Alrek(3)
But her curvaceous body shook and he saw her throat work. He opened his palms in surrender and made a show of relaxing. “I will not hurt you.”
She kept the blade pointed at him and narrowed her eyes. “Of course you will not. You are tied up.”
Though tempted to point out it would be easy enough to snap the frame of the bed, he managed to suppress a response.
“You speak my language?”
“Aye. Where am I?” He sighed. “Pray, lower the blade, lady. As you said, I can do you no harm.”
Those sweet lips pursed further, practically begged for someone’s lips to press against them—his lips ideally. By the gods, it must have been too long since he’d bedded a woman. His head panged and his limbs were heavy. He was in no condition for tumbling a woman, let alone one who was clearly scared of him.
The shaking steel lowered and she rested it carefully against the wall. He tried not to smirk at her sigh of relief as she released the heavy blade.
“You’re in Cait in Pictland.”
“In your home?”
“Aye.”
“How did I come to be here?”
She inched forwards and righted the chair before taking up her place at his bedside. She snatched the damp cloth from the upturned bowl and wrinkled her nose. “You have taken quite a hit to the head. I found you in the rocks, near the Devil’s Door.”
“Devil’s door?”
Her cheeks flushed a tempting pink colour. His fingers itched to smooth over the gentle roundness of them. Maybe it was a good thing his wrists were bound.
“The arch in the rock.” She sketched a shape with her finger and her blush deepened.
“Ah I recall. Our ship foundered not far from the coast. We had hoped to make it to shore. Did you… did you see any other men there?”
“Nay, just you.”
He nodded slowly, allowing his lids to drop briefly in despair, before focusing on the woman. “Will you not release me? I swear to the gods I will not harm you.”
“Those are your gods. I would not trust them anymore than I would you.”
“What is your name?”
“I will not—what?” She blinked at him, long red lashes dashing over her cheeks enchantingly.
“Your name? I am Alrek the Bold.”
She snorted. “Well I did not expect you to be Alrek the Coward.” She shook her head. “I am Ilisa.”
“Ilisa.” He experimented with her foreign name and savoured it. He imagined calling it as he parted her thighs and lost himself in her. Alrek shook his head. For all he knew she was an innocent, though she appeared to be at least one and twenty, if not older, so she was surely married. Either way, he would not be parting her thighs. And certainly not while he was tied up.
“It seems I owe you my thanks, Ilisa. You saved me.”
“I have still to clean your head wound. You will not be thanking me then.”
“Leave it, it will mend.”
Ilisa leaned forwards and parted his hair. He flinched but not from pain. Her fingers seemed to scald him. Hot need rushed straight to his groin and he had to bite back a groan. This woman with her flaming hair, soft cheeks and curves was surely worse than a siren. Perhaps the Gods were testing him, sending her to tempt him—to see if he could be a better man. Well, he would rise to their challenge. He vowed to prove to Ilisa he meant her no harm and intended to show her his thanks however he could.
A gust of wind whistled through the slightly askew door and swirled around his legs. His bare legs. He peered down. Only a thin blanket covered his nudity. “By the gods, you undressed me!”
Her lips twitched. “What else did you expect? Should I have left you in your wet garments to die of exposure?”
“No, but—what if your husband should find me like this?”
“I have no husband.” Sorrow dulled those bright eyes.
“Your father then. He shall kill me for being alone with you.”
“No father,” she said simply.
“You are alone?” he intoned.
“Aye.”
The enormity of what she’d done for him made him drop his head back and stare at the roof. This vulnerable woman had taken a stranger into her home and saved his life. Not only that but she had no one to protect her from him. She had no idea what he was capable of. Once he’d been capable of much, but he’d lost his taste for blood as he had aged. His days of being a warrior were far behind him. Now he longed for a simpler life. A farm, a wife. After this last trip to barter for supplies and find wives, they’d intended to make for Iceland where the land was plentiful.
The vague notion he could take Ilisa with him whistled through his mind. He glanced at her and chuckled inwardly. The poor woman had no idea of the thoughts running through his mind. How he imagined her fingers on his skin, skimming down and cupping his manhood. He cursed inwardly as his erection hardened. Through the thin blanket his arousal would be obvious and she’d figure out his train of thought soon enough.