“Mayhap you did it because you want him to let his guard down around you.If he trusts you it’ll be that much easier for you to sabotage everything he’s built.”
Brunhild bit her tongue.She knew it would do her no good to argue with him, that she’d have to prove her loyalty instead.
When Brunhild finally trudged up the stairs to wash up before the evening meal, she was bone-weary.Glamorgan’s pace had been relentless.They’d pushed aside cobwebs and explored narrow catacombs.They’d sought out every nook and cranny and made certain all entries and exits, and every single window, were latched tight.
She unlaced her tunic and laid it in the clothes chest before she turned to the basin.The cobwebs had unnerved her, and more than once she’d felt the trickle of tiny feet on her cheeks.She’d bit the inside of her cheek to keep from shrieking.If she’d broadcast her fear of spiders, she would have lost all hope of ever earning Glamorgan’s respect.
She was so weary she was debating the merits of food over the feather mattress behind her.
His arms came around her waist as she lifted the chemise over her head and startled her.His entrance had been so stealthy she hadn’t even known he was there.
She recognized his scent, so she didn’t elbow him in the ribs.
She’d bound her breasts that morning, so they wouldn’t hinder her swordplay, and the brush of his thumbs as they slipped beneath the fabric sent her pulse racing.When he bent his head over Brunhild’s shoulder, a forelock of his hair was gossamer on her skin, and she felt it at the base of her spine.
His lips pressed the taut curve of her bicep and lingered there.She whirled in the cage of his arms and placed a hand on his chest —keeping him at bay.“We agreed we needed more time,” she admonished.
Brunhild had vowed he would never know the truth — that her world had frayed at the edges when she saw an assassin’s blade pressed to his throat.The same way it had frayed at the edges when he pressed his lips to hers in what began as a perfunctory kiss.
“I seek answers, bride.”
“Your questions can wait,” she said as she whirled on her heel.She’d decided the mattress looked too inviting to ignore.
“Nay,” he growled as he followed and pushed her onto the edge of the bed.When she bounced and fell, he pinned her wrists over her head.“Why did you save me?”
Brunhild scowled up at him.“I saved you because you are the lesser of two evils.”
His gaze searched hers.“There’s something you’re not telling me, Flame Bringer.Not even a fortnight ago, you told me you’d rather take a Kraken to bed than lie down with me.”
She flushed and rolled her eyes as she bucked her hips to dislodge him.“I am not little.And though I loathe you, I loathe the Kraken more, no matter how I insulted you on the eve of our wedding.”
“Why this change of heart?”He asked as his lower body pinned her to the mattress.
“I’ve heard the stench of a Kraken is much worse than that of an each uisge.”
He gave her a rare grin.“They are creatures of the deep.Likely covered in seaweed and barnacles.”
“I don’t care for barnacles in my bed,” she said archly.What she didn’t say was that she cared for each uisge kings with bones in their braids and blue sigils on their chests.
“What about barbarian kings who desperately want to save their islands?What about hooves and teeth?Do you care to have them in your bed?”
It was as if he’d been reading her thoughts.
“I am not as averse to them as I once was,” she said as she curled her leg around his waist to jostle them even closer.She could assuage her need and keep her counsel.
His expression was unreadable as he reached for the dagger at his waist.“Take this,” he said as he pried her hand open and laid the flat of the blade in her palm.“So you know I mean you no harm, and so you can defend yourself against my beast if need be.”
Brunhild closed her hand around it and turned away, so she needn’t meet his gaze as she slid it under the pillow behind her head.She stood again and turned to face him.
He stood too and laughed softly at her avoidance.“I knew you’d be reluctant to abandon yourself to me.”
Abandonment wasn’t something Brunhild took lightly or easily.She was accustomed to short, rough interludes in the aftermath of battle, when her body needed a release of the rage and energy that had infused her axe.Slow, languorous strokes of her skin made her nervous.
“Just get on with it and be done, each uisge.”
“I refuse to give you yet another reason to push me away,” he told her as he shook his head and feathered his hand over her hip.“We’ll do this my way or not at all.”
He removed his hands and rocked back on his heels, giving her space.His gaze was unreadable, but she could feel the tension in his body, how tightly he leashed his desire.A part of her wanted him ravenous and harsh, so he’d disprove his words and give her a reason to push him away.If this was short and rough she could ignore how much she wanted to savor him.