disbelief upon his face.

And she knew. Without a single word from either of them, she knew that after so many years of trying for a child, it had come to pass. Styr would never leave his wife and unborn child. Not for a woman he’d known in so short a space of time.

The pain was a physical blow, drowning her. Caragh took a breath and nodded to Onund. She didn’t want to hear any words or excuses. Right now, she wanted her brothers to bring her home. Somewhere she wouldn’t have to see Styr or his wife again.

She’d been a fool to let herself be caught up in the dreams of a life with him. Last night, she had gone to him, and he’d warned her to leave.

She should have gone.

Caragh hurried through the field, not caring if anyone saw her or not. Onund kept up with her pace, and when she reached the shore, her lungs were burning, every part of her grieving.

‘Will you help me go to my brothers?’ she pleaded. ‘Their ship isn’t far.’

‘My orders were to keep you here.’ But the man’s face held sympathy, for he knew the humiliation inside her.

‘Don’t make me stay.’ The tears burned against her cheeks, and she picked up her skirts, prepared to swim if she had to. ‘I already know the choice he’s made. And it isn’t me.’

‘It’s possible you could be his concubine,’ Onund countered. ‘If you conceive a son, he might put her aside.’

Caragh wiped the tears from her face. ‘That isn’t the life I want.’

Footsteps drew closer, and she saw Styr standing at the rise of the hill. His eyes locked with hers, and she saw the regret in them.

Caragh hurried to the furthest edge of the shore, raising her hand to wave at her brothers. Surely one of them might see her and they would bring the boat in closer. The desperate need to leave superseded all else.

But Styr was already overtaking her.

‘Caragh,’ he began. She didn’t turn around, trying not to reveal the desolation on her face.

‘She’s carrying your child, isn’t she?’

‘Yes.’ There was no joy in his voice, only a grim resignation. ‘It happened before we left for Éire. I knew nothing of it.’

‘It doesn’t matter when it happened. You have to stay with her now.’

His silence was the answer she feared. When he came forwards, his hands rested upon her shoulders. ‘I am a cursed man. I should be overjoyed at this blessing. And yet, it is another set of chains.’

She turned around, and he didn’t hesitate to pull her into an embrace. ‘I can’t turn my back on them.’

‘I know.’ It should have consoled her to know that he, too, was unhappy about it. But there was no means of changing it. Their child had been conceived before they’d set sail. She had no right to ask him to leave Elena, and she would not do it.

Her brothers’ boat was drawing closer, and Styr cupped her cheek, wiping a tear away. ‘I can’t say the words I want to say.’

‘Go back to her,’ she bade him. ‘Not once did you dishonour her.’

‘I dishonoured her a thousand times in my mind,’ he said. ‘And the gods have punished me for it.’

He held her again, so tightly, she felt as though he wanted to absorb her into him. ‘May your child be born well and whole,’ she whispered. ‘A fighter, like his father.’

She stepped out of his embrace, walking towards the boat that drifted closer. And she refused to look back.