She moved her stick upwards, and he easily blocked it. The impact shuddered through her arm. Cwenneth redoubled her efforts, but each time he easily blocked the move. A bird started singing right behind her, making her jump and breaking her concentration.
Thrand’s stick hit hers and sent it spinning out of her hand.
‘How did you do that?’
‘You left yourself open. First rule of swordplay is never to be distracted. Block everything out except for your opponent and where his sword is moving.’
‘That must be impossible.’
‘You have to do it in order to be any good. Concentration grows as you get better.’ His eyes softened. ‘With practice, you can be aware of other things but your main focus has to be on where that next move is going to come from. A heartbeat’s lapse is all that stands between life and death.’
‘What should I be doing? How can I improve?’ Cwenneth put her hands on her knees.
His brow knitted. ‘My father used to say that it just happened, but my mother suggested that I empty my mind and concentrate on my opponent’s shoulder. Where the shoulder goes, the arm must surely follow.’
‘Was your mother a shield maiden?’
‘Her mother had been, but my mother had different skills.’ His mouth took on a bitter twist. ‘Neither my father nor my grandfather considered the skill necessary.’
‘And all the Norsemen have this focus?’ she asked, wanting to learn more about his family. ‘Or is it something unique to your family?’
‘Sven used to swear that Hagal lacked concentration, but he has won far too many bouts.’ Thrand’s full lips turned up in a reflective smile. ‘Sven liked to talk nonsense after he had taken ale.’
‘And Hagal has always avoided fighting you.’
‘Despite my challenges, he has found reasons to decline.’
‘Are you ready to try again?’ Cwenneth lifted the stick, watched his shoulder and blocked the downward thrust of his stick. Once. Twice. Three times. With each successful block, her confidence grew and she noticed that Thrand made it more difficult.
Sweat gathered on her brow. She glanced at Thrand. A faint sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. ‘We should stop. We need to travel today and you are injured despite what you think. Someone needs to be sensible.’
He caught her sleeve. Her entire body tingled with an awareness of him. Her lips ached to be kissed.
‘I am not used to being looked after,’ he said finally, making no any attempt to capture her mouth and moving away from her. ‘War is all I know, Cwen. It is all I will ever know.’
Cwenneth’s heart felt an odd pang. His eyes were so sad when he said it. ‘You must know about other things like planting crops and keeping livestock.’
‘The last time I helped with the sheep, I was fourteen. My father sent me up to the meadows for the summer.’ He gave a half smile. ‘It was the last peaceful summer I knew. When I returned, the problems began.’
‘Did you give up singing and dancing as well?’
‘I can feast with the best of them, but I don’t want you harbouring any illusions.’
‘Why would I harbour illusions about you? Your reputation is well known.’
He caught her sleeve and pinned her to the spot. ‘You’re right. You are more dangerous. Hagal has underestimated you. We will win, Cwen.’
In winning, she was going to lose him. What they had right now, the ease between them, was temporary. Cwenneth pressed her aching lips together. It was wrong that she wanted more. ‘We need to get to Corbridge and fulfil your vow before we can destroy Hagal.’
If she told her heart enough times, maybe she’d stop thinking that there had to be another way.
Chapter Nine
‘This is as good a place as any for the night,’ Thrand said, gesturing to a small cave in a hillside. In the distance, Cwenneth could hear the faint gurgle of water.
They had not encountered anyone, and Cwenneth felt more hopeful that they would reach their destination without any trouble. Surely Hagal would not risk sending his men this far into Bernicia.
‘Shelter and water. What more could a woman ask for?’
‘I’m pleased you approve.’ Thrand slid off Myrkr.
Cwenneth had noticed that today he had kept his body from touching hers as they rode. Whenever he could, he found reasons to walk.
The ease of this morning’s sword lesson had vanished and Thrand seemed preoccupied, answering her questions in as few words as possible.
‘If you can gather some firewood, I will go and fetch the water.’ Thrand stretched. ‘I could do with a wash and Myrkr a drink.’
Cwenneth froze—half on and half off Myrkr, the image of Thrand’s naked skin gleaming wet imprinted on her brain. She forced her feet down, nearly tripping.
‘Do you have a problem with that?’ he asked, taking the pack and Myrkr’s saddle from the horse.
‘No, no problem. I am perfectly capable of tending to Myrkr. We have reached an understanding.’
Cwenneth carefully set the pack and saddle inside the mouth of the cave before she went about finding some firewood. Anything to keep from finding an excuse to check on Thrand and see if he was truly bathing. He had made it very clear that he did not think of her in that way. They were friends, not lovers.
When would she learn that he wasn’t interested in her, not in the way she wanted him to be?
He probably saw her as a skinny stick of a thing with very little sex appeal, the same as her sister-in-law’s assessment of her charms right before she departed from Lingwold. And since then he had been careful not to touch her. She had thought he might kiss her when he taught her this morning how to use the sword, but he hadn’t. And she refused to be pathetic and beg. Men disliked pushy women. Aefirth had told her that enough times, but her mind kept whispering that Thrand was not Aefirth.
