Master of Craving (16 page)

She opened her mouth to protest, suddenly feeling rejected, but he put two fingers to her lips. “Go.” His voice was tight, his face drawn, and she looked down at his braies. She knew what lay beneath and as much as her body burned for more of his touch, she knew if she were to remain chaste, she could not repeat what had just happened.

Arian hurried to the chamber and suddenly found herself very angry. Not at him but at herself. She had given in to her carnal craving with a man whom she did not know. A man who had kidnapped her! Why had she allowed him to touch her as he had? She was a princess, and he a self-proclaimed mercenary! A notch above a common churl. She was betrothed to a powerful jarl her uncles were kings, her aunts queens! And she had just allowed a commoner to touch her in a way only her noble husband should. Was she under some kind of spell? She had heard of captive Saxon women falling deeply in love with the Vikings who kidnapped them. Was this the same?

Nay.
She was not willing to give her heart over to any man, least of all a mercenary. Magnus would be her husband; of that she was sure. Even if he had doubts and thought her impure, she would convince him differently. She was born to the noble house of Dinefwr, the daughter of the great Prince Hylcon! Had not Magnus turned away the bluest blood in Norway, England, and Denmark, choosing her above all others? Aye, he had, and he did so because he found something in her the others did not possess, and he would not foolishly cast her aside because of rumors. She would explain to him that Dag had not been what Magnus had thought he was and that the Saxon had saved her from certain rape; then she would prove to him she was a virgin in front of all of Norway if he insisted! Arian cringed at the thought of spreading herself before an audience, but she could well understand the reason for it. Magnus would want irrefutable proof in front of those who would challenge him. So be it. Arian dressed with confidence, sure her betrothed would not cast her aside.

But as she drew the brush she had found in the drawer through her damp locks, her body thrummed with heat. Her skin felt hot, then cold, then hot again. Gooseflesh shimmered along her limbs when she thought of the bath and the sensual way Stefan had kissed her. The way his fingertips brushed her most sensitive spots. Her back straightened. Arian pressed her hand to her breasts and gasped when her thumb brushed across a turgid nipple. She closed her eyes and pressed more firmly against it. She warmed, and that spot between her thighs tightened.

What was wrong with her?
What had he done to her?
But more importantly, how could she stop it?

Stefan watched her glide into the room, a golden angel, a princess, a woman whom he craved above all others, and a woman who was out of his realm of ever possessing. She was a royal, and he a bastard. She was betrothed, and he a knight of William, she a lady who under normal circumstances would not give the likes of him a second glance. Indeed, she would look down that pert little nose of hers at him and demand he hang for desiring her.

His eyes narrowed as she approached. The green tunic she wore was too large and it hung down low over one shoulder, exposing the creamy smoothness of her skin. He wanted to press his lips to her there and feel her heat. Her body was firm and supple. His cock thickened in his braies at the sight of her. Her breasts were sweet and the treasure between her thighs burned for a man’s touch. He wanted to be that man.

“My hunger is ravenous, sir knight,” she said.

 

Stefan’s blood quickened. He was ravenous as well. “ ’Twill not be too long.”

She nodded, but made no move from him. He moved past her and slowly turned the spit, ignoring her soft fresh scent, and the way it lingered in the air, beckoning him to come closer.

She regarded him with a quiet gaze and he would have given his right arm to know her thoughts. “Do you desire me?” she asked.

 

Stefan choked and looked hard at her. “What kind of question is that?”

 

“One that requires an honest answer.”

 

He nodded. “Aye, I desire you.”

 

“Why? Because I am handy?”

 

Stefan let go of the handle and squarely faced her. “I would desire you under any circumstance.”

 

“Again, I ask why?”

He smiled and touched her hair. His blood, already heated, quickened. The soft thickness felt like spun silk beneath his callused fingertips. “Because you are brave, and passionate, and beautiful.”

“What if I were not brave, nor passionate?” She yanked her hair from his grasp. “What if my face were that of a hag but I had this body. Would you still desire me?”

 

“I would desire your body.”

 

“What is the difference?”

