“Did Leif hurt you, before?” he asked quietly. “Or was it someone else?”
She shook her head and tried to roll away. But he tilted her face back to look at him. “What happened to you?”
He expected her to hold her silence. But instead, Katarina let out a shuddering breath. He released her waist, allowing her to keep a distance. “I was…attacked one night. They were planning to rape me, but Leif saved me from that. I thought if I wed him, he would protect me. Instead…” Her voice trailed off, and he understood then, why she had chosen the man—and then Leif had threatened her.
She curled her body into a ball and said, “I am sorry if I am not the wife you wanted.”
He didn’t miss the humiliation in her voice. But that wasn’t why he’d chosen to wed her. There was something about this woman that beckoned to him. He believed the oldvolvawho claimed that his time here was fleeting, bound to the phases of the moon. And he was certain that Katarina’s path was connected to his somehow.
“I have no regrets about marrying you,” he said. “But I want there to be honesty between us. We can be friends.” The only way she could overcome the dark memories was to trust in him. And trust was something earned, not given.
Katarina said nothing for a time. Then finally, she admitted, “You are the only one who knows I was attacked, besides Valdr and Leif. I never told Hrafn or anyone else what happened to me—they only know that our sister died in that same attack.”
She rolled over to face him, baring her breasts once more. The sight of her body drew a painful arousal, and he thanked God that he had not removed his trousers. She was entirely too desirable.
“Shall we return to the others?” he suggested as he released her and sat up.
“Not yet.” Katrina paused a moment, then caught his hand. She made no effort to cover her body from view. Then she got to her knees and drew his face to hers, kissing him. “Thank you, Arik.”
The affection was swift and it caught him unaware. But Eric found himself wanting to kiss his new wife more thoroughly, and he thought there would be no harm in it.
“May I kiss you again, Katarina?”
She hesitated, almost startled by his request. “You do not need my consent.”
But still, he waited. Eventually, she gave a slight nod, and he touched her chin, drawing her mouth toward his. There was a sense of anticipation between them, and he took a moment to drink in her features. Never in his life had he been faced with a situation like this.
And yet, she was no different from a shy debutante. Her blue eyes held trepidation, along with a slight curiosity. He bent to kiss her and kept his mouth gentle.
Katarina didn’t seem to know what to do, but she did not push him back or try to break away. His breath mingled with hers, and he took another kiss, nipping at her upper lip. Softly, he threaded his hands into her hair, offering a new beginning.
She was tentative, but eventually began to respond. When she kissed him back, he caressed the back of her neck. He coaxed her to open her mouth, and deepened the kiss, tilting her head slightly. “Do not be afraid,” he murmured against her lips.
In response, she wound her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts to him. The touch of her skin undid him, and he kissed her harder, sliding his tongue inside her mouth. Against his chest, he felt her nipples harden, and he tightened the embrace. She touched his hair, kissing him even more, and he fell beneath her spell, wanting her with an intensity that pushed the boundaries of honor.
It was only with the greatest of control that he managed to end the kiss. His bride was staring at him, her lips swollen. Her fingers drifted up to her lips, and the look in her eyes captivated him. Her breathing had quickened, and she studied him as if uncertain what to do next.
There was a raucous cheer from outside the curtain, and he realized that the others were still waiting for them. It was possible that they were trying to watch, in order to determine whether the marriage had been consummated. If he took her back to the feasting now, they would indeed believe that the union was invalid.
But there was another way to convince the crowd, however unorthodox it might be. He regarded Katarina and asked, “How good are you at play acting?”
She frowned. “At what?”
Of course—the word would be entirely unfamiliar to her. Against her ear, he whispered, “There is a way the others would believe this marriage was indeed consummated…even if we know the truth.”
She still appeared confused, so he turned from her and removed his trousers. There came another roar of approval, but he kept himself mostly hidden from her view, covering himself with the furs. Then he turned back to her, bringing the coverlet around both of them until they were cocooned together with a layer of fur between them. He waited a moment to see if she was made uncomfortable by his actions, but despite her tension, she did not try to push him away.
“Would it bother you to feign…noises, as if I were consummating this marriage?”
She sent him a disbelieving look. In a low whisper, she asked, “You mean, I am supposed to moan and behave as if we are lovers in truth?”
“If you think it would convince them.” He rolled onto his side and adjusted their position until it looked as if they were joined. It was a good solution, he thought. No one would know what was happening, and he supposed it was a means of defying their traditions.
“I do not know what you want me to do,” she confessed.
His answer was to gently move his hips against hers. She let out a slight gasp, and he bent to her mouth. In a teasing voice, he ventured, “You could pretend to like that.”
The sudden laugh that broke forth startled him. “I am sorry,” she apologized. “I was not expecting you to begin.”
