World of de Wolfe Pack_THE BASTARD OF BRITTANY Page 8

  “It can take many offerings to remove a curse,” he replied.

  Her gaze softened. “Why would you believe you are cursed?”

  “Because one moment I had everything and the next I had nothing! The gods took my wife and child from me.”

  “I lost Hugo,” she said softly. “But I do not blame God. Nor do I feel cursed by him.” She was silent for a long moment. “At least that’s what I tell myself every day.”

  “You also feel cursed?”

  “How can I not when my whole world is crumbling?” she replied with a bitter laugh. “I have no husband, no children, my brother is dead, and now Vikings have invaded my homeland.”

  Her desolate expression moved him. Unable to help himself, he reached for her hand. This time she did not pull away. “Yet you are alive and unharmed,” he said gently. “And you could have any man you desired.”

  “I have never known that kind of desire for a man,” she confessed.

  “What of this Hugo?” he asked. “You did not lie with him? You said you loved him.”

  “I did love him,” she said. “Everyone loved him. But we were never together that way. We merely exchanged a few kisses. I was chaste…as was he.”

  “Chaste?” Bjorn nearly roared with laughter. “A man loves a woman with his body or he does not love her at all!”

  “I don’t believe that!” she snapped.

  “You would if you had ever experienced it.”

  “Get out!” she cried. To his surprise, she jerked the covers off the bed “Get out of my bed and out of my chamber!”

  “The truth offends you?” he asked.

  “You offend me!” she cried and gave him a shove that nearly sent him tumbling to the floor.

  Her face was flushed and her eyes flashed with fury. He never would have imagined the icy countess a woman of such strong passion. He also never could have imagined becoming aroused by it…but he was.

  Undeniably aroused.

  He reached for her. She slapped at his arms and pounded his chest as he pulled her into an embrace, but he wasn’t the true cause of her fury. It was pain she unleashed. Raw and unadulterated. He recognized it because he had lived it. Though she continued to fight him, her protests grew weaker until she finally buried her face against his chest and sobbed.

  ***

  Gwened wept until she could weep no more. He said nothing. He only held her close, enveloping her in his strong arms and in his scent. She was furious that he’d pushed her to her breaking point, but at the same time she was strangely relieved to have unburdened the secrets of her heart.

  “Are you finished now?” His voice emerged rumble out of the chest that lay against her ear.

  “I’m finished,” she replied, but couldn’t seem to bring herself to break away.

  It felt good to be held. But why did she feel safe in her enemy’s embrace? She couldn’t comprehend it, nor could she deny it. Until this moment, Gwened hadn’t realized just how deeply she’d craved a man’s touch. For the past six years, she’d been living a half-life. Devoid of love and joy, she felt as if she were slowly withering away.

  Unknowingly, Bjorn had given her the touch she most desperately needed, but it was more than just warmth and comfort he offered. Beneath the surface something else was growing, an acute awareness of his body, of his uniquely masculine scent, it made her tingle. As he slightly shifted his stance, she realized he felt it, too. He was aroused. His arms loosened but he didn’t fully release her.

  Instead, he tilted her face upward. His eyes dropped down to her mouth. “I want you,” he said in a husky voice. “And I have denied myself for a long time. If you still want me to go. Tell me now.”

  Gwened knew what she should say, but somehow the words evaded her.

  “Countess,” he began anew, his voice growing huskier.

  “Gwened,” she said. “My Christian name is Gwened. I give you use of it.”

  “Gwened,” he repeated, as if testing the sound of her name as he asked a second time. “Do you want me to go?”

  Unable to summon the will to send him away, she dumbly shook her head.

  “Do you understand what will happen if I stay?” he asked.

  “What will happen?” she whispered.

  They both knew it wasn’t a question. It was an inevitability.

  What was she doing? Only moments ago, she’d rejected his suggestion that she take a lover. She knew it was morally wrong to be with anyone other than her husband, but she was so tired of the loneliness, of the sleepless nights…and of the empty ache deep inside her. She had been denied so much in life. Right or wrong, this was her choice to make. If she couldn’t have love, why couldn’t she at least know passion? Just this one time?

