Captive Heart (18 page)

Frowning, Mylan could not agree, “I did not think so at the time, but he is a very stubborn individual and refused to let me die in peace.”

Celiese knew Vikings believed the best possible death was one met during battle, but wondered if a fight with a bear would have qualified him for entrance to Valhalla, where brave warriors were thought to spend eternity feasting and fighting where they could never again be defeated by death. That gory image disgusted her completely, and she decided not to ask him about it, as the subject of his death was too painful a one to consider even for the sake of a philosophical argument. “I had little opportunity to get to know Hagen. When next we meet I will try to be more friendly, since you owe your life to him.”

“And you owe yours to me?” Mylan finished his ale, then sat regarding her with a cynical stare.

“Don’t tease me, Mylan. If you were going to kill me for revenge you’d have done it long ago,” Celiese pointed out calmly but she was disturbed by the morbid turn their conversation had taken.

“I do not kill beautiful women for revenge!” the golden-eyed young man scoffed. “I merely meant that as long as I live you will also, so it is to your advantage to see I survive whatever the fates have in store for me, whether it be ferocious animals in the forest, or enemies of the two-legged kind.”

Celiese’s cool green gaze sharpened to an icy stare. “Is that another threat to toss my body on a funeral pyre? It was to be Raktor’s the last time, is it now to be yours?”

Mylan thought the luscious tint of rose that anger gave to her cheeks was most attractive and nodded slightly. “I plan to take you with me wherever I go, Celiese, even into the next world. Do not try and run away from me again, for I will not be so lenient with you the next time.”

Celiese rose from her chair, backing away from him as she spoke in a defiant whisper. “If you permit other men to speak so rudely to me as that horrible brute did yesterday then I will run away again and again! If it will save your pride to treat me as a slave when others are present then I can do little but try and bear it, but I’ll not be pawed by strangers! I swear to you, Mylan, no man is ever going to touch me again unless I want his attentions!”

Mylan was out of his seat in an instant. He dashed across the small distance that separated them and swept Celiese into his arms, holding her captive in a firm embrace as he responded with a livid snarl. “You’ll not give me orders. I am the master here!”

Celiese did not struggle or complain, but instead lifted her lips to his, stilling his angry outburst with the sweetest of kisses, her affection for him overflowing her heart in a rush too delicious to contain. Since he understood none of her fears, she hoped only to make him feel the depth of her love, which was his for the asking, but only his.

Mylan was in no mood to ask for the loving he felt was rightfully his, and he carried Celiese swiftly to his bed, allowing her no more than a second to catch her breath before he lay down beside her and drew her into his arms. His kisses were wild, demanding the ready response he knew her lithe body capable of giving, but she placed her hands on his chest in a vain effort to push him away.

“What did you think would happen this afternoon when you bathed in the stream without the slightest display of modesty? Do you think I am devoid of all emotion except anger? What did you hope to catch, if not me?” Giving her no time to respond, Mylan again lowered his mouth to hers, but this time his kiss was teasing, his lips playfully caressing hers until she gradually relaxed and lay calmly in his arms. “Well, why did you make such a show of inviting my affections if you do not want them?”

As Celiese stared up into his golden eyes their bright sheen reflected the glowing embers upon the hearth with a taunting fire, and she could no longer keep her desires hidden. “I do want you, Mylan, desperately, but I still want to be your wife. I want to be your beloved companion, not a slave who must forever bow to her master’s will.”

