Читать книгу Forbidden Nights With A Viking - Michelle Willingham, Harper St. George - Страница 22

Styr spent the rest of the evening brooding among his men. He’d brought Caragh back to her home with all the gifts he’d given her, but his foul mood lingered.

Thor’s teeth, but women were impossible to understand. He’d come back to her, hadn’t he? Yet somehow what was supposed to be an afternoon spent in her arms had become an argument that twisted him into knots. He’d given her the truth, even if she hadn’t wanted to hear it.

If she wanted a babe and he could not give her a child, he’d rather release her from their marriage than have her look upon him with hatred. He cared about her too much, wanting only her happiness.

He wished he could find the right words—to talk to her, to tell her all the reasons why he wanted to be with her. Damned words were of no use to him. He didn’t know what to say or what she wanted to hear.

Styr rubbed the scar on the back of his head, unsure of what to do. But he wasn’t going to abandon this. Not yet.

They made camp and Onund went out to hunt. Styr had spitted a trout he’d caught and was waiting for the fish to cook.

‘May I join you?’ came the voice of a wizened old woman. He’d seen her before, but didn’t know her name.

Styr gestured for her to sit across from him, and she smiled, saying, ‘No, I can’t, my boy. If these old knees bend, they won’t get up again.’

‘Are you hungry?’ he asked, though he suspected that wasn’t the reason for her conversation.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I came to lend you my advice, since you’re failing in your quest.’

He lifted a peat brick and tossed it on the fire. ‘And what quest is that?’

‘Why, to win our Caragh’s heart. She wept over you, you know. She tried not to let us see it, but you hurt her. You’ll have to atone for it.’

Styr said nothing, for he wasn’t about to beg. He wanted Caragh, but what more did she want?

‘Give her time,’ the woman suggested. ‘Build her a house and show her that you’re not leaving.’

He studied the old woman and saw that her face was sombre. ‘I have no intention of giving her up.’ But neither did he want to wait for weeks, giving Caragh the chance to say no.

‘I think you already know what to do, Loch­ lannach.’ The old woman smiled. Leaning on her walking stick, she hobbled back to her husband.

An idea took root in his mind, one that suited his intent perfectly.

Over the next few days, Caragh hardly saw Styr at all. He’d negotiated a truce with her brothers, and she half-wondered if it was in return for keeping his distance.

But on the night Ronan and Terence took Brendan to visit a neighbouring clan, she found Styr awaiting her inside her home. He was seated on a stool, both hands enclosed in manacles, while a longer chain looped around the post where she’d once held him captive. His hands were in front of him this time, with each bound separately, to give him more freedom to move.

And he wore nothing but his hose.

At the very sight of his muscled chest, words failed her. He was magnificent, his sun-darkened skin gleaming against the fire. His shoulders were corded, lean and strong, while his stomach was flat and ridged.

Caragh couldn’t imagine what had happened to him, but the heated look in his eyes drew her closer.

‘Wh-what are you doing here?’ she asked, pushing back the storm of unexpected feelings. ‘Who’s done this to you?’ Had Ronan or Terence ordered him chained? She wouldn’t put it past her brothers. But if that were the case, they wouldn’t have confined him here.

‘Close the door,’ Styr answered. ‘This was my decision, with the help of Onund.’

‘Why?’ she blurted out, not understanding what would possess him to do such a thing. It reminded her of the first nights they’d spent together, when she’d held him captive.

‘Because I’m not good with words.’

Caragh bit her lip to keep her mouth from falling open. He had chained himself here? For what purpose?

She studied him, taking another step closer. He was bared to her, his body chained so that he could not leave.

And she understood what he was trying to say.

‘Promise me,’ she whispered. ‘No matter what happens between us.’ Her hand came up to cover his heart. ‘Our marriage will not rest upon the condition of having children.’

He leaned in, resting his cheek against hers. ‘I want to give you children.’ His hands moved to rest upon her waist. ‘I want to watch you grow round with my child, your breasts heavy with milk.’

His words held a power that entrapped her, as if she were the one wearing manacles. Against her body, she felt the rise of his arousal.

‘Your brothers are gone this night,’ he reminded her, nipping her cheek with a light kiss. ‘We’re alone.’

Her body responded to his sensual promise, aching for him. Against her gown, her breasts tightened.

‘What do you want from me?’ she whispered.

