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He swallowed. “Could it be?” No. They’d only known each other for a week.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, but Marteinn still wanted to be alone. He headed down the hill toward the woods on the north side of the longhouse. Before he disappeared between the trees, he glimpsed at Mercia’s window. His future bride slept in that very room. His skin tingled and his cock stood at attention, the mere thought of her aroused him on many different levels.
Then he stared heavenward, raindrops wetting his face. “I release you Kara Dalgaard. My heart is only big enough to keep one prisoner. Mercia …”
Love, goddamnit. I’ve finally fallen in love again.
Chapter Thirteen
Mercia didn’t know how much time had lapsed between Rachelle covering her with a fur and waiting for her mistress to fall asleep. But she couldn’t stay in bed, not when she knew her future husband was nearby. Anger had quickly turned to awe, then deeper emotions carried her to a place she never knew existed. Love. She adored Captain Marteinn, not only for his strength and good looks, but also for the pain he carried inside.
Another woman might be offended or intimidated because he loved another. Not her. If she could win his heart someday, he’d love her just as deeply—maybe even more.
Slipping into her boots and a robe, she padded out of her bedchamber. Perhaps he was in the great hall. She needed to speak with him before Tyr and Rachelle woke up. Much to her disappointment, she only found the guards awake downstairs.
“Have you seen Captain Marteinn?” she asked the one closest to the main entrance.
“He went outside over an hour ago.”
“Thank you.” She rushed through the doors.
Several thralls were working in the gardens along the east side of the house. “Captain Marteinn?”
“In the woods,” one answered, pointing north.
The gods were on her side today. Without hesitation, Mercia ran after him, desperate and excited, anticipation fluttered inside her stomach like dragonfly wings. One more look at his handsome face, one more touch from his warm hands, and she’d pledge herself to him forever.
She stopped just outside the rim of the forest to catch her breath. She hadn’t noticed the light rain until now; it felt so good against her warm skin.
Once she’d regained her composure, she followed a well-worn footpath that branched—one trail led to an altar, the second, deeper into the woods. Unsure which direction to go, she hoped she’d chosen wisely when she headed further into the trees.
“Captain Marteinn!” He didn’t answer.
She pressed on, careful not to leave the familiar trail. She’d picked wild berries in the forest before, but not alone and never this far. Drizzle turned into heavier rain, and thunder sounded.
“Marteinn?” Please be here.
“It seems I’ll need to break you of the bad habit of following strangers.” His deep voice made the hair on her arms stand on end.
“You’re here.” He stood mere feet ahead of her, leaning against a thick tree trunk, as arrogant and beautiful as she could ever hope for. So much for saying something intelligent or remotely romantic. She felt her cheeks flush.
“As for your choice in attire …” His gaze roamed down her front. Heat suffused her body—she liked the way he was staring at her. “A night robe is hardly appropriate for the outdoors.”
Was he angry or trying to be humorous?
“Didn’t Jarl Sigurdsson instruct you to go to bed?” He edged closer. “You are a willful, disobedient, relentless, and intriguing creature, Mercia. What am I going to do with you?”
With deliberate slowness, she untied the laces that held her robe closed, her gaze never breaking with his intense stare. His lips twitched as she undid the last one, the garment falling open, revealing her thin shift. “I can think of only one punishment that will teach me anything, milord.”
If a wolf moved faster than her future husband, she would have been devoured in seconds. His mouth crashed against hers, and her robe was torn off her body and left on the ground. He swept her into his arms, causing her to gasp.
“Do you know what you’re saying, Mercia? What you’re offering me?”
She gazed up at him. His pupils were dilated, his breathing as erratic as her own heartbeat. “Yes.”
“And you want this, here and now?”
“As fiercely as I crave air to breathe.”
