‘No Danes here,’ he said and the words were as clear as she had ever heard him speak.
Suddenly she felt a bit lighter, understanding that he had needed this moment whether it had left her uncomfortable or not. It was his last chance to prove to the Jarl that he would not bend to the wishes of the Danes. Although Wilfrid had come to a sort of truce with them, and an uneasy friendship with Jarl Eirik, he delighted in being his own man. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder, hoping that it conveyed the affection she felt for him.
‘So you made clear on my last visit,’ the Jarl said, his tone dry. ‘I never thought you would allow a Norse into your home after Sigurd.’
Wilfrid sobered instantly and his gaze unfocused slightly, his head turning as if searching for someone among those in the room.
Afraid that he was going to fall into a panic again at the mention of Sigurd when he had been doing so well, Annis said, ‘And as you can see, Lord Wilfrid needs his rest. Let us return to the hall. We have refreshments before you rest from your trip.’
Jarl Eirik’s keen gaze never left Wilfrid as he sized up the situation. She had no doubt that she was not fooling the Jarl in regards to his condition. ‘It was good to see you, Lord Wilfrid. We will leave you to your rest.’ The Jarl left them there to return to the hall and she let out a breath that he had not insulted Wilfrid on his way out.
They all followed and as soon as the doors to his chamber had closed behind them, Jarl Eirik said, ‘How long has he been out of his senses?’ Anger was evident in his voice.
Before she could reply, Rurik intervened. ‘He is not out of his senses.’
Jarl Eirik glanced at him in warning, but did not utter another word until they were in the hall. Annis gestured to the table and that they should sit, but the Jarl shook his head, still obviously upset.
Withholding a sigh, she said, ‘Since the last time you visited, he’s had roughly one to two brain attacks a year. The last one was the worst and resulted in what you see. He cannot easily move one side of his body.’
‘And yet no one informed me of what had happened to him, so I could appoint someone to manage in his stead?’
Annis forced a calmness to her voice that she did not feel. When would she stop being forced to defend herself for running Glannoventa confidently? ‘As you can see, Glannoventa has been well managed. Wilfrid has been competent enough to offer opinions and guidance, but in the times when his illness proved him incapable, I was glad to take over.’
‘You? You took over?’ He glanced to Cedric as if for reassurance and, at the man’s nod, he looked back at her.
‘I took over,’ she said. ‘After your meal, I will show you the records we have kept. Glannoventa is profitable and has not struggled since Wilfrid’s decline. You’ve received your taxes as promised.’
He still seemed unconvinced. Rurik took her hand in his. ‘You will see that you were very lucky to have Lady Annis here. She has managed with a level head and an even hand.’
Her heart swelled in her chest at the fine words.
‘And you.’ The Jarl addressed Rurik. ‘We have heard of your father’s death in Maerr. Is that why you are here?’
‘Initially, yes. I came because I thought Wilfrid had a hand in my father’s murder.’
‘But you do not believe that now?’
‘I believe that Wilfrid hired assassins in a failed attempt to right a wrong.’
Guilt made her stomach roil again and she tightened her fingers around his hand. He spared her a fond glance, but it only made the guilt expand, nearly forcing all the air from her lungs. She had to tell him the truth. He should know that his wife was as much a part of that failed attempt as Wilfrid. He should know that the woman he had taken to bed was beyond redemption.
Cedric caught her gaze, his eyes rather severe as he gave her a barely imperceptible shake of his head. Not while Jarl Eirik was here, he seemed to say. Glannoventa needed Rurik. She knew that if he cried off, then the Jarl might very well find some way to end their marriage and appoint a Dane to take over.
Taking Rurik’s hand with both of hers, she stared down at the fingers that had given her so much pleasure, that had continued to touch her with nothing but gentleness. He had claimed he wanted a true marriage, one built on trust and respect. She vowed to give him that as soon as the Jarl left.
Chapter Nineteen
The day had been long and tedious. Jarl Eirik had insisted on laying his eyes on every record that Cedric and Annis had created since Grim’s death. Once he had been partially satisfied that taxes were still being collected—he’d do a more thorough audit of the records later—and the farmers, fishermen and villagers had not staged some sort of revolt, the conversation had progressed to Rurik and their marriage.
Rurik had been picked apart by the man. From his childhood with a slave mother to his dubious claim to land in Killcobar with his Uncle Feann to his plans for Glannoventa and Annis, he had spent the better part of the afternoon and evening humouring the Jarl’s questions. In the end, he felt that they had come to a sort of understanding. Rurik would not be cowed by the man, nor would he give up his claim to Annis or Glannoventa. Jarl Eirik had seemed to come to an acceptance of the new arrangement.
Tomorrow would be soon enough to tell. The plan was to head out into the villages as the Jarl surveyed their progress. Rurik was looking forward to the ride and laying his eyes on the land that was now his. However, he was exhausted and would think of tomorrow in the morning. He had sent Annis to bed earlier in the evening when she had begun to sag in the chair beside him at the table. She had surprised him by leaning down to place a chaste kiss on his cheek, while whispering, ‘Wake me later.’ Ever since, he had been rigid with wanting her, counting down the hours until the seemingly tireless Jarl sought his own bed.
