“What is it?”
“Just taste it.”
Mara closed her mouth around his finger, tasting the grainy substance that instantly melted on her tongue. Its sweetness caused her to hum with satisfaction as he withdrew from her puckered mouth.
“Sugar,” Dægan stated. “Do you like it?”
“Very much.”
“I traded an entire chest of furs for it. Some say ‘tis worth more than that. Lillemor mixes it with cream to make those tarts there. Go ahead, try one.”
Mara excitedly picked up a tart and took a bite, the sweetness not only from the fruit, but of the sugared cream delighting her tastes buds. It was like nothing she had ever eaten before.
Dægan then seized a piece of hard bread, tearing it in half and giving her the other. “I still prefer honey though,” he admitted. “I desire a lingering flavor as opposed to a quick relief of sudden sweetness.”
Heat flushed Mara’s cheeks a deep red. “I assume we are still discussing your tradable goods?”
“Perhaps,” Dægan said, stuffing his mouth full of bread.
“Where will you go next?” she asked, steering the conversation to other less suggestive things.
“I am not sure,” he said, pouring himself a rummer of mead. “I still await Eirik’s completion of the knarr, and since my other ships have been sent to Port Láirge, I cannot go anywhere until either they return or Eirik finishes the job. He should have had it done by now, but quality comes with a price I suppose.”
“Eirik is good at what he does?”
Dægan swallowed a large gulp of mead that slipped down his throat. “Building boats? Aye, the best. But anything else he does is just ordinary.”
Mara barely got a laugh out before Dægan lifted another piece of fruit to her lips.
“I like you here with me,” Dægan said with great contentment, sucking his finger that had just come from her mouth. “Everything is better with you here.”
Mara agreed. Everything was just perfect…aside from running from her father. Dægan was everything she wanted in a man and more. He was the strong leader and the gentle companion that she had all but dreamed about. And now she hoped to never wake up.
“What do you find so amusing?” Dægan asked after he finished the last of his bread.
“Nothing,” Mara mumbled, her mouth full of food. She swallowed quickly and tried to explain. “I am just virgin to such things as courting.”
“As am I.”
“Dægan,” she said correctively. “I know a man like yourself knows more about the ways of love than I. I will not pretend to think I am your first.”
“‘Tis true. There have been others before you,” Dægan said, leaning out of his chair toward her. “But none have made me feel the way I do now. Can you not see that you have rendered me a slave to your will and I am without thought or care for consequences? I will do whatever you ask of me, whatever you want.” He took her hand in his, drawing his finger lightly around her palm. “But I will not assume to know what you desire. I gave you my word. By the gods, I wish I hadn’t. But if you want something from me, then you will have to ask.”
Mara saw the edge that Dægan was walking on, the narrow line between his committed honor and the need to satisfy that selfish libido entrenched in every man’s soul. How difficult it must be to feel the torment of that deep-rooted hunger and not be able to slake the covetous yearning within.
Mara could feel it, too. It was that feeling she felt the first time he kissed her and it tingled as it rose and fell within her. The thought for care or consequence was truly fading in her as well and every moment she spent with him was like having wings to fly, to soar over the treetops without fences or palisade walls to confine her. For once she felt free, lightsome, and happy. But oddly, to feel the elated heights of that thrill was not enough. To look in his eyes was not enough. Fiendishly, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, but he did not return it.
“Ah, my little temptress…” Dægan breathed. “You will have to ask me. You will have to beg me.”
Mara quivered within those words.
“Come on, love,” Dægan coaxed shamelessly. “You know I will not take you until I hear it from your very lips. Say it. Let me hear you say it.”
“I cannot…”
“And I cannot break the bonds of my word,” he reminded. “Only you can release me from that promise. Say what you want from me, Mara. Say it, or I shall die in your arms waiting.”
