Harald felt a surge of relief so sharp it was almost a physical ache. He reached out, cupping her face with his large hands. He felt the softness of her skin against his palms, a reminder of thenight before. "I will nae let his shadow touch ye, Enya. I swear it."
She leaned into his touch, a small, weary movement that spoke of her trust. "I ken," she murmured. "But the Crown is a long way off, and Finley is very close. Ye better hurry."
He saw the fear deepening in her, a shadow that no amount of logic could dispel. He decided to get her out of the stone walls. He needed to remind her—and himself—that they were still masters of their own tiny corner of the world.
"The swiftest galley is waiting," he said, turning to seal the letter with his signet ring. The heavy thud of the stamp felt like a hammer blow.
Enya nodded and sat on a chair while Harald took care of everything. Before she knew it, he was next to her.
“Thank ye, Enya,” he said as he caressed her cheek and she got up, losing herself in his hug. “I ken it was difficult fer ye.”
“As long as I’m with ye, everything will be fine,” she whispered and looked up to meet his eyes. He kissed her then, a hungry collision of lips and teeth that tasted of salt and heat.
It was all Enya needed. She groaned into his mouth, the sound a low, desperate vibration that sparked a wildfire in her blood. Her hands flew to his chest, her fingers clawing at the thick leather of his jerkin as if she could tear through it to get to the heat of the man beneath.
She kissed him back with a frantic, starving intensity, her tongue tangling with his in a dance. She arched her body toward him, every curve of her seeking every hard plane of his, trying to meltthrough the barriers of wool and hide until there was no space left for the world to intervene.
Harald’s hands moved from her face to her hair with possessive urgency. He fumbled with the pins until they scattered onto the floor, letting the waves spill over his knuckles in a heavy, silk-soft mess.
He dragged his mouth away from hers, tracing a path of fire along her jawline. When he hit the sensitive dip beneath her ear, Enya let out a jagged sob of a breath. His stubble grazed her skin with a delicious, stinging friction that sent jolts of pure electricity straight to the base of her spine.
"Harald," she gasped, her head falling back against the desk.
Her eyes fluttered shut, but the darkness only intensified the sensations. She felt the heavy, thundering hammer-strike of his heart against her palms. Every sense was raw, stripped of its armor.
"We… we shouldnae…" she tried to protest, the words dying in a soft moan as he nipped at the cord of her neck. "’Tis the middle of the day, anyone could?—"
"Let them," Harald growled against her skin, his voice a guttural, primal thing that made her knees turn to water.
He moved lower, his lips pressing into the heat of her collarbone while one hand descended to the hem of her skirts. The sudden, cool rush of the air against her bared thighs made her gasp, but it was quickly replaced by the scorching weight of his palm.
Enya’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer even as she trembled.
He lifted her, his hands hooking under her thighs with an effortless heave. Enya instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, her ankles locking behind the small of his back as he moved them to the wall. She felt him fumbling with his own lacings, his breathing ragged and hot against her neck.
When he entered her, it was a sudden, stretching fullness that made her vision go white. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her muffled scream lost in the heavy wool of his tunic. The friction of the rough wall against her back and the smooth, sliding heat of him inside her was a sensory overload that shattered her last remaining defenses.
"Look at me," Harald commanded, his voice a low, guttural vibration.
Enya opened her eyes, her gaze meeting his dark, fathomless ones. He was moving now, a rhythmic, punishing intensity that made the world tilt on its axis. He wasn't gentle anymore; he was claiming her, every thrust a silent declaration that she belonged there, in that study, in that keep, in his arms.
Enya moved with him, her body responding with a desperate, climbing need. She felt the raw, sensitive core of herself—the part that had been rejected for so long—finally being seen and wanted with a ferocity that bordered on worship.
The pleasure spiraled, a tightening coil in her belly. She felt the tension snap, a jagged, beautiful release that made her arch her back and claw at his shoulders. Harald followed a heartbeat later, a ragged, guttural shout breaking from his lips as he thrust one last time, deep and final, anchoring her to the earth.
He stayed there for a long time, his forehead pressed against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet air of the room. Hedidn't pull away; he kept her held tight against the wall, his arms a protective cage.
Enya leaned her head against his shoulder, her body trembling with the aftershocks. Harald squeezed her tighter, his kiss to her temple a silent promise that the future they wanted wasn't just a dream, but a choice they were making with every breath.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The walk was a rare, golden reprieve. For the first time in his life, Harald didn’t feel the weight of the stone walls waiting for him. He felt light.
Every time his shoulder brushed Enya’s, the contact sent a thrum of pure, unadulterated joy through his core. He slowed his pace, dragging out every second, wanting to live in that bubble of heat and shared breath forever.
He glanced at her, and his chest actually ached.
She is beautiful.
