Michelle Willingham - Forbidden Nights With A Viking

You , she wanted to say. But she didn’t finish the words, afraid he would turn her away.

For a time, she could hear only the sound of his breathing. She sensed an invisible tension, as if he were making a decision.

‘I’ll go, if that’s what you want,’ she whispered, frustrated with herself for even daring to ask.

But his hand caught hers, and he dragged her down upon him, seizing her mouth in a kiss. He wasn’t wearing armour, and the touch of his hard, bare chest was dizzying. His skin was so warm, she found herself unable to stop from moving her hands over him, exploring his flesh. Every ridged muscle, the fine texture of his hair.

He stole her breath, and she felt as if she could touch him for ever.

‘You shouldn’t be here, Caragh,’ he said.

‘I know.’ He was right. Even to be in his presence like this was so terribly wrong. ‘I didn’t come here for this,’ she admitted. ‘I just wanted to lie beside you for one last night.’

He drew her against him, her back nestled against his chest, his arms around her. But instead of lending comfort, her heart beat faster. Every part of her body craved more. And she couldn’t understand it.

Against her hips, she felt the rise of his arousal and knew that he was not unaffected, either. It was a grim torture, for she wanted him in a way she shouldn’t.

‘I wed Elena when I was Brendan’s age,’ Styr began. ‘Our parents arranged it.’

It was the first time she’d heard him openly speak of his marriage, and she reached for his hand, saying nothing.

‘Elena was beautiful, and I knew the arrangement would bring together our tribes.’ He released her hand, bringing both of his arms around her. ‘She was a quiet woman but strong in her own way.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She planned every moment of her day, from the time she rose to the time she fell asleep at night. She worked in our garden every morning, wove cloth or sewed in the afternoon, and cleaned our house every evening. Each day, exactly the same. There was never any change, but she didn’t want it to be different. It was her own sort of control, her own power.’

His hand moved to hers. ‘We were happy for a time, but she wanted a child. I couldn’t give that to her.’

Beneath his voice, she sensed his frustration.

‘We tried for years,’ he admitted. ‘And never once did her belly grow round with my child. Elena believed the gods were punishing us for something we did. Or didn’t do.’

Caragh turned to face him. ‘It’s not your fault,’ she whispered. ‘Some men and women are not blessed with children.’

‘The first two years, we kept trying,’ he said. ‘During the full moon or during the crescent. At night and during the morning, until we couldn’t bear the sight of each other.’ His hand came to touch the side of her face. ‘It was impossible to please her.’

‘Why did you stay?’ she ventured, not knowing how he would respond. A fragile hope burrowed within her heart, that perhaps there might be a chance for the two of them.

‘Because I didn’t want to give up. A warrior never surrenders in any battle. It’s not my way.’

‘And now?’ Caragh asked, resting her hand upon his heart. His legs were tangled with hers, and although his body remained aroused, it didn’t threaten her.

‘I thought of sailing away, of giving her distance.’ He covered her hand with his, before bringing it to rest at her waist. ‘When I offered to leave, she said she would come with me.’

He expelled a breath. ‘This, from the woman who never altered her day by a single moment.’

‘She didn’t want to give up on your marriage, either,’ Caragh said, her throat closing up. She could understand that. If she were wedded to a man like Styr, she would follow him across the seas.

But hearing the truth from him only warned that there would be no happiness for them. Not if he and Elena wanted to stay together.

He said nothing, but only held her tighter against him. ‘Every day I’ve spent with you is a betrayal of her.’ The words were a blade twisted inside her, wounding her heart. Then he added, ‘I won’t forget a single moment of it, Caragh. Or you.’

His embrace only deepened the heartbreak. But leaving him now would only heighten the loneliness. Her eyes blurred, and she admitted, ‘I shouldn’t have come here.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it only makes me desire you more.’ She started to sit up, and he caught her wrist.

‘I can’t give you an answer,’ he admitted. ‘Not until I see her.’

‘You’re her husband. I understand that.’ Though she tried to keep the pain from her words, they caught in her throat. ‘You must go to her.’

‘I have to see that she is provided for.’ He kept his hold upon her wrist, drawing her back against him. His hands moved down her side in a caress. ‘And if she wants to return to Hordafylke, I will arrange it.’

‘Without you?’ she ventured.

He turned her upon her back, his body above hers. ‘What do you think?’

She couldn’t breathe from the intensity of heat that rushed over her. Against the juncture of her thighs, she felt the hardened length of his shaft, and she couldn’t stop herself from opening to him. Between her legs, she ached, and even her breasts were sensitive to the weight of him.

‘She deserves to be happy,’ he said. ‘And perhaps it shouldn’t be with me.’

Caragh shielded her heart from the wild hope that beat within her. Though she wanted desperately to believe that he might divorce his wife and stay with her, he’d made no promises.

‘You deserve to be happy, too,’ she whispered, reaching her arms around his torso.

He shook his head. ‘The gods have cursed me. For I have no sons or daughters to carry on my blood.’ He moved to his side, drawing his hand over her hip.

She recognised the warning. He was telling her that even if they did come together, there might never be a child. But she didn’t want to believe it.

‘You might…with me,’ she whispered. She couldn’t believe she had dared to speak of such a thing. Not when they had been so careful to avoid touching.

‘Do you want to know what it would be like?’ His whisper was a half-growl, and she wasn’t sure what he meant by that.

‘Yes,’ she breathed, ‘but it would be wrong.’

‘I won’t lay a hand upon you,’ he said, his voice resonant within the darkness.

‘But I don’t—’

‘You’re going to touch yourself.’

Never in his life had he wanted a woman this badly. Caragh’s hands around him had awakened an arousal he couldn’t deny, instead of lending comfort. He wanted to lay her back and taste her bare skin. Learning what pleased her body.

But then, she was a virgin. Asking her to be intimate in this way would likely embarrass her instead of bringing her pleasure.

‘Or you could return to your tent.’ He offered the escape, uncertain of whether she would seize it.

When he heard no movement from her, the air within the tent seemed to grow warmer. He went rigid at the thought of what was about to happen between them.

At first, he’d believed that she would run away. Instead, she’d met his challenge, leaving him with no choice but to continue.

‘I want all the time that remains between us,’ she murmured. ‘Even if it’s stolen.’

He moved to her, not touching her, but so close he could feel her breath against his cheek. ‘If you stay, you obey my commands. Without question.’

She took his hand and laid it beneath her gown upon her heart. Beneath his fingers, he could feel the harsh beating of her fears and inhibitions. But he lifted his hand away.