Randvior smiled ruefully. “What I believe doesn’t matter. I’ve traveled the world and seen many things. My faith is unshakable. My tenants and thralls may not be so open-minded. Their worlds are much smaller than mine.”
“I made no such judgments concerning you.” Noelle knew she wasn’t going to be among her kinsmen or friends any longer, but this seemed ridiculous.
The Viking lord had watched her closely on the beach in Durham during the ritual and had even expressed his appreciation at how she approached things with a child’s innocent curiosity. People in his homeland might learn something from her.
“A Christian monk visited my home last year,” he offered, “and disappeared on the same day. Not by my order, but my men discovered a fresh burial mound a few miles away.”
Noelle flushed and swallowed back her concern.
“You have my protection,” he promised. “There are no temples or churches, no Sabbath observed amongst my people.”
“Where do you worship?”
“Wherever I choose. Under trees, along the riverbanks, or in a place we think the gods hear our voices. There are holy sites. What were you imagining? Secret chambers where we conjure demons or groups of scantily clad women and hooded priests prancing around a bonfire in the middle of the night like a coven of witches? There
are
priests amongst us, elders who serve as mediators.” His eyes danced mischievously now, humored by her naivety.
The ship careened, stopping their conversation short. Objects flew off the table in the corner and Noelle ducked just in time before a candlestick flew over her head. She nearly choked while standing back up and bumped her head on the wall.
A loud knock sounded at the door.
Randvior opened it, one of his warriors waited.
“A powerful storm is brewing, you’re needed on deck.”
Randvior adjusted his belt. “Stay here,” he commanded, looking at her. “It may be hours before it’s over.”
She understood and nodded. Vikings were the most revered and feared men on the high seas. Not only known for their violence, but as explorers, and successful merchants, too. This much she knew growing up in a territory continuously under attack. Against her better judgment, she allowed her gaze to follow him across the cabin, mentally groping his body. Such capable hands, and she felt herself slipping; sliding down an emotional incline with no way of climbing back up. She smiled bleakly as he rummaged through a cabinet and withdrew several instruments he must use for navigational purposes.
She watched his retreating form. Much to her surprise, Noelle realized that she was starting to like him a bit and felt safe in his custody. She had been so intent on hating him that she couldn’t recall when the shift in feelings occurred. Should she forgive him for robbing her of a future she had carefully planned out? Or would that be considered the worst kind of betrayal to her family?
Having always lived outside the circle of intimacy that connected her siblings with their father, she couldn’t decide. When her sire spent time with her sisters, he seemed contented in the moment. But in Noelle’s presence, his eyes dulled. She had earned his respect, but never his love. Randvior undoubtedly offered a new beginning. With this, she became overwhelmed; the time and energy it would take to find a way home seemed pointless in the moment. Her life was irrevocably changed. Brian had sold her into slavery to save his own life. A known braggart and skilled fabricator of stories, he could easily convince her father of anything if she weren’t present to defend herself. Her brother’s stinging voice rang inside her head. He would swear on the Holy Father’s name that she begged to go along with the Norse to escape marriage to an Irish lord. Her father would surely sever any ties to her for the magnitude of such iniquity.
By the time the only candle in the room had burned down to a waxy nub, Noelle had been tossed and turned about the windowless cabin more than a dozen times. She had sailed on many occasions between southern England and Ireland, always nestled closely to the shoreline, but the open sea was perilous. She eyed a bruised elbow, and now her left knee stung, too. Enough was enough, no more tumbles off the bed. She stripped the covers and made a bed roll on the floor.
Howling winds buffeted the ship. She imagined the black-capped waves ripping holes in the polished wood and nearly vomited when the ship went vertical. She grabbed the bed frame to stay stationary. The vessel surged upward again and came crashing down. Noelle bounced and landed hard. The worst jolt yet.
She had to get out of there, trembling as she imagined a watery grave.
Pray Noelle Marie—pray fervently
. With no rosary beads or prayer book to read from, she had to rely on verses or prayers she had memorized over the years. Heart pounding, she prostrated herself. Comforting visions of an earthly paradise eased her mind as she whispered the verses over and over again. Surely, no harm could befall her wrapped in the protective arms of her beloved Christ.
