She stood there proud and unashamed to have him see her thus, with no attempt to cover herself in any way, and he looked long and hard, feasting on the reality of what he had only been able to imagine previously. She was so very beautiful to him, so perfectly formed for all her height.
Royce was unaware that he had walked to her, but he stood next to her now, the velvet gown forgotten, dropping from his fingers to the floor. Everything was forgotten as his hands rose to cup her cheeks, and he lowered his head to taste the nectar of her lips. Slowly he tasted, gently at first to savor, then with the full measure of his need. In those first moments, he was so consumed with desire that he would not have noticed if Kristen resisted him. But she was not resisting in any way. As before, she was kissing him back with an unrestrained abandon. A part of her was fearful that he would stop as he had before. The rest of her opened up to a wealth of new feeling.
She need not have worried. Royce was incapable of halting what had begun. He did not know it, but he had lost his battle to resist her before she even entered his chamber. He had no control over his actions and for once did not care. Passion alone was ruling him, a fair madness that would not abate without fruition.
Kristen moaned when his mouth left hers, but it was only for a moment as he bent to lift her in his arms. She felt a moment's panic—not for what was to come, but for her new and precarious height. She had not been held like this since she was a child and had grown too big for it to be reasonable for her father to carry her to bed when she had fallen asleep in the hall. But the weight that went with her size seemed not to faze Royce.
His hold on her was firm and he was in no hurry to relinquish it, but stood there for a long moment, resuming his kiss. Kristen's arms went about his neck, keeping his mouth firmly fixed to hers, and the kiss deepened as he carried her to his bed.
Very slowly he laid her down so that their lips would not part. And then he was lying full length at her side, with only his chest leaning half over her as he continued to kiss her. This was not enough for Kristen. She turned toward him so that she could feel all of him, arching her body into his, straining to attain every inch. This was still not enough. His clothes thwarted her, chafing at her skin. Royce was only barely aware of what she was doing. He had thrilled to the complete contact with her, but had not stopped kissing her when she leaned away from him to work impatiently at his belt. It was when the belt fell away that he was totally aware of what she was about, for she pushed him back and climbed on top of him, sitting up so that she straddled his hips.
He saw her yanking at his tunic to remove it and he raised his back off the bed so she could easier pull it off. He did not think how strange this was to have a woman undress him. He was mesmerized by the sight of her sitting on him, her rounded breasts thrust forward, seeming to demand his touch. He did touch them, capturing a firm mound in each hand. The sound she made then brought his eyes to hers, and he caught his breath to see heat smoldering in the depths of her aqua gaze. And she kept her eyes locked to his as she worked on the lacings of his braies, not breaking contact until she scooted down to his thighs, and with a suddenness he was not expecting, yanked his braies down over his hips.
She stared now at what she had uncovered, the strong root of him that was already throbbing for her. That she would do so, unabashed, sent new blood pulsing through him. She looked up at him in what seemed like wonder, only to glance down again as her fingers circled the thickness of him.
It was his undoing, more than he could bear. With a groan he sat up swiftly and gripped her shoulders to force her back down on the bed. She was not satisfied to stay down. As he hastily moved to discard the remainder of his clothes, her breasts pressed into his back, her hands coming round to cover his own breasts, kneading the muscle surrounding them.
Royce had never undressed so quickly. The moment he was finished he turned and gripped her hair, his mouth locking with hers in a kiss that was brutal with the passion she had stirred in him.
He pushed her down, and would have ended his torture then, except that the sight of her lying there, his for the taking, reminded him of how often he had ached to know what she would feel like under his hands. He kept her back when she would have pressed to him, and began a slow, leisurely exploration. Lying on his side, braced on an elbow so he could see what he explored, his hands discovered the velvet of her skin.
It was a sensual delight for Royce. It was more so for Kristen, for he brought forth so many wonderful sensations, she felt she couldn't contain them all. She had not thought she could want him any more than before. She was wrong. She burned for him now, her body twisting and undulating of its own accord, her skin seeming to leap up, begging for his touch.
