“There is a bath before the hearth. I will wait in my parents’ chamber.”
He did not wait for an answer before he walked to the next door down and shut himself into the room that had once been his parents’ sleeping chamber. He had not been in it for years, rather keeping it shut up and ignored. The painful memories flooded back to him, first of him as a child climbing into bed with his parents when thunder frightened him then the image of finding his mother on that same bed, brutalized and with her throat slit. He could not take another step forward, but he would not invade Gressa’s privacy.
Strian was unprepared for the door to bump into his back. He turned around to see Gressa peeking in on him, her eyes wide as saucers.
“Strian,” her voice broke. “You don’t have to wait in here. I never meant for you to hide in your own home, and certainly not---” She waved her hand at the room, unable to finish.
“It’s fine,” the words slipping out from between clenched teeth.
“No, it’s not.” Gressa pushed the door open further and took Strian’s hand. She tugged, and he followed without resistance. “Thank you for my bath. I won’t take long, so hopefully there will still be some warm water left for you.”
The vacant expression on Strian’s face unnerved Gressa. It was as though he had seen a ghost.
“Strian?”
“It’s fine,” he repeated.
Gressa did not know what to do. She had caused his pain ever since they had been reunited.
“One day that was supposed to be our chamber, and our children would have had mine.” Strian spoke to thin air as though Gressa was not truly there. He did not look at her before he walked to the front door where he paused long enough to warn her to bar the door and open it for no one but him. He did not say where he was going or when he would return.
Gressa stripped out of her filthy clothes, regretting that Strian had put her in his bed on clean sheets. She stepped into the tub and slid under the water before sitting up and reaching for the bar of soap. She was quick to wash her hair then scrub her body. The water was already growing cold, and she had goosebumps. After she dried herself, she scrubbed her clothes in the murky water. She was relieved that Strian would not be using the water that she had left a shade of brown before she even dunked her clothes in. She assumed he would not be using the water. She had no idea if he would return that night. She slipped back into his chamber and had just finished dressing when there was a knock on the door.
She crept towards it and called out, “Who is it?”
“Gressa, it’s me.” Strian’s monotone voice responded.
She quickly lifted the bar and let Strian in. He did not look at her, instead going straight to the tub. He scooped a bucket of water from the tub and went outside to toss it out. Gressa watched him do it a second time before rushing to grab her own bucket of water. When the tub was empty, Strian returned it to its spot out of the way then laid down on the ground before the fire, his back turned to her.
Five
Gressa spent a fitful rest of the night unable to get uncomfortable, mainly because her mind would not quieten. She had never imagined she would be reunited with Strian let alone him finding out what she had done to try to ensure his safety. She had convinced herself that he would never learn of it, and since he would be none the wiser, he would be even safer. Guilt consumed her as she thought about breaking the pledge she had made to Strian all those years ago and for the betrayal she was sure he felt. But a part of her could not bring herself feel remorse. There was nothing she was not willing to do to protect him. She was relieved she had not had to share a bed with Grímr, but she would have. She would have sold her body toHelif it would save Strian.
Strian woke just as the sun’s first rays poked over the horizon. He was stiff from sleeping on the floor, but he was surprisingly warm even though the fire had died. He realized that during the middle of the night, Gressa had brought two blankets out and covered him. He looked towards the door to his chamber and scrambled to his feet when he saw it wide open. There was no way Gressa would have slept with it like that. She knew it made it too easy for an enemy to slip in and kill her in her sleep. He looked around in a panic.
She fled.
That one thought was all he had time for as something or someone banged into the door of his longhouse. Gressa awkwardly pushed the door open, her arms filled with a basket that held eggs and some vegetables, and she carried firewood as well. Strian crossed the room in a few long strides and lifted everything from her arms. Where Gressa’s cheeks were stained pink from the exertion and crisp morning air, Strian’s were ash white. Gressa reached out without thinking and put the back of her hand on his forehead then cheeks.
