Viking's Prize (26 page)

Elienor
cried out, her heart leaping into her throat. She clung to Alarik for support,
her eyes closing in desperation, and obeyed at once, her lips parting softly.

God
forgive her, but she found she could not help herself, could not deny him.

At once
Alarik reclaimed her lips. Half-insane with the desire to taste her, his tongue
drove in at once to explore the velvety recesses of her mouth. His heart
hammered.

Loki
take him! She was more delectable than he remembered.

The pit
of Elienor’s stomach responded with a tumultuous swirl as his moist, firm mouth
demanded a response. To her horror, even as she called herself wanton, fool,
and shameless, she reveled in the kiss.

Like
liquid fire his tongue stabbed into the warmth of her mouth, drinking of her as
though his soul demanded it... and the saints protect her, she delighted in it,
radiated with it. The thought crossed her mind in that instant that she’d never
been cut of holy cloth, for surely no bride of Christ would respond so eagerly
to a mortal man.

Much
less her sworn enemy!

Her
heart twisted.

He was
her enemy.

Alarik
nearly came where he stood as Elienor offered her soft little tongue. Yet he
thrust it back savagely with his own, determined to retain control this time.
And then suddenly he paused and drew away.

“I...”
Alarik swallowed, unaccustomed to asking for aught. Nevertheless, he would have
her willing, or not at all. “Elienor... I would show you what else these
lips... this tongue of mine can do.”

She
opened her eyes, looking up at him, half-dazed.

Elienor’s
heart flew into her throat. She said nothing—dared say nothing, for she
feared that if she spoke, the answer would come forth as aye, when she knew it
should be nay. It had to be nay! She could not, in all good conscience, simply
give herself to her enemy!

“Elienor!”
he implored, plunging her to the bed abruptly.

Elienor
felt a scream catch in her throat as he trapped her between his arms. Yet his
lips did nothing more than to seek out hers and brush them in a surprisingly
gentle kiss—hot and persistent, coaxing, tormenting, burning.

“Elienor?”
he hissed between her lips.

All
thought of protest vanished when his tongue slipped into her mouth once more,
this time finding easy entrance.

Was she
so faithless? So wanton?

Her
heart ached at the thought. She gasped as Alarik lowered his body to cover
hers. This time she managed a whimper of protest, and turned her face in vain.

It
stopped him not at all. His lips sought her neck instead, nibbling feverishly,
consuming her... and to her shame, Elienor found herself responding in ways
she’d never conceived possible.

Her
body arched of its own will. Desire, like molten fire, flowed through her
veins, coloring her cheeks with mortification. Yet to her dismay, she simply
moaned in pleasure as his hands cupped her face and he sought her mouth once
more, his tongue stabbing in, and out, then in, out, in, the rhythm
mesmerizing. With each thrust her heart leapt higher.

With an
oblivious groan, Alarik suckled Elienor’s tongue, greedily taking everything
she would give. His body hardened more fully with each taste of her, and so did
his resolve; he would have her—tonight, by Odin! He must have her.

Or grow
mad.

Her
passionate whimpers melded with his groans of desire until that sweet melody
was the only sound to fill his ears, spurring him onward, exciting his senses.

All the
while, her hands stroked him unconsciously. He doubted she was aware of that,
nor that her body writhed beneath him in virginal frustration. When her pelvis
careened into his instinctively, he rocked forward ruthlessly in answer,
eagerly pursuing what she so naively offered.

More
than aught else, he yearned to bury himself deep within her—she was so
soft... so soft and supple in his arms.

He
swore beneath his breath.

She
tilted her pelvis once more, and the desire he’d harnessed for so long erupted
violently within him. Need clawed him like a wild beast, stealing reason. Yet
despite his instant of oblivion he found a moment to lift himself, to remove
his boots, discarding them hastily upon the floor beside the bed. At the same
time, before she could regain her senses enough to protest, his fingers slipped
up her gown, until he found her, and he quivered with anticipation when he felt
her wet to the touch.

Elienor
cried out, starting at the unexpected touch of his fingers in her most intimate
place.

Slowly,
seductively, his head thrusting backward in sheer pleasure as he discovered
her, he stroked her, wanting naught more than to rip the gown from her body and
feel her more intimately beneath him. Yet he restrained himself, knowing
patience and cunning would gain him more. A sheen of perspiration broke forth,
bathing his flesh with the salt of his body as he drove his finger once more
into the depths of her, stroking the nectar within, preparing her for the size
of him. When she closed her legs instinctively, he nudged them apart with hands
that trembled, so potent was his lust.

Elienor
moaned, her body twisting. She opened her eyes, the turmoil clear in her eyes.

Indisputably,
those eyes were the most bewitching Alarik had ever beheld. He stared,
mesmerized by the violet-blue pools. “Truly, you are lovely,” he whispered
huskily, teasing her still. He watched her breast rising and falling, her
breathing quickening as she gazed at him, and in that moment he understood that
she acquiesced with her startling blue eyes... and her silence. The knowledge
filled him. His body quickening, he parted her once more and slowly inserted a
finger. She cried out, tilting for him, her eyes glazing with passion.

He
smiled mercilessly, shuddering.

Elienor
whimpered, a helpless sound deep in the back of her throat and twisted in
frustration. “You... you... promised not... not to force me!” she cried
feverishly.

