Page 50 of Summer of the Viking

‘I should never have allowed the match. There were rumours about his fists. He drinks far too much ale.’

‘You thought she might be pregnant with your husband’s child.’

‘She swears not.’

He raised her chin and she found only sympathy. ‘Then it might not have been your fault. Men as well as women can be barren. This is well known where I come from. Why it should be any different in Northumbria, I have no idea. It takes two to make a child. And two to make a happy marriage bed.’

She gave in to impulse and laid her head against his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. Did it really matter that he was going in a few weeks? She needed the comfort of his arms now.

Overhead she could hear the distant coo of wood pigeons. The faintest of summer drizzles bathed her. He gently moved them under an oak’s spreading branches.

For how long they stood there with her head against him, she could not say. His arms came about her waist and gathered her closer.

She glanced up and there was something in the depths of his eyes.

Her hand went around his neck and brushed back his hair from his face. Groaning, he lowered his mouth and claimed her fully.

This time she was more than ready to meet him and this powerful urge which grew inside her. She opened her lips and accepted him, drawing him fully in and rejoicing in the clean taste of him.

The nature of the kiss changed. It became far more urgent, calling to a dark place within which she had not known existed until his mouth touched hers. She moaned in pleasure as the heat blossomed inside her.

‘Shall we stop? Shall we go back into the hall and sit amongst the others speaking of nothing of consequence, pretending we are strangers?’ he murmured, pulling back slightly so she could see his passion-filled eyes.

Her heart expanded. He was giving her a choice. But she also knew if she refused him this time, there would be no going back. She knew then that she wanted to go forward. She needed more than a simple meeting of lips. She wanted his touch on her skin. She wanted to be made new. The last thing she wanted was for him to stop.

‘Why should we? No one can see us here. We were strangers once, but not any longer.’

She touched the high planes of his face. His flesh was sun-warm and infinitely exciting. He nibbled her fingers, one by one.

‘But your pledge? What of that?’

She gave a shaky laugh. ‘My pledge of not kissing you seems feeble. Barely a day has gone by and I’ve broken it. Utterly and completely. I want more from you. Madness, I know, to hope, but there you have it.’

‘Madness?’ He kissed her palm. ‘You are maddening, but it is not madness to want you.’

‘You want me? I thought...’

‘Everything you thought before was wrong. The world has been reborn for me. For you. Out here in this garden, it is only Alwynn and Valdar, no one else.’

‘Truly?’

His eyes turned serious. ‘You have nothing to fear from me. Ever. We go at your pace.’

‘I know that.’ As she said the words, she knew they were true. He might be a warrior, but there was an inner goodness and strength in him. ‘I have never feared you.’

‘My fair summer lady.’ He pressed kisses against her cheeks and brow. Little nibbles that made her feel alive. She arched towards him, encountering his hardened arousal. He wanted her! All the poison Theodbald had whispered seemed to be drawn out of her with each new touch of his mouth. She had never imagined it could feel like this to be touched. So alive and on fire. She had been encased in ice and stone before.

Now she understood why poets spoke of love and maids whispered in corners with shy smiles and longing glances towards their lovers. But she didn’t want to be just the recipient of his kisses and touches as she had been up until now. She wanted to participate. She wanted to make him burn.

‘I want this to be different.’ She cupped his face with her hands and returned the kiss. This time her tongue traced the outline of his mouth, demanding entrance. She tasted and explored.

‘Different is good,’ he growled.

‘I’ve dreamt of you,’ she confessed, ducking her head. ‘Each night. The dreams grew.’

‘Good dreams or bad?’

‘Interesting and intriguing dreams.’

‘Then you should see me.’ He undid his cloak and pulled his tunic over his head. His skin gleamed golden in the late afternoon and was far better than any of her dreams.

Several silver scars decorated his torso, but they added to it rather than detracted. She ran her forefinger along one of them, tracing it from start to finish. The muscle was firm but pliant, making her want to explore. Always before she had wanted things to be over with as quickly as possible, but with this man she wanted to linger.

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