  “Do you intend only to take your own pleasure?” she asked.

  He moved in closer to her, close enough that she felt the heat emanating from his very large body. “You wonder what is in it for you?”

  He cupped her buttocks and pressed his arousal against her. He wanted her to know that he was ready for her. Her breathing quickened as his other hand joined the first, holding her tightly against him. Her insides jolted with a strange and wonderful sensation as her most intimate flesh made contact with his. She licked her lips, her pulse racing with nervous anticipation. “Will you make it pleasurable for me also?” she asked.

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “I am certain you don’t know what you ask, but I assure you I am more than happy to oblige.”

  Instinctively she knew that her experience with Bjorn would be nothing like her wedding night with Mateudoi. She wanted this. She wanted him.

  “Then stay,” she said, willing her voice to steady, though her body trembled. “As you observed earlier, the bed is big enough for two.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Even as he sat on the mattress, Bjorn struggled with feelings of guilt. He told himself that this was nothing more than two people meeting each other’s physical needs, that there was nothing more between them. He was confident that she expected only a night of passion, and he intended to give it to her. And after he achieved his own release, they would be done with it.

  No words of love, no talk of the future. She was already wed!

  He reached out his hand and drew her toward him. Her eyes were wide and her breathing was rapid and shallow, as he drew her between his knees. “You have naught to fear,” he said.

  “I do not fear,” she replied “This is just strange to me.”

  She fumbled with the laces at the back of her dress.

  “Turn around,” he commanded. He made quick work of loosening her kirtle. Her body trembled as he raised the garment over her head. “Your husband didn’t undress you?” he asked.

  “Nay,” she replied. “Nor did he ever gaze upon me as you are doing.”

  The light was dim but her thin shift hid little from him. Slowly and appreciatively, he took in the outline of her feminine body, her erect nipples, and the shadowy place between her thighs. He loosened the strings at her neck and the shift slipped from her shoulders. He reached for the hem if it and gave it a jerk. It slid down her body and landed in a whisper at her feet.

  Once more she shivered.

  “Are you cold, or do you tremble because I am looking at you?” he asked.

  “’Tis the way you do it.”

  “And how is that?” he asked, taking in his fill of her. She was slender with long shapely legs and smooth white skin and small but well-shaped breasts. His mouth watered for a taste. His gaze drifted lower to the crux of her womanhood. She wanted to know pleasure, and he fully intended to give it to her.

  “You remind me of a wolf,” she said.

  Her answer made him chuckle. He felt like one, untamed and hungry. “Is that why you have the look of a frightened sheep?”

  She drew back arms wrapped protectively over her breasts. “If I displease you, there is no need to take this any further.”

  Bjorn stifled a groan. He was not accustomed to extended con
versation during sex, and he also wasn’t accustomed to timid, inexperienced women. But she obviously needed reassurance, and he needed to keep his mind off his raging erection.

  “You misunderstand,” he said. “I find you very pleasing. Come, Gwened,” he softly urged. “Let me show you. Let me touch you.”

  She licked her lips and took a cautious step toward him. Locking eyes with her, he stroked the backs of his calloused fingers over her cheek, along her neck, and then down to one milky white breast. Her skin was soft and her sweet scent tantalized him.

  He stroked a beaded nipple with his thumb, and she shivered, her breath warm against his face. It pleased him that she didn’t pull away. Instead, she tilted her head back, silently telling him she wanted more.

  Answering that need, he dropped his head and pressed his mouth to her skin, starting with her neck and working his way down her shoulders to her beckoning breasts. He lavished her with hot, kisses, and rooted from one breast to the other. He then suckled her nipples until she clutched her fingers in his hair and whimpered.

