Harlequin Historical February 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Major's Wife\To Tempt a Viking\Mistress Masquerade (42 page)

‘I know,' she murmured. She pulled back and rested her forehead against his. ‘I hold a lot of regrets inside me,' she admitted. ‘I never thanked you for saving my life when we were nearly taken captive.' She stood on her toes and pulled his face down to hers, kissing him.

It took all of his willpower not to ravage her mouth, claiming her the way he wanted to. He let her take what she wanted, allowing the kiss, but not overpowering her.

‘I never told you how grateful I was that you protected me on the island.' She slid her hands to rest upon his heart, kissing him again. The innocent touches were igniting his lust, provoking him to lose control. When she touched her tongue to his mouth, he opened to her offering, deepening the kiss until she broke away.

‘And I never told you how thankful I am that you never left my side. Even after Styr and I divorced.' She ran her hand through his hair, adding, ‘I couldn't have endured those first few days without you.'

Although she had put her marriage behind her, the mention of Styr was like frost against his desire. He knew that her husband had shared her bed, that Styr had known her intimately. And it provoked a jealousy beyond any he'd ever felt before.

He wanted Elena to know who
he
was. And he was not Styr.

Ragnar took her face between his hands, plundering her mouth. He kissed her hard, running his hands over her body. Teasing the swell of her breasts, down her waist, until he grasped her hips.

She was breathing harder, but she was giving back to him everything he wanted. Her hands were moving beneath his tunic, touching his bare skin, a moan escaping her when he nipped her ear lobe, tasting the soft skin and arousing her.

‘Beautiful Elena,' he growled as he took her mouth again, thrusting his tongue against her own. Her arms came around his neck and he didn't doubt that she wanted to share his bed tonight. The thought made his shaft harden at the thought of penetrating her wetness.

He wanted her to respond to his touch in a new way, to be tempted in ways Styr had never shown her.

You're not good enough for her
, came the voice of doubt inside him.

He wouldn't let himself believe it. Instead, he kissed her hard, trying to blot out anything except her touch. He wanted to memorise her features, learning her with his hands. The raw craving—to take her body beneath his and join their flesh as one—was shocking.

When her hands moved to his leggings, he captured them. ‘No. Not yet.'

Her face flushed and she started to move away from him. ‘I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—'

‘I'm not finished with you,
søtnos
.' He held her captive against the wall, kissing the soft underside of her chin, just above her wound. Her weight sagged against him as his hands moved up her bodice, his thumbs finding the tips of her breasts.

‘I let you take me that night, but you've no idea what it means to share my bed.' He pinched the tips lightly, watching as she closed her eyes, her hands digging into his shoulders.

‘If you want to be lovers, I'm going to drive the memory of Styr out of your head. I won't have him intruding on what's ours.' To underscore his words, he reached beneath her skirts, touching her bare thigh. Though he stroked her skin, he kept his palm below her intimate opening.

She tried to shift against him to bring his hand against her, but he kept it in place. Her green eyes flew open and she pulled his mouth down to hers.

‘Say my name,' he demanded. ‘Look at me and know who's touching you.'

‘Ragnar,' she said in a throaty voice. He sensed how deeply aroused she was, for he was aching as badly as her. But he'd learned, long ago, that the greatest fulfilment came from the greatest longing.

He'd been given a second chance with her. And if it meant casting his own spell over Elena, tempting her until she could no longer think of anything but him, so be it.

Chapter Seventeen

‘T
ake me somewhere,' Elena asked softly. She wanted Ragnar desperately, but not here. Not surrounded by so many.

‘Unless you want to go back to your home, this is all we have,' he admitted. They were shielded from view and Elena didn't doubt that no one would interrupt them.

He moved to whisper against her ear. ‘Can you be quiet?'

The thought of making love to this man a second time, while other people surrounded them, was both terrifying and stimulating. Elena nodded and Ragnar removed his tunic and chainmail corselet.

She was transfixed by the sight of his muscled body. His brown hair was tied back with a thong and he had leather braces on both arms. When he caught her staring, a slight smile played upon his mouth as if he wanted her to remember the stolen touches from the last time.

His hardened muscles were ridged and she ached to touch him.

With this man, she had never felt unworthy. Instead, he stared at her as if she were as necessary to him as the air he breathed.

‘I shouldn't have married Styr,' she confessed, her hands resting against his chest. ‘I was so taken by him when I was a girl, I never saw the man he was.'

Ragnar's face tightened, as if he didn't want to hear any of this. And yet, she needed him to know it. This man had been her best friend and she
had
sensed something between them long ago. He filled up the spaces within her in a way Styr never had.

‘Styr cared about you,' he said at last. ‘He wanted to keep you safe. When we were at Gall Tír, he made me swear to protect you.'

‘He liked me well enough, for an arranged match.' Elena traced her hands over the hard flesh of his abdomen. ‘But it was never right.'

She let her hands fall away, wanting him to know the truth. ‘Do you know how awful it was, trying to mould myself into a woman he could love? I did everything I could to change myself, but it never worked.' The bitterness in her tone was harsh. ‘And then I couldn't even give him children.'