Hours later, the door burst open. A dripping-wet Randvior stepped inside and almost tripped over her. He muttered something under his breath as she turned and watched him walk to the cupboard. He opened it, withdrew a new taper, and lit it by the wick of the nearly spent candle. He placed it in a holder he picked up off the floor as she sat up.
The worst must be over for he would have never abandoned his men in the middle of a squall. She visualized what he must look like working the riggings and sail with those strong arms. In the muted candlelight, his eyes were purely electric, any amusement long gone. With his wind-blown hair and raw masculinity seeping from every pore of his body, he looked as untamed as the ocean. Dangerous conditions could break any man. And she feared a tempest of this proportion stirred her companion’s emotions. Eyes are the windows to the soul and his spoke violence.
He knelt and ran his fingers over the curve of her hip. His eyes never wandered from her face. “Stand up,” he commanded.
She obeyed.
Randvior looked capable of striking at any moment. Unsure and afraid, she stiffened when he climbed to his feet and towered over her. A moment of silence passed between them, but she heard the thunder of war drums pounding in her ears. A spell of nausea was followed by a wave of guilt because she knew she was wrong for wondering what it would feel like to be buried in those massive arms.
“What were you doing on the floor?”
“I . . . was . . . praying . . . for the soul of this ship,” she stuttered.
He nodded.
Noelle lost courage. Nothing could protect her from this man. Suddenly, Randvior leaned down; his tongue was hot and hard as it broke the plane of her lips. Naturally, she wanted to fight, threaten, and scream—maybe escape. Everything seemed wrong as strange sensations seared through her flesh. Hadn’t she anticipated this moment the first time they met? A telling premonition or perhaps she needed something only he could offer. Release after years of holding back her deepest feelings and hostility. She knew she should deny him, but this felt too good and she could not suppress her desire any longer.
Randvior’s tongue probed deeper and she opened to him. He groaned inside her mouth and it reverberated up her spine. She matched his scorching kisses with virginal exuberance as a large hand cupped her right breast, and the other anchored her against him. Calloused fingertips prodded and tickled the hardening nipple through her dress.
He licked his way down the column of her neck, moving his tongue in tiny circular patterns. His hands dropped lower, utterly delighting her, exploring every inch of flesh between her stomach and upper thighs. He paused when she moaned and she rewarded his ministration with a dreamy smile. Her eyes met his and she nearly melted in his hands. Curse him for being so irresistible. Did Eve’s apple tempt Adam half this much?
His beard pricked her skin as he slid his hands up her body again. And those heated fingers left her in a daze as they indelicately unlaced the back of her gown and tugged. She swayed as Randvior pulled the material over her head and yanked her chemise down until it sagged loosely around her hips.
He stepped back and took a deep breath, openly admired her, while his eyes caressed her lazily. “The enchantress in my dreams has sprung to life. You are more beautiful than I ever imagined, Noelle.”
She felt the intensity of his need through the quietness of his voice. Her silence was his answer.
The only stitch of clothing left was her stockings and boots. She convinced herself to feel no shame. She needn’t love a man to get what she needed. Men sought comfort in the arms of nameless women all the time. And for once in her life, Noelle intended to gift herself with a single indulgence. He rolled her leggings halfway down and knelt; his soft lips made contact with the goose-flesh on her inner thighs. What was left of her wits scattered to the four winds.
She offered herself to him—her eyes meeting his as she braced herself against his chest, almost expecting something cataclysmic to happen.
It didn’t. Only the comforting warmth of flesh meeting flesh. Molten-hot hands scaled the soft mounds of her body. Front and back, and she grabbed hold of whatever part of his she could reach.
Oh God . . .
Never had she imagined how wickedly good it might feel to be at the mercy of a man.
He pulled away briefly, and she immediately missed his body heat. If he stopped now, she might lose her resolve to keep going. Everything he did tormented her, and she moved closer, desperate to feed on his passion. Randvior chuckled softly.
