Viking: Legends of the North: A Limited Edition Boxed Set (52 page)

He sent her soaring again into bliss, and this time joined her there, his hands clasping hers, his muscled body shuddering as he spilled himself deep inside her with a hoarse shout.

The force of it left them both breathless, shaking. His body went slack, his weight pressing her down into the earth, his heart pounding against hers. She stroked his sweat-sheened back, held him close, brushed kisses over his stubbled cheek.

And suddenly she had to shut her eyes to hold back tears.

Not tears of regret.
Nay, no regrets.
She had wanted this, every moment of it. One night for them and them alone. One reckless, glorious memory to hold in her heart forever.

The tears brimming behind her lashes came from a searing sense of loss.

Because she knew she could not stay with him.

She had to leave Asgard. Had to return home as soon as possible. Had to leave him here... alone.

And it did not matter that she loved him.

I
f they did not get out of the water soon, Hauk thought with a drowsy smile, they would get no sleep at all this night.

The fire had burned low and needed tending. And they should put their clothes on. If they could find their clothes. Which might be difficult in the darkness.

Mayhap, he decided, that could wait until dawn.

At the moment, neither of them seemed eager to leave their comfortable position—sitting together in the shallow pool, Hauk’s back against the smooth, stone edge, Avril curled in his lap, the warm water rippling around his ribcage.

She rested her cheek against his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin, while he lazily ran his fingers through her wet hair. He felt... content. Calmed. And to his surprise, not even mildly alarmed by the fact that making love to her had utterly unraveled him.

He was accustomed to being in command of himself. Always. But tonight, with her... gods above, he had never felt anything so raw and overpowering: his control gone, his logic stripped away by the urgency to become part of her, words tumbling from his lips—unguarded words about how much he needed her, all that he felt for her. He was not even certain whether he had been speaking his language or hers.

Even afterward, when they lay tangled together, spent, it had taken several long minutes for any shred of his reason to return—for him to realize that being pinned beneath him on the ground was not the most comfortable position for her.

When he had imagined what their first time would be like—and he had imagined it often—this was not the way he had intended it to happen.

Levering his weight off of her, he had murmured an apology and dusted a kiss over her nose. Then he had scooped her into his arms and carried her to the waterfall, intending to wash away the sand that had found its way into her hair... not to mention other, more sensitive places.

But his gallant intentions had not lasted long. The sight of her standing with him in the waterfall—all wet, sleek curves in the moonlight, her lips swollen from his kisses, her emerald eyes gazing up at him with the same passion and tenderness he felt for her—had unraveled him all over again. Gentle touches had led to hungry kisses.

And their second time had been as sudden and quick as their first. He had lifted her above him, she had wrapped her slender legs around his hips... and he had lowered her until she sheathed his hard length in her silky heat. With his arms fastened around her, her hands grasping his shoulders, she had shifted her hips, rocking against him. So tight, so perfect, her wetness an erotic contrast to the cascade flowing over them.

She burned with sensual fire, mesmerized him with the way she reveled in this side of herself—daring and bold, yet infinitely delicate and feminine at the same time. Every moment with her, every sensation only sharpened his need for more. The satin feel of her skin. The taste of her tongue against his. The soft curves of her body. The husky sounds she made when he was deep inside her. She took all of him, gave all of herself, so strong... and so loving.

When she had arched above him and cried out her release, blazing in the moonlight like a goddess, she had sent him over the edge into a fiery rush of pleasure. And the only thought in his mind was her name, his voice rough with emotion as he said it.

Trembling, she had slipped down into his embrace, kissing him, stumbling backward with him. Two steps and a noisy splash, and they had landed where they now sat: still in the pool, still wrapped in each other’s arms.

And still not saying a word about what had just happened between them... twice.

Nestled in his lap, Avril simply rested her head against his chest while he—finally—washed the last grains of sand out of her hair.

Her eyes were languid, her lashes drifting low. Her fingertips traced over his skin, following rivulets of water that trickled down from his hair and beard.

But her expression was pensive, almost melancholy.

It brought a thick, hot feeling to Hauk’s throat. He did not need words to understand what she was thinking.

This night would not change things between them. He knew that. Knew her well enough by now to realize that she could never give up her plans to escape Asgard... to leave him.

No matter what they felt for each other.

At the moment, however, he was no more eager than she was to raise the difficult subject of their future. There was no need to talk about it tonight.

Not tonight.

He combed out a tangle in her long hair with his fingers. “We left some most interesting marks on the beach over there.”

He succeeded in bringing a smile to her lips.

When she spoke, her voice sounded drowsy and unrepentant. “We will have to tidy up before we leave in the morn.”

“Aye.” He chuckled. “And it is a long journey back to town. We should sleep. Mayhap on dry land. After finding our clothes.”

“Mmmm.” Still smiling, she shook her head in denial. “Not yet. This water may taste terrible but it
feels
so...” Sighing, she closed her eyes. “Soothing.”