“Are you not feeling well?” She studied him before she understood. “You thought I ran.”
Gressa backed away and turned her back to him, stung by his assumption. She gathered the eggs and reached for a bowl to crack them into, but she did not make it before strong hands gripped her waist and pulled her back against a wall of muscle. Strian inhaled the fresh scent of her clean hair. He had slipped into the bathhouse the night before, but he was sure he did not smell as tempting as she did. He kissed her temple as his hands slid over her belly, pausing before wrapping around her. She did not resist, the comfort feeling so familiar. Strian felt her give in and lean against him, but it was not enough. He turned her and lifted her chin, his mouth descending before either of them realized they both hungered for a kiss. Gressa opened her mouth before their lips met and welcomed Strian’s invading tongue. They dueled as the kiss intensified. Gressa’s hands roamed over Strian’s body. He was well-built and handsome when they married, but he was still young at the time. Now his body was one of a fully-grown man. His shoulders were broader and felt as though they could carry the weight of ten men. His chest and stomach were chiseled, and she moaned at the feel of the muscles rippling in his back and the firmness of his backside.
Strian was starved for contact with the only woman he had ever loved, and the only woman he had desired since he was nineteen. Gressa had not been the first woman he coupled with. He had gained his experience with some of the most beautiful women in their tribe, having put forth little effort to gain their attention. But Strian would never forget the day he noticed Gressa had gone from a spindly girl to a well-developed woman. There had been no others since. He had allowed his friends to think he had moved on from Gressa. Their attempts to distract him had upset him, but he realized carrying on a charade was the best way to appease them.
He lifted the hem of her tunic and brushed his fingers against her satiny skin, eliciting a deep rumble from his chest. The sound amplified Gressa’s own need to be skin to skin. She tugged at his tunic until she could slide her fingernails along the notches of muscle on his stomach. Strian’s lips burned a scalding trail to her ear where his tongue grazed the whorl of her ear before nipping her earlobe. Gressa felt desire pool at the bottom of her belly as his iron length pressed against her mound. She rocked her hips as her hands moved to grip his buttocks. She pressed his hips forward to grind against hers.
Reason and sense crashed into Strian’s mind, and he pulled away. He was sure Gressa would regret this, and he did not want her to believe he took advantage of her.
“We have to stop. We can’t do this,” he panted.
Gressa whimpered as the unspent lust ached within her core. She clung to Strian as her body began to tremble. Strian watched the confusion wash over her and need still shown in her eyes. He felt like a cad for making them both so aroused and then breaking off what he started. He did not know if walking away now, before they got more carried away, would be better or if he should bring her to release and risk her wrath after. When she whimpered again, his mind was made up.
“Shh, little one. I know. I feel the same. I will make the ache go away.” Gressa’s look of relief did little to convince him this was the right choice, but his hand dipped within the waist of her pants, and his fingers worked their way to her sheath. Her dew coated his fingers as he slid two into her. Memories of making love to her and what she enjoyed flooded him. His other hand traveled to find her breast under her tunic.
“Strian,” she moaned. The sound of his name from her voice made him leak within his leather pants.
He pressed a third finger into her as her hips rocked, and she tried to gain the friction she needed. He kneaded her plump breast before pinching her nipple hard. It was all she needed to fall over the cliff, her climax surging through her as she threw her head back, eyes squeezed closed. A moment later, she yanked the front of his tunic and strained to meet his mouth. The kiss was brief but powerful and possessive. Strian drew his hands away to pull her against his body, but she had other plans. Her nimble fingers were already unfastening his belt, then she pushed his pants over his hips and dropped to her knees. She stroked him twice before her mouth encased his cock. Strian could not control his need to thrust, and she did not draw back, but rather sucked harder. Her moan vibrated against his cock, and he was sure this would be over before he could savor it. He looked down at her as she moved her lips over him, eyes still closed.
