Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Later that evening…

"Do lie still!" Elin paused in wrapping Rangvald's chest with fresh linens and summoned a stern glare. "And you can stop that, besides!" She swatted his hand, which was creeping about her waist as she leaned over him.

Clothed only in her nightshift, the touch was intimate in a way Elin could not allow, however pleasant the warmth of his palm.

He gave a salacious wink but did as she asked.

Since he'd enjoyed a visit from his jarl, her patient's mood had taken an upturn. He was making efforts to curb his surliness, offering more of the courtesy she was due.

That was not to say she trusted him—even if he had taken to complimenting her cooking and, just the day before, had told her some nonsense about her hair being like spun gold. In his way, she supposed he was attempting to make good on his prior treatment of her, which she certainly hadn't forgotten.

By rights, she ought to refuse to speak to him, which would be no more than he deserved. The cur was audacious and needed putting in his place. He was a typical man in so many ways, thinking he knew best and that she was there merely to serve—but his humor was impish when he'd a mind to flirt and flatter.

‘Twas a sign of his healing, she had to hope, for there had been naught light-hearted in his manner in the first days of his waking.

"Must you bind so tightly? You mean to torture me, I think… punishing me for my villainous ways." He cast her a pained look as she sat back on her heels. "Or to kill me slowly with your sensual caresses, driving me to the brink, with no respite for my desire."

Elin rolled her eyes. "Such man-blather! No wonder you've discomfort, with all the hot air inside you! The ribs must be bound, however much you fuss."

"So sharp a tongue. I'd say ‘twas unwomanly, but that I recall how your tongue can be soft and coaxing when you've a mind to use it in other ways." He wiggled his brows suggestively. "I'm at your disposal, should the inclination take you."

"Rogue!" She pinched his hand, now resting at her knee. "If you've a notion to use me like that again, you can think again."

"A man cannot be blamed for trying." He sighed wistfully. "‘Tis lonely to lie here all the day long, with naught to think upon but the pleasure of your return."

"Pffft!" Elin shook her head. "Your tongue is infinitely more skilled than mine. If it could but reach your own cock, you'd have no need to pine for company."

Rangvald laughed at that, then took an inward gasp, the spasm obviously paining him.

Elin sighed but took his hand between both of hers, nonetheless. It was hard not to feel compassion when someone was so clearly suffering. To his credit, Rangvald had attempted no untoward liberties of late. Mayhap he was not so terrible as she'd first believed and had revived that first day in some strange dream state. ‘Twould explain away some of his wickedness, though not all…

And, just perhaps, she rather liked his wickedness—in moderation.

"What can I get you? The tonic that brings sleep? ‘Tis the best respite." She made to stand, but he squeezed her hand, keeping her from rising.

"Nay. I'd endure it all the night through if it meant having you close. You must see, Elin, that there's truth beneath my jesting ways. My waking hours and my slumber are filled with thoughts of you. I ache for want of your touch and dream of your lips. Alas, injured as I am, ‘tis all for naught." He gave another of his melancholy exhales.

"You can dream all you like, for there shall be no kisses between you and me." Elin slid her hands away. "You are my patient, nothing more."

It needed to be said, no matter that she'd had a dream or two of her own. Those were nothing but sleep nonsense when the mind rambled upon things that would never be. The only man she'd ever kissed was her husband, and it would stay that way—whatever visions came in the night. She still sometimes dreamed of Bj?rn, except that, of late, his hair seemed darker and his features more angular, and when he reached for her, she trembled in a way that was wholly new.

She made the mistake then of meeting Rangvald's eyes. Their intensity struck her like a blow, as if he were reaching for the innermost part of her, pulling her deep within himself. ‘Twas both unnerving and intoxicating.

He wanted her.

Seeing it, a responding tug came from within her own flesh, hungry and heated. She was aware, suddenly, of how lightly she was clad. With the firelight behind her, the outline of her body must be visible.

His gaze was ravenous, moving from her face to the yoke of her nightgown, then lower still. She knew what he must be thinking of… or rather what she hoped. Were those now the same?

How would it be to let him touch her, to feel his palm cradling the curve of her breast, brushing his thumb across her peaking nipple? To feel the weight of him bearing down upon her and the sweet satisfaction of his manhood thrusting inside her body?

Elin squeezed shut her eyes. Do not think such things!

Though she felt less angry with him, she was still unsure of the wisdom of mating with the man. His nature was unpredictable and his blood unknown. To bear his offspring was a lifelong commitment—one from which she could never turn back, no matter the temperament of the child. Besides which, if she gave him but one mote of encouragement, who knew where it would lead. The man was a law unto himself.

"Elin." He breathed her name.

‘Twas enough to make her look at him again, and she was lost to the longing burning in his eyes. What would it be like to be worshipped by such a man? Fierce and frightening. All-consuming.

Devastating.

Was that what she wanted, no matter the consequence? Dare she explore such desire?

"‘Twas the work of the gods to bring me here." His voice was little above a murmur. "It may be that I shall die beneath this roof, but I shall depart this world gladdened for having spent this time with you."

"Away! You'll not be dying anytime soon." Elin gave a half-laugh, but Rangvald's brows were knitted in serious fashion. "I've many weeks of having to put up with you!"

