He bent to her ear and kissed her earlobe. “It was not my intent to make you laugh, Katarina.” In a teasing voice, he added, “You wound my pride.”
She only began to shake—but not with fear. No, the woman was holding back laughter. “That tickles.”
“I suppose this is not quite the wedding night I had hoped for,” he said. “You could say, ‘Oh, yes, Arik,’ or something of that kind.”
Her laughter was contagious, and the tension between them seemed to dissipate. He kept his weight balanced on his arms, so as not to crush her, but his body was fully aware of this beautiful woman.
Katarina was smiling at him, and she admitted, “I did like it when you kissed me. Will you do it again?”
He knew he shouldn’t agree, but he was fighting the temptation with every breath he took. “If you wish.”
He leaned in, but before he could kiss her, the curtain was pulled back by drunken wedding guests. Eric glared at them. “Get out.”
The men cheered and one offered, “Do you need me to show you how it’s done, Thorgrim?”
“Only if you want to die,” he countered. But although they drew back the curtain, he was well aware that they would not leave until they were certain the marriage had been consummated.
A strange dilemma this was. In 1811, no one cared if a man and wife lay together. But here, it held a much greater weight.
“They aren’t going to leave, are they?” his bride murmured. Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, and he knew they would have to do something to pacify the bystanders.
“Not yet,” he agreed.
“Then you should…continue our deception. Do what you must,” she whispered.
He rested his weight upon his forearms and bent down to her lips. Every muscle in her body was tight as she kissed him in return. He was aware of her female scent, and when he deepened the kiss, she wound her arms around his neck, pulling him close.
“I have to move against you, so that others believe you are mine.” He didn’t want her to be afraid of him, particularly during this intimacy. Although there was a barrier between them, he was well aware of her curves.
“I will not deny you.” She braced herself, tensing beneath him. “Do what you must.”
Eric had been with a few women over the years, but although he knew what to do, he was unprepared for the rush of desire that flowed over him. This woman captivated him, and when he arched against her, his erection hardened with intense need.
Her tongue moved against his mouth, and he invaded her softness with his own tongue. The erotic kiss consumed him, but he didn’t want to frighten her. He kissed her until her lips were swollen, thrusting with the furs between them. Her eyes were closed, her face tense.
“Are you all right?” he asked, against her lips. “Shall I stop?” He was well aware that his actions might bring back unwanted memories.
Her blue eyes opened, and she reached up to touch his mouth. “No. You do not have to stop.” For a moment, she seemed to push back her fear, and then she ventured a soft smile. In a teasing voice, she added, “Oh, yes, Arik.”
“I think you’ll have to shout that louder, if you want the others to hear you,” he remarked. But Katarina only smiled.
He nipped at her fingers, suddenly wanting to arouse her. Slowly, he moved his kiss to her cheek, then her chin. She shivered when he drifted lower to her throat. As he thrust against her, the furs began to part, and her high, firm breasts were exposed. Her dusky nipples were erect, the tips sensitive to the cool summer air.
Katarina’s hands threaded through his hair, guiding him lower. He knew that this was not real, that it was only a ruse. And yet, reality blurred with his own desires. His mind roared at him that this was not wise. But her legs had tangled with his, and with each movement of his hips, she was arching in turn. His body was rigid and aching with lust, and he fought hard for control.
He had no right to touch this woman, especially when her feelings were for a different man—the true Arik Thorgrim. He was taking advantage of her in a way that was dishonorable and wrong.
And yet, her eyes were locked upon his in a way that twined across his senses. He felt a strong connection with Katarina that went beyond physical desire. She had been the first woman to offer him food and shelter, and he had welcomed her friendship.
But this went deeper. When he looked into her eyes, he felt as if she had pulled the threads of time to bind him to her.
“I made you a promise,” he ventured. “I think this has gone far enough to satisfy them.” He needed to leave her untouched, not only out of honor, but because he would never break his word.
She was trembling, but she twined her fingers in his, meeting his gaze. “Arik, is it that you do not want me?”
The vulnerability in her eyes only heightened his guilt. “I want you more than I’ve wanted any woman in my life. But I swore I would not touch you.”
She trailed her fingers along the edge of his face. “And what if I ask you to?”
