Chapter 4
“Time for bed,” Wolf announced as soon as they had finished a frugal meal of bread, nuts and cheese.
Merewen looked to the corner by the window where a massive pallet was covered with furs.
It looked soft and inviting, a haven in which to burrow and escape the cold.
It was also the only sleeping place in the hut, a consideration that could not fail to send her heartbeat into a fierce drum—of anguish, she assured herself, not anticipation.
“This is your bed,” she stated, facing Wolf once more.
“It is.”
“Where am I to sleep?”
“In it.”
She immediately recoiled. “No!”
His lips twisted, as if he’d guessed she was not protesting at the idea of sleeping close to him, but rather did not want to risk throwing herself at him while she did. “Let me be clearer. You will sleep in it, but alone. I’ll sleep somewhere else.”
Her eyes widened. “Somewhere else?” Though she hated to admit it, the idea that he was about to leave her made her heartbeat increase another notch.
Of course she told herself that it was only because she could rely on him to ward off any potential attackers, not because she wanted…
well… to take advantage of being tucked in bed next to a man in possession of such an impressive physique.
“No one will enter the hut while I’m gone, I swear,” Wolf assured her, cutting through her musings.
Evidently he had seen her worry. She nodded, knowing that if his decision had already been made there was nothing she could do, save beg him to stay, something she absolutely refused to do.
A woman, even one who had been bought, had her dignity.
“Very well.”
Merewen refused to ask him where or, more pointedly, with whom he would spend the night.
She would not act the jealous harpy and give him any more reasons to tease her than she already had.
After all, she didn’t know anything about him.
He might well have a sweetheart in the village, or even just an accommodating widow who kept a place warm in her bed for him for whenever he wanted to indulge his masculine urges.
Why would he stay to protect her when a night of passion was waiting for him?
Her thoughts must have shown on her face for he smiled crookedly.
“I will not sleep with a woman tonight,” he told her, eyeing her up and down, the heat in his gaze causing her blood to race in her veins.
“Won’t you?” she asked in her best unconcerned voice.
“No.”
Wolf took a step toward the girl, then another, wanting to gauge her reaction.
When she did not recoil, he knew he was making the right decision in leaving the hut.
He could not sleep in the same room as her tonight, least of all in the same pallet, not when she was fully conscious and unsettled by his proximity.
This time if she started to touch herself in her sleep he would not be able to stop himself from taking her and giving them both pleasure.
He was already hard and ready, dangerously close to surrender.
After a morning in the saddle with her curves pressed against him and then a whole afternoon watching her as she moved about with the grace of a doe he would not have the strength to resist if he felt any part of her luscious body brush against his.
He would rip her already damaged shift and plunge inside her delicious flesh before she had time to say anything.
But doing such a thing was out of the question.
She was a virgin, she knew nothing of men’s base urges, so he would only frighten her with the urgency of his need.
Besides, he had promised not to hurt her and it was important to him she believed him.
She had barely come to trust his word. He could not undo all his hard work now.
Not that he would hurt her of course, but he knew he would not manage to be gentle either.
If he ever bedded this girl, he would do so with all the impetuosity he had kept in check with Solveig.
The two women’s contrasting personalities made it inevitable that he would unleash the wildest part of him.
When he mounted Demon, he did not behave in the same way as he did when he rode a plodding rouncey.
He did not take the same precautions because he knew the stallion was as spirited a mount as he was a fierce rider and could handle it.
The two of them were a match made for relentless, satisfying rides.
And he sensed that bedding this girl would be just as exhilarating and leave him breathless.
But it would not happen tonight. Tonight he would have to be reasonable.
“Sleep soundly,” he growled. “I will be back at dawn.”
“I slept with my friend Sigurd.”
Merewen did her best to hide her relief at seeing Wolf walk into the hut shortly after dawn the next morning.
