The Captive (7 page)

T
HE TRACKS HAD DISAPPEARED
at the water’s edge.

Wulf rushed toward the crumbling shelter, plagued by the knowledge that someone had come so close to them tonight. This time, it had not been Erik.

His cousin would have remained in the distance and sought him after Gwendolyn slept. Whoever had been in the forest tonight did not wish to be discovered.

Should he tell Gwen what he suspected? That Harold might have tracked them to dole out vengeance over Hedra’s death?

Gwendolyn peered from the shelter as he neared it.

“Did you see anyone?” Worry threaded through her voice, her dark brows a flat line in the moonlight.

“No.” It was true enough. “But the fire may have attracted attention from thieves and outcasts who dwell in these woods. It may have been a curious vagrant.”

“But you don’t think so.”

The certainty in her voice told him she could read him well for a woman he’d known so briefly. Looping his arm about her shoulder, he steered her back toward the shelter, eager to ensure her safety. The shadows all around them reminded him how vulnerable they were
in the dark. He could have taken her back to his encampment, but he’d wanted to have her alone. All to himself.

Now, he cursed the foolishness of selfish desire.

“Actually, that is the most logical answer.” He had gone through the scenarios over and over again on the way back here. Harold would never know to look for him in the middle of nowhere without his men. “But there is a chance your overlord’s men have found us.”

“I doubt it would happen so soon.” She ducked into the lodging, her long skirts brushing his leg as she passed, reminding him how thoroughly undressed she’d been when he’d departed earlier. “I do not think he could spare many men to search when he and King Alfred are investing so much in protecting the Wessex borders from you.”

King Alfred had proven a most effective deterrent to the Danes. Unlike the Sussex and Mercian kingdoms, the people of Wessex had fought mercilessly against the widespread colonization prevalent on the east coast. Wulf admired Alfred’s tactics and found him a worthy opponent, preferring to avoid his army where possible.

“I hope you are right, for I am not willing to give you up.” He pulled a set of iron tongs from the hearth and went outside to transfer the hot coals indoors.

When he returned, Gwendolyn had laid firewood in the hearth and swept the ashes. In fact, the entire cottage had been straightened and neatened at some point that day. He had not noticed earlier, but she must have tended those things while he chopped wood in an effort to quell the need for her that had ridden him all day. Could she have been as desperate for distraction as he’d been?

“Do you think it is safe to let the fire burn?” She sat
on the pallet, ensconced in blankets and his fur. She toyed with a small leather pouch he had not seen before. It must have been something she’d brought from her keep.

Something she’d concealed?

“There is no sense hiding from one who has already seen us.” He hoped it was a hungry outlaw searching for food. Or even Alfred’s army. Wulf would find a way around either. But if Harold had discovered him at last, there would be a reckoning.

He’d paid the
wergild,
man-price, for Hedra to her brother, even though Wulf had not taken her life. It had been a peace offering to Harold and his people since they held him responsible. But Wulf had always known the day would come when Harold’s honor demanded Wulf’s death. And Wulf, tired of endless seafaring and raiding, had hastened that day yesterday by stealing treasures right under his nose.

Meeting Gwendolyn made him regret rushing Harold’s justice. Wulf would not die at Harold’s hands in a fair fight. But if Harold attacked at night with his followers?

No warrior could overcome such odds.

“You think someone else follows us.”

He looked up sharply at her where she sat calmly, tying the straps of the satchel to a ribbon under the hem of her kirtle. The garment appeared to have been made specifically to hide things. Apparently, whatever was in her pouch was valuable to her.

“Why do you say this?” He stoked the fire enough to keep the cottage dry and insects at bay.

She made a neat knot, looping the tie of the pouch through the ribbon sewn above her hem. Then she
flipped her skirts back into place, so that you’d never know she hid things there.

He crouched at the foot of the pallet, hands clasped between his thighs. Waiting.

