Yet he was still shaken by fading echoes of his fear that she might flee. Losing her would be very . . . personal.
Josie LittonAshamed of what she had thought, Rycca lowered her eyes. “I am sorry.”
“For what? Assuming I took the stone by force? But that’s what Vikings do, isn’t it?”
He sounded exasperated and she could not blame him. But neither was she prepared when he suddenly asked, “Why did you not want us to marry? Because I am Viking?”
She had wondered if he would ask, then decided her reasons would likely mean nothing to him. But he was a man of surprises, this hero of her strange world. And very good at biding his time.
“It is true, I did not wish to wed a Viking.”
“Because of what you have heard about us?
You are afraid?”
“I am not!” Spoken too quickly, the words rang false.
“I thought you merely uneasy but now I see there is more than that. Why? It is not as though I am a stranger to you.”
“But you are, stranger than any man I have ever met before.”
Dragon grimaced and caught her hair in his hand, drawing her head back slightly, the better to look at her. “Ever do you pick my vanity. There will be nothing left of it soon.”
She stared back at him in bewilderment. “What have I said?”
“It is what you have not, but never mind, I am resolved, what sighs and moans of pleasure, what cries of delight I wish to hear, I will have from you, wife, before this night is done.
Dragon watched the heavens turn. He saw his namesake, Draco, the dragon, arc across the sky. There were men who said the brightest star in Draco had once been the constant star by which men measured the way north. It was no longer, but the heavens changed in their own slow time, far beyond the brief ages of man, so perhaps it once had been so.
He drank more wine. A star streaked across the sky, burning brightly in its swift flight. Then it was gone, extinguished as though it had never been.
Life was too damn short.
When you are better rested, I’ll expect you to help with the chores.”
Her head whipped around so quickly that hair like copper silk lashed his arm. “What makes you think I will be here long enough for that?”
“I am paying you the compliment of assuming you are intelligent.” Before she could conceal her wary surprise, he added, “Or if not, that you have at least enough common sense to realize that you would not get very far.” Ominously, he added, “If I have to go after you again, I will put aside any concern I have about why you are concealing your identity and take you straight to the authorities. Is that clear?”
She paled slightly, making him twinge with guilt, but he ignored that. The threat was as much for her own good as for his peace of mind. When she murmured under her breath, he bent closer. “What was that?”
Their eyes were level. Hers blazed. “I said,” she repeated, enunciating very clearly, “You’ll have to catch me first.
Well now, what’s the problem?” Hawk asked after a long swallow to banish the dust of the training field.
Dragon hesitated but, to his credit, not for long. “I brought a girl with me. Krysta is seeing to her now. She’s Lady Rycca of Wolscroft.”
Hawk’s brows rose slightly. “Your betrothed.”
“My errant betrothed. I met her a few days ago, apparently after she donned boy’s garb and fled from her home rather than come here and be married to me.”
Hawk cleared his throat, decided this was a good time for more ale, and emptied the horn. He finished up with a deep breath before attempting a response. “I see . . . well, I don’t actually. She was dressed as a boy, you met several days ago, but you didn’t bring her until now?”
“I didn’t know who she was. She wouldn’t tell me her name so I—” His mouth thinned sardonically. “I decided not to tell her mine. Clever, don’t you think?”
“Why do I have the distinct impression that it was anything but?”
“Not knowing who I was—” Dragon broke off. His gaze sought a distant corner of the hall. Quietly, he said, “Not knowing who I was, she lay with me.
Dragon was controlling himself admirably but he had the look of a man who has found something unpleasant on his boot.
Josie LittonDragon’s eyes flew open. He stared at his hand curved over the alabaster mound of a perfectly formed breast, at the delicatable rose-hued nipple peeking through his fingers, up past the firm set of a certain chin and straight into honey-hued eyes that somehow failed to appear the least abashed.
“Uh . . .” he said, which he rather thought was as articulate as any man would be expected to be under the circumstances, skald-souled or not.
“Don’t think,” she said, rather unnecessarily since he could only vaguely recall what thinking was and not at all why he should want to do it.
Her shining head bent, he felt the brush of her lips, tentative, seeking. Her small, smooth tongue tasted his.
He was rock hard, close to bursting. She was in his arms and he was drawing her beneath him when some faint wisp of reason reared against the pounding hunger of his fierce need.
“Can’t . . .” he muttered, the best he could muster for an eloquent argument as to why their present behavior was ill-advised.
I don’t know why I lived and she not. She was better than I, sweeter and kinder. It should have been me.”
“No!” He held her fiercely, stroking away the tears that trickled down her ashen cheeks. “Do not say that! Does not your own faith teach that we are always in the hands of god?”
“A careless god or an unfathomable one. Why create a world of pain?”
“It is not. You know yourself, there is great beauty here and joy.”
She knew, at least now she did, since she had known him.
“I am a Viking.” He said it sorrowfully, as though he would change it if he could.
“I do not think you are like the others.” Truth. She did not, had never, not since the knowing of him.
“You do not touch me.” The words were out before she could reclaim them. She bit her lip hard, drawing blood.
“Don’t,” he said, nearly pleading as he caught the tiny crimson drop. His lips touched hers, brushing lightly, giving her the taste of him. “I will,” he said, and she was gone, lost in the glow of yearning.
His teeth flashed white as he smiled. “Let us strike a bargain, wife.”
“What sort of bargain?” She made no attempt to hide her suspicion.
“I will do as I please with no resistance from you, and when I am satisfied, you may do as you wish.”
For just one moment, his evenhandedness surprised her. Just a moment . . .
“Do you remember what I said about ignorance and innocence, my lord?”
“Very clearly, my lady.”
“I have shucked off both. You toy with me. When you are satisfied, you will go to sleep and leave me to fume at having entered into so poor a pact.”
“You wound me, all the worse for wounding yourself. Do you not know you are a temptress no man could resist?” He frowned at the sudden thought. “Although they had damn well better lest they be fodder for my sword.” His big hand caught her hair, drawing her head back, baring her throat to his caress. “Be advised, wife, I am a possessive man.”
She took a breath, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and parted her legs, drawing him into the cradle of her hips. “Be advised, husband,” she murmured close beside his ear just before she bit it lightly, “I am a possessive woman.
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