Two candles still burned low in the chamber as he crossed to the bed. She lay on her stomach in the middle, her auburn hair spread out across the blankets. He was struck again by her beauty and the sense that she was his. His responsibility. His wife. His. Shedding his clothes as he stared down at her, he could not help but wonder if the tenderness he felt for her was becoming something deeper. It was as if his admiration for her had found his desire for her and twisted together so hopelessly that he could not pull one thread from the other. A very real fear had gripped him today when he had considered that Jarl Eirik might find a way to take her from him. Rurik had been prepared to battle for her, to the death if need be. He didn’t know how she had captivated him so completely in such a short time.
Placing the knives at his hips on the chest at the end of the bed, he stepped out of his clothing and climbed under the blankets beside her. His hands encountered smooth, silky skin as he touched her. Sending up a silent plea of thanks, he drew the blanket back from her to look his fill of her naked body. There was not a part of her that he did not think was perfect.
The candlelight painted her skin gold as his fingertips followed the line of her spine down to the twin globes of her bottom. He paused as his gaze caught on an odd scar at her lower back. It was difficult to tell in the uneven light, but it looked like two jagged marks that crossed each other. They had almost certainly been made by a blade. How would she have been scarred in such a way? Surely, Cedric’s training would not have led to that.
Before he could come up with any likely scenario, she sighed and rolled over on to her back. His fingers followed the movement of her hips, coming to rest on the smooth skin above the russet patch of hair between her thighs. His manhood twitched in response to the memory of how good it had felt to be inside her.
‘Annis,’ he whispered, pressing his palm to her belly.
Had his seed taken root in her the night before? A flare of hope sprang to life in him, surprising him with how pleasing he found the idea of sharing a child with her. Children had always been something far in his future. Now he could so easily see them. However, he
also liked the idea of selfishly having her to himself for a while. Perhaps it would take months of ploughing before the seeds would find roots.
She shifted, her breathing changing as she turned towards him and came awake. ‘Is it morning already?’ she whispered.
‘Far from it.’
She smiled, though her eyes were still closed as he pressed his mouth to the hollow of her throat. ‘Jarl Eirik has not banished you?’
‘If he has, it only means that I have come to take you with me.’ He lapped at the salt of her skin with the tip of his tongue, marvelling at how he was ready for her so quickly. He was infatuated.
‘Like a true marauder,’ she whispered.
He grinned at their play. How easily he was coming to enjoy this sparring with her. ‘It has been too long since I last pillaged. You may find me all the rougher for it.’ He took her nipple into his mouth, drawing it deep and pulling a gasp from her at the same time. Her fingers curled in his hair as she held him tight. He did not allow her to stay him, however, and continued on his path down her body.
‘What are you doing?’ A faint thread of panic entered her voice when he passed her belly.
Instead of answering right away, he settled himself between her thighs, moving down until his shoulders had pushed them apart. Shifting his arms beneath her thighs, he held her open for him. The shadows of the night kept her mostly hidden from him, but he was able to see a slight tinge of pink through the dark red curls.
‘Rurik...’ She sat up on her elbows, staring down at him, her brows together in confusion.
The scent of her longing made his blood thicken in his veins as his need for her pulsed through him. ‘I want to taste your desire for me, Annis. I want all of you.’
It was true. After the trying day, there was some part of him that he did not completely understand pushing him to claim every part of her as his. Because she did belong to him now. Whatever the Jarl ultimately decided, she would belong to Rurik for the rest of their lives.
Taking in another deep breath of her, he touched her with his tongue. She made a low sound in the back of her throat and her thighs tensed around him. He stroked her from the silken channel that had held him so tightly the night before to the tiny nub of swollen flesh peeking out from between her folds. Putting her knee over his shoulder, he let it go so that he could spread her with his fingers and ease the way for himself. She cried out when he covered her with his mouth.
He savoured every gasp and cry as he sucked her lightly. Only when she fell back, her hips bucking a bit with the rhythm he set, did he let a finger slip inside her. She clamped around him and he pulled it almost all the way free, only to gently work a second one into her. He loved having her under his power like this, his name falling from her lips as he controlled her pleasure. In some small and dark corner of his mind, he gloried in the fact that this at least was new to her. No one had ever given her pleasure like this.
It made him feel more powerful than he had any right to feel, like a god come to earth to pleasure this woman who was his. And he did pleasure her with a single-minded purpose that felt as irresistible as the potion she had laced into his ale on that first night in the tavern.
‘Rurik!’ she cried out and grabbed his hair in a twist that might have been painful were he not beyond all thought except for bringing her to completion. He wanted to hear her cry out as she came for him and then he wanted to fill her and take her until she cried out beneath him again.
In the next moment her body trembled and her cry filled the air. She clenched around his fingers as he tasted her release on his tongue. Only when she began to come down did he move over her. Her eyes were dazed and unfocused, but her arms went around his shoulders as he fell over her, taking her mouth in a deep kiss. He found a nipple with his fingers and plucked it gently but insistently. She groaned against his lips and raised her hips, grinding against him.
