Lord of Vengeance (29 page)

Gunnar deepened his strokes, coaxing her toward the flames.

Feeling him tense inside her, Raina's fire exploded into an inferno. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth to bite back the cry of ecstasy that threatened to break free.

“Nay, lamb,” he rasped. “Let me hear you. Let me know how I please you.”

His gentle coaxing being all she needed, the cry burst forth from her lips as her very soul seemed to shatter in a million shimmering pieces. All the while he took her higher and higher, thrusting into her trembling body until he, too, cried out with his own release. A soothing warmth spread over her as Gunnar collapsed atop her, his weight an odd comfort despite the knowledge of what she had just relinquished.

And it was not her virtue that she sensed she would miss, but her heart.

Without leaving her body, Gunnar rolled to his side, gathering her into his arms. Raina pressed her ear to his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat as he stroked her hair. He said naught, and neither did she, both content in the moment and savoring their precious, if fleeting, oneness.

As Raina's breathing slowed to match his, and she drifted to sleep in his arms, she wondered if anyone else had ever known such pleasure.

She truly doubted it.

Chapter 18

Raina woke to feel Gunnar's knuckles softly grazing the slope of her cheek. Blinking her eyes open, she took a moment to adjust, not only to the afternoon sunlight, but also to her new perspective on the man smiling down at her. How could she ever have thought him cruel? This beautiful, rugged face, gazing at her so tenderly could never be considered harsh. Those full lips, curved in a sensual smile, could bring only pleasure.

It was with no small amount of disappointment that she noted he had already dressed.

“How do you feel?” he asked gently.

In truth, she had never felt better, nor more alive. Her body seemed to have come into its own, shedding more than the burden of chastity during their lovemaking. Being with Gunnar like this felt good; it felt right. She smiled. “I feel wonderful.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Only for you,” she said, drawing him toward her for a kiss.

“Ah, have a care, lamb. You'll spoil me.” He pecked her on the nose then pulled her up from the bed. “Come. I've got a basket of food waiting for us in the bailey. Let's leave this place for a while.”

Raina nearly sprang from the bed, hurriedly donning her bliaut and following him outside.

A short while later, they were deep in the woods on his destrier, nearing the far edge of the pond. Gunnar reined in where a great old willow arced to form a canopy of dripping, silvery leaves. The thick bough stretched out over the embankment, its frondy streamers just barely skimming the surface of the water. Wildflowers and soft forest moss perfumed the light summer breeze. Overhead a robin trilled its song.

“What a beautiful place,” Raina mused as Gunnar dismounted then lifted her to the ground. “It feels like paradise here, so secluded and peaceful. So different from Norworth--”

She bit back the comparison a moment too late. It lingered on her tongue, bitter as bile. How she hated to make mention of that place now, to admit the stain of her relationship to a man capable of such atrocity. But before she could stammer an apology for calling up a reminder of the past, Gunnar was grasping her hand and pulling her into his embrace.

He lowered his mouth to hers and captured her lips in a wild, soulful kiss that chased away her gloom and despair like a balm to a burn. “This is paradise,” he murmured against the delicate skin of her throat. “And this...”

His mouth drifted lower, his tongue exploring the curve and dip of her bosom, teasing the sensitive crevice between her breasts while his hands roved freely, kneading and caressing her until she nearly swooned in his arms. Too soon he broke away, growling his reluctance. “Now come with me, before I ravish you where you stand. I mean to make the day last.”

Dizzy with longing and willing to submit to him wholly, Raina followed when he grasped her hand and led her to the water's edge. He turned abruptly and kissed her again, deeper than he had before, as if he could scarcely keep from claiming her mouth.

And the hunger she tasted on his lips was even more evident in his smoldering eyes. He removed her gown, taking the same care one might when unveiling a priceless, holy relic. His own tunic he stripped off and flung to the ground, hose and braies following in like fashion.

Unclothed and fully aroused, he asked, “Does the thought of bathing with me now frighten you as it did the other day?”

