Page 51 of Her Celtic Captor
"Ah, thank you. I am glad we have arrived at an understanding on this and I hope it will not prove necessary to revisit this discussion. As for the other matter we were considering, on further reflection I do believe the prospect of marriage between us would be perilous enough without the added complication of a reluctant bride. Since you have made it clear that you truly do not wish to be my wife, then please consider my offer withdrawn."
"What? You would allow this?"
"I will have no forced bride, Brynhild. But there is one further point I wish to make, and for this I will require you to spread your legs for me. Now.”
It was the first time he had actually asked this of her, though she had parted her thighs for him many times by now in the relative safety and privacy of their bed. Never, though, as she lay face down over the table, in the light of day, her punished bottom throbbing and glowing before his very eyes.
"Please, do not hurt me." Pride fled. She was pleading in earnest, terrified of what he might decide to do to demonstrate his power over her.
He leaned forward to bring his mouth close to her ear. His words were soft now, his tone hushed and soothing. "I have hurt you all I intend to this day, and I would never do so in this way. You know that, do you not?"
"I... I do not know anything. Please..."
"Trust me." He placed his booted foot between her bare ones and nudged her ankles apart. "Open your eyes, Viking. Look at me."
Brynhild turned her head, then forced her eyelids apart and met his mossy gaze, the irises the rich, deep hue of the pine trees which surrounded her home in the Norseland. She longed for the safety and security of her old home, the certainty that nothing, no one would touch her there.
He edged her feet further apart and Brynhild forgot to fight. She forgot to breathe as he spread her beneath him, then laid his palm on her heated skin. He caressed her bottom, first one whipped buttock then the other as she squirmed under his touch.
"Be still," he admonished, though there was no roughness in his tone now.
She obeyed, unable to break his gaze as he slipped his fingers into the deep furrow between her buttocks and slid them down to her core.
He reached her tight rear hole and paused to linger there as Brynhild groaned in utter mortification. Then he continued on, rubbing between her soft folds and inserting two fingers into her slick channel. She tensed as the shaft of pure pleasure arrowed through her. The walls of her quim contracted about his fingers as he inserted a third. He was stretching her, his touch not so gentle now, more demanding, but it felt good. She wanted more. And less. She wanted it all, and she wanted none of it.
"Stop. Please, do not?—"
He withdrew his fingers, only to plunge them deep again, thrusting hard. Her climax was upon her in moments, deep and all-consuming, the most potent yet. She let out a harsh cry, more of a sob than an expression of pleasure, then shook as her body convulsed.
Taranc continued to stroke his fingers in and out of her, dragging every last shiver and shudder of her release from her reluctant body. Only when she lay spent and motionless beneathhim did he cease his driving thrusts and withdraw his digits from her still spasming cunny.
He straightened and went to grab a blanket from the bed then returned to wrap it about her. He aided her to her feet, then lifted her in his arms and sat down in the chair with her limp form cradled on his lap. Brynhild clung to him, heedless now of the tenderness in her buttocks, the still burning flesh of her thighs.
"Why did you do that?" she whimpered.
He did not respond at once, just rubbed his face in her tangled hair. At last he raised his head, then tipped up her chin with his fingers so she had no choice but to meet his eyes again.
"You know all about pain, and fear. You hide, as though it were in your power to protect yourself. But the pain never goes away, and it never will. However, pleasure is close, so close you can actually touch it if you will just allow it to flourish. You must see that now. Cowards hide, but it takes courage to trust. You are no coward, my Viking. I know that. Neither am I. When you are ready to tell me, I shall be ready to listen."
15
She awoke. The house was silent and Brynhild was certain that she was alone.
Taranc had been there when she fell asleep. He had remained with her as she lay on the bed, held her in his arms as she drifted away.
Brynhild shoved herself up onto her elbow and knew from the thin strands of light which penetrated the slight gap around the door that it was not yet sunset. She felt as though she had been asleep for hours, but seemingly not. Her body hurt, both from the residual pain of the switching and the inner torment of emotional upheaval that threatened to drown her. She churned with it, unable to settle, unable to gain any measure of comfort or relief.
He had said they need not marry. Indeed, he had withdrawn his offer, only to then assail her senses yet again with a taste of all that she stood to lose by shunning the opportunity to become his wife. To be wife to anyone, since if not Taranc then who? There would never be another who would come close to handling her demons, who might come face to face with her tormented soul and not turn away in disgust.
She had resigned herself to this, had believed herself content. Now, she was far from ready to accept the lot she had assigned herself.
He had ruined it, ruinedher. Nothing would ever be right again.
Brynhild rose gingerly from the bed and made her way back across the room to where her clothing still lay folded on the bench beside the table. She dressed as quickly as she could and pulled on her sandals. She was not sure where she would go when she opened the door to peep outside, but knew she needed to be away from this place. She needed air. She needed to think. She needed to grieve for the girl she left behind in that meadow ten years ago.
Of course, she ended up at the manor house. Dughall, her friend, mentor and, she supposed, surrogate father now, found her in his solar, curled within the window seat there.
"I had not expected to see you today." He eased himself into the space beside her. "I heard you and Taranc had words."