‘Everything.’ His voice was resonant, pushing past her defences. ‘Did you think I was going to let you walk away?’

She had no idea what to say, but eyed the chains. ‘This wasn’t quite what I had in mind.’

‘It’s more interesting.’

Her eyes widened, her skin warming at his suggestion. But she could not resist the urge to run her hands over his shoulders, feeling the strength of his bare skin.

It felt wicked, having a man chained for her pleasure. Deliciously so.

‘This isn’t fair to you,’ she whispered.

A slow smile curved over his mouth. ‘Søtnos, there isn’t a man alive who doesn’t dream of this.’

She realised, then, that this was his way of atonement. When he’d left her before, she’d nearly crumbled under the weight of her grief. He had chosen to stay with his wife out of honour and duty to their unborn child. She’d understood that, though it had devastated her.

‘If you wed me, I don’t want you to leave,’ she said. ‘I want a child, yes, but more than that, I want you.’ To emphasise her words, she ran her palm over his cheek, down his throat, to rest upon his heart. ‘With or without a child. It’s you I need.’

Styr held himself motionless at her words. When Caragh moved beneath his chained arms to kiss him, he claimed her lips, as if disbelieving what she’d said. Pulling back from him, she ordered, ‘Look at me.’

He did, and she framed his face with her hands, seeing the yearning that mirrored her own. ‘I don’t love you for the child you may or may not give me. I love the man before me.’ She pressed another kiss against his heart, and he drew his chained hands against her hair, holding her as best he could.

‘I don’t want you to hate me, years from now,’ he admitted.

She looped her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek against his skin. ‘I’ll only hate you, if you walk away.’

In his eyes, she saw the uncertainty, the belief of a man who saw himself as unworthy. And she realised that he was as broken as she had once been.

‘When you left, it was as if a part of me was gone,’ she continued. Emotion welled up in her eyes as she reached down to touch the lengths of chain. ‘I never should have taken you prisoner in the beginning. I understand now, what you suffered, not knowing if Elena was alive or dead. It was wrong of me.’

His hands came around her waist, pulling the chains taut until her body was pressed against his. She could feel his desire, and she warmed to it. ‘I love you, Styr. And though I may not ever be what Elena was—’

He cut her off at that. ‘She cannot compare to you. Not in any way.’ He took her mouth again, kissing her and shaping her lips to his. When she opened to him, she accepted his tongue within her mouth, matching his invasion with her own.

His deep voice was a breath of heat upon her skin. ‘From the moment I saw you, Caragh, you captured me.’

The desire to touch him, to feel his bare skin against hers, was an ache that could not be denied. At his words, she reached back for the ties of her gown, loosening it until the linen slid over her shoulders, over her bared breasts, and falling to her feet.

When Styr saw her body, he ached to touch her. Her slim lines had filled out, her breasts a generous handful that he wanted to caress. No longer could he see her bones, but a softer flesh covered the body he adored.

‘I am yours to command,’ he said, and by the gods, he prayed she would take advantage. Against his hose, he was rigid, almost afraid he would lose control the moment she touched him.

She drew near to him, her unbound hair falling across her shoulders in a dark pool. He lifted his chained hands, and she stepped beneath them, her expression shy. The length of the fetters grazed her nipple, and she gasped at the sensation.

‘It’s cold.’

‘Is it?’ He covered one nipple with his palm, gently teasing the other with the chain. She gasped, and he distracted her with his mouth, tasting the sweet flesh while his hands moved over her hips, lifting one of her legs until he could loop the chain between them.

She was so caught up in the attention he gave to her breasts, that she hardly noticed the length of chain until it slid between her thighs, moving upwards until it rested upon her womanhood.

A cry escaped her when he rubbed it gently upon her. ‘What are you—?’ A shudder broke forth as he drew it over her flesh.

His hands caressed her rib cage, his mouth still suckling her breasts while he tormented her below.

‘Remove my clothing,’ he ordered. But she was so caught up, her eyes closed at the sensation, she hardly heard him.

‘Caragh,’ he demanded, ‘look at me.’

Her blue eyes were hazed with pleasure, her hands gripping his shoulders. He repeated his request, and she fumbled with the ties of his hose, drawing them over his hips.