“So I
did,” he admitted. “So I did.” His eyes glittered. “You wish me to stop, then?”
His eyes flickered knowingly and his lips curved slightly when her eyes
widened.

She
forced herself to speak. “Aye!” she cried out, uncertainly, twisting on the
bed.

He
withdrew, smiling devilishly.

Elienor’s
heart plummeted. Her face flushed, for rather than feel relief that he had
adhered to her wishes, she yearned only for the return of his touch. She
berated herself that it was a sin to lie with a man without benefit of
matrimony, yet at this moment she feared she craved just that.

Mayhap
it was the simple fact that Francia, Phillipe, Mother Heloise, and the priory
were so far away, or mayhap, if she could be honest with herself, It was simply
because she desperately wanted that certain something his kisses tendered, the
promise of fulfillment.

Was it
so wrong to seek it?

She’d
despaired that she would ever know a man—indeed, had never dared to
consider it until Phillipe. Yet now...

She
feared she craved it with a madness that was shameful.

There was
absolutely no guile to his little nun at all, Alarik acknowledged. Her eyes
indisputably asked him to continue, yet he would hear it from her own lips. His
own eyes narrowed ruthlessly. “Say it, Elienor.” She’d given him a taste of her
passion, had shown him how sweet it could be.

He
wanted her willing.

Or not
at all.

Elienor
shook her head.

“Say
it!” he hissed, his knuckle returning to graze her curls. She cried out at the
shock of his touch. “You want this,” he whispered huskily. The gray of his eyes
smoldered as he looked down upon her.

The
beat of Elienor’s heart quickened.

She
could not—would not look into his knowing eyes! Squeezing her lids shut
in surrender, her traitorous body tilted into his fingers.

Alarik
shuddered as he watched her respond, his male flesh straining at his breeches.
Swiftly, he unlaced his ties with his free hand, easing the confining garment
downward. “Elienor,” he murmured thickly. “Lovely, lovely, Elienor.”

Elienor
trembled softly as she opened her eyes to see him peeling his tunic up and over
his head. He flung it aside, his eyes scrutinizing her, yet she knew she would
not protest when he lowered his body to hers once more, touching his hardness
to her softness. Aware only that the pressure now was different in that place,
she whimpered in the back of her throat, and her eyes fluttered closed.

Slowly,
so slowly, he entered her, and so easily, Elienor was lost once more.

His
heart thrumming in his ears, Alarik shifted, making certain not to penetrate
any deeper than was necessary as he pressed her down into the furs.

He
withdrew slightly, and drove forward gently, knowing he would need go slowly,
for he wished to cause her no pain.

Yet
whereas he managed to harness his passion in the one sense, it erupted fiercely
elsewise. His hands took hold of her filmy linen undertunic, and in one tug,
rent it impatiently from her breast. His lips curled with satisfaction as
before his eyes the rosy peaks grew to pebble hardness.

For an
instant he could only look, for she was perfection.

And she
was his.

Elienor
stiffened, her eyes flying open.

Alarik
vowed to give her no chance to protest. He was glad she watched, for he wanted
her aware of everything he would do to her.

“As I
promised,” he murmured, his eyes brilliant with purpose as his lips lowered to
her breast. He seized both her wrists, pinning them above her head as his lips
continued their descent. He relished the sound of Elienor’s gasp as his teeth
gently closed about the tip of one nipple, tugging delicately. He felt her arch
beneath him... and heard her whimper as he penetrated a little deeper.

Alarik
fought to regain control as he felt the barrier of her maidenhead. His hand
trembled as he thrust it behind Elienor’s back to keep her steady. He suckled
fleetingly at her breast, and then glanced up at her through dark lashes, his
eyes shadowed. He blew softly upon the wetness he’d laved upon her breast.

She
shuddered, closing her eyes, and Alarik had no inkling whether it was a
reaction to his loving, or fear. Yet fear would only hinder the passion he so
wished to taste of her, and so he held himself steady within her. Lifting
himself slightly to look into her beautiful face, he braced his weight upon his
elbows and waited.

When
she opened her eyes, he grinned, for the war in her soul was there for him to
see.

And the
tide was turning.

“Now,”
he whispered, “to show you those pleasures I promised...”

CHAPTER
24

Elienor gasped as his lips again found her breast.

For the longest moment it seemed she ceased to
breathe as tendrils of heat spread through her loins... along with every wicked
sensation she’d never imagined. Her flesh burned wherever his fingers and lips
stroked her, and still her body yearned for...

What?

“More,” she whispered.

She closed her eyes to fight her fear, for even
through the haze of pleasure she could not forget what Mother Heloise had told
her about the pain that would come with her first coupling.

Suddenly he stilled.

Elienor opened her eyes to find him staring down
at her, his dark eyes fixed upon her, scrutinizing. Curse him! she thought, for
his face showed nothing of his thoughts. Surely there had to be more? Something
left undone?

Her eyes filled with confusion, for she’d not felt
the pain, or neither the pleasure! Even as she called herself wanton, she lifted
her chin, willing him to touch her again, willing his lips to return to her
flesh, but they did not. He merely chuckled deep in the back of his throat, the
unholy sound sending a thousand quivers down her spine.