Twin Passions(35)

It was true, she thought fleetingly. The pain passed quickly, and she was overwhelmed by a surging crescendo of heated passion building within her. All conscious thought fled her mind as she wrapped her arms about Hakon's muscled back, matching the thrusting movements of his body perfectly with her own. His stroke was gentle at first, but then it increased in intensity as he delved within her, deeper and deeper.

Her lips clung to his, drawing from them, breathing with him as one, as they soared together on a tidal wave of raging desire. Their bodies moved in a rhythm as old as time itself, merging, writhing, the hot tension mounting higher and higher until it broke over them both in an exploding shower of searing, throbbing delight.

Gwendolyn did not know how long they had been lying there, clasped tightly in each other's arms, when she finally opened her eyes. She felt dazed, yet strangely at peace. A numbing sense of contentment had settled over her, like nothing she had ever felt before. Hakon's tousled head was resting on her shoulder, and she unwittingly ran her tapered fingers through his thick, white-blond curls. His rumbling deep voice startled her and she stopped, suddenly aware of what she was doing.

"You have hidden your passion well from me, little one," he murmured huskily. "Until now." He raised his head from her shoulder and gazed down upon her with tenderness, his hand gently stroking the side of her face. His lips brushed lightly against hers, his breath warm upon her skin. "You have pleased me greatly this night, Anora."

A twinge of anger flared within Gwendolyn at his soft-spoken words, the sense of contentment fleeing from her mind as quickly as it had come. Aye, so her body had betrayed her, she thought with some chagrin. At least her defiant spirit still remained intact, if naught else! She tried to shift her weight from beneath him, but it was of no use. His powerful body seemed molded to her slender form.

Hakon groaned audibly at her movement, feeling himself grow hard deep within her. Thor, this woman fired his blood like no other! Suddenly he rolled over onto his back, carrying Gwendolyn with him. Her emerald eyes widened in astonishment as she found herself astride him now, her silky thighs hugging his tapered hips. He laughed deeply, a wicked glint of desire lighting his blue eyes.

"It seems I have not yet had enough of you, little one," he murmured thickly, his large hands grasping her narrow waist as he began to move slowly within her.

"Oh . . .!" Gwendolyn cried, trembling uncontrollably, her hands resting on his broad chest. Her fingers entwined themselves in the dense golden curls as a heated rush of pleasure surged through her body. Her eyes, half-closed with passion, followed the fine line of hair trailing down his taut abdomen to where they were joined as one. She blushed bright pink.

"'Tis how man and woman were meant to be." Hakon chuckled easily. Then he pulled her to him, his warm mouth nuzzling her high, firm breasts. Gwendolyn moaned as his tongue traced a moist circle of fire around one taut nipple, while his hand caressed and teased the silky smooth skin of the other. There was a fierceness to his movements this time, possessive, demanding, as he took her with a burning urgency he knew only she could fulfill.

Their melded bodies, bathed in a fine sheen of perspiration, were one in a wild dance of passion, swirling ever upward on a wave of rapture so intense that Gwendolyn thought she would surely die from the surging sensations. Hakon's lips captured hers at the very pinnacle of their release, stifling the cry that tore from her throat. For a moment it seemed as if time stood still, and there was nothing save the tumultuous ecstasy they both shared.

Sated at last, Hakon gently lifted her from him and cradled her in his arms as he rolled over onto his side. He kissed away the tears of passion that streaked her lovely face. Then, reaching behind him with one hand, he pulled a thick fur blanket over them both.

Too exhausted to offer any resistance, Gwendolyn lay her head against his chest. Lulled by the steady beating of his heart, she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Hakon smiled, his eyes drinking in every delicate feature of her upturned face. He marveled at the dark length of her gold-tipped lashes, fluttering ever so slightly as she slept, and the rose-tinted translucence of her creamy skin. Gathering her closer to him, he was amazed at the strength of his feelings for her. He had never felt so drawn to any woman before, but in her he believed he had finally met his match.

"Before Odin I swear this woman is mine!" he whispered fiercely. "And woe to any who try to wrest her from me!" He lay his head back against the eiderdown pillow, but it was a long time before he slept.





