Page 77 of Her Celtic Captor

Taranc used his foot to slide a chair out from the table with a raucous scrape. He gestured to Gunnar to join them then reached for the pitcher of ale and poured a liberal measure. A generous drop of goodwill might go a long way.

"That isthe second time you have introduced me to one of your brothers as your husband." Taranc made the seemingly casual observation over their late evening supper. He and Brynhild had returned from Pennglas an hour earlier, the sleeping Morvyn in his father's arms. Now the lad lay in his own cot beside their bed, wrapped in brightly coloured blankets.

Brynhild shrugged. "It seemed easiest, on both occasions. My brothers hold ... traditional views on such matters."

"And you do not?"

"You know why we are not wed. You yourself believe we are ill-suited. And you are right. It is better as it is."

He might have once harboured such a foolish notion.

"We are happy, are we not?" continued Brynhild.

"I am, certainly." He scratched his nose and tilted his head thoughtfully. "Gunnar wishes to remain here for the winter."

"Yes. He said as much."

"He killed Adair."

She gaped at him. "Are you sure? How do you know this?"

"Ulfric believes so too. Dughall saw what happened that day. He recognised your brother."

She nodded, and he knew that she had not missed the significance of the brief exchange before Mairead was taken ill, though that had turned out to be little more than a ruse tointerrupt proceedings which the Celtic woman considered had taken an awkward turn. He was fast coming to appreciate that the timid and homely little Mairead was far more cunning than she appeared at first sight.

"Dughall will not permit him to remain here." She stated the obvious conclusion, pain and disappointment evident in her features. "I... I had hoped..."

"We must respect lord Dughall's wishes on the matter." He wished it were otherwise, that he could make this thing right for her.

"I know that. Even so, I wish..."

"You know, you could return to your homeland, with Gunnar, when he goes back."

"That is not what I meant. I will not leave. I intend to remain here." Her tone was emphatic as she met his gaze.

"That is your wish? Your choice?"

"I have said so. Do you not believe me?"

He chuckled. "I know better than to doubt your word, my Viking."

"You should, by now. But perhaps I should demonstrate my resolve in this matter even so."

He raised an eyebrow. "How do you propose to accomplish that, little one?"

Without another word she slid from the low bench beside him to kneel at his feet, and shuffled between his spread thighs. Her nimble fingers worked the fastenings of his trousers and within moments his hard cock sprang free. She gazed at his erection for a second or two, then smiled up at him. "May I?"

He stroked her pale blonde head and nodded.

Brynhild took his cock between both her palms and drew her hands the length of the shaft. She rubbed the heel of her right hand over the smooth head, smearing his juices over the slick, shiny crown as she cupped his balls with her left. She weighedthem in her fingers, squeezing, the pressure light at first then firming.

Taranc let out a low groan. "God, I need to fuck you..."

"Hmmm, perhaps. Soon."

Perhaps?He growled his intent.

"First, I shall do this..." She bobbed her head forward and parted her lips to take the crown of his cock into her mouth. Taranc sank his fingers deeper into her hair and twisted a hank of it in his hands. He resisted the urge to thrust, to fuck her face hard, but it was a struggle and he believed he might yet lose the fight.

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