Mylan raised his fingertips to her cheek, studying her delicate features with a rapt glance before he replied. “What difference does it make what I call you, when either way you will always be mine?” He’d had enough of her endless defiance and said no more as he leaned down to deepen his kiss. He needed her love too badly to argue over the circumstances that brought them together. She might belong to him, but he was a captive of the passion he could neither deny nor control. He needed all she could give, her lively spirit, her enchanting glance, and best of all her tender affection, which she had given before in such abundance. Wife, mistress, slave, the words rang in his mind with a senseless clatter, she was simply his, and no word could describe the joy the sweetness of her surrender gave him. He gathered up the hem of her oversized dress to slip it gently over her head so he might caress all of her splendid figure without the barrier of the rough fabric to hinder his pleasure as well as hers. Her skin was glowing with the same deep blush that filled her cheeks, and he let his lips trace her gentle curves with slow kisses that teased the pale pink tips of her full breasts to rosy peaks. He had no gift for poetry, for the beauty of words to make her understand how deeply he’d come to care for her, but his affection was in his every gesture, and he vowed to himself that that would have to be enough.

Celiese laced her fingers in Mylan’s soft curls to draw him near to her heart, for she’d not dared hope he would again treat her so sweetly, and she enjoyed the tenderness of his touch greatly. He was again making love to her as he had on the night they were wed, with an irresistible passion that filled her whole being with a deep longing to have more of his enticing affection, and she slipped her hands under his soft suede shirt to help him remove it more swiftly. His scars made his body unique, but no less dear, and she leaned across him, letting her curls tickle the taut muscles of his stomach as her tongue traced the pattern of deep slashes that marred the smooth skin of his chest. She loved all of him so dearly, the scars as well as the perfection of his lean physique, and her lips traveled over his warm bronze skin, gently conveying the adoration she dared not speak.

Mylan’s breath quickened to hoarse gasps as he tried to do no more than enjoy Celiese’s delightful affection, but she had driven him past the grasp of reason and he felt only the overwhelming need to finish what he’d begun when he’d first placed her upon the deep mound of furs that served as his bed. He tried to catch her, to encircle her narrow waist to hold her still, finally pulling her down upon him to press her slender hips to his as he rolled over, slowly pushing her down among the tangle of lush furs where he could use all his strength to pin her beneath him in a loving embrace. He held her tightly, winding his fingers in her long curls to capture her smiling lips beneath his own. She moved against him, her rhythm far more gentle than his, luring him with a seductive grace ever deeper into the warm, sweet secrets of her vibrant body, until his pleasure was nearly pain and he could wait no longer to bring their passion for each other to the height of ecstasy. He buried his face against the soft curve of her throat, savoring the feel of her lovely body beneath his own until he could feel the rapture that thundered through his own body shudder through hers. He had not counted the times they’d made love, but knew they had been far too few, when it was the most wondrous of pastimes to share. She was like no other beautiful woman he’d ever known, not teasing and flirtatious, nor haughty and aloof, but so giving that he was drunk with the wine of her kisses, and he lay filled with contentment as he pressed her close to enjoy the feel of her silken skin against his own far more rugged flesh.

Celiese’s fingertips separated Mylan’s golden curls with a lazy caress before her hand moved softly down his throat and over his shoulder. His loving had left her filled with a joy so profound, she knew paradise could offer no greater pleasure than lying with him always did. She had stayed his anger with her first kiss, turning his wrath into playful affection, but he’d not given her the promise she’d wanted so desperately to hear. How could he fail to feel her love and respond in kind? If he still felt nothing for her after she’d given all any woman could, would he never grow to love her? Would she know only the strength of his passion and never the beauty of his love? She knew she should leave his bed, leave him alone to contemplate the necessity for their marriage since only he had the power to choose what their life together would be, but she had no desire even to stir, let alone leave the warmth of his arms so he might see how greatly he’d miss her.

Their many problems forgotten in the dreamy haze of shared pleasure, Mylan propped his head on his elbow and lay watching Celiese as she slept curled against his side. She fascinated him, not only with her beauty, but with her courage, which never seemed to fail her, and he marveled again at the strange twists of fate that had brought her to his bed. Had he not been mauled so savagely he would have been wed to Estrid two years ago, would by now doubtless be the father of at least one son, and yet he never thought of the woman nor missed the child they’d not had. It seemed impossible to him now that he could have come so close to marrying another and might never have known Celiese. The mystery of her past tormented him still. He dared not trust her, and yet he could no longer pretend an indifference to her distracting beauty, when each time he made love to her only made him want her more.