When his fingers slipped between her thighs into the moist haven that ached for him, Kristen thought she would go mad with this shock of pleasure. It stilled her body, brought a cry from deep within. It also stopped Royce, for he did not understand her cry. In no way did he want to hurt her, not now.
Kristen watched his large hand move slowly up her belly, the fingers long, strong, and then she looked up at him, to find him watching her. He bent to kiss her then, a tender kiss, as if to tell her it was all right, he would not hurt her. He was treating her with care, even though he thought her a whore. She was moved by the gesture, more than she could credit. A new warmth of feeling for him filled her.
She spoke to him with her body, her hands reaching for him, encouraging him to come atop her, her legs parting to receive him. She knew what he would do to her, but not how it would feel. She wanted to know now how it would feel.
Royce needed no other encouragement. He gathered her close, amazed that he could, that for once he did not have to hold himself above a woman because he was so much longer than she. This woman conformed to his body perfectly and he did not have to fear that he would crush her with his weight, for she held him tightly to her, wanting his weight, as if reveling in this mark of his possession.
He began to fill her, slowly, marveling that he had the patience to prolong this moment he had dreamed about. He marveled too at the tight sheath she offered him, the searing moist heat. Then the obstacle was met that blocked his easy path, and his whole body rebelled at what this meant.
Kristen was prepared for this moment of truth. Her knees were raised and bent, her feet placed flat on the bed to give her leverage. She was not going to let him stop now, so that he could start again later in a different way. The moment she felt him stiffen and start to raise up on his elbows so he could look down at her, she clasped her hands to his buttocks and pressed down while she thrust her own hips upward.
With his shoulders raised up only partially, Royce was without the leverage himself to stop her, in fact aided her purpose in that position. And having no way of knowing what she intended, there had been no time to even try. He was sheathed completely before his elbows were firmly placed to support him. He was in time only to see her expression, the eyes squeezed shut, the cringe of pain that crossed her features. There was no scream, only a soft gasp.
Her features smoothed out quickly enough and she opened her eyes to look up at him. He could not control the anger that flashed over his own features. "Will you finish too?" "Only if you want me to." He groaned at such an answer, and then he laughed and fell back on her, gathering her tightly to him again, and made love to her as if his life depended on it. This was no time to question why she did the things she did. The fire that raged between them precluded all else.
Chapter Eighteen
A cooling breeze blew in the open window, the first to stir all day. It caused the candles about the room to flicker and sputter out nearly all at once.
Royce got up to fetch a candle from the hall to relight those near the bed, and Kristen shivered at the sudden loss of warmth next to her where the breeze touched her damp skin. She was ready to sleep. He obviously was not.
She turned on her side so she could watch him as he left the room, the dim shaft of moonlight that also came
in through the window vaguely lighting his way. What was he thinking and feeling now? She had no way of knowing yet. But she at least had reason to doubt there was anger in his feelings, for he had been holding her close ever since they had made love the second time.
That second time had happened soon after the first, so soon Kristen had barely come back to earth from the wonder of her new experience, only to be caught up again in his passion. She smiled to herself, thinking she knew now why her parents spent so much time in their bedchamber. Brenna had tried to tell her what it was like, but there were no adequate words to describe such incredible bliss.
Royce returned, shielding a candle with the cup of his hand. The hour was late. He had made no effort to cover himself to leave the room. His nakedness apparently didn't bother him, any more than hers unsettled her. His bothered Kristen, though—not in embarrassment, but in the realization that seeing him like this could make her want him again, this soon after her desire had been so thoroughly sated.
His body was a sculpture of firm skin and thick muscle. He was superb in physique, from the long muscular legs to the thick neck rising from those immense shoulders. The bush of dark hair that reached his neck spread out over his upper chest, but tapered to a narrow line over the hard ridges of his stomach. He was not a slim man like his cousin, but a powerful man, and Kris-ten knew she could never grow bored of looking at him.