Sweet Mary, but he sounded almost hopeful, postured with his arms crossed over his chest and feet spread shoulder-wide like some bold pagan conqueror. There was something quite endearing in such a blatant display of masculine arrogance and Raina fought hard to keep from giggling. Instead, she smiled coyly then let her gaze travel the length of him with deliberate, languid cool, pausing midway to admire the sheer magnificence of his naked body. He was grinning like a cat in the cream by the time she met his eyes.

“Do I look frightened, my lord?” she answered at last, full of playful challenge.

He laughed aloud at that, a hearty bark of humor that warmed her to her soul. “Nay, you saucy, wanton wench!” he exclaimed. “I should say you don't. But you might at least pretend and spare a man his pride.”

With that, he scooped her into his arms and carried her into the pond, their mingled laughter reverberating over the surface of the water. Waist-high, he set her down on her feet. Raina felt a keen sting as soon as the water reached the tenderness between her legs and she sucked in her breath.

“I gave myself to you willingly,” she interjected, stopping him before he apologized further for what had been the most heavenly hours of her life. “You had the right because I gave it to you. Because I wanted to.”

He exhaled a weighty sigh before his lips met hers. His kiss was tender, achingly sweet, but it tasted of remorse and she wanted to weep. “Ah, Raina,” he whispered, “I didn't deserve so precious a gift. You should have been able to share your first time with your husband one day, not me.”

That stung worse than any physical damage she might have suffered in loving him. She couldn't bear the thought of being without him now, or the prospect of being intimate with another man. But Gunnar was a warrior, accustomed to battles and fighting, not the sort of man to make designs for a family and a future. Least of all with the daughter of his sworn enemy.

And even if he were, her father's plans for her had been set long ago. For most of her adult life, he had kept her squirreled away at Norworth, guarding her chastity like the king guarded his gold, waiting until he found the right match for her. A match that would bring more lands and wealth to the d'Bussy purse. He had made no secret of his hopes that she would marry a political man, someone with ties to the royal court.

With a shudder, Raina recalled the aging earls and lascivious barons her father had entertained at the castle, recalled too, her father's angry lectures after she had rebuffed their attempts at flirtation, even going so far as to empty a cup of wine on one man's fine silk tunic when he had the temerity to reach under the table and squeeze her thigh.

Suddenly Dorcas's suggestion of a few days before--that she try to persuade Gunnar to keep her--didn't seem quite so preposterous. More than anything she had ever wanted before, she yearned to remain with Gunnar. Forever, out here in paradise where she felt whole. Where she felt a vital part of something positive and true.

Where she felt at home.

But she would not beg him, nor burden him with her problems. She had only a precious handful of days before Gunnar was to meet with her father and she planned to cherish every moment. Damming her tears with iron-clad determination, she faced him. “My lord, we agreed not to speak of tomorrows or regrets. Pray, don't disappoint me with talk of them now.”

He kissed her palm. “Anything to please you, my lady.”

“Very well,” she replied with a light-heartedness she truly didn't feel. “Then indulge me in a race. I expect you are a passable swimmer?”

He chuckled. “Passable, aye. My father often joked that I was born with gills.”

“Indeed? Well, my lord tadpole, I hope you are a charitable loser. If you had looked closer this morning you might have noticed that my feet are webbed.”

“Mmm, I was meaning to ask you about that,” he teased.

Raina pushed him, laughing as she wriggled out of his reach and began to swim away. “The goal is the far side of the pond. Winner names a boon!”

She swam as hard as she could, kicking and pulling long strokes through the water, using her head start to full advantage and making excellent time. The finish well in sight, she glanced behind her.

No Gunnar.

Where had he gone? Treading water, she spun around, searching for any sign of him. When she looked back to the adjacent shore, a twinge of disappointment--and surprise--shot through her.

Gunnar's head and shoulders broke the surface of the water about ten paces from the shoreline. Fie, he had beaten her! Perhaps he did have gills; he must have swum the entire distance underwater. He turned, standing chest-high in the water and grinning at her.