“Celiese.” He called to her softly and was pleased by the width of her smile as she opened her sparkling green eyes. He saw only the delight in her gaze and cared little what new deceit might fill her heart when she would again welcome his affection so willingly. A sly grin crossed his lips as he leaned down to kiss her, pulling her back into his arms to again enjoy the gift of her intoxicating loving, and with his last conscious thought he wondered which of them was now the slave.

Chapter Ten

Mylan stood beside his bed, watching Celiese with an admiring glance as she continued to sleep soundly long past the hour she had usually been up to prepare his breakfast. Her flaxen curls were fanned out over the lustrous furs, her creamy skin flushed with a delicate pink and she was so pretty a sight he could not bring himself to disturb the peace of her dreams. Finally he forced himself away. Wandering outside, he realized that watering the garden was too tedious a chore for so delicate a woman and quickly carried several buckets of water from the stream so Celiese would not have to waste what energy she’d have that day in such strenuous labor. Then turning his attention to his horses, he led them out into the sun, but as he brushed their glossy coats he grew increasingly impatient for Celiese to awaken. He wanted to take her riding with him. He needed to survey the boundaries of his land and gauge the progress of his crops, and, thinking that was excuse enough to wake her, he strode back into his house and shook her shoulder lightly until she opened her eyes.

“The day is half over and still you are lying in my bed! Get up quickly, as I want you to come with me, and if we do not leave now we will not return before nightfall.” Pretending anger with her laziness, he placed his hands on his hips and tried to frown convincingly.

Yawning sleepily, Celiese sat up and demurely covered herself with an amply sized pelt. “Where is it we are going with such haste? Is it even dawn?”

“Dawn? It is nearer to noon! Now get up and dress so I’m not kept waiting!”

As he turned away Celiese called to him, “You said I might take something of yours. Would you choose it please, as I’d not want to cut up your favorite garments by mistake.”

“There is no time for tailoring now!” Mylan replied crossly, anxious to be on his way.

Glancing out the door he had not bothered to close, Celiese asked curiously, “Is it warm again today?”

“Yes, it is a day that would please Freyr, as well as me. Now get up from that bed without any more delay!”

“Who might this Freyr be that he cares so much for the weather?” Celiese asked sweetly, still making no move to leave his bed.

Laughing at her ignorance, Mylan forgot his impatience as he explained. “He is the god of sunshine, as well as rain, the giver of peace and plenty. Do you know nothing of our gods?”

Celiese licked her lips with an enticing subtlety. “I have heard the name, but you have so many gods, while we have but one, so it is quite natural that I would become confused.”

“Only one god to aid man with all his troubles?” Mylan was now in a teasing mood as he walked back toward his bed. “He must be very powerful then, to take responsibility for so much.”

“Indeed he is, Mylan, but I do not consider his name a matter for jest, and neither should you,” Celiese cautioned seriously, for truly she considered the great difference in their faiths not a suitable matter for casual discussion.

“What I will choose to laugh at next is you riding astride your mare nude, for if you do not hasten to dress I will take you with me as you are!” The gleam in his eye turned wicked as he reached for the pelt that covered her slender figure, but at the last instant he did not jerk it away.

For some reason that threat held little to frighten her, but Celiese rose from his bed. Taking the long gray gown that still lay where he’d tossed it the night before, she drew it over her head. “There, does this please you?” She combed her tangled curls with her fingers, giving her hair little thought, since it would blow about in the wind as they rode.

“No!” Disgusted at her pathetic appearance, Mylan pulled his knife from his belt, knelt at her feet, then took hold of her hem. “I can at least shorten this ugly garment so you no longer stumble as you walk, but I’m not happy to see you in it again.” Her splendid figure deserved to be clothed as beautifully as possible, and he was sorry he had so few alternatives to offer.