Despite his words, she resolved to lie still until she worked out what to do. His probing mouth made the flames fan higher. She gripped his shoulders before tangling her hands in his hair and holding him against her breast. A deep shuddering went through her.
He raised his head and looked at her.
‘Is that everything?’ she whispered.
‘No, there is more. Much more.’ He placed kisses down her skin. His mouth moved inexorably lower to the nest of curls at the apex of her thighs. He slipped a finger in between her thighs, stroked, round and round, sometimes slipping into that place within her. Each time he did that the warm heat within her grew. Her thighs parted. He placed his palm against her while his fingers danced against her secret place.
Her body arched upwards again. The heat which had been growing again within her exploded. And she knew she craved more than his fingers there.
‘Please.’
He took off his trousers, allowing his rampant manhood to spring free. He was far larger than she’d considered.
‘See how I want you,’ he growled in her ear. ‘Touch me. Hold me.’
She closed her hand around his hot silken hardness. He groaned deep in his throat. ‘Put me where you want me. Hurry.’
Instinctively she guided him to between her thighs, to her secret place which ached for his most intimate touch.
He sighed in the back of his throat as his tip nudged her, making the heat ripple through her again.
‘I’m sorry, Ceanna, but this will hurt,’ he said against her ear.
She nodded, unable to speak. Her stepmother and aunt had both emphasised the pain, but neither of them had spoken about the pleasure infusing her body. The brief intense pain caused her to sharply gasp. But her body opened and the pain subsided, as if it had never been.
‘Hush.’ He kissed the side of her temple. He lay completely still, embedded within her. Her hips began to move with a primitive rhythm. He answered her tentative movement and the wondrous heat filled her again, engulfing her.
At her joyous cry, he gave a great shudder and drove deeper.
When she came back to earth, she found he was looking at her as the rush lamp gave out its final glimmer of light.
He smoothed the damp tendrils of hair from her forehead. ‘I’m sorry. It is never very good the first time.’
‘You mean it gets better than this?’
He rolled off her and laughed, making the bed shake. ‘You always surprise me, Skadi.’
He quickly left and the air cooled. In a heartbeat he was back beside her.
‘This will help.’
He placed a cool cloth between her thighs and gently cleaned her. The coolness contrasted with the earlier heat and soothed the faint stinging sensation.
‘It will make it easier to sleep,’ he said.
He retrieved her shift and helped her to pull it over her head.
‘Is that all?’ she asked unable to keep the plaintive note out of her voice.
‘We have had a long day,’ he said, settling down next to her and pulling her into the circle of his arms. She laid her head on his chest and heard the steady thump of his heart. ‘I want do this again, but you need time to recover. You have used new muscles.’
Do it again. Ceanna hugged the words to her and wriggled her toes. Her body had a lovely floating feeling as if she were on a cloud and her mind started to spin dreams. ‘That would be very pleasant indeed.’
Sandulf lay in the dark and listened to the sound of Ceanna sleeping softly and the gentle snores of her wolfhound. The depth of feeling that ran through him both surprised and worried him.
Every other time he had joined with a woman, he had been looking to find a way to end the encounter, but with Ceanna, he knew he would never tire of her. Perhaps that was a good thing, given she was his wife. Despite knowing that her body needed time to recover, the ache had already grown within him.
He started to understand Brandt’s howling grief at Ingrid’s death. Had his older brother felt this way about his wife? Wanting her in all ways? And what morning gift could he offer his new wife? He had nothing but what he carried in his pack. It needed to be something which would mean, if anything happened to him, she wouldn’t starve.
It wouldn’t be anything like the golden gift his father had arranged for Ingrid, a token of the family’s affection he proclaimed in his booming voice when the couple had finally emerged from their seclusion. His mother had rolled her eyes and mentioned it should be the groom who gives the gift, not the father-in-law and that once again Sigurd had to be at the centre of things. Sandulf remembered Brandt glowering at the golden Valkyrie pendant, but Ingrid had accepted it graciously. One of the last things he remembered about his father was him bellowing at Ingrid to wear her golden Valkyrie and be sharp about it, not to disgrace the family.
Sandulf frowned and tightened his hold on Ceanna’s slumbering form. From what he could recall it had not been found on Ingrid’s body. But that was a mystery for another day.
All he knew was that he wanted to protect Ceanna in a way that he never had for any woman before and it frightened him. He had begun to depend on her. He knew the danger they faced—and how quickly a beloved wife could be ripped away—and Ceanna had only begun to guess at it. If he could do one thing, it would be to keep her in ignorance of the evil he faced and to keep her well away from any danger. But his quest was leading him towards danger. He had no idea how to keep her safe and keep her with him at the same time. And he had no one he
