Love's Fury (Viking's Fury #1) (10 page)

She shook her head. “I believe it’s my turn.”

“Aye.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “So it is.”

“Tell me about your family.” If she distracted him with a certain kind of questioning, maybe he wouldn’t have time to think about kissing her again.

His head tilted thoughtfully to the side. “Of all the things you could ask, this is what you wish to know?” He rubbed his chin. “My father is named Brandr, my mother was Thordia. We live in the Trondelag, one of Odin’s most sacred places. I have three brothers and a sister. My father is proud, a respected
jarl
. My sister, beautiful and obedient.”

“Traits I am sure all Northmen cherish.”

“Is it so objectionable to do as you’re told?”

“Is this your query, milord?”

A crease appeared between his eyebrows. “It seems you’ve outwitted me this round, Silvia. Yes, answer the question.”

“Don’t you know the answer? I’m freeborn, the daughter of a scholar. A teacher of the wealthiest sons in Northumbria. You presume to steal my freedom because one day your army marches into York and destroys everything I love.” Anger swelled inside her chest. “You can shackle a man’s hands and feet, not his heart.”

“You forget how much a man of my low breeding enjoys a fiery temper.” A shadow fell across his features. “Your resistance is a promise of things to come.”

“No, milord,” she started. “My defiance is proof of my great dislike for your kind.”

“Ask a question.”

“If you are the son of a Norwegian
jarl
, why are you serving under a Danish prince?”

“You are much too aware of the political conflicts between our countries. What use does a woman have for such knowledge? Your sire should have spent more time preparing you for marriage.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I lost a drinking wager against my elder brother.” He gave her a lazy smile, daring her to respond.

She rolled her eyes. “You seem proud of your loss.”

“I’d wear it as badge on my chest if I could.” He waved his hands. “I turned that defeat into a victory. Now it is my turn,” he informed her. “How many men have you kissed?” He grazed her bottom lip with his knuckles, sending a shockwave of excitement through her.

“Tis an inappropriate question.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“You cannot change the rules because you dislike my inquiry.”

She frowned. “None.”

He tilted her chin upward, gazing into her eyes. “Do Saxon men prefer boys?”

She clicked her tongue reprovingly. “Our thriving numbers prove otherwise.”

“Men wearing dresses—girls in libraries—a beautiful woman never kissed. I’m beginning to suspect the gods opened up your lands to us because of the effeminate nature of your men.”

“You went out of turn, milord. Now I get two chances.”

He accepted her words, then stepped back, moving with powerful grace, another thing she regretfully admired about him. Large men often stumbled over their own feet. Not Konal.

“How many women have you bedded?”

He nearly choked. “Too many to count.”

Ten? Twenty? Thirty? Too many to count?
It appalled her, but struck her as an honest reply. She remembered the jewelry in his bag. That wasn’t a safe question to ask a man. She tapped her fingers against her mouth.

“I’m waiting, Silvia.”

As far as she was concerned, he could wait until the end of bloody time. She didn’t like this game.

*

He longed to
touch her again, only Konal wanted it to be her choice. Another question about his sexual prowess would give him every reason to caress her face. She opened her mouth as if she was determined to say something, but then snapped it shut. By the gods, he wanted to shove something between those sensual lips. “What has silenced you?”

“There is no point to this game.”

It had taken her longer than he’d expected for her to realize it. “You are correct.”

“A waste of time then,” she complained. “Daylight is fading, we must prepare.”

He shrugged, unconcerned. “Sometimes other things take precedence.”

Her finely-shaped brows jutted.

“Tis better to get acquainted than worry about setting up camp.”

Silvia pulled a fur out of one of the bags. “Why disguise a conversation as a game?”

“You’ve been less than agreeable when I’ve tried talking to you before. I made it more appealing and you were willing to play.”

“I believe you owe me an apology, milord.”

“For what?”

“Taking advantage of my innocence.”

“Are you calling me a liar,
again
?”

She looked down, grinding the toe of her boot in the dirt. “Not directly.”

“You think there’s a difference between direct and indirect falsehoods?”

“One is the lesser of two evils.”

Woman logic made no sense. “A lie is a lie.”

“I agree wholeheartedly, but only wished to see where you stood on the matter.”

“Then you admit we’re both guilty and now
two
kisses must be exchanged.”

Her eyes were as round as a full moon. “Two?”

“Two.” He swept her hair aside, gripping her shoulders as he leaned into her.

Her lips parted and their tongues tangled. The lack of companionship over the last few months in the field had left him half-crazed. But his hunger for Silvia—which grew rampantly whenever he touched her, was nearing a level of explosive proportions he’d never known before.

It gave him good reason to stop. But with his shaft pressed against her stomach, lust overrode his control. Paradise awaited him between her thighs. Slim legs he remembered too well from the night he spanked her. He made a wild sound deep in his throat as one of his hands found the generous swell of her breast. Her pebble-hard nipples protruded through the soft material of her dress, which he quickly touched, and Silvia’s body constricted with pleasure.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her cheek, realizing his mistake. If he took his time, she’d learn to trust him, even crave his attention. But his body disagreed. “That’s the first kiss,” he muttered. “I’ll claim the second now, too.”

