Twin Passions by Miriam Minger

the smoldering
passion that lay dormant within her. Leaning against the window, he tried to
reason with himself that she would be his completely . . . forever . . . in
only two days' time.
    Anora swayed unsteadily as she stood by the door. Soft
moonlight was streaming in from the window, and she could see Wulfgar's tall
form illuminated against the indigo sky. "Wulfgar?" she questioned
softly, fearful she had displeased him. She had never meant to drink so much
mead, and she wondered if that was why he was so silent. Perhaps he had changed
his mind, and there would be no wedding. The thought of being without him was
more than she could imagine. A low, anguished cry tore from her throat,
shattering the stillness of the room.
    Suddenly she felt Wulfgar's arms around her, drawing
her firmly to him. His lips, warm and hard, possessed her mouth and seemed to
draw the very breath from her body. He held her so tightly she could feel the
muscled hardness of his chest through her clothing. Returning his kiss with a
passion born of innocence, Anora felt an urgent core of longing begin to surge
within her and she trembled uncontrollably.
    "Anora . . . my Anora," Wulfgar said softly
against her ear. He nibbled a tender earlobe, sending shivers of hitherto
unknown passion racing through her. By the blood of Odin, he could take her now
but for his promise to her father, he thought wildly. Her very nearness
threatened to overwhelm his resolve. Parting her lips, he deepened his kiss,
his tongue gently probing the honeyed recesses of her mouth.
    A soft moan broke from Anora's throat. Wulfgar
hesitated a moment, holding her away from him while he gazed at her delicate
features in the moonlight. Her eyes, deep emerald pools veiled by lush lashes,
reflected her innocent desire. Reaching a decision, he gathered her into his
arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her gently upon the thick fur
coverlet, then stepped away and loosened the silver-studded belt from around
his waist. Placing his sword, arm bands, and medallion on the chest at the foot
of the bed, he kicked off his leather boots and hurriedly stripped off his
tunic.
    In the moonlight, Wulfgar's lean, battle-hardened form
was illuminated in all its male glory. Anora gasped at the sight of his
sculpted chest, thickly covered with dark curls, and the dark line of hair that
trailed down his taut belly and narrow hips to end in another mass of curls
between sinewy thighs. She stared at him openly; surprisingly, she felt little shyness.
Her interest pleased him, and he laughed with pleasure at her wide-eyed
admiration. Lying down on the bed beside her, he stretched his hard length
against her and enfolded her in his steely embrace.
    "There is much to learn of love, Anora," he
whispered, tracing a path of fiery kisses along her throat. "Tonight I will
give you just a taste of the pleasure we will find in each other's arms."
    Murmuring gentle, soothing words, he unpinned the
silver brooches from her mantle and slowly drew the garment over her head, and
there followed shortly by her silken tunic. As the beauty of her form was
revealed to him, Wulfgar drew in his breath sharply. His large hands trembled
as he slid the lace straps of her camise from her delicate shoulders, then gently pulled the sheer garment from her body. Stunned
by her beauty, he knew he had never before beheld such perfection in a woman.
    "Anora," he whispered huskily, raking her
body with his heated gaze, "you are truly a vision of the gods." Her
satiny skin, pale as alabaster, gleamed in the moonlight. Pink nipples,
hardened by the cool night breeze, seemed to cry out for his touch. Leaning
over, Wulfgar captured one of the rosy peaks within his mouth, his tongue
flicking gently. Startled by the new sensation, Anora tensed suddenly in his
arms, moaning softly.
    "Do not be afraid, my love," he murmured
reassuringly, caressing the arch of her back. "It is my only wish to give
you pleasure this night." Gently, and ever so