Chapter 16
“Sven, would you please—”
The words died on Cwenthryth’s lips, and her foot stopped in mid-air when she turned around to kick the door closed behind her.
Because the man sitting at the table was not the one she’d expected to see.
His hair was too long, his shoulders too broad.
No, this was not Sven, but his older brother.
The man she most dearly wanted to see. The man she had missed dreadfully.
The man she had feared never to see again.
“Steinar!”
She dropped the handful of wood she’d just gathered and ran up to him, only to stop dead when he turned to face her.
Her hands flew to her mouth while ice flooded her veins.
Dear Lord, his face was covered in cuts and bruises.
If that were the case, she could barely imagine what the rest of him looked like.
“What happened to you?” she said in a sob. Of course, she had guessed he would have endured some hardship in the gaol, but this was something altogether different. He’d been badly beaten, if not tortured, and all for a crime he had not committed.
“I’m free,” he said simply, walking over to her.
“Yes. Thank God, you’re free.”
Cwenthryth fell into his arms. It was only when she felt his moan against her lips that she realized they were kissing.
It felt so natural that she had not even registered it at first. Steinar must have lowered his head to meet her halfway because she would never have been able to put her lips on his otherwise.
He might also have been the one initiating the kiss because she wasn’t sure she would have found the courage to do so.
In any case, it didn’t matter who had done what and who had started it. They were kissing, it was all she cared about. Until she remembered that his lip was cut and his cheeks were bruised.
“No,” she protested between fiery kisses, pushing at his chest. “Wait, we must not, your injuries… I don’t want to hurt you.”
More heated kisses followed. Steinar didn’t seem worried in the least about the damage to his face.
He didn’t even appear to be in pain, only desperate for her.
“You’re not hurting me, you’re healing me,” he rasped, his hands landing on her buttocks.
“I need you, Cwenthryth, your goodness, your forgiveness, your understanding. I need you, don’t you see? ”
What was he talking about? He needed her? She rather thought it was the other way around.
Cwenthryth didn’t have time to reply or ask any questions. Still kissing her, Steinar lifted her into his arms as easily as if she’d been made of straw and sat her on the table behind her. The lewd position was made even more scandalous when he came to stand between her spread legs.
“Let me.”
Oh, why was he asking? Didn’t he know by now that she would let him do anything? Though she had no idea what he wanted to do, she gave her agreement. “Yes.”
Just when she thought he would take her mouth in another soul-devastating kiss, he buried his fingers into her hair. Throwing his head back like a man in prey to the most exquisite pleasure, he started massaging her scalp in slow, languorous gestures, cradling her in his big hands all the while.
“Ah, yes,” he rasped. “Your hair is just glorious. I’ve wanted to do this for years.”
She would have laughed if her whole body had not been covered in goose bumps. Years, really? Now who was the liar? “You can’t have. We only met last month,” she reminded him in a whisper, her eyes closing of their own accord.
“Mm, I know. Too late. Much too late. Would that you’d been the woman I took to my bed as a youth of sixteen summers—that way we wouldn’t have lost any time.”
“I would have been Rothgar’s age back then, so I don’t think that would have been a good idea.”
Cwenthryth’s eyes snapped open. What was wrong with her? Steinar was stroking her sensually, telling her the most wonderful things, and all she could do was being ridiculously matter-of-fact? Fortunately he didn’t seem put out. He let out a low growl and wedged himself closer between her thighs.
“Well, you’re not a child any longer but the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen, and I’m going to make sure you feel it.” With that, his fingers left her hair. “Can I?”
She nodded, realizing belatedly that he was asking for permission because he didn’t want to be like Godfrid and take what she was not ready to give freely.
He nodded back and a heartbeat later his hands landed on her breasts, engulfing them in delicious warmth.
A groan escaped his lips at the same time as she took in a sharp intake of breath. He let out a word in Norse.
“I-I don’t understand…”
“Perfection,” he said, which she assumed to be the translation of the word. “Let me suckle you, Cwenthryth. Please. I need it.”