Chapter 24





Gwendolyn snuggled deeper under the lush fur blanket covering the wide bed. It was so soft and warm . . . so much nicer than her straw pallet in the stable. Suddenly her eyes flew open, remembering where she was. Hakon! She blushed heatedly, vivid memories of the night before flooding back to her. Turning her head, she looked furtively over her shoulder expecting to find him lying by her side. But he was not there, and after a quick glance around the room she saw that she was alone. She felt an odd twinge of disappointment, then shook her head angrily. What was coming over her? she wondered, chiding herself. She sat up, her eyes darting curiously about the room.

The late-morning sun was pouring in through two narrow windows on the far wall, casting myriad patterns on the wooden floor. The room was a large one, and its furnishings clearly bespoke a masculine influence. Several massive, ornately carved chests rested against the walls, while a low table and sturdy leather-backed chair were placed near one of the windows. Four heavy posts, intricately carved with writhing serpents and grinning beasts, supported each corner of the wide bed, which took up nearly a quarter of the space alone.

The room had little decoration except for the many brightly polished weapons hanging from the timbered walls. There were long pointed spears with lavishly ornamented sockets, fierce, triple-edged broadaxes, and several iron swords, though none was as fine as the one she knew Hakon carried in a leather scabbard hanging at his belt. His sword had fascinated her from the moment she had seen it aboard his ship, with its hilt of contrasting precious metals and the hand guard carved from polished ivory. A conical, silver helmet with nose and eye guards was laid on a roughhewn bench near the bed, along with a thick chain of mail that glinted brightly in the sunlight.

So, this is what Ansgar meant when he said a Viking warrior was never far from his weapons! To think that Hakon kept such an arsenal in his private chamber. Why, no doubt he had left his sword within arm's reach last night while they . . .! She blushed again. She could still feel the heat of his caress upon her skin. Trembling suddenly, she quickly pulled the fur blanket up over her shoulders.

A pile of crumpled clothing that had been lying on top of the blanket tumbled off the side of the bed. Gwendolyn gasped as she recognized what little remained of her linen shift and mantle, noting well the jagged tears from collar to hem. There will be no hope of mending these garments, she thought wryly, even if she could sew! But what was she to clothe herself with now?

"Perhaps one of the chests might have something that would fit me," she muttered. It was worth a try. She stepped gingerly from the bed, her teeth chattering from the cold. Grabbing the ends of the fur blanket, she whisked it off the bed and wrapped it quickly about her shoulders.

Gwendolyn gasped at the blood-red stains that stood out glaringly against the white of the linen sheet. She cursed under her breath, wondering if the Viking had yet seen the proof of her innocence . . . the innocence that he had so wantonly taken from her. She was about to pull the offending sheet from the bed when a soft knock was heard at the door. She turned around, her slender back straight and her head held proudly, though her eyes were wide with apprehension.

A jovial face peeked from around the corner of the door. "So, you are finally awake, lass," Berta said, clucking her tongue approvingly. She bustled into the room carrying a steaming tray of food and set it down on a beautifully carved table near the bed. Straightening up, she was about to say something about the young woman's shortened hair when another knock echoed through the room. "Yea, come on in with ye!" she called out. Two young servingwomen hurried in, one carrying an armload of what appeared to be fine silken clothing, while the other carried a small carved casket.

"Set them down over there. Then be off with ye," Berta commanded in a severe tone, pointing to the chair by the window. The women hastily complied, but not without first casting several envious glances in Gwendolyn's direction. Their eyes widened at the vivid bloodstains on the sheets . . . So the favored wench had been a virgin after all! They giggled behind their hands as they fled the room.

"Don't mind them, lass." Berta shook her head, promising herself to deal with them later. "'Tis only jealousy at your good fortune." She closed the door firmly behind them.

Gwendolyn had not moved since Berta and the two women had come into the room, but she had relaxed visibly. If it had been Hakon, she did not know what she would have done. She had heard much about the cook from Anora, and knew she had naught to fear from her. Anora had said she was a kindly woman, despite her gruff manner.

Berta ambled over to the bed and stood with her hands on her waist. "If you're wondering where Lord Hakon has gone, lass, he left early this morn with Olav and some guards for his uncle's settlement across the valley." She shook her head in sympathy. "'Tis a pity he had to leave you. From the looks of him I'd say he would rather have stayed!"