Vanquished by the Viking (3 page)

She frowned. “He would not.”

“Even the most ill-tempered woman in the world is a valuable asset if she will inherit property. And you are far from unattractive. No doubt your father is plagued by ambitious men asking for you. He must simply prefer to have you with him.”

Would her father have lied to her to make her feel unworthy? Of course. She felt a fool for not considering such deception long ago. Yet, why would her father want her under his roof when he had always thought so little of her?

“It is just as well,” she said finally, confused about a relationship she had always assumed was very clear. “I have never been interested in...marriage.” She was about to say
men
, but that wasn’t quite true.

The idea of males intrigued her and she had fanciful notions of love like any maid, but no warrior had ever intrigued her until she’d seen Reinn that first day on the beach in the skirmish.

“You have not met the right man.” He spoke with bold certainty, a blatant all-knowing manner that made her bristle.

“No husband would make me want to throw aside my skills as a huntress to run about his keep and fetch him his ale.” This included arrogant Norsemen, no matter how physically appealing.

Or noble in battle.

Although the last part reminded her she could not hate Reinn Geirsson even though he had usurped her father’s throne and robbed her of any chance of a good marriage.

“A servant can fetch the ale. Wives fulfill a far more compelling role.” He edged closer, icy blue eyes locked on hers. “And you would not have to give up the hunt.”

He grinned, revealing straight white teeth.

Her cheeks heated along with her chest and suddenly she felt very alone with him. The sides of the small linen shelter seemed to close in on them, shrinking the space until she could not draw a breath that did not contain a hint of his scent.

“Insolent warrior,” she chided, though she was unable to look away from him. “I may be a maid, but I know what you speak of.”

“You do not know enough,” he returned softly, his hand lifting to cup her chin with a gentleness that surprised her. “Or you would have never sought me out, let alone stepped into a vessel with me with no other protector.”

She swallowed hard, her throat impossibly dry. “I trust you will not hurt me.”

“It is not pain you need to worry about, Eva.” He stroked his thumb over her lips, eliciting a shiver. “It’s the pleasure that poses all the threat.”

Chapter Three

As the temperature soared in the shelter, Eva began to understand Reinn’s warning. There was pleasure to be had here, between the two of them. She’d been too inexperienced to understand why her skin prickled when he was near or her heart beat faster even though she was not afraid of him.

There was a connection. A force that pulled them together.

She felt it now as his mouth hovered close to hers. Her body swayed like a woman caught in a faint, her limbs loose. And she could not deny she wanted to explore the feeling. To understand it as he did.

“I would not call it a threat,” she said finally, the breeze whistling past the linen walls that shielded them. “Especially when I have known little pleasure. Perhaps you should give me a taste of this and I will decide for myself.”

The low growl he made in his throat did not frighten her. She liked the way his eyes darkened at her words. Wrapping his palm around the back of her neck, he drew her closer, tipping her face to his.

When his mouth met hers, she felt a lightning storm of response in her whole body. In a flash, her skin hummed with sensation, her hands reaching for his shoulders. Her breasts ached and tightened. Stars winked behind her closed eyes.

His mouth was soft against hers, although the rough stubble of some days’ worth of beard abraded her cheek and her chin. But the sensation was not unpleasant. She wanted more of it. Much more.

When he did not increase the pressure, she levered back sharply.

“I have decided,” she told him firmly. “I will experience this pleasure—threat and all.”

His fingers speared through her hair at the base of her scalp, sending ripples of awareness down her spine.

“You are a warrior to the last,” he whispered. “Do you never stand down when threatened?”

“I have no wish for battle,” she assured him, smoothing her hands over the leather of his garb and feeling the great heft of his shoulders. “Far from it, I think.”

When she slipped a palm beneath the leather to the fine linen tunic beneath it, she felt the tension melt from his sinew and she sensed a different kind of victory. He claimed her mouth again, this time with a new intensity that captivated her. She forgot about exploring his rough-hewn muscles and savored the slide of his lips over hers until his tongue coaxed entrance there.

This kiss was demanding. She found herself wrapping her arms about his neck to hold herself upright, her body going suddenly boneless in the onslaught of Reinn’s sensual attention. Soon, she was dragging him down to the fur pelt in the bottom of the boat. Or perhaps he guided her there. They moved as one so that she could not tell who led and who followed. But all at once they were of a single mind in the pursuit of this heated pleasure.

He pressed her lightly to her back, still not covering her. His lips held her down, yes. But he kept his body to one side, perhaps letting her acclimate to this kind of closeness. She felt the boat shift subtly with their movements. They seemed to have come to rest in the cove, one side of the
faering
lightly bumping a sandy bank or soft shore. When she levered an eye open briefly, she could see high tree branches edging into her view of blue sky.