“Tell me what you want little one.”
No man had ever touched her body before. Even so, Randvior seemed to know how to keep her begging for things she didn’t know how to ask for.
And words wouldn’t come, not now.
His body promised both pleasure and pain. Noelle yearned for him to make her a woman, to transform her for just one night. The pain of yesterday would be there after she woke up. Tonight belonged to her—and Randvior. He teased her lips with a flick of his tongue. She opened her mouth to say something—anything—but nothing came out. And after he slid his knee between her legs, she could hardly breathe. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, while he shredded his linen shirt with one hand, revealing powerful flesh underneath.
A jagged scar ran along the top of his right pectoral and she traced it gently with her fingertips. He growled and closed his eyes.
Emboldened by his response, she explored even further. Softly massaged his chest and curled her fingers in the thick hair that covered it. She tasted him and pinched both nipples as her tongue moved nervously over the hard contours of his body. He threaded his fingers through her hair and pressed his body hard against hers.
His nipples went pebble-hard as she nibbled on them, changing from a soft pink to a deeper shade of red. He let her hands go and she pinched again. What made her do that? Randvior laughed so hard he coughed. He winced as she squeezed a third time and caught her hands midair. She enjoyed watching his body tighten like a freshly strung bow.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Noelle’s fixation on his nipples gave her time to calm down.
He hugged her. Noelle looked up and admired the finer details of his face—the arch of his brows, the alluring slant of his eyes, and those naughty, ample lips. She captured the bottom one with her teeth, gently digging her fingernails into the sides of his face.
A pair of mind-boggling kisses stopped her destructive behavior. Randvior lightly touched the
curve of her mouth, cradling her breasts in his hands. Her back arched as soul-stealing sensations ravaged her body. Ignoring fear, she began mimicking his movements. If he caressed her face or nibbled her earlobe, she did the same. Her heart fluttered at this new discovery—how she could manipulate his body with the touch of a hand or a playful bite.
Everything about him delighted her. Bits and pieces of her morals mentally interrupted the pleasure. But those thoughts were lost in the slow demand of his kisses.
And their flesh shall become as one.
The blessed saints had failed to stop her.
“Show me . . .” She curled her arms around his neck.
He growled as he picked her up and carried her to the bed. Randvior pinned her to the mattress with one hand and kicked off his boots. Next, he stripped off his weapon belt and breeches. She eyed every glorious inch of him—fascinated by his maleness. Noelle’s obsession faded as her eyes locked on the monstrosity between his legs. She struggled to break free; terrified
it
would rend her delicate legs apart.
“Shhhh,” he whispered as he blanketed her.
With a reassuring nod, he took her mouth. Noelle didn’t love him, but by God, she wanted him. The Viking showered her body with feather-light kisses as she squirmed pleasurably underneath. Years of frustration were beginning to disperse. Even if only for one night, she needed to feel this joy.
Make love to me . . . now . . .
Randvior surged upward, rubbing his sweat-slicked body all over hers. His shaft grazed her stomach, triggering a new wave of excitement. Noelle clung to his hips.
“Not yet,” he whispered and rolled onto his side. Randvior guided her hand between his legs until something velvety-smooth grazed her fingertips. Instinctively, she locked her hand around it. After whispered instructions, she stroked him.
Moisture seeped from the tip, making it easier to slide her hand up and down. It felt so good, thick and smooth and hard. A faint pulse thrummed near the tip. She stared unblinking at him, watching his eyes.
Something made him grimace.
“Let me go,” he whispered.
He rolled on top of her and gently spread her legs with his knee, skimming her overly sensitive nipples with his teeth. He licked and sucked until her whole body ached. An arrogant grin split his face as she quaked beneath him.
He parted the folds of delicate flesh between her legs with one hand, gripping her hip with the other. She sighed helplessly and lifted her head to peek down at him. But pressure started to build deep inside her and Noelle was lost in something indescribable and unknown as she tossed her head side to side. There was both a gentleness and darkness to his possession. And she never guessed fingers could do that! Oh, she remembered women bragging about such things. They hadn’t lied!