Chapter 7
Staring at the log at his feet, Wolf shook his head.
He was really acting like a lovesick fool eager to please the woman of his choice.
Merewen had only had to complain about the size of the logs for him to go running and rectify something he had never before seen as inadequate and him doing her bidding?
Was that what marriage between them would be like?
Her ordering him about without even raising her voice or issuing direct instructions?
Had he not idealized what having a spirited wife would actually be like?
It might well turn out to be a nightmare.
Or it might well be everything he had ever wanted.
Shrugging the thought away before he got too hopeful, he split the first log in half with a swing of his axe. Perhaps she had a point. This particular one had been enormous.
Once he had reduced half the pile of wood to little more than twigs, Merewen walked up to him, worrying her bottom lip with her small, white teeth. He rested the axe on a tall log and waited, guessing she would not be able to keep silent for long.
“I do have a question,” she said eventually.
His mouth quivered. “I thought you might.” One—or two hundred by the looks of things.
“Why did you need to buy a wife?” she asked, releasing her lip at last. Blood rushed to his groin when he saw how red and shiny it was now.
It would feel amazing against his, all plump and soft.
“Could you not have seduced someone the normal way if you wanted to get married? Is there something wrong with you?”
He gave a short, incredulous laugh. Really, the woman was unlike anyone he had ever met.
He could not recall anyone ever having the guts to question his abilities in any way, leastwise in bed.
But it was yet another encouraging sign.
If she wondered about his ability to perform as a man, it meant that she was thinking about accepting his offer but wanted to make sure she would not end up with an impotent lover unable to give her what she needed.
The male inside him roared.
He would give her what she wanted, and more.
“There is nothing wrong with me,” he assured her in a low rumble. “I told you. I like women and believe me, I am perfectly capable of satisfying them, unlike your poor husband. I know what to do with a woman in my arms.”
Merewen found herself blushing furiously.
Indeed. That Wolf had what it took to make her body erupt could not be in doubt.
He had the physique, the confidence, the strength required to make the perfect lover.
She, who had spent night after night obsessing about lovemaking, should know.
He was made to pleasure women. It made it all the more extraordinary that he would have to resort to such extreme methods as buying a woman to acquire a bride.
She needed to understand why a man his age was not yet married if, as his determination to have her seemed to indicate, he desperately wanted to be.
“Y-you know what I mean,” she stammered, feeling some of her bravado melt away. How could the wretched man unsettle her so easily? It had taken her all her inner strength to ask him the question, and he had destroyed her confidence in just a few words.
“I do. You want to make sure I will be able to bed you if you decide to marry me.”
“Well, I…” Merewen cleared her throat. Actually, she had never doubted that, but all the same, she needed to have it confirmed.
Wolf placed his axe back against the wall of the hut, and it was only then that she realized she should perhaps have waited until he was unarmed before she started questioning his virility.
Not many men she knew would have allowed her to get away with such a thing.
Why was she feeling immune to danger? Hadn’t she seen the size of him?
Even without an axe in hand, he should have scared the life out of her.
“You need not worry about my skill as a lover, Merewen,” he said, making her name sound like the most exotic word she had ever heard. “I will do more than bed you like a chore. I will give you pleasure.”
Oh, Lord. Pleasure. What she had craved all this time. It was the most enticing promise he could have made. But was it enough to sway her? No, of course, not!
“Then why did you—” He stopped her with a light tap on the nose, an oddly endearing move coming from such a beast of a man.
“Let us go back inside,” he said, his grave face at odds with the playful gesture. “This is going to be a long story and I’m thirsty.”
More curious than ever, Merewen followed Wolf back into the hut.
He went to the stool and sat down, then poured himself a cup of ale which he emptied in one gulp.
She wondered why the sight of his throat moving as he swallowed the liquid fascinated her so much but found that she could not avert her eyes.
Finally, he returned the cup to the table and planted his clear stare into hers.
“I’m here because I’ve been sent to exile.”
Exile. Cold invaded Merewen at the word.
What awful deed had the man committed to be handed out such an extreme punishment?
Though he was still sitting down and looked in no way about to pounce, she took a step back.
The sight of him, axe in hand, had failed to impress her, but hearing about the sentence chilled her to the bone.
“Why?”
“I was accused of murder.”
All the blood left her veins. Had she not felt the table against her hip in support, she might have fallen in a heap on the floor.
Murder.
“I said I had been accused of murdering someone, not that I had actually done it,” Wolf said slowly, not missing her reaction.
“So… you’re innocent?” She could barely get the words out.
“Of course.”
Heart in her throat, Merewen waited for the explanation to come. Was that why he was not married? Because women were afraid of him and what he had done? It was more than possible. What woman wanted to hear they were married to a murderer?
When Wolf finally opened his mouth to explain himself, the door of the hut burst open.
A man entered, shaking his rain-soaked cloak. So lost had she been in their conversation that she had not even noticed it had started raining.
Wolf watched Sigurd walk in with a mixture of pleasure and annoyance.
Although his friend could not have guessed he was interrupting an important conversation, he could not help but resent him for having chosen this particular moment for coming to see him.
Oblivious to the tension in the room, Sigurd started talking in rapid Norse, complaining about the unpredictable weather.
