The Temperate Warrior (14 page)

Bearing in mind the many years Gustaf’s men had waited for this moment, she endured the pains and aches of their excursion without a word of complaint, anxious for the next break they’d take to water and rest the horses. By day three, she was exhausted and could barely sit upright. The soreness in her thighs spread to her bones and she thought her legs might dislocate at the hips. At one point, she recalled wishing they would so she wouldn’t feel the agony anymore.

Unable to withstand the torture, she slumped against the solid wall of Gustaf’s chest and the heavy weight of her head slung back on his shoulder.

“Jørgen,” she heard him call out. “We need to stop for the night.”

She mumbled something akin to
nay, I am fine
, but thankfully was ignored. The uncomfortable gait of the horse ceased and she felt Gustaf shift her weight to one arm. Her body felt lifeless and weak as if she’d soon topple to the ground. She had no energy to brace herself. If she fell to the earth, at least she would no longer be subject to the misery of a large hoofed animal between her legs.

She felt his grip around her waist tighten and his other arm slip behind her knees, lifting her from the unforgiving saddle. The relief of this position washed through her, the smart of her discomfort fading as she lay draped in his arms.

With a thud, his feet hit the ground and the jolt of his descent ricocheted through her aching spine. She must have groaned for he apologized and hoisted her higher in his embrace. She heard him spout a few orders, the shuffle of his men’s feet close by. Several strides later, her body came to rest on a soft hide spread upon the ground. It felt glorious to be horizontal.

Her hair was brushed from her face and a tender stroke across her cheek made her lips twitch into a half smile. She’d recognize that touch anywhere.

“Stubborn woman,” he uttered before kissing her softly on the lips.

The warmth of his mouth meeting hers soothed her in ways unimaginable. The heady scent of worn leather mixed with the woodsy aroma of Gustaf’s skin lulled her as well as any scented steam bath. If she felt any stiffness at all, it quickly dispersed like dandelion fluff on a breeze. She was nigh close to slipping into a deep sleep and she’d take with her the most wondrous feeling in the world; being loved by a man who was no less than chivalrous.

Chapter Sixteen

The savory smell of roasted meat woke Æsa from her sleep. When she opened her eyes, she noticed that morning had broken over the horizon and Gustaf was sitting beside her, turning a hare on a spit over a fire.

She made an effort to sit up, only to be reminded of their grueling moments spent on horseback. Her body opposed the endeavor, her muscles cramping as she attempted such a simple task. Moaning, she dropped back down.

Gustaf glanced over his shoulder and chuckled. “Still sore I see.”

“Aye.”

“You slept well it seemed. I do not think you moved all night after I laid you down.”

She smiled. “I dreamed you were snuggled against me.”

“’Twas no dream, my dearest Æsa. I was there.”

She felt slightly vulnerable knowing Gustaf had lain curled against her and she slept right through it. “I am sorry I am not a seasoned rider.”

“I never expected you to be. Here, eat this,” he said, handing her a chunk of charred meat. “’Twill help you regain your strength.”

She took one bite and hummed with satisfaction, realizing it had been a long time since she’d eaten anything this substantial. A person could only last so long on wild berries and mushrooms. Vegetation was nothing compared to the filling benefits of animal protein and she wasted no time gobbling it up.

“Your appetite is good,” Gustaf jested, handing her another.

As she finished the second piece, she heard a lively sound of hoots and hollers in the distance. “Where are the others?”

“We are but a short ride from our destination and the men found a waterfall when we went hunting this morning. They have gone to freshen up before greeting their women.”

She glanced over herself, feeling less than presentable. This was an important day for Gustaf’s men and showing up tattered, weak, and smelling of horse was not the first impression she wanted to deliver. “I would like to clean up as well.”

“I intend for us to do so, but I think ‘tis best to wait until they are through. You know what happens when grown men frolic in water,” he said, wagging his brow. “They turn into devious boys with a mind to dunk anything possessing two legs.”

Æsa rolled her eyes, remembering how Gustaf had thrown her into the cold stream on Skúvoy. “No worse than you.”

Gustaf’s hearty laughter echoed around her. It was a rarity she had come to cherish. With their troubles far behind them, she could only hope it would be a common occurrence, especially after they became husband and wife. She longed to be the source of his joy for the rest of his days and imagined giving him the sons he’s always wanted.

Their conversation on Skúvoy circled back into her thoughts. “
I want to fill our house with many sons.”

“And daughters?”

“Aye, and daughters. I can only hope they resemble your beauty and speak with fire on their tongues.”

“And if they do not?”

“I shall love them anyway for they will come from your womb.”

She envisioned him cradling a babe in his arms and teaching the youngster all there was to know about the new world he’d been born into. That was, if she could provide him a child at all.

Given that no man’s seed from her sordid past had taken root, she worried her womb was barren, incapable of even producing Gustaf’s heir.

“What are you thinking?”

His voice broke apart her sullen thoughts and she struggled to fabricate a credible answer to his question. “I was thinking of us and you as a father.” A half truth was better than a blatant lie, and she’d only disappoint him with mentioning such nonsense, especially since they’d yet to give conception a fair try. “I am eager to be your wife and the mother of your children.”

Gustaf tipped his head in surprise. “From where did that thought come?”

Another bout of spirited shouts erupted, followed by a considerable splash as if some poor bloke had hit the water. “I suspect it came from the devious seven we already have in our company. It would bring me great pleasure to birth that many or more with you.”

“Seven children, you say?” Gustaf nodded as he considered the thought. “You do realize I am a man of mature age. ’Twould require a considerable amount of lovemaking to acquire that number of offspring.”

“I am willing if you are,” Æsa stated, leaning up on one elbow.