“You do not seem concerned if outlaws discover us and you know Alchere’s pursuit is highly unlikely, yet I can see you are anxious about whatever—whoever—is out there.” Her fingers splayed over the fur the same way she’d touched him earlier.

Did he dare let his guard down enough to take her tonight? To return to the pleasures they’d only just begun to explore?

Curse the fates. If his window of time with her was shrinking, he would make the most of every second.

“A Dane is never anxious.” He reached to touch her ankle just below the hem of her skirt. Her stocking covered her skin, but there was something sweetly forbidden about touching her there. He ringed her ankle with his fingers like a manacle, then tugged her down the length of the pallet. Closer to him. “But if I give the matter additional thought, it is only because I have a woman in my care to consider. I take that guardianship seriously.”

Not allowing her time to think, he stalked her. He stretched out over her, liking the way she did not show the least bit of hesitation.

If anything, her eyes narrowed in sensual speculation, as if she tried to calculate what might happen next.

“You must take good care of me,” she demanded, her fingers lifting to the ties of his tunic and loosening them. “I agree completely.”

The desire for her that had been interrupted earlier came roaring back tenfold with no more than the soft brush of her fingertips against his chest.

No matter what the future held for them, countries
and worlds apart, he planned to have this night with her—together—to remember forever.

G
WENDOLYN COULDN’T UNDRESS
him fast enough.

The scare they’d had had given her new perspective on her time with Wulf. It might not last long. If she didn’t act now, tonight, she might lose the chance to be touched with tenderness and passion. Why should she not enjoy every moment?

Her hands fumbled awkwardly at ties and clasps, her inexperience apparent. But when she freed him of his tunic, her reward was stark masculine beauty that she would have appreciated even without the glow of the low fire in the hearth.

She recalled an illustration her father had shown her once from a Latin text.

This is a Titan, Gwennie. A race of giants.

Wulf looked like that illustration. The memory had faded and would have been lost if not for this moment with Wulf. He could have walked among the Titans with his strong, straight shoulders and his steely chest cut like armor but sheathed in warm skin that came alive beneath her touch.

She was so enamored by all she’d unveiled that she scarcely noticed her own clothes disappearing until a wave of cool air hit her bare legs. He dragged her under dress up her body and over her head, exposing her completely. Even her stockings had given way to his hands, drooping down her ankles and sliding away from her feet.

“You are much better at this than I,” she complained, returning to the fastenings of his braies.

“It is a matter of focus,” he explained, as if undressing her were a topic for serious consideration. “I force
myself not to get distracted by the prize so that I can work quickly.”

He reached to help her with the ties, then arched up to remove the pants altogether.

“I’m afraid there is a great deal more to distract me,” she admitted. “In fact, I can’t take my eyes
off
the prize.”

She marveled at the size of him.
Everywhere.
Her mouth went dry as a whisper of the old reservations returned.

Wulf hastened to lie back down beside her and cupped her chin, forcing her gaze to his.

“Do not worry,” he ordered, charming her anew with his oddly thoughtful demands. “You will think about the kisses.”

His chest pressed to hers and she felt her body mold to his. Would the rest fit so well?

“I wouldn’t have to just
think
about them if you were providing some.” She arched up off the fur-lined pallet, her mouth already watering for the taste of him.

“We can start here.” His breath curled against her cheek, and she turned toward his lips. Anticipating.

Lightly, she rubbed her mouth along his, hoping it whet his appetite the way it stirred her own.

“But I’ve got another kiss in mind,” he whispered. His feral smile sent sweet shivers over her skin.

She hummed with readiness, her head tilting to one side as his lips grazed her neck. That kiss sent a roll of heat to her breasts, the peaks tightening until they ached. She raked her nails lightly over his shoulders, urging him on. He seemed to follow the trail with his mouth, soothing each place in turn while inciting another beyond reason.

