‘I’ve been needing to touch you,’ he said. ‘This has gone on long enough.’
‘I agree,’ she said. His mouth moved to her throat, and she touched his bare chest, tracing the ridged muscles.
‘I want you,’ he growled. ‘Here and now.’
‘Anyone could see us,’ she whispered. ‘It’s not safe.’ But the idea of being taken like this was arousing in a way she hadn’t expected. Alarr was already reaching beneath her skirts when she felt a warm tongue against her ear. She started laughing when she realised that the horse was peering over the stall, licking the salt from her skin.
‘Ugh.’ She started to pull away, and the horse whinnied, shaking its head.
Alarr was grinning, and he drew her away from the stall. ‘This wasn’t my intention, søtnos. It was an impulse.’
She stood on tiptoe to kiss him again. ‘Impulse or not, I promise you this night you may have me in any way you wish. Wait for me in your tent, and I will come to you.’
He took her lips, gripping her hips so she could feel his rigid staff. Then he lifted her up, and she drew her legs around his waist. ‘Or I could have you now.’
‘I’d rather have hours with you,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t want to stop. And the others will wonder where I’ve gone.’
He cupped her breast, toying with her erect nipple. ‘Swear it, Breanne.’
‘I will find a way. I swear it.’ She ground herself against him, and he inhaled sharply at the contact. He held her there a moment, until at last, he let her down. She drew her hands over his chest, loving the feeling of his body beneath her palms.
No sooner had they left the stable, when there was a commotion from the gates. Breanne released his hand when she saw the horses approaching. Behind the first two riders, she spied Feann. His gaze narrowed when he saw her, but it was not the look of a man who was happy to have her home. There was tension there, and it sharpened when he stared at them. Alarr rested his palm upon her spine in a possessive manner, raising his chin in defiance.
Although she ought to be overjoyed at the sight of Feann, her heartbeat began to quicken. For she suspected that he would not approve of them being together. It was more likely that he would attempt to sever their relationship entirely.
Feann dismounted and crossed past the others to stand before her. His face was a hard mask asserting his dominance.
‘You’ve returned, I see. And brought enemies among us.’
Chapter Nine
Alarr met Feann’s gaze, and there was no doubt that the man remembered him. Fury brewed in the king’s eyes, especially when he saw their joined hands. His own anger was barely in check, for the very sight of his enemy evoked the memory of the swordfight. He recalled Feann’s fury when the blade sliced through skin and muscle, nearly ending Alarr’s ability to walk. The past rose up between them, and were it not for his promise to Breanne, he would have claimed his vengeance this very moment. The man’s life meant nothing to him.
‘Alarr and Rurik are not our enemies,’ Breanne said. ‘And this isn’t a conversation I wish to have outside. Come and join us for food and drink. We will talk about what has happened.’
‘I will speak with you, Breanne,’ Feann said. ‘But not them.’
‘Come inside,’ Breanne repeated. ‘We will dine alone, the four of us.’ She did not wait for her father’s agreement, but instead led the way, holding Alarr’s hand in hers while Rurik trailed them.
The interior of her father’s home was warm from the heated stones set all around the room. Breanne gave orders for food and busied herself with preparations. Alarr stood with Rurik, noting the number of guards who joined them. The king was not a fool, and he spaced out his guards in a circle all around the room.
Feann took his place at table, in the centre of the dais. He motioned for Breanne to come and sit beside him, but she hesitated. With a look towards Alarr, she picked up another stool and brought it with her, nodding for Rurik to do the same.
It took an effort to hide his smile. Breanne was eliminating any chance of Feann presiding over them. After she set down the stool, she stood before her foster father, but he noticed that she did not embrace the man. ‘Did you have a good journey?’
Feann only grunted and sat. Breanne joined him, and Alarr chose the seat on her opposite side. Rurik also sat, but he kept a wise distance from the king.
‘Why have you brought them here, Breanne?’
Alarr felt her fingers reaching beneath the table for his hand, as if she wanted the security. He squeezed her palm in reassurance.
She straightened, raising her chin. ‘A better question might be, why didn’t you send men to find me when I was taken away into slavery? Alarr saved me and brought me home. And yet, you treat him like an enemy.’
‘His father was my enemy,’ Feann said. ‘After what Sigurd did to my sister, Saorla, he deserved to die. Why should Sigurd’s sons be any different?’ His eyes blazed with fury, as if he already suspected the intimacy between them.
‘Because they did nothing to you,’ Breanne argued. ‘And yet, your men attacked on Alarr’s wedding day. What you did was wrong.’
‘You have no right to judge my actions, Breanne. What I did was justice.’
‘Many innocents died that day,’ Alarr said. He could not hide the rage in his voice. ‘Your men killed dozens of my kinsmen. And my bride.’
‘So you came here to kill me, is that it?’ Feann’s rigid stare held no empathy. ‘You used Breanne for your own purpose.’
‘At first, that was my intent,’ he admitted. ‘But she bargained for your life.’
There was a faint surprise in the man’s face, as if he’d not expected Alarr to confess
