Lord of Vengeance (28 page)

“He has gentled. I saw it in his eyes when he came to Wynbrooke a few days past, and I see it even more now. The boy I knew cared not a whit for anyone but himself, and his hatred.”

The sorrow in the old man's voice made her squeeze her eyes closed. The passage of time had done little to expunge the memory, even for him. “What happened that day, Merrick?” Raina asked, steeling herself for the entire, awful truth. “And please, I need to know everything.”

Chapter 17

Raina returned to Gunnar's chamber some time later, her heart weighing heavy as a stone. Because Merrick knew not who she was, he had spared her no detail about what had taken place at Wynbrooke thirteen years past. She'd listened in mute horror to it all: William Rutledge's death in tournament, the subsequent attack on the Rutledges' home, the bloody aftermath of the siege, and the terrible pain suffered on the boy Gunnar had been.

After hearing all of that, how could she expect Gunnar to turn the other cheek, to forgive? Mother Mary, but if she had endured the same agony, she wasn't certain that she herself would have the strength of character or the charity of spirit to forgive and move on.

And as for begging Gunnar to allow her father a chance to explain, what could he possibly say?

What could possibly excuse such unwarranted, unconscionable violence?

Even though Merrick's account of her father's treachery pained her, oddly enough, Raina felt grateful, for the truth had also freed her. No more would she live in protection, sheltered from reality. Though she had been born into a lie, she would reclaim her life as her own, starting now.

She opened the chamber door and found Gunnar standing before the window. He regarded her over his shoulder as she entered and closed the door. Despite the gash on his arm, he had somehow managed to don a tunic. “I've nigh slept away the entire morning,” he remarked as Raina came to stand behind him.

Gently, she wrapped her arms around him. He tensed, drawing in his breath, then relaxed, reaching up to grasp her arms with his warm, battle-roughened hands. He let out a ragged sigh as she moved her hands down to gather the hem of his tunic.

His voice was husky, hesitant. “Ah, lamb...Raina, what are you thinking to do?”

She said nothing as she drew the tunic up over his stomach, urging him to lift his arms as she brought it higher. He chuckled, nervously it seemed, but he lifted his arms. She pulled the tunic over his head and tossed it to the floor.

“Raina--”

Ignoring the tension of his voice and body, she smoothed her hands over the surface of his back, fanning them over his shoulders and committing every ridge, every plane, to memory. She leaned in to trace a kiss along the scar that ran nearly the length of him, a tender apology to the boy who had suffered it and willing acceptance of the man who wore it now.

He moaned tightly as she brushed her lips over his skin, tasting him, wanting him. When she nipped his neck, he turned in her embrace and grasped her arms, holding her away from him even though it was clear from his smoky gaze that he wanted to pull her close. “Have you any idea what you are asking for?” he growled.

“Aye,” she replied without hesitation, “I know,” and she moved back into his embrace.

“Raina, my sweet lamb...this won't change anything. It can't--”

She placed her finger against his lips. “You told me once that when we came together it would have naught to do with virtue or vengeance. I bid you, my lord, uphold your vow.” She moved closer still, her lips nearly touching his, tempting him to kiss her. “I don't want to talk about tomorrow, or the past...I don't want to talk at all.”

With a harsh, heated oath, Gunnar dipped to capture her mouth with his, groaning as Raina opened her lips to him. She let him in, trusting him to teach her, eagerly following his lead. The erotic sensation of his tongue, teasing and tasting her mouth, ignited a flame deep within her.

A strange, beckoning heat...and she so wanted to burn.

She nearly cried out when his lips left hers, and did, when they drifted down her neck and lower, settling on one taut nipple. He crouched before her, one strong hand caressing her back and buttocks, the other kneading her breast as he suckled her to a hardened peak through her gown. She moaned, plunging her fingers into his hair to hold him close, longing to feel his mouth on her skin.

As if he sensed her every need, Gunnar lifted the hem of her gown. He dragged it slowly up and hesitated at her hips, his warm breath stirring the down between her legs the moment before his lips pressed shockingly against her. Raina gasped, trembling as he breathed her in, drawing her curls between his lips as he left her to place a tender kiss upon the bare flesh of her hip.

She quaked as a tremor rocked her, spreading a liquid heat to her limbs. Mercy, how she desired him.

She urged him upward, wanting to pleasure him as he was so exquisitely doing to her. He came to his feet, caressing her body every inch of the way and bringing her bliaut up with him. He pulled it over her head and dropped it beside his tunic on the floor. Raina stood before him, naked and unashamed, as his eyes drank her in from head to toe. He made no move to touch her, though his fingers flexed...trembled.

“You are so beautiful,” he rasped. “So beautiful.”

Hesitantly, he met her gaze, as if he yet expected her to reject him. Raina smiled and extended her hand. He grasped it firmly, hauling her against him, the look in his eyes pure exultation. Splaying his hand at her back, he held her close, kissing her and moving his thigh between her legs until his desire surged full and hard between them.

“God help me, Raina, I want you,” he murmured against her neck. “I want this.”

Her knees gave way beneath her as Gunnar swept her into his arms and placed her on the bed. He stood beside her, his heavy-lidded eyes holding her gaze as he loosened the ties of his braies and stepped out of them. Her attention slipped to that magnificent male part of him and her eyes widened. She couldn't help it; she gasped.

Gunnar's rich chuckle brought her back to his face. “I-I'm sorry,” she whispered, embarrassed and breathless. “'Tis just...well, I've never--”

Raina blinked up at him. She gulped and offered him her hand. He smoothed it down, over the hard planes of his chest and abdomen, into the crisp curls between his thighs. She closed her eyes as her fingers touched the silky strength of his erection, felt it warm and smooth against her palm.

