Chapter Sixteen #3
“Do you think it wise, milord?” He looked barbaric dressed in dingy leather braies with no tunic.
His broad chest and muscular arms were covered with a sheen of sweat.
Her gaze followed the intricate lines of his tattoos, up his arm, and over his left shoulder.
“Should I flee while I still have a chance?”
He gripped the reins. “I’d say your chance to escape is gone. Climb down.”
She swallowed her initial response. Climb down? Into his trap—into his arms? “I prefer to stay where I am.”
He growled, his hand burrowing underneath her skirt. When his hot palm met her flesh, she nearly melted. “Come down or I’ll climb up.”
Kara swallowed. Conversation first, hot kisses later. That’s what she had planned. “As you wish, milord.” She slid out of the saddle, more aware of his maleness than she’d ever been.
He tied the reins to a nearby tree, then faced her. His eyes flashed. “Why are you here?”
His frigid tone caught her off guard. Of course he’d be angry. “I’ve come to make peace with you.”
“Why? What has changed after a few days? From what I hear, Frieda is still under foot and the boy has charmed his way onto your lap every night.”
“Delay will only make things worse between us.”
“I didn’t consider there to be anything left, Kara, not after you condemned me so quickly.”
She shifted on her feet. By Odin, this isn’t what she wanted. “You’ve been forgiven, milord. Can you not give me the same consideration?”
He remained silent, looking her over carefully.
“I rushed to judgment because I feared the worst.”
“You should have trusted me enough to know I’d never turn away a child. If he were mine—”
“I know.”
“Your disbelief pained me more than anything I’ve ever suffered.”
“I can’t imagine what it felt like, Aaron. Try to understand my perspective.”
“I think the only thing you’ll ever understand is this.
” He grabbed her by the hips and yanked her close.
His hungry kiss silenced her, devouring her fears.
He pulled back slightly. “I’m a condemned man in many people’s eyes.
My crimes are a matter of public record.
From the king to your father, some forgive, the rest ostracize me. You must choose. Now.”
She deeply admired his spirit. And his body. She gawked at him, desperate to feel his hands all over her. “I choose you,” she whispered.
Aaron’s eyes closed. “Say it again.”
“I choose you.”
His eyes popped open. “Do you know what you’re saying, lass?”
“I didn’t hesitate, Jarl McNally. I came here with every intention—”
“Shut up, Kara.”
His arms encircled her waist. His mouth slanted possessively over hers, his tongue seeking the depths of her mouth.
The lingering effect of his violent kiss left her in a stupor.
When he spun her around, lifting her skirt, she didn’t realize what he intended at first. “Rest your palms on the tree trunk.”
Tingling heat spread from her breasts down to her core. She obeyed, placing her hands where he directed.
“Spread your legs for me, vakker kriger.”
The same thing he called her in the woods all those weeks ago—his beautiful warrior. He pressed his knee between her legs. Then his large hand cupped her mound from behind. His fingers slid inside her.
“Aaron.”
He nuzzled closer, flicking his tongue along the outer rim of her ear.
She shivered. Smiling at her body’s reaction to his slightest touch, he jammed his crotch against her backside.
By everything holy, he loved Kara. His fingers delved deeper.
He groaned. Soft and so wet. As smooth as the finest silk from Miklagard.
The harder he pressed, the more her hips bucked.
Nothing could keep them apart. Not Erik the Bald, Frieda’s lies, or the bloody gods.
He swept her hair aside, purposely placing his lips on her earlobe.
He nipped and kissed her again. She swayed.
“Listen to me.” Did she know what power she held over him?
How much he cared? “I love you.” His fingers circled inside her and she nearly lost her balance, but managed to brace herself by holding onto the tree.
“And now I’m going to show you how much. ”
He unlaced his braies with his free hand, then slowly withdrew his fingers from her sheath. He licked his fingers, relishing the honeyed taste of her womanhood. God, he’d missed her. Why did she ever let Frieda come between them?
“Aaron.”
He kissed the back of her head as he stared down at her exposed flesh. Her tiny arse as perfect as he’d remembered. “Tell me.”
“I love you.”
His heart liquefied. Unable to contain himself, he hooked his right arm around her waist, then pierced her in one frantic stroke. She cried out, her fingernails digging into the bark. Afraid she’d cut herself, he whispered, “Easy, my love, I’ve waited too long for you. Please don’t hurt yourself.”
If he could, he’d stay inside her forever. But he couldn’t concentrate, his body needed release. Days of pent up frustration, anger, fear, and love threatened his endurance. Without thought, he slammed into her again and again. “I love you, Kara. Please, never doubt me again . . .”