How could she say no when she was desperate herself? She needed his lips, his tongue, his heat on her. She needed to know that he was back, he was safe, he was with her. Having wanted him almost from the moment she had set eyes on him, she was not going to refuse him now.
“Yes.”
She tore at her bodice herself, freeing her breasts for him to feast on. Baring herself to a man was the most scandalous thing she had done in her life, but it didn’t seem to matter, and mercifully Steinar didn’t appear shocked. Quite the contrary. He fell on her like a starving man.
His mouth on her nipple was like a branding iron, the heat of it a delicious torture, and the tongue licking it was the best way to ease the burn.
“Yes,” she said again, arching her back to offer herself more fully, placing her hands either side of his face to force him even closer to her. “More.”
“More, lovely,” she heard him groan back, before he whipped his hand under her skirts. “Let me feel your softness. Let me pleasure you.”
There were no threats today, no mention of punishment, no warning that this would be for him only.
Today he wanted to pleasure her. Well, she would let him, but she would make sure to pleasure him in turn once he was finished with her.
If she had any strength left, that was. She wasn’t certain she would be able to do anything save lie on the table in a puddle of satisfaction.
Well, they would have to see, because she was certainly not going to stop him now.
Slowly, he slid his palm all the way up her thigh, using his fingertips to brush her skin, stopping only when the tip of his thumb reached her—
“Brother. You’re back.”
Cwenthryth froze, imagining the sight she and Steinar would present.
She was sitting on the table with her legs spread and her bodice open.
Fingers wrapped around his head, she was holding him pressed against her breasts.
His mouth was at her nipple, his hand under her skirt.
There was no room for misunderstanding. She should move, try to hide, do something. She should not stay still and silent.
Before she could, the door opened wider to let through the smiling figure of Steinar’s youngest brother, who’d been staying with her these last few days.
It was only then that Cwenthryth remembered that, in her shock at seeing Steinar in the hut earlier, she had not closed the door properly.
Too late. Sven stopped when he saw the scene in front of him.
And then, just when she thought she would die of mortification, the wretched man winked at her.
“Oh, yes, you are back, brother mine, and already making up for lost time, I see. Good for you.” His smile widened as he looked at her again. “Good morning, Cwenthryth. You don’t need me anymore, it would seem. I can see Steinar has you… er, well in hand, shall we say?”
“Sven. Go to hell,” Steinar answered, his mouth now at her throat, his body shielding her exposed breasts from view. He had not turned to face his brother, as if fearing that the sight of his satisfaction would make him snap. She could feel him vibrating with irritation against her.
“Mm, I feel I should tell you first that Faeir wanted to see you as soon as you came back.” A pause, for effect. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I will go to hell, as ’tis probably where I belong anyway.”
Once the door had closed and silence descended back into the hut, Cwenthryth and Steinar stared at one another, their breathing short, their bodies still glued together.
What now? Should they carry on as if nothing had happened? Should they dissolve in confusion? Cwenthryth had no idea. She just kept staring into the sky-blue eyes in front of her, hoping for an answer.
Slowly, Steinar removed his hand from her thigh, restored order to her bodice and took a step back.
Well, at least she knew where she stood.
There would be no more kissing or suckling, no stroking or rutting today.
Sanity had returned—and perhaps it was for the best. For a moment she had been overcome by relief and lust, but was it wise to allow her urges to take over thus, with a man who only the week before had wished her out of his life?
She wasn’t sure. Things were complicated enough between them, and she should be grateful to Sven for having interrupted them.
Should be. Except that, if she were honest, she wasn’t.
She would have liked to see what he would have done to her this time.
“Bloody Sven,” Steinar grumbled under his breath.
He sounded like a sulky child. Cwenthryth couldn’t help a smile. Perhaps he was struggling with what he felt too. This was the best thing she could have seen right now, because it helped her deal with her own wayward emotions.
“Yes, bloody Sven,” she said, swearing for the first time in her life.
Steinar arched a brow at her daring, then sighed. “I should at least have thanked him for staying here with you, and making sure no one got near.”