For one suspended heartbeat, neither of them moved. The sounds of the training yard faded to nothing—the clang of steel, the shouts of warriors, the autumn wind rustling through dying leaves—all of it disappeared until there were only Erik’s pale eyes locked on hers. As if he could read the sinful thought she’d just had, as if he knew exactly what effect his half-naked display was having on her traitorous body, as if he could see straight through skin and bone to the desire burning in her blood.
Then his mouth curved into that wicked half-smile, the one that promised things she shouldn’t want and couldn’t afford to consider.
He said something to Magnus—never breaking eye contact with her, his gaze holding hers captive—and she saw the exact moment when the other warriors noticed where their jarl was looking. Heads turned like flowers following the sun. Practice stopped mid-swing. Someone made a comment that earned rough laughter, and she didn’t need to hear the words to know they were about her, about Erik, about what everyone apparently saw except her stubborn denial.
Erik crossed the yard toward her with long, predatory strides, still shirtless, still gleaming with sweat that caught the fading light, moving with the fluid grace of something that hunted for sport rather than necessity. Every eye in the training yard followed him, but he seemed utterly unconcerned with the attention, his focus fixed entirely on her in a way that made her feel simultaneously exposed and protected.
He took the stone steps up to the walkway two at a time, and then he was standing in front of her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his skin.
“See somethin’ that interests ye, bride?” His voice was low, pitched for her ears alone, but it might as well have been a shout for how it made her skin prickle with awareness.
“Nay. I was simply…” She gestured vaguely at the training warriors, scrambling for dignity while trying desperately not to stare at his chest. At the bead of sweat trailing down from his throat toward his collarbone. “Observin’. Me faither always said a lady should ken how her warriors fight.”
“Herwarriors?” Erik stepped closer, invading what little space remained between them, bringing the full weight of his presence with him until she felt surrounded by him. “I wasnae aware ye’d already claimed me men fer yer own.”
“I havenae claimed a bloody thing,” she shot back, lifting her chin even as her heart tried to hammer its way out of her chest. “Unlike some people.”
His smile widened, showing teeth, and something dangerous sparked in those pale eyes. “Och, but ye have though. Every man in that yard just watched ye stare at me like ye wanted tae lick me from throat tae belt. I’d call that a claim if I ever saw one.”
Mortification flooded through her, hot and sharp as a brand pressed to bare skin. “I was daein’ nae such?—”
“Aye, ye were.” He leaned in, bringing his mouth close enough to her ear that she felt the warmth of his breath against her skin, felt it raise gooseflesh down her neck despite the lingering heat of the day. “And if ye want tae ken what all this looks like up close, little bird, all ye need tae dae is ask. I’d be more than happy tae show ye. Every. Single. Mark.”
The heat in her cheeks had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with the images his words conjured—her fingers tracing those intricate patterns, learning the stories written in his skin, her mouth following the path of that raven’s wing while his hands fisted in her hair, his breath coming faster as she explored every mark and scar on his body with lips and tongue and?—
Nay… we’re nae daein’ that!
“I dinnae want…” she started, but her voice came out breathless, unconvincing even to her own ears, betraying everything she was trying to deny.
“Liar.” The word was soft, almost affectionate, and infinitely more dangerous than his mockery would have been. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair back from her face, the gesture possessive and tender all at once, his callused fingers rough against her temple. “Yer pulse is racin’.” His finger traced the line of her throat where her heartbeat thundered beneath skin, making her shiver. “And yer breathin’s all shallow. Dae ye ken what that tells me?”
“That ye’re the mostirritatin’man in all of Skye,” she tried desperately, grasping for anger because desire was so much more dangerous.
“That ye want me.” His eyes held hers, pale as winter ice but burning hot enough to melt stone, hot enough to burn away every defense she’d tried to build. “That ye’re wonderin’ what I’d taste like. What I’d sound like if ye put that clever mouth of yers tae better use than arguin’.”
The crack of her palm against his cheek echoed across the training yard.
For a heartbeat, everything went silent. The clash of swords stopped. Men froze mid-swing. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Erik’s head had snapped to the side with the force of the slap, and when he turned back to face her, his expression was one of pure, unfiltered shock. As if a kitten had suddenly sprouted wings and fangs and was going for his throat.
Claricia’s palm stung and her heart hammered. “I amnaeyer wife yet,” she hissed, stepping closer instead of backing away, her finger jabbing into his bare chest. “And even when I am, ye’ll nae speak tae me like some tavern wench ye can tumble at yer leisure—especiallynae with half of yer bloody warriors watchin’.”
Erik’s jaw worked. His cheek was turning red where she’d struck him, a perfect handprint blooming across his handsome face like a brand.
“Did she just—” someone whispered.
“Aye,” Another voice answered, awed.
“Shut it!” Aksel’s bark rang out, but Claricia could hear the poorly suppressed laughter in his voice.
Erik’s pale eyes were still locked on hers, utterly fascinated.
“Ye’ve got a fierce hand, lass,” he said quietly, almost conversationally, though his voice had gone rough as gravel.
“And ye’ve got a foul mouth on ye, me laird.” She stepped back, chin high despite the way her knees had gone weak. “Perhaps ye should concern yerself with trainin’ yer tongue before ye fash yerself about what I might dae with mine.”
“Well,” Liv said, “That’s certainly a first!”