Despite his promise that no one would bother her, she had spent an agitated night, expecting the door to open at any moment on a lust-crazed villager or a drunken maniac foolish enough to brave Wolf’s ire for a moment in her arms. Not that she thought herself irresistible, but you never knew.
“I see,” she answered breezily. “Now I understand why you admitted of your own accord you would not sleep with a woman. The promise will have cost you little if you prefer the company of men.”
Wolf’s perfect lips twisted in a now familiar smile. How quickly one could become accustomed to someone’s little quirks, she reflected. They had known each other for less than two days.
“I slept in Sigurd’s hut if you prefer, on the floor. Alone,” he added, his eyes lighting up in amusement.
“I prefer nothing,” she answered dampeningly, even though the idea of such a man being lost to womankind had provoked in her a pang of regret she preferred not to dwell upon.
“And I assure you that I prefer women to men,” he insisted, making her blush further. “I like everything about them, their softness, their smell, their—”
“Very well,” she blurted out. “You prefer women. I believe you.”
Thinking it best to drop the matter before he became too specific, she set out to making some bread to break their fast. Perhaps the kneading would alleviate some of her frustration. If she punched the dough with enough force she might actually manage to ignore the maddening man in front of her.
With more anger than efficiency, she placed flour into a bowl and threw herself into the task. She was not here to discuss Wolf’s preferences in bed.
The sight of the woman making bread on his table made Wolf’s insides constrict in an emotion he was not at pains to identify, having experienced it time and time again in the last few months.
Longing.
Tossing and turning on Sigurd’s floor all night, he had tried to convince himself that he had exaggerated the comfort her presence in his hut brought him, that it was just the inevitable reaction of someone feeling too lonely for his own good, that it was not her who appealed to him but rather the fact that he was not on his own with his grim thoughts anymore.
As for the unfortunate lust she stirred in him, he had hoped it would have disappeared after an uncomfortable night spent on hard ground.
It had not, and he could not fool himself any longer.
The fiery Saxon appealed to him because of who she was, not just because she happened to be here.
No one else would have made him smile by suggesting he’d spent the night in Sigurd’s arms. No other woman would have made him hard just by blushing like a maid when he knew her to harbor wild feminine urges.
He watched her make bread for him with a hunger that had nothing to do with the rumbling in his stomach.
The scene was oddly domestic and put dangerous ideas into his head.
Wolf knew he could not afford to marry again after what had happened to him but that did not mean he did not wish things could be different.
He knew he did not deserve a family but that didn’t mean deep down he did not crave one.
A blinded warrior might know he would not be able to see again but that did not mean he did not miss watching the sun rise on a bright summer’s day.
The heart did not always heed what reason told it.
Wolf wanted the very thing he could not afford to have and having the girl in his home only made more glaring all the things he would never get.
Her gestures were assured and efficient, and the way her small fingers sank into the dough and massaged it created all sorts of lewd images in his mind.
When his manhood jerked he did not even blink.
It seemed he would have to resign himself to the fact that he could not be in her presence without sooner or later becoming as lust-filled as an untried youth.
What was certain was that he would not be bored as long as she was under his roof. How long that would be he didn’t know. She had told him only the night before she did not intend to stay for long.
Well, we’ll see about that.
“You still haven’t told me your name… woman.
” Wolf smiled when she winced. “I see that you do not like me calling you ‘woman’ any more than I do,” he carried on when she remained silent.
“Perhaps it will convince you to give in and tell me how I should call you instead. You can even choose a name if you like. It doesn’t have to be your real one.
I don’t mind. After all, no one here uses mine. Pick an animal.”
“Why does it have to be an animal?”
He let out a bark of a laugh. He had not meant to insult her but the affronted look on her face was priceless. “You’re right. You should go for something a lot more feminine and delicate. A flower perhaps.”
Merewen had never been the kind of person to persevere when the situation was lost and she was always able to recognize when she was beaten. As she would never win against this man, she decided she might as well give in graciously.