The Captive
and I will steal aboard in the cover of fog.”
    Nodding, Erik turned to leave and then looked back.
    “The men believe your Saxon captive is your new concubine.”
    “So?” Wulf was not surprised, considering the circumstances in which he’d taken her. And while he did not know what would happen with Gwendolyn, he planned to deliver on his promise to teach her pleasure.
    “If it is true, they believe she was an expensive one since they were not able to take women, as well.” Erik’s words did not accuse, but they did convey a tense mood among the men. “And if it is not true, you might consider protecting her with your mantle since she has stirred resentment already.”
    Without another word, Erik disappeared into the night. Wulf did not call him back as there was little to dispute. He should not be surprised that his followers would be disgruntled to expend their time and expertise obtaining a woman for him. But they did not understand that he’d been drawn to Gwendolyn more powerfully than he’d been drawn to anything in his life.
    He did not understand the meaning of it, either, but he knew better than to ignore the Norns when they wove your fate around you. Gwendolyn of Wessex had gazed down upon him from the battlements for a reason, and he would not part with her until he discovered why.

5
    G WENDOLYN CAME AWAKE SLOWLY.
    She remembered sleeping fitfully through the night, a spring chill waking her frequently so that she’d been forced to burrow deep into the straw pallet and yank the wool blanket she’d been given more tightly about her. She’d been aware of Wulf beside her, but not close enough to touch. That had been fortunate, certainly, although occasionally she’d gazed upon him as he slept and thought about how much warmth his large, muscular frame must emit.
    And wouldn’t she be so much more snug if she could slide a bit closer to that natural source of heat?
    Right now, however, as the first purple hint of dawn slid into the high windows of the cottage, Gwen realized she was warm. At some point during the night she had apparently solved her problem of a persistent chill because at this moment, she felt cozy and toasty, her body cocooned at just the right temperature.
    At first, she assumed Wulf had given her another blanket. But as the dreamy haze of sleep receded, she began to realize the warmth at her back was alive and breathing.
    Wulf’s expansive chest fit tight to her spine.
    The discovery was so startling, she had to stifle a squeal. She put her hand to her lips to keep in the sound while her brain cataloged the rest of this new situation.
    If Wulf had not slept, she would have wrenched away immediately. But since they must have lain this way peacefully for some time, she could not resist the chance to inventory every facet of the warm arrangement that had kept her so comfortable despite the chill.
    A thick, strong arm wrapped around her, his hand flat upon her belly. Hard, male thighs backed up to hers, her buttocks nestled into Wulf’s lap. What shocked her most was the sword-straight ridge of his manhood pressed tight to the curve of her bottom, the tip of which nudged the base of her spine.
    She was familiar with male anatomy, obviously. But since her husband had never achieved this condition without exercising it immediately—at least not that she was aware—she found it intriguing that the Dane slept beside her so peacefully.
    Realizing his mood could become dangerous upon waking, she planned to extricate herself from his arms soon. But she could not deny the sense of warm contentment she knew here. And surprisingly, she experienced the same stir of feminine interest that she had during his kiss. The urge to arch back against him went against all reason, yet it persisted.
    Carefully, she shifted her hips, following her instincts while it remained safe to do so.
    “Do. Not.” The Dane’s voice growled low in her ear.
    Yelping in surprise, she scrambled away from the seductive

Similar Books

Nocturnal

Nathan Field

Analog SFF, June 2011

Dell Magazine Authors

Starting Over

Marissa Dobson

Resurrecting Harry

Constance Phillips