Sandra Hill (21 page)

“Like Geek?”

“Yep.”

“It sounds to me like each member of your family has chosen his own life path. Your father should be proud of you all.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

“Was it always this bad?”

“Actually, no. He was a little bit autocratic when we were kids, but it’s gotten out of hand now. Probably because it’s looking less and less likely that one of us will follow in his footsteps.”

“If you ask me—”

“I didn’t.”

She smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “I believe you should reconcile with your father.”

“Not that I care, but why would you say that?”

She shrugged. “He is your father. The last words I said to my father were, ‘You are the dumbest dolt in all the world to take this voyage. And you risk the lives of all my brothers and sisters you take with you.’ I couldn’t imagine how Ragnor and I were to take care of all his holdings in his absence. I called him irresponsible, too.”

He could picture her laying into her father in just that way. But what was that about Ragnor? His sister
was married to a guy named Ragnor. It wasn’t a common name, but there had to be more than one man named Ragnor.

“They all died on that voyage, and Ragnor’s death followed more than ten years later, leaving me to hold it all together.”

“I’m sorry.”
I don’t believe one word she said. Well, some of it has to be true. That’s the technique of a good liar. They take a kernel or two of truth and weave it into a world-class lie.

“Imagine how you would feel if your father died tomorrow.”

Uh-oh! Sucker punched by her again! I should have seen it coming.
“I would be sad, but—”

“I think you would be devastated.”

He ignored her interruption. She always interrupted. “I repeat, I would be sad, very sad, but your argument goes both ways. How would my father feel if I were to die suddenly, which is a more likely scenario in my line of work?”

“He would be devastated, of course. You bullheaded men need to bend at some point.”

“You’re an expert on bullheaded men?” He was trying to change and lighten the conversation.

“That I am. Let me tell you …”

She went on and on and on then about her experience with bullheaded men, in particular, her father, her brothers, her ex-husband, pretty much the entire male gender. He just let her ramble on. He was actually starting to like her tart personality. Besides, while she rambled on, he was able to concentrate on her legs.

He’d already finished shaving both legs from knee to ankle while they talked, being extra careful around those scars on her ankles … the ones that
matched her wrist scars. Sometime in her past, Maddie’s legs and hands had been shackled with an abrasive rope, either for a long time or so tightly the skin had been rubbed off.

He started working on her thighs now. Under normal circumstances, he would have considered this a highly erotic activity. He had to remember that he needed to keep his hands to himself if he wanted an annulment. But, man oh man, as he stroked and stroked her with the razor, he was for damn sure thinking about another kind of stroking. Good thing he’d pulled a pair of sweatpants on. The towel wouldn’t have hidden a damn thing.

“You have nice hands,” Maddie said, interrupting his fantasy.

He held his hands out. Nothing out of the ordinary in his opinion.

“They’re big but long-fingered and capable-looking. Also, they are not hairy.”

Lady, the things I could do to you with these capable hands!
“So, you like my ass and my hands, eh?” he teased. “What else do you like about me?”

She smiled at his obvious fishing expedition. “Not much,” she said.

Good. I do not want you liking me … too much.

“Except for your kissing. Whew! I like your kisses, too.”

He closed his eyes and counted to ten, willing his lower body to behave. It hadn’t worked in the past and it definitely wasn’t working now. “I only kissed you once.”
Way to go, cowboy! Could I say anything more uncool?

“Once was more than enough. I was fluttering so much ’twas a wonder I did not fly off.”

He had to smile, dammit. He just had to. “I liked your kiss, too.”
Why don’t I just throw in the flag and admit I am out of my league here?
“I’m done,” he said.
Just in time!
He stood and turned to the sink, rinsing off his razor and letting the water go down the drain.

“You can’t be done,” she complained to his back. “You haven’t done my armpits yet.”

No way! I am not putting my hands that close to the breasts from heaven.
He turned to let her down easily, and, oh my God, she was unbuttoning her blouse and dropping it to the floor. He should have been ready to jump her bones. She was facing away from him, wearing only a lacy bra and matching hip-hugger panties. But what he saw caused his erection to go down instantaneously, like a pricked balloon. “Sonofabitch!”