  Her passionate response only made him hungrier. He drew her onto the bed and worked his way down, skirting his mouth over her smooth belly, while his hands caressed her long, sleek thighs. Her scent was growing stronger, teasing and tormenting him. His seeking fingers gently probed higher, deeper. The sensation of warm wetness nearly blinded him with lust. It was agony knowing she was ready, but he’d made her a promise that he had every intention of keeping.

  ***

  Though she’d denied it, Gwened was indeed afraid. But it wasn’t Bjorn that evoked her fear, it was the reactions of her body to his. She’d thought she understood the act of copulation, but she never could have imagined experiencing such bliss from a man’s touch, from his kiss. His hands and mouth were everywhere. When he’d suckled her breasts, she thought she would die. His mouth was like fire on her flesh, searing every inch of her as he moved down her body.

  “You are ready for me,” he rumbled.

  “What do you mean ready?”

  “This,” he remarked, probing a finger into the dampness that pooled between her thighs. “You are very wet,” he said.

  She squirmed in embarrassment, but he seemed pleased rather than repulsed by it.

  “Do not be ashamed.” He pressed his hands against her tightening thighs, gently pushing them apart. “I want to look upon you. I want to kiss you.”

  Gwened gasped. “You can’t mean there? Surely that is wickedness!”

  “Wickedness?” He laughed. “Pleasure is the greatest gift the gods ever gave us. There are many means beyond copulation to achieve release. If I am willing to share this gift, why would you reject it?”

  He rubbed his soft beard against her inner thighs. His breath was hot and moist as he began kissing, then licking. His mouth was merciless as he teased and tortured her with his tongue, until nothing existed beyond his mouth and her body.

  As the sensations continued to swell, Gwened shut her eyes on a whimper. It was too much. Just as she thought she could take no more, something burst inside her, seizing her mind and body with endless echoes of ecstasy.

  ***

  Although Bjorn’s bollocks throbbed for release, he’d relished watching her climax, and basked in the knowledge that he had been the first to awaken her. But having now kept his promise to her, he would deny himself no longer.

  But when he came over her, poised to finally empty his aching bollocks, her eyes snapped open and her body stiffened, as if expecting a violent assault.

  Bjorn pulled back with a groan of frustration. Why was she still fearful? Hadn’t he proven himself already? He threw himself onto his back with a long sigh.

  “What is wrong?” she whispered.

  “I’ve never taken an unwilling woman.”

  “But I told you I wanted this.”

  He rolled onto his side to face her. “Your body says otherwise.”

  “Because I have little experience. You are a very large man,” she replied. “How can you blame me?”

  His logic accepted her answer, but his pride was still bruised by her resistance.

  “Please, can we try again?”

  Bjorn found himself staring at her mouth.

  Kissing her had never been part of his plan…at least not on her lips. But sensing her need for reassurance, he pulled her toward him and slanted his mouth over hers. He’d meant nothing more than to sooth her anxiety, but the moment he tasted her, something changed.

  Maybe it was the look of wonderment in her eyes as he cupped her face. Maybe it was the way she softly surrendered her mouth and then molded her body to his. Whatever it was, it filled him with an almost overwhelming sense of rightness.

  Testing the boundaries of this new sensation, he deepened the kiss. Their breaths mingled as she yielded to his seeking tongue. The kiss continued to intensify, mimicking the motions of thrust and retreat. The ache in his loins that had just begun to abate, returned with a vengeance. He’d never experienced so much power in a kiss.

  He was in agony to be inside her.

  They were both breathless and panting when he rolled on top of her, never breaking the kiss. She opened her body to him. He gripped her hips, shutting his eyes on a hiss as he plunged into welcoming wetness. Her eyes widened and she clung to him.

  Though the restraint almost killed him, he held himself back fat first, allowing her to adjust to the feeling of fullness before he began moving. Settling into a rhythm, he urged her legs upward and wrapped them tightly around his flanks. Their mingled sounds of pleasure, her soft sighs and his guttural groans, filled the air. Her hips bucked and inner walls squeezed him as she began meeting his strokes.