Mostly, she saw Reinn’s face bent over hers, his gaze dark as a churning sea. Behind her, the fur tickled through her garments, cradling her. And though the kiss was bone-meltingly sweet, she began to see how it was also like a battle. He retreated. Conquered. His tongue claimed more and more terrain until she wished only to succumb. There was no fight in her. Only sweet accomplice. Eager surrender.

They continued that way until she found she needed more. Craved the weight of his body on hers. She understood then that he knew exactly what he was doing, taking his time to win the skirmish nobly rather than press his advantage.

“I have raised the white flag,” she murmured between kisses, her hands returning to his tunic to explore the warm strength of his body. “You must claim more. These are spoils I freely give.”

“Eva.” He lifted his head to assess her, still keeping his body to one side of hers. “I am the one who loses the battle. If we take this further, there is no going back.”

She understood that he was trying to protect her innocence. Yet why would she wish to save it, only to have it wrenched away from her by a brute she never wanted to wed? Or, if she sought shelter at a nunnery, she would have only the regret of never knowing the pleasure of a man’s touch.

“As a woman, I have had too few choices. But I choose this. Now. With you.”

He nodded once, accepting.

Then, his hands were everywhere. Skimming up her waist to her ribcage, exploring the indent of her belly as she lay beneath him. He stroked a path along the underside of each breast until she arched her back to seek a firmer touch. Obliging her, he tugged at the bodice of her kirtle, unfastening ribbons and loosening ties.

Her heart beat wildly, the pleasure spreading through her fast as wildfire and consuming her just as thoroughly. She rolled her shoulders to help him ease off her gown, the moss-green fabric gliding down her body until she wore just her kirtle.

“I wish to see my spoils as well,” she reminded him, gripping the leather of his overtunic with both hands. “Have I not earned a battle prize of my own?”

His outer garb disappeared in an instant, drawn off and flung away in one easy sweep of his long arms. She had little time to admire him in the thin fabric of his soft linen shirt as he chose that moment to slide a thigh between hers, giving her some of his weight.

She gasped at the warmth of him settled upon her so intimately. His hip brushed hers, the hard press of his manhood evident.

“I will give you whatever you wish,” he assured her. “I just thought you might like some guidance this first time.” He ran a fingertip just inside the edge of her bodice, his touch so close to the tips of her breasts that she gasped. “Until you experience all the possibilities, how will you know what you’d like?”

She felt breathless and needy, her hips rocking toward his.

“I am a woman of strong opinions,” she countered, dragging her nails gently down his chest. “And I would like to see you disrobed.”

He yanked his shirt over his head, his blue eyes hot upon her. “You are not alone in that wish.”

While her gaze roamed the golden skin and heavy sinew of his arms and chest, Reinn lowered his head to her breast and pulled down the kirtle he’d unfastened. His tongue swept the crest, swirling about the taut peak until her fingers fisted in his hair to hold him there.

Tension tightened in her belly and lower, her feminine center aching with a kind of pleasurable hunger.

“I am...” One word would hardly describe the sensations racing through her. “...needful.”

Reinn stilled for a moment before he lifted his head to gaze upon her, his lips damp from his seductive attentions.

“That is good.” His voice sounded hoarse and she could tell he was not unaffected. “For an untried woman, it is important the need is strong so that the union is less hurtful.”

“It is very strong,” she promised, impatient for more. For everything. “And I am unafraid of what is to come.”

She did not like not knowing, in fact. With no mother to raise her, she had absorbed only the most rudimentary understanding of carnal relations. She learned all she knew from what she’d seen late at night on the floor of the great hall or what she’d gleaned from the excited babble of lovesick maids.

He covered her completely now, moving up her body to cup her cheek and kiss her mouth.

“But it is such a pleasure to taste you.” He reached low to lift the hem of the thin undergarment still covering her. His broad hand traced a path up the outside of her thigh.

Cupped her hip.

The sea breeze filtered through their thin shelter, ruffling the linen of her underskirts and tickling her exposed skin. She gripped his upper arm, seeking a stronghold in a world of sensation and pleasure.

“Too much?” he asked, shifting his hand down again.

“Nay!” she protested, craving his touch. “Do not stop. I am simply undone. Unfettered. It is both strange and delicious.”

She pressed against him to reassure him, her bare breasts molding to his naked chest in a way that seemed to affect him as much as her. His eyes closed and the length of his manhood twitched against her belly.

Reinn tipped his forehead to hers, trying to maintain his sanity and some scrap of restraint.

She could not possibly be ready for him, yet her breathy sighs in his ear and her innocent urging tested him sorely. Her hands smoothed over his skin, nails scoring lightly when he touched her in ways that pleased her. Her chestnut hair blended with the rich pelt on which she lay, her cheeks suffused with the heat of arousal.