Her fingers brushed against his erect shaft, and it was as if she’d touched a torch to his skin. He nearly lost his seed at that moment, and he froze, trying to gather up the threads of his shredded control.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, pulling her hand back. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

It was the sweetest pleasure he’d ever felt in his life, but this was not meant to be a moment for his own release. To distract her, he moved the chain between her legs. Although he saw the flush of arousal deepening, her breathing growing faster, she never stopped her own torment. Her fingers curled around him, stroking him from the base of his shaft to the blunt tip.

He was losing command of himself, a prisoner to her touch in truth.

‘I love touching you,’ she admitted, exploring his rigid flesh with her hands. ‘You’re like warm stone.’

‘If you do that for much longer, I won’t be able to pleasure you,’ he gritted out. He lowered the chain and dropped to his knees. Her sex was wet, her legs spread apart for him. With no warning at all, he placed his mouth upon her intimately, and her knees buckled.

‘Hold on to the post,’ he ordered. With his hands upon her bottom, he used his tongue upon her flesh, revelling in the salty taste of her arousal.

Caragh was lost in sensation, drowning in him. Her hands moved to touch his hair, trying to guide him back up. She couldn’t stand the fierce pleasure that rocked her core, and when he entered her with his tongue, she couldn’t stop the tremors from sweeping over her.

‘Come for me,’ he demanded. ‘I won’t stop until you let go.’

Oh God above, she couldn’t take this. Her body was on fire, her mind enslaved to him. She remembered the night he had forced her to touch herself, and the memory of that pleasure was returning.

He seemed to recall it, too, for a moment later, he rose from between her thighs and guided her hand to the wetness between her legs. With his hand upon hers, he took her back to the searing rhythm, and that was all it took for her to crumple, a cry of ecstasy tearing forth. He leaned against the post, lifting her up with his chained hands beneath her bottom. His hips rocked against her, and she opened to him, trembling when the hard ridge of his manhood slid against her wet seam.

Slowly, he settled her until she felt him entering. His arms tightened, but he did not fully penetrate. The sensation of his manhood filling her was so welcome, she cared nothing for the slight discomfort of losing her virginity. And when she was fully seated upon him, she wrapped her legs around him, feeling that it was right to have him inside her.

Styr licked the underside of her breast, his warm breath sending chills of desire rippling through her skin. He remained sheathed within her, not moving at all, but using his mouth to draw out the heat and need.

‘What is your command?’ he asked her, his eyes burning with wickedness.

She could hardly speak, much less give him orders. The cool length of the chain was against her bottom, his hands holding her steady.

‘I want you to find the same release I did,’ she said. ‘I want to please you.’

Leaning in, she kissed his mouth. He responded with aggression, his tongue plundering her, while below, he lifted her gently. Every touch of his mouth and hands had aroused her to the point of desperate need. Her body no longer belonged to her; it was his conquest.

‘This pleases me more than all else,’ he answered.

Caragh began to move against him, rising and sheathing herself while staring into his eyes. he helped her, his body thrusting inside hers as she rode him.

Each time he filled her up, her body clenched. He was insatiable, his mouth moving over every part of her skin as he lifted her. With one arm, he held her bottom balanced, while he reached around, stretching the chain around her waist. He moved his fingers between them, finding the nodule that had brought her such pleasure before.

‘I wanted to do this from the first moment I saw you,’ he confessed. ‘You fascinated me. And the longer I was with you, the more I wanted you.’ He stopped thrusting, using his hand upon her instead. ‘You were forbidden to me, and I never thought we would have this.’

She was fighting against the touch of his fingers, but could not stop the keening cries that escaped her. Styr kept up the pace, demanding, ‘I’m going to take you there again, Caragh. I’ll watch you come apart with me inside you.’

He leaned her back slightly, and the angled pressure caused a delicious friction. She couldn’t stop herself from panting to the rhythm of his fingers.

‘I love you,’ she told him, locking his gaze with hers. ‘Stay with me. No matter what happens.’

‘I love you,’ he answered. When the words were spoken, it seemed to transform the intimacy between them. And with his hands, he pleasured her until she trembled violently against him, his body still buried inside her.

‘Please,’ she begged. ‘I can’t bear it any more.’ She was moving in counterpoint to him, her body crying out for release.

Styr kept the same pace but impaled her deeply, his hard shaft embedded to the hilt. In and out he moved, every penetration swift and deep.