In truth, she hoped he was out of danger. There had been no more fever, and he ate more heartily, but he was yet weak, and one could never know what fate had in store. She, of all people, knew it to be so.

"With your tender care, I pray to Odin, it shall be. In the meantime, my dreams must be my comfort, and ‘tis there I find respite, as you say."

"You dream of me?" Elin could not keep from asking.

Rangvald's eyes held hers, and the yearning within them was palpable.

"There, I'm whole and strong again. Have you imagined me like that, with my arms possessing you? My body moving above you?"

His meaning was clear, and Elin bit back a truthful answer. She barely wished to admit to herself that this man had entered her unconscious mind and certainly wouldn't be telling him of the fact.

Nevertheless, it sped her pulse to think that it was she he dreamt of. ‘Twas vanity, she supposed, and loneliness… for it had been two long years since Bj?rn had been taken and with him her little Ulrick. Was it wrong to feel this craving to be held again and desired—even if only by a stranger, to whom she meant nothing?

"Would you give me something real to think upon when I'm alone, through the long darkness of the night—a memory I can summon when I'm long gone from here? Would you grant that, Elin?"

The shivers upon her skin were such that she couldn't tell if she was chilled or overheated, but the cause was undeniable. Something was shifting in the air between them.

"What is it you wish from me?" She was breathless, unsure of her readiness for his reply.

"Only for you to show me… how you give yourself pleasure." Rangvald's voice was low.

"Nay! I cannot!" She rocked back on her heels.

However, he was too quick for her, encircling her wrist so it was impossible for her to escape.

"Take pity on me, Elin. It shall be our secret. Afterward, you might tell yourself it never happened." Against the inside of her wrist, he stroked with his thumb.

Her heart thumped in her chest, and she could no longer tell which was stronger—her fear or her excitement. No matter what she told herself, she wanted him to look at her this way and to feel her feminine power.

But there would be no going back.

With the smallest motion, she nodded and received his smile in return. He released her, letting his fingertips trail across her palm until their contact broke. ‘Twas difficult to know how to begin, but with lowered eyes, she gathered the hem of her nightgown, bunching it upward, then widened her knees. She shifted to place one foot flat upon the floor and slipped her hand beneath the fabric. From the position in which he lay, there would be nothing concealed.

"Though it be your hand, imagine ‘tis mine possessing you." His breaths came faster.

She skimmed upward, teasing her inner thigh, toward the damp curls at the apex. Brushing her fingers there, she paused.

Was she really going to do this?

"Push inside." His voice was coaxing. "Two fingers, deep. One thrust."

Doing as he asked, she released a small gasp. The position in which she was seated made the channel especially tight. Holding her fingers there, her inner muscles clenched upon them.

"Again." This time, there was a note of insistence.

She withdrew to the threshold before penetrating once more, sliding through her own warmth, past flesh ridged and smooth. Buried to the knuckle of her hand, she crooked upward and uttered a gentle moan. There was a place, hard to reach, which offered an unusual sensation when caressed—quite different from taking a man.

It had been a long time since she'd done this. Why was that? She'd forgotten how good it felt. Closing her eyes, she explored there, all the while pressing the pad of her thumb to the outer part between her labia. She moved to locate the tiny, hidden nub, testing its sensitivity with a featherlight touch.

"Look at me , Elin." His voice intruded.

He'd unwrapped the linens from about his hips. Springing from the dark hair at his groin, his cock was prominent. He tugged the column with a sharp rhythm, from the middle to the engorged head, an intent look cloaking his features.

"Open wider." He was panting hard.

She'd brought about his erection. It was hers! The urge to go to him, placing it in her mouth, was strong. She hadn't forgotten him holding down her head before, but this time, she would not be obliged against her will. She wanted to feel him and to taste him. She wanted him to release in her throat.

"Elin!" The command was abrupt, his voice rough with desire. "Show me where you want my cock. Show me!"

Her fingers obeyed, splaying her lips. She was incredibly wet, and part of her was ashamed for him to see it, but her body could not help responding.

The glint in his pupils was dangerous. "I need more."

Despite her own arousal, a pang of fear took her. Would he force her harder this time? Or did he mean for her to mount him? She wasn't sure about that. There was still much she didn't know about him.

She was past her fertile time in any case. Was that good or bad? If they were to join their bodies, it would be an act of lust rather than with the likelihood of creating a child.

And what's wrong with that? He is a man, and I am a woman. If we're both willing, there can be no harm.

Unless he's too abandoned—in which case, he might hurt himself.

But ‘tis not right. Before I take his seed to my womb, now or at some future time, I must tell him my true intent. He has a right to know the purpose for which he's kept.

Rangvald was still fisting himself, all the while focused upon her slickness. His tongue darted to his lips.

"Come here."

"I don't… you're not strong enough. We mustn't." Throwing down the hem of her nightshift, Elin clamped her legs together. She was the sensible one, nursing him to health. Had the fever returned? It would explain the dark glimmer in his eyes.

"Don't argue, Elin." The order was delivered with steely determination. "Spread your legs above my mouth and let me drink. Then, I'm going to fuck you with my tongue."