“I want you, Dægan,” she finally exhaled. “I want you to touch me…”
There it was. Permission. And how good it sounded in that ragged breath of hers, regardless that he barely heard the rest. Without a second’s hesitation, he scooped her from the chair and carried her in his arms to the nearest boxbed in the room. He kissed her intensely, feeling the small points of her fingertips dig into the back of his neck as he lowered her, laying himself upon her.
Mara called his name from underneath the weight of his body, returning the kiss that was deep and filled with the sweetness of rapture. His hands searched the gathering of the long tunic around her, finding her hips and breasts with the eagerness of a lover’s touch.
“I know not what to do,” she announced from within his mouth as he gripped the gown at her hip and slid it upwards.
“Sh...,” Dægan whispered. “Talk not, my love.”
He slipped the thin material over her head, revealing the milky white of her skin against the dark hides of his bed. It sent him whirling, craving the softness of her body and the wet warmth between her legs.
He dipped his head to her chest, exposing her breasts to the heat of his mouth and the searing fire of his hands. He left her powerless to the abundant caresses of his tongue and lips, her body writhing against him in need. There was no denying how much she wanted him, how much she needed him. He could feel it in the fire that delighted him as it burned.
He climbed the hollow of her throat with tender flicks of his tongue, returning to the glory of her kiss and tasting the wine and the sugar within it. “Forgive me, for I have led you astray. ‘Tis not honey that I prefer, but the taste of you in my mouth. I cannot get enough of you.”
He tore the linen cloth from his waist, removing the last bit of hindrance from between them, and basked in the feel of her soft naked skin against his own. It was more than he could bear, for added to his bittersweet suffering, she stroked his back and buttocks with roaming fingertips, cutting his willpower in half.
Dægan groaned in agony and parted her legs, feeling the fiery flesh against him. He struggled with the forces of his own animality, reminding himself that she could not be ravished. She was a virgin and with that came the importance of self-restraint.
“I want not to hurt you, love,” Dægan whispered, looking into her viridescent eyes for the first time since they commenced. “Nor do I want to take from you, what you may regret in giving. I should stop,” he said with great reluctance. But she was so beautiful, lying there beneath him, panting softly against his lips. It was even better than he imagined. Her eyes half closed. Her legs around his back, drawing him in further…
Yet he wanted none of it, if it were not strictly by her choice.
He touched her face, his lips resting on the fullness of hers. “I must stop.”
But Mara pleaded with him, and the sound of her voice, in combination with those tiny bites upon the stringent cords of his neck, sent chills down his spine. He did as she begged, entering her ever so carefully.
Her body felt better than any other woman he had been with. Perhaps it was just because the final gift of her surrender hadn’t been given as freely or as quickly as the others who had pursued him. There had been a process with Mara, a slow seduction that was required for him to get to this moment, and it was with great pleasure that he succeeded in changing her from a fearfully hesitant girl to a woman hopelessly taken by the current of her own desires. Between them, there wasn’t any greed. Only a need to give of themselves en
tirely, a long and captivating dance of shared sensuality. This moment was better than anything he could imagine. And yet, as he felt that velvety threshold within her, his mind raced forward into an imagery of their joined bodies. As much as barely entering her pleased him, he wanted more. He wanted to feel her warmth further envelope him, to go beyond the gates and dwell within the realms of divine paradise.
As he moved to penetrate her fully, he gripped the blankets in savage restraint, pushing gingerly against her maidenhead, until all at once, it gave way.
He heard Mara whimper as her body stretched to accommodate him. He cradled her and slowly withdrew, ironically feeling an amazing sensation as he retracted, given that he had just put all his labors into entering her. The sweet ripple of her voice called the animal within him and he thrust again, feeling her grasp tighten on his arms. With each propelling movement of his hips, she curled around him and buried her face in his neck, feeling each warm breath that exhaled from her splendid mouth.