Then he turned and stopped dead when he saw they weren’t alone.
“This is Merewen.” Wolf answered the silent question in his eyes, reverting pointedly to English. Merewen would guess that they were talking about her and he wanted her to know what they were saying.
His friend arched a brow. He’d been told about the woman he’d bought from the slave trader but had yet to meet her.
“So you’re actually living with the woman… Well, this I didn’t see coming, I must admit! What next, hey, marriage?” Sigurd laughed then checked himself when Wolf scowled. “Welcome to the village,” he said, turning to Merewen, who had turned bright red at the mention of marriage. “I’m Sigurd.”
“Pleased to meet you,” she mumbled.
“I will come back later,” he said with a broad smile. “Apologies, I had no idea I was interrupting anything.”
Wolf groaned. His friend thought Merewen was embarrassed because they had been about to tumble into bed…
Nothing could be further from the truth but if it served to get him out of there then he could think what he wanted.
The only problem was, thinking about tumbling her into bed had made him as hard as the handle of his axe.
Again.
“Did you tell your friend we were to be married?” Merewen asked once they were alone.
“No,” was his emphatic answer. “I would never go behind your back thus. You heard him. He found it hard enough to believe I was living with a woman.” And no wonder. Sigurd knew all about his past.
“He seems convinced we will be married soon,” she insisted.
“Yes, well, so am I. Maybe not convinced so much as hopeful, now that you know there is nothing wrong with my ability to please a woman in bed,” Wolf said, deciding it was best to try and lighten the mood. It did not quite work.
“And once again, I should just believe your word unconditionally?”
He almost laughed out loud. Was the minx trying to provoke him into a kiss? It certainly seemed as if she was. No man worth his salt could have resisted such a taunt, no man could have heard the question and not instantly caught the vexing woman into his arms and shown her what he was capable of.
“No, you should not believe everything you hear,” he told her with a faint smile. “But fortunately, I can make true on my word.”
With those words, he grabbed her by the waist and drew her to him in a flamboyant gesture. A groan escaped his lips. It felt so good to have her pressed against him, with her breasts crushed against his chest and her breath hot at his neck!
It would be even better to feel her lips under his, her tongue darting into his mouth. In a moment he might, because he could feel her trembling. She was just as affected as he was.
He gave a growl low in his throat. Finally, he was about to taste her.
Merewen could have kicked herself for giving Wolf the excuse to do what he had clearly been itching to do.
With their bodies pressed so tight against one another she could feel every muscle, every inch of his amazing body and the contact sent flames coursing down her veins.
The contrast between them was so complete it aroused her beyond all comprehension.
Where she was delicate he was strong, where she was soft he was hard.
He supported, she melted. He was unyielding steel and she liquid wax.
They worked as two halves of a whole, one melting around the other until it felt as if nothing could separate them.
This was too delicious, too dangerous.
She had to put an end to it because in spite of everything, she could feel herself surrendering and she had decided only the evening before that she could not base her decision on lust. Not only that but she had just been told he’d been accused of murder and sent away on exile.
She had better use her head, not follow her urges.
“Stop this,” she said crossly, pushing at his chest. To her relief and surprise, he let her go when he could have restrained her one-handed. “You promised you would not seduce me into an agreement. You had better cease trying because it will not work.”
The expression on his face made it clear he did not believe that anymore than she did.
“I said I would give you time to reach your own decision and I mean it. That doesn’t mean I cannot do what I can to ensure that this decision is the right one,” he purred, sending her a lethal look.
“The one you want, you mean!”
“Same thing.”
This answer was so outrageously arrogant that Merewen actually laughed. The man certainly did not lack self-confidence! It was oddly appealing, she had to admit, to have someone want her so much he was prepared, not only to fight, but to fight dirty to have her.
No one had wanted her that badly before, or at all, for that matter.
And now her resolve was hanging by a thread because not only would Wolf be capable of giving her what she had always wanted—pleasure and the enjoyment of a man’s body—but it now seemed he was also willing to give her what she had never thought to have, what she had never dreamed of needing.
Protection and someone who would look after her.
It would be a welcome novelty. As far back as she could remember, she had always been the carer.
If she married this man, she could be cared for, for a change, just like Leofric had wanted.
With Wolf as a husband she would also laugh and be allowed to challenge him without fear of being hurt.
She had seen enough of him to be convinced that the worst he would hit her with was a stringent retort.
It was tempting, undeniably.
So why was she hesitating? Because he’d bought her instead of wooing her?
So what? He seemed to have fallen under her charm, anyway.
There was no mistaking the way he looked at her.
Because she didn’t know him? As husband and wife they would have a lifetime to get to know one another.
Because he’d been accused of murder? He’d said he was innocent, and oddly, she believed him.
Surely, if he was guilty, he would not have mentioned it.
Because she was afraid he would be both horrified by her wanton nature and dismayed by her lack of skill in bed?
Yes, that was a concern. But she could not be sure what his reaction would be.
Perhaps instead of being appalled, he would enjoy teaching her all he knew?
Wasn’t it worth taking a gamble?
One look at him was enough to answer the question.
Yes, yes, it was.