Gustaf scooted closer and inclined his body across her torso, bracing his weight on one arm at her side. His dark blond hair fell over his shoulder and hugged the sharp angle of his jaw shadowed with soft scruff. She dared to reach up and stroke the soft curls of his thick mane, but the serious look in his eyes had her hesitating.

“I am most willing,” he said softly, “as long as it makes you happy. For the rest of my life, I will do whatever it takes to ensure it. As my wife, you will not want for anything. What you desire, I will provide.”

“I desire only you, m’lord.”

He bent to kiss her, but stopped midway. “Would I disappoint you if I said I wished to wait until we returned to Inis Mór to marry?”

The warmth of his breath across her lips caressed her starved skin. The blue of his eyes sparkled like the depths of the crystal sea. He was a beautiful man and it still seemed hard to fathom that he was all hers. She could barely contain her emotions as she lay motionless in their near kiss. “You could never disappoint me, Gustaf. Knowing you are eager to share our union with your family is more than I could hope. I have been without a family for so long and to be united with yours is an honor I cannot put into words.”

His smile stroked her all the way to her soul and the anticipation of his mouth meeting hers consumed her whole being. Nothing mattered except this moment, this kiss that made her keenly aware of her heart beating in her chest. Her entire body tingled as his lips finally made contact and her will to tolerate much more of this deliberate torture disintegrated in an upwelling of exhilaration.

She arched into him, craving the feel of his hard body against hers. It had felt like forever since he’d touched her intimately, despite that it had been only a few days. She hated going a single moment without his touch and drew toward him like a delicate flower in desperate need of warm sunlight.

He forced his body over hers and cupped the underside of her breast as he ground his erection into her sex, now swollen and aching with need. There was so much passion in this one little kiss that it seemed to surpass all others in comparison.

She shifted beneath him and opened her legs, eager for him to pull up her tunic and bury his rock hard shaft inside her. As she felt his arousal more prevalent against her flesh, she was reminded of the previous promise he’d made to her:
This will not be last time you feel my arousal at dawn. One morning when we are without eyes, I will have you
.

She hoped this very morning was the instance he’d relinquish his vow. Wrapping her legs around his back, she encouraged him, giving him permission to take her in the fashion she knew he longed for. “Throw your temperance aside, m’lord. Please.”

He drew in a sharp breath and shuddered, his hands fisting the fabric of her kirtle at her hips, ready to hike it up. The hard scrape of his knuckles demanded his need for more persuasion.

“Aye, Gustaf. Take me.”

“I cannot,” he finally spat, breathing heavily. His jaw clenched and his eyes closed. The pain he endured of restraining himself cut across his face. “We are not alone. My men.”

His clipped words resounded in her head. “I was hoping you forgot about them.”

Gustaf sighed and let his forehead rest on hers. “All of me wishes I had.” He nudged himself against the open area of her thighs. “All of me.”

In one swift shove, he propelled his heavy body off hers and faced the fire, his breathing weighty and intense. Reaching between his legs, he shifted his burdensome erection and groaned. His chin fell to his chest and a long sigh heaved from his lungs. “Odin’s blood, you are but wicked temptation for the weak.”

Æsa sat up, feeling the strain of her sore muscles in the process. She ignored the sting of her aching back and touched his cheek, stroking his hair away from his tormented face. “Wicked enough to be punished?”

Gustaf stared at her, his eyes boring into hers. “Punished?”

She drew her finger over the hard angle of his jaw, down his neck and back up into the thick of his hair. “Call it what you will, but there is a fine line between punishment and pleasure. I have known great pleasure under the tenderness of your touch, but I long for more. I yearn to feel the wrath of the unchained warrior. To know what the abandonment of your restraint feels like between my thighs.”

She saw the column of his throat bob as he swallowed. Her words had struck him as hard as any blow to the gut, but she knew they likely caressed him like a warm tongue up his throbbing length.

“Perhaps having to abstain from your urges will force the wild animal from its barred enclosure when the time comes.”

“Perhaps,” he repeated, his voice cracking under duress.

She smiled and threaded her hands through his hair, wrenching his face closer to hers. “I can only hope.” With lust still blazing in his eyes, she took his lips and plundered his mouth with her tongue. As fiercely as she began the kiss, she broke away, capturing his wanton stare. “Sooner, rather than later.”

Chapter Seventeen

Gustaf hung his head in defeat, watching Æsa from the corner of his eye as she stood up with a groan and sauntered away. She would be his demise if he didn’t find a way to resist her. She was a woman who knew how to bring a grown man to his knees. While the thought of unleashing his primal urges at full potential titillated every inch of his hungry body, he feared he would only end up frightening the delicate woman inside. Or worse, hurting her.

Though he insisted she leave her horrible past behind, it haunted him. He’d not known the explicit details of the men who’d abused her for the sake of their sexual gratification, but he could not bring himself to mirror their lecherous ways. It was crucial that she never be reminded of their grotesque conduct because of a careless mistake on his part.

There was nothing he wanted more than to give her everything she desired, to be the man she yearned to have in her bed. He had to figure out a way to harness his self-control, lest he damage the one thing that bound them together—her blind trust in him.

As he watched her disappear into the woods, he noticed the hobble in her gait, reminding him of the selflessness she’d endured to get them this far in their journey. Contending with the hardships that wracked his own body, he struggled to stand and limped after her.

He barely took notice of his men, now straggling back from their chore of cleaning up, and continued his jolt around the spread of trees and bushes lining the stream at the base of the waterfall. He heard a few snide remarks fall from their mouths, but ignored their jests as he’d learned to do so many times before. Except for the one about Snorri volunteering to help wash his fair lady’s back.