‘Then we will repay you for her freedom,’ the captain said. To Breanne, he added, ‘Gather your belongings, my lady, and we can leave at once.’
Alarr’s fury was unmistakable. She suspected that it would take very little to provoke a fight between them. It irritated her that he was treating her like an object.
Caragh came forward to intervene. ‘I am certain that you and your men must be weary after your journey. We can discuss Breanne’s release after you have had something to eat and drink.’ There was a tangible strain in the air, but Caragh met the captain’s gaze, saying, ‘If you and your men follow me, that will give Breanne a few moments to gather her belongings.’
It was the opening she had been waiting for. Breanne reached back for Alarr’s hand and moved it off her neck. He gripped her palm in response and walked with her back to the dwelling they had once shared. The moment they went inside, Alarr spoke a sharp order and the men stood and departed the longhouse, leaving them alone.
Her anger flared once again, and she turned to face him. ‘I stayed with you because I believed you were taking me home. After all this time, I never felt like a slave in your presence. Until now.’
She moved towards the partition, but Alarr caught her by the arm. ‘I don’t trust the guards with you. Or any other man.’ There was a note of jealousy in his tone, and she didn’t know what to think of that. He had already claimed that she meant nothing to him. He had no right to interfere.
‘They are my father’s men,’ she insisted. ‘I know Darin, and he is one of Feann’s strongest guards. I have the right to go home with them.’
‘No,’ Alarr insisted. ‘I do not trust them.’ He lightened his touch upon her arm and instead of a grip, it felt like a caress. She froze when he rested his palm upon her back, gentling his touch. ‘You could be harmed, and I would not be there to protect you.’
She tried to steel herself against the warmth that washed over her with his words. He didn’t mean what he was saying, and she had to stop herself from falling prey to idle feelings.
‘Why does it matter to you if I leave?’ The words came out as a whisper. ‘We both know that I mean nothing to you.’ She threw his own words back at him. ‘I am only your slave. Isn’t that what you said?’
But when she stared into his eyes, Alarr made no effort to hide his desire. His blue eyes held the fire of longing, and he looked as if he wanted to mark his claim upon her. Her skin tightened at his gaze, and she was caught up in wanting someone she could never have.
His hands moved up her spine, his hand cradling her nape. ‘The truth is, I want you far too much, søtnos.’
The heat of his touch evoked a response she had never expected. Her head tried desperately to warn her, but her body savoured his caress. Her skin tightened, yearning for him, even as she knew he would not turn aside from revenge. Alarr was a Lochlannach warrior, a Norseman who would not yield to anyone.
And God help her, she wanted him, too.
The pieces of her heart crumbled when he cupped her face in his hands, leaning in to claim a kiss. His mouth coaxed her to kiss him back, and she melted into him, feeling as if her skin were blazing. Her brain tried to warn her of the danger, but Alarr’s mouth silenced any protests.
‘I won’t let you go.’ He spoke against her lips, drawing her body to his.
Breanne could feel the caged strength in his body, and she struggled to find her will power. ‘I have to go back. Killcobar is my home.’
‘And what if I refuse to let you leave?’ he mused aloud. He drew her to their shared pallet and pushed her back against the furs. Gently, he pinned her wrists. ‘What if I keep you here, bound to me?’
Alarr leaned down to kiss her again, and she suddenly understood what this was, beyond temptation. He wanted her to stay of her own free will by offering her the pleasure of his touch. A part of her hungered for the affection, as if he could push away the loneliness of the past few years. For so long, she had felt isolated, apart from everyone else at Killcobar. And Alarr was slowly taking apart the invisible walls she had built to shield herself from hurt.
His hands moved to her breasts, stroking them through the rough wool of her gown. Her nipples grew erect, and the sweet torment of his caress made her weak with desire. She wanted him badly, wanted to lose herself in him.
But it was an illusion, wasn’t it? Alarr didn’t truly want her. Had she not been King Feann’s foster daughter, he would have left her in the slave market to become another man’s possession. A harsh lump of disappointment pushed back the desire, and she turned her face aside.
‘I don’t want you to touch me,’ she whispered. ‘Please stop.’
He did, but the raw need in his expression made her falter. She sat up when he moved away, drawing her knees in. Right now, she wanted to weep, but she would not give Alarr the satisfaction.
‘I am going home,’ she told him. ‘If you try to kill Feann, I will have no choice but to warn him.’ She could not stand by and let her foster father be harmed.
Alarr’s face turned grave. ‘I cannot forget what Feann did to my bride and my family, Breanne. Justice must be served.’
She understood his desire for vengeance, and yet, she intended to confront her foster father first.
‘He must have had a reason,’ she said. ‘Feann is not a murderer. I believe what you say, but he
