Page 155 of Laird of Steel
Her cut had healed. She’d regained her strength. She was a bit stiff, but she could move without pain now. Most morns she was able to dotaijiquan. For the last few days, she’d joined the clan in the great hall for supper.
She was anxious to take advantage of the beautiful summer weather. To take a walk in the meadow. Or bathe in the nearby pond. Or ride with Gellir through the forest. And she soon discovered that watching Brand spar in the courtyard whetted her appetite for combat.
That wasn’t the only appetite whetted by neglect and nurtured by the summer sun. Which was why she’d invited Gellir to her chamber this afternoon.
A soft knock sounded on the door. There he was now.
“Come,” she said.
He entered and closed the door behind him. “You wanted me?”
She smiled, leaning back against the ledge. He had no idea how much she wanted him. Especially the way he looked right now. Dusty from the tiltyard. His dark hair disheveled by the breeze. His swarthy skin kissed by the sun. His broad chest heaving from racing up the steps to her summons.
“’Tis been a full month now, husband.”
He frowned, remembering. “Since I wounded you.”
“Well. Aye.” She pushed off the wall and sauntered closer. “But I was thinkin’ o’ somethin’ else.”
“Something else?”
She twisted the ring around her finger.
“Ah,” he said. “Our marriage.”
“Aye,” she said, reaching out to flick a piece of straw from his leather hauberk. “And now that I’m healed…” She gave him a smoldering glance.
“Are you?” He raised a brow in smoky speculation.
She leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Och aye.”
She felt his shudder of desire. Glimpsed the spark of lust in his steely eyes. Saw the flare of his nostrils as he breathed in her scent.
She snaked one hand around his neck to tangle in his lush, damp curls, pulling him down to her. Closing her eyes, she pressed her lips against his, relishing their suppleness. The contrasting rasp of his stubbled chin. The musky, malty, salty taste of his mouth.
He returned the kiss, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders. Growling softly with desire. Exhaling his passion against her lips.
He smelled of battle, she realized. Sweat. Leather. Steel. Hot and manly. She gasped as lust filled her veins with erotic fire, igniting her senses. Her body remembered the ecstasy of swiving. And she wanted it again.
She curled her fingers over the top of his hauberk to haul him closer and deepen the kiss.
He responded, delving his tongue into her mouth as he threaded his fingers through her hair.
Suddenly ravenous, she began to feast on him with unfettered abandon. Her desire rose faster than a rain-swollen stream, and she couldn’t stop it.
She longed to tear off his armor. Pin him to the bed. Have her way with him. And she didn’t want to wait another moment.
“Wait,” he suddenly choked out, ending the kiss. “Wait.”
Breathless, she looked at him in confusion.
He caught her wrists and pried her hands away. Then he gazed at her with smoky amusement. “Are you trying to have your way with me?”
She chuckled once. “I thought that was fairly obvious.”
He clucked his tongue. “If I recall, we had a wager at that tournament,” he reminded her. “And I won. I believe I’m the one to havemyway withyou.”
“Fine,” she said. At this point, she didn’t care who swived whom, as long as it came to pass. “So what’s your biddin’?”