The candles on the wall shelf by the bed burned again, and Royce sat down on the bed. When he didn't lie down immediately, Kristen reached out to touch him, her fingers sliding softly up his back, then down again, teasing his hipline. She took her hand away when he turned his head to look down at her, his expression inscrutable. "Why did you stop?" "I do not know if you want me to touch you or not," she admitted frankly. "I come from a family used to kissing and hugging and showing love in touching. But if you are not used to it, you will think me bold." "I already think you bold, wench," he said lightly as he lay down beside her, resting his head on his palm so he could still look down at her. "God's truth, I have never known anyone like you, who could express your love so freely, so unashamed. You make me wish it were possible to love you in return, to give you what you give me." Kristen closed her eyes, hoping he had not seen the regret those words caused her and, aye, pain too, that he could speak them after they had just shared hours of the most incredible loving. He didn't have to say he couldn't love her. He could have kept that fact to himself and let her go on hoping for a while.
She looked at him again, but her pride was stung now, prompting her to ask, "Why do you mention love?" She saw him tense and then frown. Good. He could not hide his damaged pride as well as she had. "I stand corrected," he said tightly. "You have not said you love me, have you?" "Nay, I have not. I like your body well, milord, but that is all there is between us." "Very well," he sneered. "For a virgin, you do make an adequate whore." Kristen sucked in her breath. It was too much, this derision. And she would not accept that insult any longer, not when the reason for it no longer existed. "Call me whore again, Saxon, and I will scratch your eyes out!" she hissed furiously. He grinned at her anger. " Tis a little late to be protesting what you have long admitted to." "Nay, I never said I was a whore. You did." "You never denied it." "You know why." "I do not," he replied. "But I am most curious to know why now." "Then recall what you told me in this very room. You said you would rape me if I were a virgin. I wanted you, but not that way." He smiled at her, then suddenly he was laughing, a deep, hearty sound. "God's breath, wench, you took seriously something I said in anger?" Kristen glared at him, finding his humor ill-placed. "Are you saying you would not have raped me had you known I was a virgin?" "Nay, for in truth, had you fought me tonight, I would have taken you anyway and you would have called it rape, while I would call it my right." "I do not mean that, Saxon," she replied impatiently. "I know you feel you have the right to use me as you will, and I may contest that another time, but not now. What I—" "Oh, you will, will you?" "Let me finish! Would you have taken me apurpose, in revenge?" "Nay, Kristen, not that," he said softly, and his hand lifted to her face to smooth the frown on her brow. "Is that what you feared?" "Aye," she muttered. He smiled at her tone. "We are well met in mistaking each other. I wanted you, but would not touch you because I thought you a whore." "And a Viking," she reminded him. "Aye, but that seemed not to matter the more I saw you. 'Twas thinking you were so free with your body that disgusted me." She giggled then, and caught his hand, pressing it to her cheek. "Do I still disgust you, now that I have been so free with my body?" He knew she was teasing him, but he was not used to this kind of teasing. He lay down on his back, pulling away from her. "Who are you, Kristen?" "That question concerns you overmuch, I think." "The gown was yours? I was correct in that?" "Aye, 'tis mine." She sighed. "Since you cannot have had a husband, I must assume your family is rich." "My father is. Will you ransom me, then?" "Nay," he said curtly, drawn to his side to look at her again. She reacted to his annoyance in kind. "A wise decision, milord, for he would make you marry me." "The devil, you say! Marry a Viking maid?" "You need not make it sound a fate worse than death," she retorted. "For me it would be!" "Ohh!" she gasped. "For that slur, Saxon, I will see you do marry me!" "You are mad!" "Am I? Well, I am also the daughter of the man who will kill you when he comes to find me!" She regretted saying that the moment it was out, but more so when Royce leaned up to grip her shoulders in anger. God's teeth, how they sliced each other with petty spite. What was wrong with her tonight to make her tongue so wickedly loose? "Are you saying more Vikings will come here, Kristen?" She groaned inwardly at the coldness in his tone. She had done that. And he had been in such a pleasant mood only moments ago. So had she, for that matter.