Her back was crisscrossed with dozens of old welts, from her neck to her buttocks. His eyes teared up in sympathy for what she must have suffered. He should have guessed after seeing the ankle and wrist welts. He should have guessed.

“What’s the matter?” She tried to turn around, but he took hold of her upper arms from behind and pressed her against the wall. With her hands raised above her head and her body pressed against the wall with his left hand, he began to trace each of the scars with his fingertips, then with his lips. He started at her shoulders and began a slow, slow journey down to her lush behind.

“Oh, that!” she said against the wall. “I forgot about my back.”

“How could you ever forget such a thing?”

She shrugged. “I do not wish to speak of it. I cannot draw up the memories or they will crush me.
Are the scars ugly? I have never seen them, but I can feel them.”

He kissed the curve of her neck and said, “There is nothing ugly about you.
Nothing
.”

“It is nice of you to say so, but I suspect you are trying to spare my feelings.”

“Who did this to you? No, don’t tell me. Steinolf. Right?”

“The very same.”

“I can see now why you would want to raise an army to avenge yourself. In this case, revenge would definitely be sweet. To do that to a woman … it boggles the mind.”
I wonder … hmmm … I wonder if she did something horrible to provoke such treatment.

“He wanted me to agree to a wedding … with him. And I would not.”

A wedding? That’s all?
“Most women would have given in. At the first sting of the whip.”

“Mayhap I would have if it were only me who was affected. But his offer was a ruse to draw my fighting men out of the hills. He would have ambushed them one and all.”

“You did it for your … uh, people?”

She nodded.

“So that is why you want to raise an army.”

“Will you help me?”

“Probably not, though I do sympathize with you.”

“Pfff to your sympathy! I have felt safe here with you, safer than I have felt for years, but that is dangerous to me. If I feel too safe, I will never have the bloodlust to enter the fray again.”

Down on one knee with one hand pressed against her shoulders, he kissed the small of her back where there was a particularly livid scar.

She stiffened and tried to struggle out of his grasp. She failed. “What are you doing back there?”

“Caressing and kissing your scars.”

She was silent for a moment. “Please do not,” she said in a soft voice.

He stepped back. “Why?”

“Because I must remain strong, and you are making me soft.”

“I am?”

“Hah! Any softer and I will melt.”

Son of a gun! I must be good.
Ian grinned. “Are you fluttering?”

“Like a butterfly. Do not try to fool me. You are doing it apurpose.”

I didn’t even know I had that skill. Hot damn!
He stood and released his hold on her. She turned and looked at him. They stood only a foot apart. He could practically touch her with his erection.

A tantalizing silence hovered between them then.

Maddie was tall, and he liked the fact that she was almost eye level with him. In fact, he liked way too much about her.

Maddie was thinking that she liked way too much about the rogue that the norns of destiny had cast her way. She looked at his face, which was often too serious, especially when he spoke of his father. His wet hair was darker than its usual reddish brown hue. Black eyelashes framed honey-brown eyes. There were small lines bracketing his eyes and mouth, whether from laughter or frowns, she could not say. Probably the latter.

She had been telling the truth when she said he made her melt. As he continued to stare at her, her blood slowed and grew thick. Her breasts ached. A
delicious flutter lodged itself low in her belly, way too close to …

He stepped back slightly and glanced down her body. She had noticed that he had taken great care to avoid looking at her in her panties and bra. But he was looking now, for a certainty.

Her nipples grew hard as pebbles, just at his scrutiny. If her body liked mere looking, what would it do if he actually touched her?

And then … oh, blessed gods and goddesses … she found out.

Just with the tips of his fingers, he touched the peaks of her breasts.

Her eyelids—suddenly heavy—drifted shut, and she arched her back. A small moan escaped her mouth. What a delicious, delicious feeling! She wanted him to stop. Nay, she wanted him to touch her more.