He kissed her again deeply, whispering against her lips a slur of affectionate words, struggling to deliberately ignore the flesh that gripped him. He turned his head and thought of other things in hopes that he’d hinder what pinnacle of pleasure was suddenly overtaking him; things such as his unfinished knarr, his depleted crew of men, his morning duties—anything!
And it worked, if only for a moment.
But as soon as she moved against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, he couldn’t resist his fast approaching climax anymore. His body shook with a fierce tension until finally, his relief came in abundance, pulsating through him like a hellish heartbeat.
Dægan collapsed upon her bosom and lay heavily sprawled. His body felt like it was three times its normal weight and he could barely lift his head to speak. All he was capable of doing at that moment was lying there upon her breasts and listening to her heart settle one beat at a time. After a few breathless moments and a long reminiscent sigh, Mara spoke to him.
“You are pleased?” she asked.
Dægan lifted his head promptly, amazed that she’d even think otherwise. He stroked her cheek with the backside of his fingers, delving deeper into her seascape eyes. “May I tell you something?”
****
“Of course,” she said, feeling a sense of solemnity in his voice.
He kissed her on the lips before he began. “I have, from the day I was born, believed that my death would be glorious and I would be chosen among the best to fight each day, arm in arm, with those who have gone before me. And when that day should come, it would be an honor that every man envies, to be allied with the gods against the beasts of the underworld. But the more I am with you, the more I am rejecting the thought of that life. With you in my arms, I have no wish to die in that manner. Not anymore. You have made me believe that love is stronger than a sword arm and more eternal than the last breath of a dying warrior on the battlefield.”
He took her hand and placed her open palm firmly on his chest, interlacing her fingers with his own. “What I say to you is not easy, for I am a warrior of Thor and a son of Odin. In my youth I gave an oath, an oath that is stronger than a bond between men, and to break it, means I will not have a share in their glory upon my death. But hear me now, Mara. I would rather die in your arms, than die a courageous death for Odin’s approval or for Thor’s immense pride. I want to be as we are now, together in peaceful arms, waiting for the start of each day. I want to wake every morning to the sight of your blessed face, to the feel of your body against mine, and your kiss on my lips. I want to be with you forever…in this life and the next. What glory you give my heart is beyond a war god’s understanding. I need not Odin or Thor anymore. I could die right now—right here—and be a happy man. Marry me and make me a jubilant man!”
The very thought brought a joyful noise in Mara’s head. It could have been the sound of Odin’s wrath, his thunderous reaction to the blatant severing of that bond, but more likely it was her heart pounding in her ears. She understood well the sacrifice Dægan was making for her and that in itself was worthy of excitement. She liked the idea of being his wife, his lady, and simply the woman in his bed, so saying the words “I will” came easier than she ever thought possible. Explaining this union to her father, though, would be another story.
Chapter Ten
Mara awoke the next morning to the feel of Dægan’s kiss on the nape of her neck. It was soft and barely there, as gentle as a leaf floating on the water. She stirred amongst the hides, realizing that his arms were still wrapped around her as they were when they fell asleep.
“Good morning, m’lady,” he whispered, raining more kisses across her bare shoulders.
“My lord,” she responded, twisting to face him.
Dægan smiled jovially upon her use of the feudal idiom. He looked as though he were memorizing every aspect of her morning face, from the warmth that reddened her cheeks, to the innocence of her guilt-stricken smile.
“Shame looks lovely on you,” he said, eyeing her breasts devilishly.
“Shame?” Mara asked, surprisingly undeterred by his gawking. “And for what should I atone?”
“That you allowed a heathen to kiss and make love to you. And—that you enjoyed it.”
“I may be guilty of all offenses, but shame is not one of them,” she replied. “Maybe ‘tis you who are flooded with shame. Perhaps sharing your bed with an Irish princess is more than you cared to allow.”
Dægan laughed, climbing on top of her and holding her hands above her head. “I did allow a lot of things to happen in sharing my bed with you, but ‘tis not something I shall ever regret.”