Her breath caught in her throat. Oh, to be touching him so brazenly....

He curled her fingers around the width of him, then slid his hand up her arm, letting her explore him on her own. His sex pulsed in her grasp, so thick and strong, so alive and wondrous. She squeezed him, stroking her fingers up his length and down, marveling at the sheer and thrilling power of him. When he moaned, she stopped abruptly, drawing in her breath.

“Nay, don't stop,” he whispered. “It feels good.”

She was glad of that, for it felt very good to her, too. Raina caressed and experimented with him, learning which movements elicited the most pleasurable sounds and which areas were the most sensitive to her touch. She could have gone on exploring his body and its fascinating responses for hours, but Gunnar stopped her, placing his hand gently over hers.

“You seem to have gotten over your trepidation.” His grin was a wicked one. “Now 'tis my turn to torture you, lamb.”

And what sweet torture it was.

Gunnar kissed nearly every inch of her body, stoking the flames within her to a blazing inferno. His tongue and lips and hands seduced her skillfully, his masterful strokes wringing the most wanton sounds from her lips, and Raina gave in to him with abandon. He pleasured her in ways she had never dared imagine, seeking out her most feminine secrets and claiming them with his fingers, and, heaven help her, his tongue.

His loving torture left her breathless and slick with desire. He intoxicated her, filling her senses with a wild and provocative promise of something more to come...something more wondrous than even this incredible experience. She trembled, pulse quickened, in anticipation of the journey.

Gunnar moved over her then, slipping his hands beneath her back and arching her into his embrace as he kissed her belly, her breasts, her neck, her lips. Dizzy with heightened sensation, Raina knew only that she wanted more. Her hands entwined in the damp, silky hair at his nape and she hungrily pulled him closer. She felt his hand move between them to cup her woman's mound, squeezing and kneading her until she could scarce breathe.

Sparks exploded behind her closed eyelids when his finger began a delectable swirl about that part of her that ached so keenly for his touch. She shuddered, moving unabashedly against his hand as his seductive rhythm intensified. His kiss deepened, matching the ardor of his tender assault on her body.

The power of the first tremor jolted Raina's eyes wide open. Its brilliant warmth seized her very core, clutched her womb, then spread like a hundred tiny raindrops to her limbs. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling, welcoming the pleasure. A wave of glistening light washed over her, then another, as Gunnar caressed her. She wondered suddenly if her body shimmered outwardly as surely as it did inside. She prayed it did, for she wanted Gunnar to know what incredible joy he had given her.

With all her heart, she wanted to do the same for him.

Her eyes fluttered open to find him looking down at her, smiling as if he did feel some measure of her delight. When had he stopped kissing her? Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment to think he had been watching her the entire time. And she could not pray the darkness concealed her shameful indulgence, for the late morning sun blazed full and bright in the room.

The feel of his weight atop her, his crisp chest hairs tickling her nipples, his belly flattened against hers--and the unmistakable evidence of his desire for her pressed firmly against her thigh--rendered her mad with want.

She had heard a woman's first time lying with a man was often unpleasant, but after what she had just experienced, she knew it for a terrible lie. No amount of pain could diminish the joy she had felt in those precious moments, no amount of fear could keep her from wanting him fully. From wanting him inside her. She slid her hands down his back, to his buttocks, pressing him to her, communicating her need.

He groaned, kissing her deeper, and moved his hips until the crown of his sex rested at the mouth of her sheath. He lingered there as he kissed her, tenderly at first, then deeper, moaning as he slid his tip against her wetness. Rocking his hips ever so slightly, he touched her gently yet insistently. She clutched him tighter, urging him to enter her, needing him to claim her.

He broke their kiss, their lips scarcely touching, and whispered, “Are you sure? Because if you want me to stop a moment from now...”

Unable to voice her reply, Raina arched her hips to meet him, looking deep into his eyes and hoping he could see that she had never been more sure of anything before in her life. She closed her eyes and pulled him down, kissing him fully, slipping her tongue between his lips. He accepted it hungrily, hooking his arm under her and bringing her off the mattress as he pushed past the resisting maidenhead.

Raina felt the twinge of mild pain and drew in her breath, but Gunnar held her close, stilling inside her as she adjusted to his presence. The discomfort passed a few moments later, giving way to a pleasing warmth and an exquisite fullness that defied description. Her senses filled with him: the sweetness of wine in his kiss, the velvet softness of his skin, the musky warmth of their bodies together. She smoothed her hands over his back and shoulders, gently moving her hips.

Gunnar's muscles tensed beneath her fingertips and he began to move, very slowly, very gently, rocking against her, filling and withdrawing. He kissed her lips, her chin, her nose, holding her tight to his body, pressing into her until Raina could scarcely discern where she left off and he began.

He loved her tenderly, patiently, easing into her even though his body had become like granite.

She sensed he wanted more, that he awaited an indication of her readiness to accept the full measure of his passion. She clung to him, wrapping her legs about his waist as she pulled him deeply into her.

He needed no more invitation than that.

Gunnar surged into her, thrusting with force enough to touch her very heart. Raina took him in, urged him to go deeper, wanting to feel him lose control, to know that she was the cause. He swore an oath as she met his thrust with one of her own, and Raina watched him rocking above her, his eyes squeezed closed, the muscles in his neck and shoulders taut and hard as stone. He crashed against her, over and over again, his entire body tensing with the effort.

She wanted to study every nuance of the moment, every emotion that played on his face, but the fire rising inside her demanded her attention. It burned hotter than any flame she had felt before, bathing her in a queer liquid heat that she knew would imminently consume her, body and soul.