“Shall I name my boon now, or later?” he asked.

He hadn't yet touched the shore, Raina noted with a glimmer of satisfaction. She could still win. She kept swimming, casually now, lest he suspect what she was about. “How did you learn to swim below the surface as you do?” she queried, drifting closer.

“My father taught me. I reckon I was swimming not long after I learned to walk.”

Nearly to the place where he stood now, she decided to attempt a distraction. “I should think I'd be afraid to drown with my face so long in the water. How can you hold your breath all that time?”

“Practice,” he said with a shrug. “And control.”

“Well, I am duly impressed, my lord.” He grinned at her praise. Pride was evidently potent bait. Poor tadpole, he was about to bite the hook. “Will you show me again how you do it?” she coaxed.

“As you wish.” He began to submerge himself, slowly, all the while his eyes on her.

The instant the top of his head went under, Raina lunged forward, pulling for the shore. Strong arms wrapped around her waist just two strokes later, halting her progress and drawing her backward. She shrieked as Gunnar hoisted her out of the water and draped her over his shoulder.

“You don't play fair, my lady,” he charged on a laugh, lightly smacking her bare rump. Up the embankment he tromped with her, then set her down. “Now, since I have won by default, I shall have to think hard on a fitting boon.” He gripped her buttocks and pulled her against him, grinning wolfishly as his erection swelled to life between them.

“Not so fast, my lord,” she argued, stepping out of his embrace with mock admonition. “You carried me ashore, which means we arrived at the goal together. We both win, therefore we each can claim a boon.”

“Hmm,” he growled, “not only a bold cheat, but a clever one as well. Have you always been this impertinent?”

“Always.”

He chuckled. “I might have suspected as much.” Reaching out, he gathered her wet hair into a queue behind her neck, smoothing it back off her face and shoulders so she stood before him naked, her body completely unveiled to his smoldering gaze. “Have you always been this beautiful?” he rasped.

She didn't get the chance to voice her denial. Gunnar's mouth closed over one of her nipples and she gasped in a ragged breath, all words and thoughts taking flight on silken wings. He knelt before her, suckling her breasts, his lips and tongue so warm on her skin, the peppering of rough growth on his jaw a sweet, savage abrasion.

He moved lower, kissing her belly and lower still, nipping at the tender skin of her hips. A nudge at the juncture of her thighs and she opened her legs, tentatively, unsure what he wanted of her. But he knew. He overwhelmed her body with his mouth and hands, tasting her and pleasing her in ways she could never have dreamed and even now didn't fully understand. She moaned, feeling his fingers part her, enter her.

“Oh, Gunnar...” It came out little more than a strangled whimper. A vow of total surrender. “Oh, yes...”

And then she shattered in his hands. All at once her legs turned to liquid, her flesh molten and quivering under his skillful seduction. She wasn't sure if her feet still touched the ground for inside she was soaring, spiraling high as the heavens on a wave of rapture so exquisite she nearly wept with the sheer pleasure of it.

Wildly, reverently, Gunnar kept stroking her with his tongue. Sucking her. Devouring her.

His name was a murmured plea on her lips as another wave washed over her in glistening ripples of ecstasy. Spent and dazed, floating back to earth, she became vaguely aware that he had left her. Where he'd been, the summer breeze now skated over her, cooling her flushed, perspiring skin.

“Race you back to the other side, my lady?”

Reluctant to let go of her ebbing pleasure, Raina opened her eyes, trying to make sense of what she was hearing. Her head still rang with the rush of orgasm, her entire body slack with passion quelled. Gunnar stood several paces from her, edging toward the water. Beaming.

It was all Raina could do just to make it to the other side of the pond, never mind provide any sort of competition. Instead she took her time and enjoyed the refreshing coolness of the water, swimming leisurely across the distance. Gunnar was already reclining on the blanket he had spread under the willow tree by the time she trudged out of the water.