‘Don't do this to yourself.' He caught her by the arm. ‘We don't need to talk about it.'

He didn't understand and she took a breath, gathering her courage. ‘I wanted you to understand that...it was never a good marriage. Even in the beginning. I could never talk to him the way I talk to you.'

‘He was blind to what was in front of him,' Ragnar said. He pushed her back against the wall and when he trapped her hands, she inhaled sharply. ‘But I'm not.'

In his eyes, Elena saw the open yearning. It reached into her, past the heartache of a husband who had never been able to love her. She'd tried so long to change herself to be the woman Styr wanted. And here was a man who didn't want her to change at all.

‘Perhaps
I
was the one who was blind to what was in front of me,' she said.

And it was true. She'd sensed all along that Ragnar had feelings for her, though he'd been careful not to show them. ‘Or am I wrong?'

He framed her face with his hands. ‘What do you think,
søtnos
?'

His words gave her a boldness she'd never imagined. She pulled him down to kiss him, but instead of the familiar, soul-stealing kisses he'd claimed before, this one was softer.

It was an awakening, a sense that she'd known this man for so many years...and yet she didn't know him at all. Her breathing quickened and the rush of arousal that filled her was one she'd never before experienced. There was no guilt or remorse. Only a new beginning.

He was learning her, tracing his hands over her hair and face. And when he bent to her throat, she leaned back, shuddering as his tongue flicked against her pulse.

She pulled back to look at him and for the first time, she realised how much Ragnar had come to mean to her. He'd stood by her when she'd been taken captive and they'd managed to survive. He'd been there for her during the worst of times.

Yet she wanted to know him better.

His hands were moving over her, gently loosening the laces of her gown. But she didn't want a hurried night of lovemaking—at least, not now. She wanted to slow down, to open her eyes to the man before her. To know him, the way he'd known her all these years in secret silence.

‘Slow down,' she whispered, stepping back. There was a fleeting look of surprise on his face, but she touched his bare chest, caressing him.

‘I always admired you, even when I was a girl,' she admitted. ‘Even if I was already betrothed to Styr...I enjoyed watching you.' She traced the outline of his muscles, where skin and sinew joined to a harsh pulse at his throat. ‘You moved like no man I'd ever seen before.'

‘I wanted to prove myself,' he admitted. ‘Fighting was all I knew how to do.'

‘There's more to you than a sword and a shield,' she said. ‘You are a man of honour and courage.'

‘None of my thoughts were ever honourable towards you,' he said, his tone turning deeper. ‘I never gave voice to them, but I imagined taking you away from Styr. Capturing you and claiming you.'

‘I wanted you to claim me,' she admitted. ‘That night when I dreamed of you. When I forced you to touch me.'

‘You didn't force me to do anything I hadn't already imagined.' He reached out and drew her face to his, staring down into her eyes. ‘I don't care what Styr ever said to you or what he thought. You're perfect in my eyes and always have been.'

A soft ache caught her heart, for no one had ever said that to her. She felt a yearning to show this man that he had nothing to prove. That she did care for him.

They were shielded by the wooden partition, but she was fully aware of the others nearby. Ragnar knelt down to the hem of her skirts, lifting them as his hands moved over her bare calves. He slid his palms over her thighs and hips, until he removed the gown and she stood naked before him.

Her breasts tightened and Ragnar laid her clothing down on the ground. Although she was shy, afraid that someone would interrupt them, she wanted this man.

Before she would let him lay her down, she stopped him. ‘I want to see you.' Her eyes rested upon the bulge of his erection.

Ragnar untied his leggings, until his naked body was revealed to her. She was fascinated by the differences in him. His legs were thicker, his body honed like a sharp blade. And she knew well enough what it was like to have him inside her.

She lay down upon her clothing, feeling more nervous this time. Her mind spun with fears, even though she knew he would not hurt her. She had lain with him before and it had been thrilling beyond anything she'd known.

But even with him, she had not become pregnant. Her courses had come and gone, and she was left to realise that lovemaking would not be about creating a child. She had to let go of that dream and find happiness in another way.

When she reached for Ragnar, he took her wrists and laid them above her head, lifting her breasts towards him. With his voice low, he said, ‘The last time, you took your pleasure from me, for your own desires. Now I'm going to take mine.'

He covered her erect nipple with his warm mouth, sending a jolt of arousal flooding through her. With his tongue, he swirled and suckled her, making her want so much more.

Ragnar took one of her hands down and brought it between her legs. ‘Put your fingers there and don't move your hands.'

She didn't understand at first what he meant, but when he kept the pressure there, he bent to her other breast. A startling shimmer of pleasure rocked through her.

She started to touch herself, but he stopped her. ‘No. Keep your hand there and don't move it.'

He lifted one of her legs up, bending her knee and touching her skin. He claimed her mouth, his tongue twining with hers. The raw sensations were coursing so fast, she imagined that the pressure of her fingers was his hard length. She was wet for him, wanting to have him joined with her.