She snuggled closer to him, her lashes drifting down to her cheeks, her hand coming to rest over his heart. Hauk felt a knot of emotions burning beneath her palm.

He had been married before. He had had lovers before. But he had never felt anything like
this
before. This vexing tangle of caring and protectiveness and desire... and wonder.

Despite all his long years on earth, the feeling was utterly new to him.

He swallowed hard, looking down at his wife resting so peacefully in his arms. His little Valkyrie, surrounding him with her tender strength and soft wings, sweeping him up out of the darkness where he had lived so long alone. How could the gods have believed him worthy of a gift so sweet?

Until that day in Antwerp when they had dropped her into his path, he had been convinced that his future would be filled with naught but duty and solitude. Now he had a home filled to the brim with wedding gifts. And a small reindeer ensconced in his destrier’s stable. And a small child visiting his home every day to take care of the small reindeer.

And a daring, enchanting, stolen bride... who had somehow taken inside her all his pain and grief and loneliness and melted them with her fire and gentleness.

And he was in love with her.

He clenched his jaw, his heart beating too hard. By all the gods, he had not wanted this. Sharing this night with her made him ache with it—and another emotion, dangerously close to hope.

Hope for a future different than the one he had imagined.

But love and hope could not change the fact that he would lose her. She was
utlending
. He was
innfodt
. One day she would be gone, and he would go on. Alone.

And already he did not want to imagine his life without her in it.

He brushed his thumb along the delicate curve of her cheek. Her lashes fluttered open.

For a moment, they simply gazed at one another in the fading light of the fire.

Then suddenly her eyes glistened with tears. “I thought I would never do this again,” she whispered.

“Have your hair washed by a Viking?” he asked lightly.

She shook her head. “Never love another man this much.”

His throat tightened. “Avril.” He stroked the backs of his fingers over her cheek.

“Why could you not be as cruel and arrogant and heartless as I always thought Vikings were?” A tear slipped past her lashes.

“My apologies,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

“Why do you have to be caring and honorable and kind—”

“I shall try to be more demanding and tyrannical.”

“Stop that. You are not allowed to have a sense of humor as well.”

He chuckled, afraid to give in to any of the other emotions spilling through him. “Avril, it is late,” he said quietly, threading his fingers through her hair. “You need to sleep. We must leave at dawn—”

“But that is hours from now,” she protested. “And I...” She kissed him. “... do not...” Another kiss, lingering and warm. “Want to think about tomorrow.”

He groaned, unable to stop himself from nibbling at her lower lip, her jaw, her throat. “If you are hungry, we could find something to eat. Forage for berries in the underbrush—”

“But I...” She moved over him, as liquid as the water all around them. “... do not...” Her hands glided down his ribs, lower. “Want food.”

“Then what—” His voice became a growl when her palms traced a path of fire below his abdomen. “What do you want?”

She answered with a caress, cupped him, stroked him.

He shut his eyes with a vivid oath.

“You,” she whispered, shifting her hips, settling her body against his, taking him captive in her snug heat. “
You
. With me, part of me. So hard and strong.” She nuzzled his cheek, sighing. “Hauk, there are hours left until morning.”

“Hours,” he agreed, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that was lush and deep.

This time, he vowed, he would make it last. Gentle and slow.

As if the two of them had all the time in the world.

Clouds had moved in, obscuring the moon, turning the night almost as dark as Hauk’s mood. He lay stretched out on the woolen blanket by the fire, Avril nestled against his side, asleep at last.

The two of them had finally donned their clothes, her tunic and leggings rumpled and torn—partly the result of their adventure in the woods today, partly the fault of his impatient hands tonight. Only their belts and boots still lay discarded on the shore.

He guessed the hour to be near midnight. But no matter how many times he shut his eyes, he could not sleep. Could find no peace in this familiar, tranquil place—the gentle sound of the waterfall, the endless ebb and flow of the surf lapping against the shore. The contentment and hope he had felt earlier had vanished, replaced by a feeling he had never experienced on Asgard.

An unsettling sense that time was moving too quickly.

The declaration Avril had made kept circling through his mind:
I thought I would never love another man this much.

He tried to blink away the burning in his eyes. If only she had not said those words, it might be easier for him to endure the idea that had taken shape in his mind.

An idea that could bring him more trouble than he had experienced in his entire life.

A rueful smile curved his lips. He should have known his little Valkyrie would only make this more challenging for him.

He turned his head toward her, trying to commit every sweet detail to his memory. The shape of her lips. The silkiness of her skin. The way her hair looked, damp and tangled against the blanket. The soft touch of her breath against his bare chest. The way her body felt beside his, warm and languid from their lovemaking.

He tried to convince himself that it would hurt less to lose her now, rather than after spending a lifetime—her lifetime—together.

The wind blowing in across the cove made her shiver. She stirred, blinking sleepily. “Hauk?”

“It is not yet dawn,” he whispered, reaching across her to pull an edge of the blanket over her, tucking it close. “Go back to sleep.”