tourmalines, pearls, amethysts, and sapphires.
The jarl’s mouth dropped open, and he looked up at Kadlin. He held out his hands, palms up, as if asking permission. She handed him the crown and took a step backward. There was shuffling in the hall as everyone leaned in to see the treasure.
The jarl nodded to the men surrounding Bjorn, and they stepped away from him. “Feed and water her pony and stable it for the night. At first light, you will ready her mount and his, as well. I need two men to gather a dozen of my finest sheep from the pasture and drive them to Bjorn’s land.”
He turned to Kadlin and smiled. “You, my dear, are a much better gambler than your uncle.”
* * * *
The street was lit by the torches the entourage carried as they all paraded from the great hall to the jarl’s home. Kadlin walked behind Bjorn and the jarl and strained to hear their hushed conversation. As she watched her man’s confident stride, her heart swelled. She had done it! She had won their freedom. They’d been invited to spend the night as the jarl’s guests, and in the morning, she and Bjorn would ride off to begin their life together.
The jarl’s house was by far the grandest in the village. A fire blazed in the huge open hearth at the center of the great room. The Viking and the jarl immediately took their places at one of the long tables and fell into earnest discussion. Kadlin presumed they were working out the transfer of property, and she moved to take a seat next to Bjorn but was headed off by a short, stout woman with a broad face and ruddy cheeks.
“I’ll show you to your bed, dear,” the woman said, wrapping a fleshy hand around Kadlin’s wrist.
“But, I—”
Kadlin was struck silent when Bjorn glared up at her. Her stomach lurched, and she tried to read his expression. He turned away without bidding her goodnight, and she let herself be led to a sleeping cupboard at the rear of the house. She lay back on the soft furs, her body bone-weary, but her mind spinning to make sense of Bjorn’s reaction.
If only I could touch him.
Concentrating on the popping fire and the murmur of the men’s voices, Kadlin tried to ignore the aching need that consumed her. Come to bed, Bjorn. Come lie with me.
When the benches finally scraped back from the table, Kadlin’s body tingled with anticipation. At sound of the Viking’s heavy footfalls coming near, Kadlin grew wet. She couldn’t wait to have his hands and mouth on her and to feel him deep inside her. She knew she would have to work hard to keep quiet once their bodies met.
When he stood beside the bed, she shifted toward the wall to make room for him then rolled on her side to watch him settle. He stretched out on his back beside her, and in the dim light, she saw him lace his fingers behind his head and stare up at the ceiling. Her gaze traced the strong, sharp angles of his profile. So handsome. The thick muscles of his bent arms bulged. So powerful. His bare chest rose and fell with each breath, and she longed to explore the hard valleys and sculpted ridges of his torso. She squirmed at the building tension that bundled between her legs.
When he made no move to touch her, she reached out and laid her palm on the tight, warm skin of his chest. He pulled one of his hands from behind his head and laid it over hers. Hot juices flowed from her the instant his fingers made contact. Her heartbeat pounded in her throat, and she licked her lips to prepare to meet his.
He lay perfectly still for a long moment, and she felt she would burst from anticipation. At last, he slid his fingers over the back of her hand and grasped her wrist. He firmly laid her arm against the side of her body, released his hold on her then turned onto his side with his back to her.
Kadlin was immobilized by grief. She swept her gaze over his broad back, silently begging him to roll over and love her. Finally, she turned toward the wall and buried her face into the furs so he would not
The jarl’s mouth dropped open, and he looked up at Kadlin. He held out his hands, palms up, as if asking permission. She handed him the crown and took a step backward. There was shuffling in the hall as everyone leaned in to see the treasure.
The jarl nodded to the men surrounding Bjorn, and they stepped away from him. “Feed and water her pony and stable it for the night. At first light, you will ready her mount and his, as well. I need two men to gather a dozen of my finest sheep from the pasture and drive them to Bjorn’s land.”
He turned to Kadlin and smiled. “You, my dear, are a much better gambler than your uncle.”
* * * *
The street was lit by the torches the entourage carried as they all paraded from the great hall to the jarl’s home. Kadlin walked behind Bjorn and the jarl and strained to hear their hushed conversation. As she watched her man’s confident stride, her heart swelled. She had done it! She had won their freedom. They’d been invited to spend the night as the jarl’s guests, and in the morning, she and Bjorn would ride off to begin their life together.
The jarl’s house was by far the grandest in the village. A fire blazed in the huge open hearth at the center of the great room. The Viking and the jarl immediately took their places at one of the long tables and fell into earnest discussion. Kadlin presumed they were working out the transfer of property, and she moved to take a seat next to Bjorn but was headed off by a short, stout woman with a broad face and ruddy cheeks.
“I’ll show you to your bed, dear,” the woman said, wrapping a fleshy hand around Kadlin’s wrist.
“But, I—”
Kadlin was struck silent when Bjorn glared up at her. Her stomach lurched, and she tried to read his expression. He turned away without bidding her goodnight, and she let herself be led to a sleeping cupboard at the rear of the house. She lay back on the soft furs, her body bone-weary, but her mind spinning to make sense of Bjorn’s reaction.
If only I could touch him.
Concentrating on the popping fire and the murmur of the men’s voices, Kadlin tried to ignore the aching need that consumed her. Come to bed, Bjorn. Come lie with me.
When the benches finally scraped back from the table, Kadlin’s body tingled with anticipation. At sound of the Viking’s heavy footfalls coming near, Kadlin grew wet. She couldn’t wait to have his hands and mouth on her and to feel him deep inside her. She knew she would have to work hard to keep quiet once their bodies met.
When he stood beside the bed, she shifted toward the wall to make room for him then rolled on her side to watch him settle. He stretched out on his back beside her, and in the dim light, she saw him lace his fingers behind his head and stare up at the ceiling. Her gaze traced the strong, sharp angles of his profile. So handsome. The thick muscles of his bent arms bulged. So powerful. His bare chest rose and fell with each breath, and she longed to explore the hard valleys and sculpted ridges of his torso. She squirmed at the building tension that bundled between her legs.
When he made no move to touch her, she reached out and laid her palm on the tight, warm skin of his chest. He pulled one of his hands from behind his head and laid it over hers. Hot juices flowed from her the instant his fingers made contact. Her heartbeat pounded in her throat, and she licked her lips to prepare to meet his.
He lay perfectly still for a long moment, and she felt she would burst from anticipation. At last, he slid his fingers over the back of her hand and grasped her wrist. He firmly laid her arm against the side of her body, released his hold on her then turned onto his side with his back to her.
Kadlin was immobilized by grief. She swept her gaze over his broad back, silently begging him to roll over and love her. Finally, she turned toward the wall and buried her face into the furs so he would not
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