‘Do you want me inside you?’ he whispered between kisses.
‘Hurry,’ she said on a breathless gasp.
It was all the encouragement he needed. Lining himself up with her, he pushed inside in one deep stroke that had them both crying out. The way he fit her felt so right, as if he had been made for her. He tried to keep his thrusts slow and measured, wanting to prolong the pleasure for both of them. But having her beneath him like this was too much and, when she wrapped her legs around his hips, opening herself up to him even more, he was lost. It wasn’t long before he was taking her with hard, deep thrusts of his hips while sweat rolled down his temple. Having this woman spread out beneath him, begging him for more, was too much. The very moment she began to shake beneath him, her body clenching tight around him, he came with a roar pulled from deep in his chest.
‘Annis,’ he whispered her name over and over into her hair as he fell over her, his lips finding her neck. Her arms held him tight as if unwilling to let him go, so he collapsed on to her, still buried deep inside her. He had never felt this almost complete obsession with a woman before. His hands still fisted in her hair as he spread kisses over her neck and cheek on his way to her mouth. There was no getting enough of her.
When strength came back to him, he raised up on his forearms just enough to look down at her. She smiled up a him, a small tentative smile that reflected his own bewildered wonder. How was it possible that he had travelled all this way with vengeance spurring him on, only to find this woman who was dangerously close to stealing his heart? Had the gods brought him to her?
Her fingers caressed his cheek, so he turned his head to place a kiss in her palm. ‘I never thought I would find anyone like you,’ he whispered.
She let out a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a sob, but she pulled him down for a kiss before he could comment. One kiss led to another and he was lost for the rest of the night.
* * *
Annis’s heart gave a small but pleasant start the next morning when Rurik took her hand. Tiny feathers of awareness tickled up from her hand to her wrist as he tightened his fingers around hers. He did not smile at her, but his eyes seemed to say so much more than words ever could as they made their way outside.
He had brought her to pleasure twice more last night and once again this morning before they left their bed. He had been slow and lazy—thorough was the only way she could think to describe how he had taken his time in waking her up. It had not mattered that a servant had knocked, or discreetly left a meal for them inside the door. He had not stopped until they were both limp and satiated. Then he had helped her dress, an endeavour that promised far more pleasure to be had later in the day.
Iron clanged outside as they made their way from their home, evidence that Jarl Eirik was already awake and running his men through their paces. No doubt he was impatient for them, but Rurik did not hurry his pace. As two of her men swung open the doors to the courtyard for them, he only gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze and held them. She liked that they had progressed from a supporting hand on her lower back. How quickly they could progress to so much more if they only had the chance.
She pushed back the weight of guilt that threatened to rise within her at the thought. She would tell Rurik everything very soon, as soon as the Jarl left them in peace. He would be hurt—she despised that his pain was necessary—but she hoped with time he could forgive her for the part she had played in Maerr. She did not fool herself that it would be an easy thing to overcome, but she did believe there could be a good life for them eventually. If he would only give them a chance.
Smiling up at him, she tightened her hand on his, making the barest hint of a smile turn up his lips. He would not let himself be so free before the Jarl, so the hint was enough to reassure her. There was the scantest ache between her thighs, a reminder of how recently he had been there. She was amazed to realise she was already wondering how soon they could sneak off for a private moment. The day was meant to be filled with a tour of Glannoventa and the sur
roundings, but surely there would be something—a copse, a nook—where she could at least kiss him again.
Rurik’s face changed right before her eyes. His roar of outrage barely registered as his brows drove together and he lunged before her, driving her behind him with a forearm. The dagger on his hip came out as he got into a battle crouch before her. Distantly, she was aware of a sword striking stone—only after she heard the sound did she realise that it had narrowly missed Rurik, striking where he had been standing only to crash into the wall instead. She had been too much in her thoughts to anticipate danger.
Drawing the dagger kept in her boot, she rose to her full height and went to step around him. ‘Stay behind me,’ he said, his left arm coming out to keep her back as his right wielded his dagger.
Angry and uncomprehending, she glared out at Jarl Eirik and the men who stood near him. There were ten while the rest continued to spar farther off. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ she yelled.
The Jarl’s brow was fierce and his gaze was calculating as it roved over Rurik, assessing him. ‘If he is to take Wilfrid’s place, he must prove his ability to protect himself and you.’
‘That was unfair. You had no right to do that. What if you had hurt one of us?’ Outrage filled her voice. Her gaze found the Jarl’s warrior who had swung the sword. She had not noticed him the night before; she was quite certain she would have remembered. His wild mane of hair was pulled back from a face that was all angles, as if it had been chiselled from the side of a cliff, and he was taller than any man she had ever seen. His arms alone were nearly the width of her midriff.
Still the Jarl stared only at Rurik. ‘You were never in danger, Lady Annis. The sword was aimed for Rurik. If the sword had found him, he would not deserve his place as your husband.’
Falling For Her Viking Captive (Sons 0f Sigurd Book 2) Page 18