To encourage him, when he freed her left hand, she reached for him, circling his shaft with her palm. He kissed her harder, hissing when she began moving her hand up and down.

He pressed his hand atop hers, his fingers dipping into her wetness. And although it brought her pleasure, she fought against the rush of sensation, almost afraid of the way he was making her feel. It was happening too fast and she bit her lip hard.

‘Don't scream,' he whispered against her ear as he thrust inside her body with his fingers. The command made her want to cry out and she couldn't believe how violent her feelings had become. His thumb edged her hooded flesh while his fingers caressed inside her. The sensations built up within, until she was trembling.

Ragnar shocked her when he immediately pressed his rigid length between her legs. The pressure of his thick erection drew an unbidden moan from her lips. It felt so good with him there and the shimmering pressure took hold again.

Then, finally, when he sheathed himself inside her, she let out a sharp gasp.

‘Don't cry out,' he breathed against her mouth. ‘I don't want you thinking at all. I only want you to feel me inside you and know that no one will come between us again.'

By the blood of Freya, she had never felt so aroused. But that was what Ragnar wanted. He was trying to force away the memories of her first husband, putting himself in their place.

He held himself deep inside and with his mouth, he began giving attention to her breast again. He circled the tip, biting gently while his hips moved in a rhythmic circle.

‘All these years, I saw the two of you together and I imagined him doing this to you.' He withdrew nearly all the way before plunging deeply, connecting their bodies. ‘I wanted to kill him for touching you.'

She was wet and desperate for more. ‘Don't bring Styr into this,' she demanded. ‘This isn't about him.'

He quickened the rhythm, using shallow thrusts to press against her. She couldn't stop the spasms of arousal that took hold, and though she wanted to force him closer, she knew that he would not cease his assault upon her senses. She locked her legs around his waist, but Ragnar overpowered her, pulling out until she was quivering with a greater need.

‘I don't want you ever to think of him again,' he said quietly, until she grew even more tense, not knowing what he would do. His mouth kissed her stomach, while his hand touched her soft curls.

Ragnar cupped her bottom and touched her intimately, dipping his fingers into her wetness. Her fingers dug into the ground, gripping the earth as he tormented her with the pressure of his thumb against her hooded flesh.

She was coming apart from the inside. Though she could hardly bear what he was doing, she understood why. He wanted to torture her, taking vengeance against her body for having had another man before him. He was going to continue touching her, until she was wild with need.

And the more she fought against the sensations, the stronger they grew. Molten heat clawed inside her as the shimmering excitement mounted harder.

Without warning, Ragnar grasped her hips and thrust his shaft inside her again. The abrupt sensation sent her flying over the edge and she dug her nails into his shoulders as he spun her off into a release so hard, she couldn't stop the tremors. He rode her deeply, their bodies slick with sweat, until she was no longer able to grasp a single thought. The instinctive, animal urges commanded her now and she gripped his hips, forcing him to penetrate her hard and deeply.

Every part of her convulsed against him as yet another release tore through her. She was liquid and primal, and he withdrew and turned her on to her hands and knees, thrusting again inside her as his hands filled with her breasts.

By the goddess, she was so overcome by lust, she could do nothing except surrender to him. He was commanding her, dominating her in every way as he pounded into her.

‘Enough,' she pleaded and at last he released his seed into her, his body jerking until he collapsed atop her.

Ragnar remained buried inside, his body covering hers. And now that it was over, she questioned whether he'd made love to her because he cared about her...or whether he was trying to prove that he was a better man than Styr.

* * *

The familiar hilt of the sword rested in Ragnar's palm. The clouded air was heavy with the anticipation of battle and the promise of rain. His enemy stood before him, yet another warrior he'd faced with the promise of silver. The man's face was obscured by the mist and when Ragnar struck out with his sword, the metal bit into a wooden shield. Seconds later, a sharp sting sliced through his upper arm and blood spilled over his skin.

His muscles strained as he slashed and swung, but his energy began to drain from the wound. And when he reached into his reserve of strength, calling upon all that he had, his weapon struck the killing blow.

When he removed the man's helm, he saw the face of Styr.

Horror filled Ragnar when he saw his friend's sightless eyes, his body covered in blood. A raw cry tore from his throat but the body blurred, shifting and transforming into the body of Matheus. The child lay lifeless on the ground, blood spilling from his heart.

* * *

‘Ragnar!'

The nightmare vanished, but when he opened his eyes, he saw that he was holding a dagger pointed at Elena's throat. He dropped it immediately, stunned to realise that he'd raised a weapon to her.

‘You were dreaming,' she said softly.

He'd nearly hurt her in his sleep. Somehow she must have touched him and he'd reacted out of instinct, seizing his weapon.

‘I could have hurt you.' The knowledge struck him to the bone. Never in his life had he thought he could harm Elena. But the dream revealed a truth he couldn't deny. In the midst of fighting, when he was lost in the haze of battle, nothing would stop him from killing.