Her blue gaze clashed with his. He saw tiny speckles of brown in them and the way they darkened. Her red lashes fanned out, tipped with gold. On her nose, he noticed she had faint freckles on her nose, so pale he could only see them this close. Alrek itched to kiss each one.
“You, Alrek the Bold,” she whispered, “think you are charming.” A finger dropped to his beard and she scraped a nail along his jawline, the rasp of hair making his cock tingle. He gaped like a fish, his mouth dry. Then she jerked back. “But you are not and if you continue teasing me, I shall throw you back in the sea. And we shall see if your gods think you are worth saving again.”
He bit back a groan when she eyed him with twisted lips. The urge to pull her down and show her exactly how charming he could be burned furiously. By the gods, her puckered lips practically invited him to do so. She thought herself spirited, but he thought her plain tempting. Her fire made him hunger for her more. Who could not like a woman like this?
She snatched his shirt from the back of the chair and flung it at him. He caught it and uttered a curse when she chucked his trews at him too.
Ilisa laughed. “Bathe and get yourself dressed, Viking. I am going to see to the sheep. They won’t need water after last night thankfully.”
“Give me a moment and I shall join you.” She looked like she was about to protest. “I need to stretch my muscles. I am not used to so much time abed.”
She folded her arms and gave a curt nod. “Fine, but make haste. Playing your nursemaid has put me behind on my chores.”
Alrek slipped on his trews and stepped outside while she combed her hair and tidied away the mess from the morning meal. The storm had cleared the skies. White clouds dotted the blue above and wet grass scented the air. Waves crashed below and he drew in a deep breath to fill his lungs. Had the gods’ wrath calmed? He had to decide how best to appease them. He couldn’t help wondering if they’d sent him to Ilisa for a reason. A fever could have easily killed him but they let him live.
The lure of cold water to calm his raging lust had him stripping off and scrubbing himself down with the icy water from the barrel at the side of the cottage. Poor Ilisa did not deserve to be subjected to his needs. He regretted his blithe words though her reaction still made him grin. He shook his head. He suspected the only thing that would control this raging need for her would be another dunk in the ocean. Maybe she would have to make good on her threat and throw him back.
Without bothering to dry himself properly, he slipped on the trews and ducked back intoIlisa’s home. She had braided her hair and it curled over one shoulder. A few loose strands caressed her cheeks, begged to be touched. Alrek almost laughed. He probably should have jumped into the barrel and stayed there. Apparently nothing could cool his attraction to her.
That tell-tale stain graced her cheeks. He loved that. The way she brazenly attempted to tease him one moment and the next acted as coy as a virgin on her wedding night. The woman knew how to keep him on his toes. Her gaze travelled up and down him, lashes lowering and rising like a sail. Heat trailed over him as if she’d touched him and he had to move or else disgracing himself was inevitable. Snatching the shirt from the bed, he yanked the coarse linen shirt over his head, ignoring the temptation the pallet provided. Flashes of images—some memories, some imaginings—fired off in his mind. Ilisa kissing him, stroking his fevered brow. Ilisa beneath him, legs spread wide, breathless and wanting. Her supple skin and luxurious curves. Her welcome heat—
“Are we to go?” she asked.
“Aye.” He snapped his head around and near raced to the door. If he wasn’t careful, he’d throw the woman down on the bed and make those imaginings real.
He strode ahead for a while, not checking if she was following. How much longer did he have to suffer this? A Norse ship would come by at some point but it could be sennights, maybe longer. This had to be his test—putting such temptation in his way to see if he had reformed. Once he had believed great courage and daring would lead him to Valhalla but the gods had abandoned him the day they sank his ship and drowned his friends. New land and a new life was his only chance now. And Ilisa had no part in that.
She caught up to him, hands clutching her skirts and breathless. “What is the matter?”
“Naught.” What to say? That his lust for her grew with every passing moment? That her panting breaths made him wonder what she sounded like when she climaxed. He continued walking up the hill toward the stone wall.
“Are you unwell?” she persisted.
“Nay, I am fine. Cease your worrying, little Pict, and let us see to these…” He trailed off as they reached the stone and turned to view Ilisa’s reaction. His stomach clenched.