Chapter Nine
Denied
At times, Tyr found it difficult to control his aggression.
Tonight, his hospitality ended at the feast table.
Honorary guest—a damn shame to waste those words on a man as slippery as a snake.
Prince Edwin masked his true intentions for spending the night.
The knave wanted to stay close to Rachelle, nothing more.
“Have I done something to offend you, Jarl Sigurdsson?” Edwin asked pointedly.
On too many levels to count. He probed the man’s features. “That depends on your perspective,” Tyr answered. He was under no obligation to treat this man any differently than one of his own tenants. He’d remain civil for now. “I’m overly tired. Return tomorrow night, we’ll deliberate further.”
That seemed to satisfy Edwin. He wiped his face with a napkin, then dropped it on the table. Turning to Rachelle, he said, “The privilege has been mine.” Standing, he claimed her hand and pressed a lingering kiss on her palm.
Tyr smirked. If he had a say in it, that half-blood would be the last man allowed to touch his woman.
If she were mine. After watching them say goodbye, it made him desperate to get Rachelle alone.
She’d flatly rejected him before. Would it be the same again?
He couldn’t read her—not like other women.
Still, he had a sick feeling in his gut.
The prince had made a lasting impression.
And why not? Tyr had isolated her after their fight.
Latching on to the elegant bastard seemed quite natural for a woman who felt slighted.
Tossing back another serving of wine, he grinned as Edwin and his entourage exited the hall. Finally, he’d get that clever slip of a girl alone. Raw desire wreaked havoc inside him. Only somewhere private would serve his need.
“Will you walk with me?” he asked.
Rachelle cast a sideways glance at him. She need not doubt his goal. Spending more time together in bed, on the floor, or in the bathhouse—whatever she desired.
“I didn’t realize how badly you wished to leave until I spotted you on the stairs,” he said.
“You saw me?” she asked airily. “I wasn’t trying to escape, Jarl Sigurdsson. I wished to explore the grounds. Nothing more.”
Blasted formalities. Women often masked their true feelings with politeness. “If that’s all you intended, milady,” he said, “why not ask for an escort?”
“Would you have allowed me to go walking tonight?”
“There’s nothing remarkable about this particular night, is there?”
Her thin brows arched. “I believe we broke bread with a prince.”
Her casual manner made him smirk. “If he’s a true prince, I’m Odin’s son.” Obvious bitterness laced his voice. “That bastard is trying to make a name before the division of the country is finalized. I loathe men who prey on the vulnerabilities of a tragedy.”
“I know nothing of your affairs of state. It would be unfair of me to judge him. He seemed genuinely concerned for my welfare.”
The people in his household would whisper about the curious girl Prince Edwin befriended for many days.
And all the attention she attracted from the men sitting in the room …
Tyr bit his tongue. Her mere presence crippled his mind and body.
Jealousy raged. Tyr wanted to ring Edwin’s neck like he would a fat goose’s.
Even the women would do her bidding if she flashed one of her intoxicating smiles.
“Come with me.” He twined his fingers through hers.
Outside, they both halted. The night air was crisp, the sky as clear as spring water.
“Do you feel the change in season, smell the snow coming?” he asked.
She raised her chin and took a deliberately deep breath as if testing the air. “It’s invigorating.”
“There’s something better.” He pointed toward the bathhouse.
Nodding enthusiastically, she reached the building ahead of him and opened the door.
Tyr followed her inside and slammed the door shut.
Getting her alone had been easier than he’d imagined.
Maybe the strong wine had relaxed her. With renewed hope, he knew the girl must feel the depth of his desire tonight.
No more delays or more private conversations with Edwin.
“Mmmm …” she purred. The warmth pleased her.
Tyr couldn’t keep his eyes off her. She unfastened the silver brooch securing her cloak at the shoulder.
Falling open, the silhouette of her generous breasts through the filmy material that swathed her body made him salivate.
That tender flesh spoke to him. It deserved to be caressed, cradled, and admired by the right man.
Kissed and licked and praised endlessly.
Only by him.