She decided to be truthful. "Nay, Royce, 'tis unlikely. My father would not have approved of the men coming here, so they did not tell him. He is a merchant. He thinks his ship sailed to the market towns, for 'twas a trading voyage. He has no way of knowing they sailed here first." "Then why did you say what you did?" She started to smile, but thought better of it. "You should heed your own advice and not take seriously what I say in anger." He granted at that, but he latched on to what she had revealed. "You say the ship was his? Then was it your brother Selig who led the men?" "I did not tell you he was my brother," she said suspiciously. "How did you know?" "Meghan told me. But why would you not want me to know?" "I thought you would think it unusual if you knew my brother had been with me on the ship, when you thought I was the ship's whore." "I did think it unusual, but I do not know the morals of your people." Kristen didn't know why she should take offense at that, but she did. "We have very similar morals to your own, milord." He let her go, but he was still frowning. "Why were you on that ship?" "Why do you have so many questions about me?" she countered stiffly. "Is my curiosity so unnatural? Or do you have something more to hide?" She gave a snort at his reference to the things she had kept from him, for he knew why she had felt forced to deceive him about herself. It was reasonable that he should be curious about her, especially now. But did she want to appease his curiosity? Nay. Why should she? It was not necessary for him to know everything about her, and would only give him an advantage he did not deserve.
But she did not want to appear to be hiding something from him, either. What would he think if he knew that one of the reasons she had sailed with her brother was to find a husband? She had found this man instead, and he would never marry her.
"My reasons for being on the ship are many, but not important," she said quietly. "The truth is, I sailed without permission, hiding myself in the cargo well until the ship was far from home." "You wanted to go pirating?" he asked incredulously. "Do not be absurd, milord," she replied with disgust. "I told you no one knew the ship was coming here, least of all myself. My brother was furious when he discovered me. He would have taken me back, except he feared I would tell our father what he and his friends meant to do." "You were naturally shocked when you learned they would sack a Saxon church." That was pure sarcas
m and it infuriated her. "You are Christian, and to you the sacking of a holy place is an abomination. But do not expect men of different beliefs to hold your holy places sacred. These were men who had never raided before, but their fathers had, and they were raised with stories of the wealth that was there for the taking in foreign lands. They knew the Danes coveted your land, that they mean to have all of this island eventually. They felt this was their only chance at easy wealth before the Danes laid claim to it all." "If your brother told you all of that, am I to suppose you think that excuses what he planned? Steal from the Christians before the Danes do. The Christians will lose all anyway, so what does it matter who kills and robs them?" His bitterness stung, for it mirrored her own when she had been told. "My brother would tell me naught of what they planned, because... well, it matters not why. 'Twas Thorolf who told me what I told you, and this only after we were chained in the yard below. I am not defending them. I simply understand their motives." "One small thing was not taken into account," he noted coldly. "We Saxons will not be giving up what is ours to the Danes, or anyone else." "Aye, so half of these Vikings found out," she agreed just as coldly. "Your brother died through his own design, Kristen." "Does that make it easier to bear?" she cried. "Nay, I suppose not." They both fell silent, Kristen because she was having trouble coping with her renewed grief in front of Royce. She would have liked comfort from him, and that surprised her. But she knew he would never give her comfort for the death of someone he despised. She moved to her side of the bed and sat up. His hand shot out and caught her wrist. "What are you doing?" he asked, not sharply but more than just curiously. She glanced down at the fingers that held her, then at him. "I would return to my chamber." "Why?" "I am done with answering questions, milord." She sighed. "I am tired." 'Then go to sleep." "You want me to stay here with you?" He would not speak the words, but pulling her back down on the bed was answer enough. She had not expected it. She turned her head toward him as his arm slipped across her waist to draw her closer. "You have a wall of weapons here. You do not fear I will kill you while you sleep?" "Would you?" "Nay, but I could escape," she said. "You have not locked your door." He chuckled. "If that were your plan, then you would not bring it to my attention. Rest easy, Kristen. I have not lost my mind. I have a man on guard in the hall." She gasped. "You knew all along you would make love to me." "Nay, but I planned for all the possibilities. Now be quiet if 'tis sleep you want." She clamped her mouth shut, feeling chagrined. But not for long. He wanted her to spend the night with him. He had used her well, yet still he wanted her near. That thought made her feel very good indeed, so good that she fell asleep with a smile on her lips, and Royce's arm still holding her close.