His mouth slowly opened to hers, tenderly enveloping her lips with moistened heat. It was a long time before Dægan retreated from her mouth with an exhausting breath of desire. “The only regret I have is that morning has come, and I have things that require my utmost attention—like seeing to your safe return.”
Mara was disappointed that he swiftly left the bed, but soon turned delighted when she saw his bare backside as he walked to the table of linens left from the night before.
Choosing one from the taller stack, he whipped it against the air and fanned it around his hips. Only then did he turn around and see her green eyes leap from his waist.
“Careful, love. Those wandering eyes could get you into trouble.”
“Could they now?” Mara stood up from the boxbed, leaving the safety and warmth of the hides to saunter in his direction. It delighted her to know he was unable to keep his eyes from the curves of her body, though he pretended to remain unruffled by her seductive walk.
Casually, he picked through last night’s meal and ate a piece of fruit from the tray. “Hungry?”
“Indeed…” Mara responded, frolicking upon a slim suggestion of naughtiness.
Dægan fed her and watched her mouth close around his fingertips. Presumably against his will, his arousal came as fiercely as a pack of wolves on a winter kill, and Mara took great pleasure in feeling its sudden growth against her naked stomach.
“I cannot do this,” he renounced.
“Why not?”
“Because I know my brother will be sending for me at any moment.”
“Until then…please…” Mara said, skating her fingers down his back. She nonchalantly grabbed the linen at his waist and pulled, dropping it carelessly at his feet.
Dægan groaned, lifting his eyes to the roof. “I swear you are Loki himself, in sweet female form.”
But without much persuasion, he dove to the bounty of her mouth. There was no refuge from this fire. Even as she felt him try to soften his kiss, his touch, they were both catapulted further into the flames. And oh, how she ached to feel him within her again.
“I told you your wandering eyes could get you into a lot of trouble, yet how is it that you bring forth both crime and punishment into your mischief?”
“Am I punishing you, Dægan?”
“Aye, you are. Can you not feel the severity?” His eyes wer
e lax, drifting into lust as he pushed his hardened sex against her belly. “Do be kind, love.”
“Oh, please do!” Eirik interrupted as he peered in from the door.
“Eirik!” Dægan shouted, twisting Mara aside and shielding her with his own body. “By the gods, Eirik! I insist you knock from now on!”
“I could not agree more,” Eirik replied, backing out of the longhouse.
Dægan picked up the cloth on the floor to cover himself and slammed the door in his brother’s face. Before he could take a step away from the entrance, Eirik knocked.
Dægan ripped open the door, staring at his conniving brother. “What!”
Eirik raised his hands defensively. “Just a friendly reminder, dear Brother. ‘Twould be best to rub that out before you are seen with me.” Eirik was not shy in pointing out his brother’s predicament.
“Eirik—”
“I would hate to create talk, Dægan. Tongues do wag frivolously at seaports.”
Dægan growled. “The only talk that could possibly be derived from our pairing is of pity for you, as they gain word that your scanty size is barely half of mine! And how disappointed your wife would surely be if she knew—regretful even—that she married the meager of the two brothers!”
“Good one!” Eirik praised, but the door came quickly at his face.
Dægan’s brows hovered densely above his eyes. “See what I mean? You shall come to thank your parents for the lack of siblings soon enough!”
“Ah, Dægan. He means well.”
“Does he now?” he said, leaving the support of the door. “I know he means to anger me any chance he gets.”
“I think he wants to please you,” Mara contended. “He may try too hard at times, but I believe he wants to be just like you.”
Dægan shook his head at her observation. “You give him too much credit. He is not but a splinter festering in my arse!”
Dægan took the stale bread from the tray, filling his mouth to keep from ranting, but unsuccessfully he spat again. “He is like the runt of the litter you know you should not keep, but you do anyway, hoping he will be worth something someday.”
The Emerald Isle Trilogy Boxed Set Page 10