After the embarrassment of Rachelle’s stinging reproach the other day, he had sought refuge in the arms of his mistress, Frida.
While she writhed and moaned beneath him, his blasted mind kept wandering back to Rachelle.
Her delicate scent taunted him. Furious he couldn’t banish the girl from his mind, he’d cursed his uncooperative cock.
For the first time in his life, he couldn’t perform sexually.
The girl had her chance and she’d denied him.
It made no difference. He could no longer sustain any level of desire for Frida.
His bedchamber and Rachelle’s room were only separated by flooring. What if she heard his bedframe groan whilst he hammered his mistress into oblivion? Frustrated and unwilling to risk his future with Rachelle, he’d asked Frida to leave.
Pulling himself back to the present, he must take another chance with Rachelle now.
His fingers brushed lightly against her arm.
A bolt of lightning shot through his body.
Something needed to change. A delicate balance must be kept while satisfying his needs and desires, too.
Both could be satisfied. Claim her, or free yourself of her spell.
“I’m sorry the prince questioned you about your past. I know how much it pained you to speak about your parents.”
She nodded, then gazed despondently across the room.
“They met a violent end days after my thirteenth birthday. Outlaws murdered them on the road. It’s a memory I’ve struggled to forget every day of my life.
” Her breath quickened. “That is why I beg for you to reunite me with my uncle. There is no one else in the world I love as dearly. He’s aging and needs me to take care of him.
I owe him my life. Please forgive the wicked things I said to you.
Show mercy, Jarl Sigurdsson. Admit I don’t belong here. ”
Tension tightened his neck and shoulders.
She needn’t beg. If only she’d accept him as her protector and lover.
He wanted to see a smile grace her face every day.
What he needed to do was tell her the truth about why he brought her here.
Tyr rubbed his chin. Would the truth guarantee his success or cause more damage?
“My kinsman hasn’t responded to your letters yet.” She faced him.
Everyday Onetooth updated him about the conversations he had with Rachelle.
Tyr instructed him not to withhold any information from her.
Through these talks, Tyr hoped to learn the true nature of her character.
His captain praised her insightfulness, wit, and fierce loyalty for her loved ones.
Admirably, the girl valued her freedom. She often begged to go outside during the day.
A request he regularly denied for her safety.
Only a handful of servants remembered her arrival.
Now it didn’t matter. Hatred for the English had increased a hundredfold since the war.
By revealing herself tonight, she’d put her own life in jeopardy. “These things take time.”
She sighed. “Skari has already exhausted that defense.”
He laughed. “That old pirate is stealing every opportunity I have to explain things to you myself.”
“Aren’t you a pirate, too?”
He snorted. Vikings weren’t thieves; they conquered openly and claimed what was rightfully theirs after victory. “Maybe.”
But if plundering her body made him a pirate, he’d gladly admit it.
They laughed together.
What would she compare him to next? “Do you ever stop talking?”
Her pouty lips curled into the most attractive smile he’d ever seen. “Never.”
He’d remedy that immediately. Swooping down, he belted her with a hungry embrace and caught her lower lip between his teeth.
She moaned as his tongue slowly met hers.
The moist heat inside her mouth made him crave the depths of her hot wet core.
Melting into him, her hands searched for the opening of his shirt.
When her soft fingers plied his chest, he heated as if the summer sun were blazing on his skin.
The feelings she elicited—the power of her innocent touches made him rock hard.
Slanting his head so he could gain full penetration inside her mouth, he lifted her off the ground. Her legs naturally hugged his waist.
Carrying her to the farthest corner, he swept aside a curtain, then stepped into a small alcove.
It consisted of little more than a narrow bed and side table with an oil lamp.
Tyr laid her across the mattress. Blinking rapidly, she gazed up at him.
Those blue eyes and scarce whimpers she made nearly undid him.
He hastened to light the lamp, then turned to meet her stare again.
Soft light illuminated her form. Her cloak must have fallen off in the main room.
The pale-colored gown she wore clung to her soft curves.
Her nipples were hard, ready to meet his lips. He’d been born for this moment—for her.