 

He smiled slowly. “A man can find release between any willing thighs.”

 

“Is it the same for women?”

 

“I can tell you that the whores I buy scream that I am their one true love and I know they lie. I know some women who soften only for one man’s touch and no other will do.”

She peered at him hard, and slowly said, “I am confused. Magnus’s kisses were warm and tender. I did not mind them. But you?” She pressed her hand to his chest, and his heart slammed against it. “You do something else to me entirely, and I do not understand why. It distresses me that your touch evokes wantonness from me when my betrothed’s does not.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Do you think it is because he feels only a friendly warmth for me as well?”

“Mayhap. I do not know.”

She moved closer to him, the soft floral scent of her turning lethal. Stefan steeled himself. More than anything he wanted to touch her again. “Do you think, sir, that in time I could make him want me the way I want you?”

Very little shocked Stefan, but the princess’s question, then her innocent declaration, did. “I—I do not know.”

 

“Can it be taught?”

 

His blood caught on fire. “What exactly are you asking me?”

 

“I wish to know if it is possible to teach the thing between us.”

Her big silver eyes, almost black in the low light, looked innocently up at him. Stefan fought hard to keep from grabbing her hard to him and showing her without delay just how much a man could crave a woman. Instead, he laughed, breaking the tension in his body. “One cannot teach what only Mother Nature can give.”

Her arched brows furrowed. “You speak in riddles. What can the Goddess give that one cannot learn?”

 

No longer able to resist, Stefan traced a fingertip along the full bloom of her bottom lip. “Natural attraction.”

 

“Natural attraction? Is that what is between us?”

 

He nodded, wanting to show her just how naturally attracted to her he was. “Aye. It cannot be denied.”

Her frown deepened. “But even so, ’tis possible to become attracted to someone else and hold that attraction. If one is diligent and willing, there is a chance a couple can learn to be attracted to the other. I have seen many arranged unions blossom into love. ’Twas the way it was with my mother and father. They first met on their wedding day, and twenty years after her death my father still mourns her as if he lost her yesterday.”

“Why do you ponder this?” Stefan asked softly.

Arian sat down on the bench and let out a long breath. She looked up at him and said, “If I am to be honest with you, then I would ask for your honesty as well. For what I am about to discuss causes me some embarrassment.”

“I will be as honest as I can.”

 

“First, I must know, when my father gives you what you ask for my release,
will
you release me?”

 

“I give you my oath. I will release you.” “And you have given your oath that anything that transpires between us will remain only between us.”

Stefan nodded. She let out another long breath, and for a long while stared at the flames. Only the sizzling of the roast pig interrupted her thoughtful silence. Without looking up at him, she slowly said, “I find myself in quite a quandary, and do not know how to extract myself from it without losing something precious.”

“What do you stand to lose?”

She looked up at him. “I have already lost my reputation. I stand to lose my pride, but worse, my betrothed. I wish to marry him. I do not want go back to Dinefwr under any circumstances, and if Magnus rejects me for Dag’s death and what he thinks happened while I was your captive, I will have no recourse but to return to Dinefwr.”

“Go on.”

 

“So, I would need a foolproof way to make Magnus not change his mind.”

 

“You said proof of your virginity was required. He will accept that.”

“Mayhap, but what if Dag’s men get to him before we wed and tell him of what they saw at the pond? Me naked in the arms of a half-naked man who killed my husband-to-be’s nephew, then kidnapped me and demanded ransom. Magnus is a powerful jarl and full of pride. I could not bear it if he cast me aside.”

“He chose you above all others. Why do you now think different?”

“I—I don’t, but—” She whirled away and slammed her fist into her palm, then whirled back to face him. The soft planes of her face tensed in anxiety. “He
will not
cast me away like some soiled garment! I am daughter to Hylcon and come to him a virgin! That is enough!”

“Your pedigree is impressive, my lady.”

Her face folded and she crumpled upon the bench. “But I fear his pride is more so.” She turned to look up at him, and he saw raw desperation in her eyes. “What,” she whispered, “must a woman do to make a man forget everything but her?” She raised her chin and locked gazes with him. In a stronger voice she asked, “What must a woman do to make a man set aside his pride and not care what vicious rumors swirl about court, and see only her?”