She twisted and moaned at every contact of his lips.
He flicked his tongue carelessly over each nipple, as if he had all day to find the spot that pleased her. Then, when she could bear those teasing strokes no more, he drew her into his mouth, suckling and tugging while heat built in yet another place…

Raw need had her squirming beneath him, ready for more. She gripped his shoulders and lifted herself, attempting to make her wishes known by fitting her feverish body to his. She was ready for this. More ready than she ever guessed a woman could be for coupling.

And for this first time, she glimpsed how rewarding the act might be. Her body craved Wulf.

When he eased back, opening a gap between their overheated bodies, she cried out at the loss. She could see his gaze narrow in the dull glow from the low-burning coals, and she shivered in response. Would this be the moment?

She parted her thighs, willing and ready.

But he did not position his hips between hers as she expected. Instead, he cradled her waist in his palms and slid his hands down her sides. Down, down. She reached for him, wanting the feel of him tight against her, but he knelt between her legs and gave her the most surprising kiss of all.

The shock of it made her squeal. His mouth pressed to her sex, his warm breath streaming over places that ached for a firmer touch. When his tongue darted out along the most sensitive bud at her tender center, she couldn’t even think of protesting. Waves of keen sensation blinded her to anything but the exquisite feel of him kissing her there.

At first, she stilled, too overwhelmed to respond. Then, bombarded with decadent delights, she could not help but twist against him. What sweet madness
was this? But no power could have stopped her arching hips and clenching thighs. She knew the feel of her completion from his touches before, but this was different. Unique. The coiling tension started again, but this time the release hit her like a thunderstorm, drenching her in lush pleasure so intense she arched like a bow.

The pulsing bliss lasted longer this time, and when the last remnants of sweet contractions undulated through her, Wulf lifted his dark head and aligned his body with hers.

Tremors still rocked her and Gwen buried her face in his shoulder. She could remain here forever, wrapped in his arms and discovering new facets of this fulfillment.

But Wulf’s body was not replete with the same pleasure. If anything, his staff had grown all the more impressive in the time it had taken him to ready her. He nudged her swollen sex and teased yet another wave of shivery response from her. While she clung to him, he forged his way inside her.

The raw perfection of the union made her body weep with need even as her spirit mourned the way she’d been treated by another man as a new bride. She had deserved this and gotten so much less. So much worse.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her mouth pressed to Wulf’s ear as she held on to him. “Thank you.”

They were the only words that came to mind, her thoughts so overcome by feeling that it was difficult to hold an idea in her head. Gwen gasped as he responded by withdrawing a short way from her body and then returned in a charge of slick heat. He found a rhythm in this way, retreating and returning, drawing out the pleasure for him and her at the same time. Who knew a woman could feel such a wealth of bliss?

She wrapped her legs tight about his hips and held him to her. She knew what would come next, since this part was one of the few marital rites of passage she’d traveled. Still, even this part held surprises since his charge and retreat renewed her breathless want of him. When the tension wound within her yet again, she began to move, her hips meeting his with each stroke. As she arched up beneath him, she felt his body tense and tighten, his shoulders stiffening under her grip.

He shouted with his release, his fist gripping the blanket beneath her head and his muscles flexing all around her. In that moment, she found her own peak, her body clenching his tighter as the sensation seized her over and over.

Long, silent minutes passed and Gwen wondered if Wulf had had experiences like this before. He knew that she’d never felt anything like it, but she had no idea if their night had been as amazing for him, or if this had been another idle pastime for a man well versed in the language of pleasure.

She hoped for some reassurance on that score, her heart as tender as the rest of her sensitized body. But Wulf remained quiet beside her, his hand rubbing soothingly along her back and over her hair.

As much as she wished to simply focus on the discovery of joys she never imagined, she couldn’t help but think about how those joys came with inevitable expectations and hopes.

Before she’d met Wulf, she’d been content with her status as a widow, never knowing what she missed. While she did not long for a husband, a future groom could hardly disappoint when she had such a low standard as Gerald to measure him against.