Page 21 of The Shipwreck
Avril silently cursed herself for oversleeping.Keeping Kimbery safe meant being up and about before the wee lass could get herself into trouble.She’d certainly found trouble this morning, letting the ewe into the cottage.Avril wondered ifshe’dbeen such a handful at that age.
From the doorway, she watched Kimmie lead the sheep back to her pen.“Make sure you close the gate,” she called.
Then she turned and caught the Northman staring at her.He looked like a warrior, stern and hardened, about to march into battle.His eyes were hooded, and his jaw was tight.His chest rose and fell with a deep breath as his gaze slowly coursed up the length of her.Finally, he met her eyes.
A flash of heat like lightning seared her as she recognized his expression.She’d been wrong.It wasn’t a warrior’s bloodlust.It was desire, pure and direct.Her breath caught, and her face turned to flame.But his ice-blue gaze did nothing to quench the fire, instead fueling her distress.
She clenched her fists.She should curse him, clout him, kick him.Yet she did nothing.Though the urge to rebuff him was strong, the compelling lust in his eyes was even stronger.
She licked her lips.Against her will, her gaze drifted down to his mouth.She remembered the light touch of his hands upon her face, the warmth of his breath, the taste of his kiss.What scared her was that a part of her longed to feel it again.
And if Kimbery hadn’t burst in upon them at that moment, she didn’t know what might have happened.
“Mama!Mama!”Kimbery cried, jumping up and down, waving her wooden sword.“Spar with me!Spar with me!”
Avril cleared her throat.Of course.Sparring had always helped her when she felt emotionally out of sorts.She could take up her sword and slash away at anger, fear, and, in this case, desire, and defeat them soundly before they could get the best of her.
“You promised,” Kimbery reminded her.
“I did promise.Just let me get…dressed.”A blush stole up her cheek as she realized she’d rushed out in her nightclothes.No wonder the Northman was looking at her like that.
She avoided his gaze as she swept past, but she couldn’t avoid hearing the conversation between the Viking and her daughter while she dressed in the next room.
“Do you have a sword?”Kimbery asked.
“I did.”
“What happened to it?”
“I lost it in the sea.”
“Maybe Mama can get you a new one.”
“Kimbery,” Avril warned, “are you talking to that man?”
“Nay,” she lied.“I’m talking to Maeve.”
Avril heard only whispers after that until she emerged.
“Watch me, Da!”Kimbery cried, leaping about with her wooden sword, battling an unseen enemy.
But the Northman’s eyes were fixed upon Avril as if nothing else existed.
Brandr’s breath caught in his chest.He’d heard legends about female Pict warriors, but he’d never seen a woman dressed, or ratherundressed, in such a manner.She’d foregone her confining linen underdress and wore only her sleeveless kirtle, which gave her a greater range of motion and revealed the blue design on her shoulder and her sleek-muscled arms.Riding low on her hips was a leather swordbelt carved with intricate designs.She’d tucked the kirtle back up under the belt so that it bloused halfway down her thighs, exposing a pair of long, lovely legs that were tucked into short seal-fur boots.
If he’d thought the sight of the woman in her nightclothes was alluring, it didn’t compare to the vision of her dressed for battle.Perhaps that was the secret of Pict warfare.What foe could fight such a distracting beauty?
“Watch me!Watch me!”the little girl was yelling as she leaped about.It took all of Brandr’s willpower to drag his gaze away from the lass’s breathtaking mother.
“Kimbery, not in the house,” she scolded.
“But I want Da to see me.”
“We’ll leave the door open.”She gave him a look then that said the door would be open, not so he could watch the little girl, but soshecould keep an eye onhim.
Which was fine with him.After spending the night on a leash with a throbbing broken arm and waking to a stinking sheep nuzzling at his ear, he figured he deserved the reward of watching a woman cavort about half-naked.
What began as a pleasurable pastime quickly turned into torment.It had been more than a year since Brandr had bedded a woman, and his body responded as eagerly as a starving man seated at a feast.As the woman flexed and lunged in preparation for sparring, she unknowingly taunted him with her taut, slender arms and her silky thighs.Her garment clung to her body, hugging every subtle curve.Each time she twirled to change direction, her skirt flipped up, and he couldn’t help but watch for a glimpse of something more.