“Maddie,” he whispered.

When she opened her eyes, she saw his face lowering to hers. His eyes were hazy with desire, and his lips parted. “I’m going to kiss you,” he murmured, a hairsbreadth from her mouth.

“And if I say you nay?”

“I’m going to kiss you,” he repeated.

She could not say nay if she wanted to, so tense was her body with anticipation.

He burrowed his fingers into her hair, to hold her in place lest she wanted to bolt.

Hah! Not a chance!

Only then did he settle his lips on hers, parting her lips in the process. He groaned into her mouth.

Mother of God! I never realized a male groan could be so erotic.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

He moved in closer, putting one hand on her nape and wrapping the other arm around her waist. She thought she heard him murmur, “I give up!” The kiss, which had started gentle and searching, turned hard and demanding. Who knew that a man’s lips could coax such a response from a woman? Certainly not she. When his tongue entered her mouth and retreated, entered and retreated, she soon realized that he was imitating the sex act itself.

Finally he jerked his mouth off of hers. Panting for breath, he said, “This is insanity.”

He was going to stop. He was going to end their kiss. He was going to leave her feeling hot and excited and wanting.
I do not think so!
She grabbed his ears and pulled him back. “Do not dare stop, you brute. Kiss me.”

He did not need much encouragement, but this time he put his hands on her buttocks and lifted her so only the tips of her toes touched the floor. When he kissed her now, his manpart was aligned perfectly with her cleft, while his bare chest abraded her breasts.

If he had not been holding her up with his hips pressed hard against her belly, she would have swooned, so intense was her pleasure. Now it was not just his tongue dancing the sex act in her mouth, but his lower body undulating against her, too. With each thrust, her nerves drew tighter and tighter. There was a wetness between her legs. Both her breasts and nether parts throbbed with aching.

At some point, somehow, her legs had become wrapped around his hips.

“This is not a good idea,” he choked out, even as
he turned and walked her out of the bathing chamber, her body wrapped about his like a clinging cat. “This is definitely not a good idea.”

He did not stop, however.

Thank the gods!

Instead, he tossed her into the middle of his giant bed so she landed flat on her back. Immediately he crawled up and over her.

“Are we going to make love?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah.” With that, he undid the front fastener on her bra and eased the lacy garment off her. He looked down at her then. And smiled. “Oh, baby,” was all he said.

She felt such joy that he liked looking at her. Then she felt more than joy when he began to touch her. He lifted her breasts from underneath, he kneaded them, he swept his palms over them repeatedly; then he tweaked the nipples so hard it felt good. They became still more prominent.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he said in a husky voice. He put his lips to her breast then and suckled rhythmically.

“Aaaaaaaaaahhhhh!” she wailed, arching her back. She tried to push him off but he was immovable. It was too much. Too much!

Between her legs she felt herself begin to pulse, then spasm. He lifted his head to watch her face as her female parts shattered in devastating pleasure. She didn’t understand. But apparently he did, and he must have liked her response, because he leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. Then he shifted to the other breast, which he licked and nipped with his teeth before he began to suckle there, too.

“You are torturing me,” she gasped out.

“Good torture or bad torture?”

“Definitely good.”

He rolled over on his side and shrugged out of his
braies
, then eased her out of her pan-teas. She tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down. She was about to protest, to say that she wanted to participate in the “event,” not let it happen to her.

“Let me,” he said. “You are so beautiful.”

“No, I am not.”

“Shhhh. You are beautiful to me.” Placing a hand on her belly, he crept low, brushing her woman’s fleece, then inserting his fingers between her legs.

“Noooo,” she said, pressing her thighs together.

“Yes,” he insisted, and even with her legs clamped together, he thrust a forefinger into her wetness and touched her in a place she had never been touched before. She keened out her ecstasy and loosened her legs, reflexively. He must have considered that an invitation, because he began to caress her folds more boldly, even inserting one finger, and then two, to test her readiness. She could have told him she was more than ready.