This time his mouth collided violently with hers, his hands wandering across her body, then around her waist where he cupped her backside. His breath caught in his throat at the feel of her firm arse. Locking her against him with one arm, he found the laces on her bodice and quickly untied them. Her gown gaped open, revealing milky white flesh. He tugged gently on her dress until it loosened enough to fall down her shoulders.

Silvia inhaled and closed her eyes, in Konal’s estimation, granting him permission to do whatever he pleased. He admired her exposed breasts, caressing them gently while he sucked on a pink nipple. With every squeeze and lick, she sighed, her hands buried in his hair. So now the spirited wench knew his touch produced a kind of pleasure she’d never experienced. And if she let him, he’d teach her how to get more. How to give as much pleasure as she received. A skill she’d value in the future when she sought the protection of another man.

Curse his stupidity for interfering with her work. If he’d allowed her to arrange the furs, there’d be a bloody place to lay her down. With little concern for who might come upon them in the open, he hiked her skirt over her hips. What greeted him made him salivate. “One taste,” he murmured, enthralled by the thatch of dark curls between her legs. “Just one.”

*

If she let
him between her thighs she’d burn in Hell forever. As if jolted from a dream, Silvia opened her eyes. “We cannot do this,” she said, suddenly aware of her vulnerability.

But instead of stopping, he knelt at her feet, showering her navel with hot kisses.

“Konal,” she said shakily. “Did you hear me?” Each kiss chipped away at her already weak resistance. Then she felt the moist warmth of his tongue around her belly button. His massive hands rested on her thighs. Seeing him posed so close to her nether region made her legs quiver. “Please…”

He raised his head. “You didn’t dissuade me before,” he growled. “Do you know what danger you face allowing a man so close, then robbing him of the pleasure without good cause?”

His fingernails dug into her skin and she acknowledged the rage in his steely blue eyes. “How could I know if I’ve never done this before?”

His feelings were of no concern now, the sound of raucous laughter carried on the wind signaled the soldiers were close.

“Damn you, woman.” He staggered to his feet, then yanked her skirt back down. “Consider this your only warning. Never tempt a man with honey unless you intend to give him the pot.”

Feeling sufficiently humiliated, she said, “You’re cruel.”

“Am I?” His warm breath raised gooseflesh on her neck. “And what do you consider yourself?” He guided her hand between his legs. “Touch me.”

She shook her head. “Why do you tease me?”

“The guards are getting closer … do it and I’ll leave you alone.”

She stared at him disbelievingly. Misery stained his face. Of course her own body felt raw and unsatisfied. But she steeled herself against the temptation standing before her. If that’s what it took to make Konal go away, so be it. She cupped his manhood. A devilish smirk spread across his lips. Secretly, Silvia liked what she felt, and knew what to expect before she touched him.

“You’ve acquired a taste for me.”

“No,” she denied. “I meant only to prove my point from earlier. Men who brag about their size shouldn’t be trusted to tell the truth.”

A
s Konal tossed
and turned on his furs, he tried to banish Silvia’s last words from his mind. Did she find him inadequately sized? A virgin who’d never been kissed, much less seen a man naked.
No.
She’d intended to plant a seed of doubt in his bedeviled head. The girl knew how to make him suffer. He sighed and closed his eyes.

Hours later, smoke choked him awake. He threw his furs off and scrambled to his knees, surrounded by a raging fire. The air reeked of pitch. Asleep only feet away, Konal screamed for Silvia to awaken.

“Get up!” He grabbed what gear he could save and walked through the flame and smoke meant to claim his life.

Then he rushed to Silvia, lifted her into his arms, and carried her to safer ground. “Stay here,” he said, then turned to the nightmare behind them.

The horses were gone, probably scared away by whoever penetrated their camp. Konal cursed himself for sleeping so heavily and for relying on the protection of men he didn’t completely trust. Of the five guards, only Jahn had earned his respect on the battlefield. But he was nowhere to be found.

With a full moon overhead and the flames consuming the dry vegetation around him, Konal had no problem identifying the bodies of three of his men. All murdered, throats cut with their swords still sheathed at their hips. Careless bastards. They’d never expected an attack judging by the half-empty wineskins scattered about. Though he never wished this type of death on anyone, had the Danes taken their responsibilities seriously, perhaps they’d still be alive. He rubbed his face with both hands, wondering who dared attack in the middle of the night.

Before he returned to Silvia, he walked the perimeter of the camp, checking for any signs his enemies had left behind. Perhaps he was overthinking things. Raiders were everywhere, desperate Saxons and marauders who preyed upon unsuspecting travelers. But why cover the ground in pitch and set a fire?

His destination wasn’t a secret in Jorvik. And as Prince Ivarr had observed, only half his men loved Konal and the rest wished him dead. After he claimed Ulf’s head, Konal was sure he’d made new enemies amongst the Danes, too. Then there was the matter of his lovely captive…

Many reasons existed for someone to try and end his life. But tonight the gods had been generous, not only sparing him, but the beautiful Silvia as well.

He found her wrapped in a fur and pacing nervously.

“What evil has befallen us?” she asked, a look of relief on her face as soon as he appeared.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I have my suspicions. And in time, the guilty will be brought to justice. I swear it.”