Caragh couldn’t speak, she was trembling so hard. ‘I need your hands on me,’ she begged. And when she guided his fingers between them, he found the place she wanted. It took only a few strokes before the shattering sensations flooded through her, making her cry out with release. She clenched against his erection, and he went rigid, his expression fighting to maintain control.

When the languid feelings spread over her, she wanted him to lose himself, to forget all about her and sate his own desires. ‘Let me touch you.’ Reaching down, she cupped his sac and he tensed at her actions.

He let out a stream of words in his native language, and perspiration beaded across his brow.

‘Or should I take you in my mouth, the way you tasted me?’

The very promise made him groan. Styr resumed his thrusts, his body so tense, she wondered when he would let go of his control. To urge him, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he rewarded her by increasing the rhythm.

It was primal and hard, their bodies so caught up, they were one. And when she felt herself trembling a third time on the brink, she pulled his mouth down to her bare breast, and he rewarded her with a deep pull against her nipple.

It took only a few more penetrations before his breathing shifted and he groaned, collapsing against her. Caragh’s heart pounded so fast, she couldn’t catch her breath. But she felt alive in a way she never had before. Being with Styr, sharing this act with him, was everything.

And she loved his skin upon hers.

Her brothers made him pay dearly for the rights to the land. Over the next few weeks, Styr journeyed back to Dubh Linn to bring over sheep and horses, as well as enough grain for every person in their clan. And when they’d at last agreed to the price, Styr spent his time building longhouses similar to those in the city.

Caragh had come to see him each day and sometimes brought him water. Her presence only increased his desire to finish their home sooner. Her brothers had refused to give their permission for the marriage to take place until the dwelling was completed. Although Styr knew he could have taken her to wife at any moment, with his men as witnesses, he knew Caragh wanted her brother’s blessing.

Being apart from her was slowly killing him. He hadn’t touched her in nearly a month, save for a few stolen embraces.

He was working atop the roof one afternoon, laying thatch, when she approached with her brother Brendan standing behind. Shielding her eyes against the sun, she called out to him, ‘Will it be finished tonight?’

‘If I keep working until sundown.’ Styr climbed down the ladder, noting the soft smile on her face that belonged to him alone. His body stirred, and he didn’t resist the urge to pull her close.

‘My brother wanted to speak with you,’ she admitted, and Brendan stepped forwards.

‘I’ve come to ask that there be peace between us,’ he began. ‘For Caragh’s sake.’

The young man’s face was sombre, and though Brendan appeared nervous, he continued his apology. ‘I thought I was protecting my people when we took your men and your wife captive. She—she’s safe now, isn’t she?’

Styr gave a nod, still not revealing his thoughts. He knew Caragh wanted him to forgive her brother, but Brendan’s actions had threatened all of them.

‘I know this won’t matter to you, but my blade is yours, if ever you have need of it. I owe you a debt that I can never repay.’

Styr glanced at Caragh, and saw the plea in her eyes. ‘My men will need help building their homes,’ he said at last. ‘Give them the labour of your hands until our work is done. That can serve to repay your debt.’

He flushed, his head bobbing with thanks. Caragh’s blinding smile made Styr glad he’d compromised.

‘There—there’s one more thing I can do for you,’ Brendan offered, his face turning crimson. ‘I—I could keep my brothers away for the rest of the afternoon. So that you and my sister can be alone.’

Caragh looked at her younger brother, aghast that he’d said such a thing. But his offer caused Styr to break into a laugh. He took her hand and called back, ‘I accept your offer, Brendan, and gladly.’

‘I can’t believe what my brother just said,’ Caragh murmured. She was holding a cup of cold water from the stream, and Styr accepted the cup, drinking deeply.

‘He’s more intelligent than I realised.’

A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek, and she reached out to touch it, drawing a line down his throat, to his chest. Heat flared through him, and Styr dropped the cup, dragging her inside.

He took her mouth, kissing her hard against the wall. Gods, but he would never get enough of the taste of her. Caragh’s arms came around him, and she pressed close. ‘If you finish the house today, we could wed this night.’ Her mouth was swollen, her eyes bright. ‘I’ve made a gown from the silk you brought me. I hope it pleases you.’

‘You could wear nothing at all, and it would please me,’ he gritted out. His hand moved up to the underside of her breast. ‘Though I would kill any man who looked upon your beauty,’ he murmured against her throat, caressing the hard nub of her nipple.