Beneath the boat, the water rocked them gently, the movement echoed in the soft sway of her breasts where he’d tugged down the kirtle. Now, he swept away the fine, thin garment to reveal her fully.

Delicate curves and flawless pale skin were a feast for the eyes. As he spanned the breadth of her waist with his hand, he felt her softness and warmth. She undulated beneath him, her thigh quivering restlessly against his until he shifted to provide pressure against her sex. Her arms wound around him then, holding him closer as if she wanted him there.

She was hot. Damp. He felt her right through his braies and the knowledge that she wanted him was his undoing. He unlaced the fastenings on his last remaining garment, freeing himself.

She whispered soft words in his ear, her breath on his skin a phantom touch that affected him as much as any caress. Sweat broke along his back from even the little restraint he had shown, the draw of her too potent to ignore.

“Eva.” Her name was a word of praise and affection on his lips, this woman who had bewitched him in his dreams before she had come to life in his arms.

There was naught but the two of them. The heat. The pleasure. And the irrefutable proof of her readiness for him between her thighs.

Positioning himself there, he raised up on his elbows to take his weight. To help himself go slowly. She peered up at him with gray eyes both demanding and trusting. More than anything, he wanted to be worthy of that trust. But aye, he could not wait to satisfy the hunger.

Pressing forward, he felt her nails dig into his shoulders and wished he could take the hurt from her. Instead, he lowered his mouth to her breast, distracting her with the kiss he’d discovered she liked best there. When her back was arched for more, he palmed her thigh and thrust deeper, piercing her maidenhead swiftly.

She did not cry out, but he felt her wince somehow, her body retreating ever so slightly from his.

“I’m sorry.” He wrapped his arms around her, kissing the hollow between her neck and her shoulder. “Sometimes the sting is easier when it is brief.”

He felt her nod, her soft cheek rubbing against his temple.

“It is receding,” she acknowledged. “I am not the fragile sort, remember?”

“I could not forget.” He stroked her hair from her face, warmed by her easy jest even as he vowed to give her more comforts in a life that had been full of hardship.

“Show me the rest,” she murmured, her fingers easing their grip on his shoulders, her legs relaxing. “Bring me back the pleasure, if it is not too late to recapture it.”

She could not have challenged him more if she’d been in armor and tossed her gauntlet at his jaw. But it was the very best kind of dare.

“It is not too late, I promise.” He moved slowly inside her, and when she did not seem plagued with soreness, he hastened his pace.

Studying her expression, feeling the way she moved beneath him, he began to see what pleased her. With ruthless effort, he focused solely on her pleasure, trying not to notice the way her tight sheath squeezed him or the way her hips rocked when she approved of his movements.

But then, when her heels dug into his flanks, he was hard pressed not to notice.

“It is wondrous,” she gasped, breathless and excited. “I can almost—oh!”

Her release came over her in an instant, her back bowing with the waves of sensation. He scarcely had time to enjoy the surprise in her expression, his own finish surging through him so hard he shouted her name to the heavens.

Her inner muscles squeezed him over and over again, her body milking every last scrap of pleasure from his. When at last the aftershocks slowed, he was empty. Replete. So thoroughly spent he was forced to lie by her side to recover himself.

He wrapped the fur pelt about her shoulders and turned her toward him, cradling her head on his arm. Lying together in the subtly swaying boat, his heartbeat seemed to match pace with hers. The cinnamon scent of her hair mingled with the sea breeze as the rightness of the moment wrapped around him.

Reinn had claimed her. Not just for the moment. But forever. For keeps.

While the knowledge pleased his heart, he knew that taking his brother’s intended bride was no small transgression. Gunnar would not let her go lightly. Yet for Reinn, there could be no other choice. Eva belonged to him and with him.

They’d just proven that in the most elemental manner possible. All that remained was challenging his brother for the woman who’d captured his heart that first moment in her father’s great hall.

* * *

“Must we dress so soon?” Eva asked some long moments afterward as Reinn donned his tunic and handed her the wrinkled kirtle she’d worn.

Perhaps her question was unladylike. Having discovered the kind of astounding feelings that could be elicited from their union, she longed to experience them again and again. Besides, his body was a wonder to behold and she would have preferred looking upon him awhile longer.

Ladylike or not, however, her question roused a smile from her fierce Norse warrior.

“I wish we did not have to,” Reinn agreed. “But you will be more sore than you realize for a day or two.”

Two days? Two hours seemed like a more appropriate recovery time given the potential rewards. She tugged on her garments instead, careful not to rock the boat overmuch.

“Is it truly my healing that concerns you?” she asked as she smoothed her tangled curls from her face. “Or are you already contemplating what happens now?”