  His bollocks tightened and pulsed under the maelstrom of sensation. Squeezing his eyes shut, he thrust deeper, harder, faster, in an urgent race to release. His world contracted in a burst of heat and light as he exploded inside her.

  ***

  Gwened awoke to the warmth of morning light streaming through the window, but it was nothing compared to the glow she felt within. She had awoken a changed woman. She would never view the world through the same eyes. It was as if she’d been liberated from a lifetime of bondage, obligation, and guilt.

  She had never known such a feeling of utter contentment as she lay with Bjorn.

  He was still soundly asleep, his light snores rumbling from deep within his chest. She was careful not to move, for fear of losing this chance to study him. He was lying diagonally across the bed with one heavy arm flung over her body. She realized his feet would have hung off the end were he lying straight.

  Tingling commenced deep in her belly as she studied the corded muscle of his forearm and the light dusting of hair that disappeared as her gaze tracked up his bulging bicep to his broad shoulders.

  The sheet was wrapped around one leg, leaving the other exposed all the way to his well-developed buttocks. The night before, she’d clutched those firm globes of muscle as he’d thrust into her. They had become lovers in truth, yet she wasn’t fool enough to think herself in love. Love was built on mutual trust, respect, and devotion—none of which they shared, but they had indeed shared an undeniable passion. Finally, she understood the potency of sexual desire. Until now, she had been utterly ignorant of its power, but it was a truly formidable force.

  He lay face down, with his head turned toward her. He had an arrestingly handsome face. His skin was sun bronzed, his brow was straight and smooth over large eyes with thick, dark lashes. His eyes were closed but the unusual color was burned into her brain—light golden brown. His nose was strong and proud with a small hump at the bridge. Had he once broken it? His square jaw was lightly bearded. She’d reveled in the lightly abrasive sensation as he’d rubbed it against her skin.

  Her gaze lingered longest on his mouth and the soft, full lips that had filled her with indescribable delight. She flushed at the remembrance of the lavish attention he’d paid to her most intimate places, but it was the kiss on her lips she remembered
best.

  He hadn’t wanted to kiss her. She’d sensed that right from the beginning. He was more than willing to worship her body, but he’d held something back—until the kiss. The moment their lips met, everything had changed.

  She suddenly felt a deep urge to feel his lips on hers once more, but just as she might have acted on the impulse, he stirred.

  Rolling onto his side, he pulled her up against his body. His eyes never opened as he nuzzled her neck and mumbled an incomprehensible string of Norse words into her ear. Her breath hitched as he reached a hand between her thighs while his staff prodded her from behind. Was this another of the many means of pleasure he’d spoken of?

  Thinking once more of the child she desperately craved, Gwened shut her own eyes, relaxed, and allowed him to do as he pleased. To her delight, he pleased her as well.

  Hours later, when Gwened once more opened her eyes… he was gone.

  Yet, the remnants of their lovemaking remained, the stickiness of his seed still clung to her inner thighs and his musk scented the linens. It was an earthy, pungent scent that stirred her insides. Even as she lie there, she wondered if his seed had taken root. The thought of that possibility secretly thrilled her. Surely such a big and virile man would sire a strong child. Reflexively, she squeezed her legs together as if hoping to retain every drop that he had spent.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “An army approaches!” Lars announced.

  “How many?” Bjorn asked

  “At least a hundred.”

  “So few? Could it be Valdrik?” Bjorn asked.

  “I can’t be certain,” Lars answered. “They are still too far away.”

  “Then I will discover for myself,” Bjorn said. “Saddle my horse.”

  A few minutes later, Bjorn was galloping toward the advancing war party. He needed the air to clear his head after passing the night as well as a goodly part of the morn in the countess’ bed. He’d awoken with confused emotions and a clouded mind. Hours later, the fog had not yet abated.

  It wasn’t long before Bjorn identified his brother. He spurred his horse onward. Recognizing his approach, Valdrik followed suit. They met up with a joyful shout.