‘You’re not playing fair.’ She shuddered at the touch of his hands, gasping when he cupped her fully.

‘Not for something I want this badly.’ He kissed her hard, offering every promise of what was to come. She melted against him, opening while his tongue invaded her mouth. When she kissed him back, pulling him tightly against her, his arousal made her breathing quicken.

‘I don’t want to wait until tonight,’ she whispered. Her arms tightened around his waist, her face pressed against his heart. Styr gripped her hard, breathing in the scent of her hair.

When she raised her head, she stared hard at him. ‘A madness possesses me when I’m with you. I don’t understand it.’ She steadied herself, then ventured, ‘Was it like this with her?’

‘What happened with Elena is in the past,’ he said, not wanting to darken this day. But when he saw the look of worry pass over her, he realised she needed to know that he no longer held any feelings for his first wife.

‘No,’ he said. ‘It was never like this. Not in five years.’ Kissing her to force her not to speak, he murmured against her lips, ‘Elena is a good woman, and I wish her every happiness. But protecting her and being her husband was my duty.

‘We were friends,’ he admitted. ‘Lovers, even. But I never felt for her the way I feel for you now.’ He slid his hands beneath her skirts, touching her bare leg. ‘I love you.’

Caragh was watching him, her eyes gleaming with emotion. She reached up to touch his face, and he rested his forehead against hers. He brought his hands over her heart, down to her breast. ‘If any man took you from me, I’d destroy him.’

She gripped him hard, and he answered the embrace, his hands moving over her body. She was whispering words of endearment in her language, and a moment later, she touched his hose, reaching for his arousal. ‘I want you, Styr. This very moment.’

She started to raise her skirts, and he turned her to face the wall, bracing her hands on either side. He freed himself and palmed her bare legs, lifting her skirt to her waist. Stepping between her legs, he slid his arousal against her. She was already wet, and before he could say a word, she reached down and guided him inside her.

Scalding heat enveloped him as she pushed back, and he filled her, primal in his need. Their coupling was fierce, and she bent over, meeting him with every thrust. He took her hard, but she seemed to welcome the swiftness of their lovemaking as her breathing quickened.

And when she arched against him, trembling hard with the force of her release, he let go of his control, revelling in the way her body accepted him, squeezing hard against his length. He spasmed against her, holding tightly to her waist while he rested his head against her shoulder.

‘I can’t get enough of you, søtnos.’ Withdrawing from her, he lowered her skirts and turned her to face him. With a wry smile, he admitted, ‘You may not sleep tonight.’

She kissed him, resting her cheek against his. ‘There will be time enough for sleep later.’

He brought her over to a low bench to sit, pulling her on to his lap. Her cheeks were flushed, her arms around him. Then she drew his hand down to her womb. ‘Even if we never have children, Styr, having you at my side will be enough.’

‘You say that now, but—’

‘No. I know you’ve dreamed of going to those lands across the sea. We could go together,’ she offered.

‘Some of those places aren’t safe for women.’

She moved her hand over his shoulder. ‘You would protect me, wouldn’t you?’

‘I’d take a sword in the heart for you.’

Caragh moved her hand upon his chest. ‘I want to sit beside you and let the sails take us where they will.’ His dreams, of journeying to foreign places, mirrored her own. As long as he was with her.

‘What of your family?’

‘We will see them every summer,’ she said, ‘and spend our winters in the warmer lands, just as you said.’

He touched her cheek, guiding her into a kiss. ‘I always thought the gods had cursed me. I made sacrifices and raged against them.’

She saw in his eyes that he believed it. ‘You were never cursed.’

‘No. And neither was my first marriage a mistake. It led me here, to you. The greatest treasure I could ever have.’

They wed upon the sands, speaking their vows before friends and family. Caragh wore the crimson silk he had given her, the soft material clinging to her body. When they were married, Caragh took his hands in hers. ‘There is no woman on this earth who loves you as much as I do.’

He kissed her hard, and she welcomed the familiar warmth of his body pressed against her. ‘I am your prisoner, now and always.’

‘As I am yours,’ she whispered.

With a smile, he took her hand, walking with her towards the feast that awaited them.

As the last of the sun gleamed against the dark waters, she saw the outline of his ship…and knew their journey had only begun.