She gave a wry smile. Only a few days ago, she had worried that he might force her, now she worried that he wasn’t touching her. She was being ridiculous.
‘Come on, Cwenneth, stop stalling,’ she muttered. ‘You need to find dry wood, instead of dissecting what Thrand might or might not feel for you. Maybe if you are lucky, he will catch some fish and you can have a hot meal instead of the hard bread.’
She gathered three more armloads of firewood and started to lay a fire in the entrance to the cave.
There was a distinct rustling inside.
‘Thrand?’ she said. ‘That took you much less time than I thought it would.’
The rustling stopped, but there was no answer.
From somewhere behind her, she heard a snatch of song in Thrand’s off-key voice. Thrand was clearly still at the stream.
Cwenneth pinched the bridge of her nose. Whoever was inside wasn’t Thrand and they could easily take Thrand’s sword and the gold before she returned from fetching him.
‘Come out right now!’ she called. ‘We mean no harm, but we will not let you rob us blind.’
She waited in the afternoon sun. The only response was more rustling.
Her hand gripped the knife she now always wore in her belt. There wasn’t time to wait for Thrand. She had to act.
‘Stop being a coward,’ she muttered. ‘Whoever it is, he doesn’t have a horse. You just need to keep him there until Thrand arrives.’
A large owl flew out, beating its wings against her face. Cwenneth screamed. The owl did not stop, but kept on going, flying high into the sky.
She sank down on the ground outside the hut and started to laugh. An owl. She had been frightened of an owl.
‘What do you think you are playing at, screaming like that? You could have let half the countryside know where we are.’ Thrand towered over her, the thoroughly enraged warrior. His hair gleamed dark gold in the sunlight and a few drops of water from his
bath in the stream clung to the strong column of his throat. Enraged, but still breathtaking.
Silently, she cursed her attraction to him. She smoothed her skirt down so her limbs were covered before twisting over.
‘What is your explanation for this?’
‘I heard a noise and thought someone might be trying to rob us. But it was an owl, only an owl.’ Cwenneth rose and tried to brush the dirt off her skirt. She concentrated on the blossom on the nearest plum tree. ‘I overreacted.’
‘What did you intend to do with that knife?’
‘I was going to make sure whoever it was did not run off with our gear. All I had to do was to keep them in the cave.’
‘You should have come for me first when you suspected something.’
‘I wasn’t going to lose our things.’
‘I forbid it.’
Cwenneth blinked twice. ‘You forbid?’
‘Next time, you get me before you attempt anything foolhardy. Your life is too valuable. After we are finished, you can do what you like, but until then you obey me.’
‘I finished with being a cosseted lady, Thrand, when Narfi murdered everyone in my party. It is why you are teaching me to use a sword. I can defend myself.’
He stepped closer to her. She knew if she reached out a hand, she would encounter his broad chest. ‘Most people think twice about provoking me, Cwen.’
‘I am not most people.’ She made the mistake of glancing up into his dark forbidding face. It could have been carved from stone, but she saw something more in his eyes. Concern? Caring? It was gone so quickly she couldn’t tell. ‘Your temper doesn’t bother me. Shouting and standing there with clenched fists will do nothing.’
‘Cwen!’
‘I deemed it necessary. Time was running out. I acted.’ She ran her hands through her hair, plucking bits of grass out. So much for looking desirable or attractive—she undoubtedly looked a mess. ‘You were having a wash.’
‘Overconfidence can kill.’
‘So can sitting around and waiting to be rescued.’
He grabbed her arm. The touch sent a warm tingle coursing through her. She slipped out of his grasp and glared at him.
‘The key to this exercise is to stay alive, not go confronting anyone,’ he continued in a quieter tone.
‘I confronted an owl!’
She glared back him. His angry face was inches away from her. Their breath interlaced and a warm curl started in the middle of her stomach. Every particle of her was aware of this man.
‘Do not do it again!’ he said, giving her shoulders a little shake. ‘You could have been hurt.’
‘Or what?’ she asked, her heart beginning to race. ‘What will you do?’
She moistened her lips with her tongue. She knew she was playing with fire, but it was also hugely exciting. The last time he had been unbalanced, he had kissed her. And she wanted him to kiss her. Badly. She advanced towards him, but he retreated until his back was against the side of the cave.
‘Cwenneth!’ The word was torn from his throat as he stood rigid. The muscles on either side of his neck bulged. ‘You go too far.’
‘Thrand, I haven’t gone far enough,’ she whispered, not moving away from him and lifting her mouth towards him. ‘That is part of the trouble. I need to go further. I am strong and it is time I started acting like it. Or else I might as well have died in the slaughter. I’m tired of waiting, Thrand. I want you.’
‘You don’t know what you are asking.’
‘I do know. I want to feel alive, Thrand. Make me feel alive.’
With a long groan, he lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was savage in its ferocity, demanding and taking. She returned the kiss, looping her arms about his neck and pulling him closer. This time she was not taking any chances that he might pull away. She wanted to see what would happen when the kiss ended.
She could not remember if Aefirth had ever kissed her this passionately. There was something about the wildness of the kiss that called to a dark place deep within her soul—utterly new and unexplored. What was more—she wanted to be kissed like this, like he was branding her with his mouth and stamping his possession on her.