Stefan slowly swallowed. His eyes swept across her. Pride was a fragile thing. Many a man was ruled by it. He had seen noble houses crumble because of it. But there were some men who would move mountains to possess one specific woman. ’Twas an obsession that drove them mad. He had seen it recently with his brother Wulfson, and before him Rohan. And even Rhys to an extent. ’Twas a place he had sworn, after the heartache of Lady Lisette, that he would never go.

“He must be consumed by her,” he said slowly.

 

“How?”

 

“She becomes the one and only thing he must have, for to not have her, he would not be whole.”

 

“How, Stefan?
How
do I make Magnus see only me?”

 

“I do not know how to recreate Mother Nature.”

 

She stood and grasped his hands. He flinched at their heat. “Would you try?”

 

“Try what?”

 

Her cheeks reddened. “Tell me what a man desires of a woman!”

He scarcely breathed. Anger flashed in her eyes; she dropped his hands and whirled away, but stopped and turned to face him again. She stood proud, haughty, her chin raised, her shoulders back. Clothed in a man’s tunic with more moth holes than he could count, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever beheld. Heat speared his groin as a sudden vision of her naked and willing beneath him flashed in his mind’s eye.

“Will you force me to say it?” she demanded. “Will you force me to swallow my pride?”

 

“What do you want from me, Arian?” he asked huskily.

 

“I want—I want you to show me the ways to keep my husband abed so he forgets everything but me!”

 

“I will not touch you in the way you ask and not have you.”

 

“Nay, you will not touch me! You will
tell
me,” she lamely ended.

Heat flared in his face. “I will not touch you because you would be ashamed of your actions or ashamed of your tutor?” When she looked away, she gave her answer. And that dark demon coiled inside of him reared its ugly head. He set his jaw and turned back to the roasting pig.

“Stefan, I cannot change the blood that flows through my veins, any more than you can.”

 

“Aye, your royal blood as opposed to my common blood,” he snarled over his shoulder.

 

“Please, let this not come between us.” He whirled around and faced her. “You have put it squarely between us.”

He grabbed her to him and snarled. “The lofty princess has no other choice but to allow the lowly bastard to tutor her in the ways of love so that she may live happily ever after with her royal jarl.” He shoved her way from him. “What do I get?”

She looked at him, stunned. “You—you will have my favor.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “I will have your
favor?
Will you grant me a hide of land, a sow, and a boar as well? And then am I to be forever grateful to the great and beautiful Princess Arianrhod of Dinefwr?”

“Nay! ’Tis not like that.”

 

“ ’Tis exactly like that.”

He swiped his hand across his face and flinched when he touched his cheek. He was scarred, he was a bastard, he did not even have his own horse or sword to call his own! Now he knew how the whores to whom he tossed a silver piece felt when they performed for him. He stormed from the great room, the sight of her sickening him.

TEN

Arian sat still for a long time on the bench, staring at the fire. Dejection, anger, frustration, and a longing she could not name, all wreaked havoc in her heart, and she did not know what to do. But she knew she wanted marriage to Magnus, and when she realized that he might very likely refuse her now, she cursed her choice not to marry him by proxy. He had been most adamant she come to him a virgin; would he look past what had happened? Could he? She let out a long breath and was grateful for the fact ’twas a Saxon and not a Norman who held her captive. Though Norway cast a covetous eye on the island, they were not at war with the English. And though Norse roots burrowed deep into Norman blood, they were not allies. Yorkshire teemed with rebellious Vikings; Magnus, half Saxon himself through his mother’s line, was a most staunch supporter of remaining independent of Norman rule.

The sizzle of burning meat assaulted Arian’s nostrils, jerking her out of the pall that had settled over her. She jumped up, grabbed the spit handle, and cried out in pain. ’Twas hot! She grabbed a nearby cloth and grasped it, then turned the pig over. ’Twas done, and though her belly made noises she had no hunger. But she knew the Saxon did. For a man so large as he, he must be famished.