Their tongues met, tangled and teased. With each passing heartbeat she knew one kiss would be too little. She needed more, much more.
His hands came about her body and pulled her close. She felt every inch of his hard, muscular body. He wanted her. A bubble of happiness infused her. After what happened she had been worried that he had no desire for her, but he had, and she intended to use it to assuage the heat which had built up inside her.
She tightened her grip on his neck and tilted her pelvis towards his as her tongue delved deeper into his mouth. His hands slid down her back to cup her bottom and hold her there, unmoving against the hardest part of him. She wriggled slightly, feeling him press against the apex of her thighs and knowing she needed more.
His tongue slid round and round in her mouth, gently pulling and tugging. Warm and wet. What had been a curl of heat in the pit of her stomach grew to a wildfire in the space of a few breaths.
She found it difficult to remember when she had felt this alive. Her whole word had come down to this man. And she knew she needed more than a simple kiss. She wanted to feel his skin against hers. She wanted to feel alive. His tongue drove deeper into her. She pressed her body closer and felt his arousal meet the apex of her thighs. She rocked against him.
‘You are playing with fire,’ he murmured against her lips as his hips drove against her again.
She answered him by arching towards him, allowing her breasts to brush against his chest. ‘I’m a grown woman. I know what I am doing.’
He groaned in the back of his throat and switched their positions so that her back was against the wall as his hands roamed over her body, cupping her breasts and teasing her nipples to hardened points. First over her gown and then, after he tugged slightly, slipping inside the cloth and touching her bare skin.
The ache within her grew.
His mouth nuzzled her neck as his hands played. Hard-working hands sliding over the smooth skin, pulling and squeezing. Each fresh touch sent a wave of fierce heat through her, melting the ice which had encased her since Aefirth’s death, leaving her molten and quivering, but alive. Oh, so alive.
Giving in to instinct, she tugged at his trousers and encountered the hardened length of him. Hot, but silk-like smooth. She closed her fist around him and felt him, knew she needed more. She wanted him in her, giving her the release she knew her body craved.
‘Please.’
His mouth returned to hers as he moved her skirts, picked her up and settled her on him, driving in deep.
Her body welcomed him in. Fire meeting fire. Hot and fierce. She tightened her legs about him, held him within her as he drove deeper.
Their cries intermingled.
Slowly, slowly, she came back to earth. She touched his face. Droplets of water still clung to his hair. Tiny diamonds shining in the light.
He withdrew from her and pulled up his trousers. Her skirts fell about her limbs.
‘Say something, Thrand. Tell me what you are thinking.’
‘That should not have happened. I didn’t mean for it... Cwen, did I hurt you?’
‘Why not?’ Her hands went to her top and automatically began to readjust it. ‘What was wrong with it?’
‘Nothing was wrong.’
‘Then what is the problem?’ Her heart drummed so fast in her chest that she thought he must hear.
‘Because,’ he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and pinning her to the spot, ‘someone has to be sensible. I have no idea what you want, what you expect from this.’
‘I wanted you to do this. I was a willing participant.’ She put her hand on her hip. ‘You might have
the courtesy to say you enjoyed it.’
He ran his hand through his hair. ‘That goes without saying. You were... You are amazing. Cwen, I always get these things wrong.’
She breathed easier. He did want her, but for some reason he was treating her like she was a fragile object. Or a lady with marriage prospects. She drew in her breath sharply. That was it. Her heart expanded a little. He still thought of her as someone who mattered. The truth was that she didn’t. Not to her brother and certainly not to Hagal. The only person she had to worry about pleasing was herself.
‘We are both adults, Thrand. Not every coupling ends in marriage. I’d have to be very stupid if I remained in ignorance about that. What is between us...it is about the here and now, not some far-off future. I’m asking for no more than today. This afternoon.’ She forced a crooked smile. ‘The last man who wanted me for a bride wanted to kill me. The whole experience has made me question the value of marriage.’
He groaned in the back of his throat. ‘Don’t do this to me, Cwen. I am trying to give you a choice. My self-control is in tatters where you are concerned. If I lose it, I may lose you.’
‘Why?’
‘I may frighten you. I have frightened women in the past. I may mark you without meaning to. Other women have complained about me being more interested in war than them. I am not good at making small talk about gowns and hairstyles. I get bored at feasts. I like blood-soaked sagas rather than the romances which have the women sighing. And...and I value your friendship.’
Relief flooded through her. He was trying to protect her and worried about appearing less than a hero in her eyes, rather than not desiring her. She hated the unknown women who had made him like this.
‘You found my touch unpleasant? My kiss distasteful?’ She pretended to consider the possibility before running her hand boldly down his front. ‘Is this why you are so hard again? So quickly? I have only known my husband and he was a great deal older than you, but he was never aroused like this after we made love.’
Her breath caught at her audacity. Proof if ever she needed it that she had changed. She would never have dreamt of touching Aefirth like this, but it felt right with Thrand. With Thrand she could be who she wanted to be. She allowed her hand to linger for a heartbeat.
Saved by the Viking Warrior Page 13
