Breathing heavily, Garrick rested his full weight on her small form, his head nestled against her neck. Finally he moved to get up, but her arms locked behind his head and held him tight, and her legs still circled his hips. He looked down, questioningly, and noted the alluring slant of her eyes, the sensual twist of her lips.
“Show me your strength, Viking,” she breathed, squirming her body enticingly beneath his. “Continue.”
“By the gods, woman, have you no shame?” he asked in disbelief.
“Why?” she returned undaunted. “Is it shameful that I like this? Am I supposed to pretend otherwise?”
“Nay, but no woman has ever asked more of me.”
“Do not compare me with your other wenches, Viking!” she said hotly, and released her hold on him. “Leave off then if you have not the strength to satisfy me!”
He grabbed the hands she pushed against his chest and stretched them out at her sides. “The tactics you use are unseemly, vixen,” he sneered.
With deliberation he started to move in her again, and at the same time crushed her lips with a painful kiss. It took but a moment for the spark of desire to be rekindled. Garrick thrust with a steady, purposeful rhythm and at length released her arms and cupped her face in his hands. His kiss became more intense, more demanding. He could feel her hands roving over his back, kneading the hard muscles there. She began to moan softly and her arms circled his neck again, tighter and tighter she squeezed as if she would hold on for dear life. Even in his own fiery haze, he noted her wild abandon and at last the breath caught in her throat and she went rigid, her nails digging into his shoulders like cat’s claws. His name escaped her lips in a throaty whisper. At that moment he joined her in that most sought-after realm of explosive delights.
This time she did not protest when he moved to her side. They both lay exhausted, breathing heavily. When she touched his shoulder softly, his mind rebelled, for he feared that she would dare demand more of him yet.
“’Tis not yet morning, mistress,” he said tiredly, his eyes closed. “Go back to sleep.”
“I only wished to thank you, Garrick. That is all.”
He opened his eyes to see the tender expression on her face before she turned away from him and pulled her nightdress down. He stared hard at the back of her head, wondering anew at the many different temperaments this woman possessed. This one he liked best.
His features softened. “Come here, wench,” he said huskily and pulled her back into his arms.
He knew she wouldn’t resist, and this pleased him even more. She snuggled close to him, and he knew without a doubt that he could grow accustomed to this woman without much effort.
“’Tis nice, Garrick, not fighting with you,” Brenna breathed softly against his chest, already half asleep.
He smiled to himself and unconsciously held her closer. The effect she had on him was startling. If she kept this up, he would want her again.
“Yea, Brenna, ’tis nice indeed.”
Brenna sat across the small table from Garrick, her morning meal before her. She was slumped back in her chair, moodily picking at her food, every few moments flashing Garrick a furious look. But he was too intent on his meal to notice.
For one week now he had kept her confined to this room, with only the cursed white shepherd for company. Garrick brought Brenna her meals himself, but left her alone for the length of the day, only returning at night. He did not touch her again after the night he carried her here, even conceding when she insisted she would sleep on the divan instead of next to him in the large bed.
Awakening that first morning after their night together, she was appalled at the memory of what she had done. It was not Brenna who had acted no better than a wanton whore, but her contemptible female body. That traitorous instrument had demanded to know the full fruits of its awakening, had even teased and cajoled Garrick to show her. He had stirred a fire within her that she never dreamed existed, but never again. The delicious pleasure she had experienced could be denied. Yea, that kind of ecstasy she did not need, for she would have to give up too much to attain it again….
Though it was too late to change what had happened, she would be damned before it was repeated. She had been a fool to think Garrick would change his mind because of it; he was still determined that she would serve him as he demanded. She could not forgive him for that, not after the tenderness that had passed between them.
With Dog resting between their feet, Brenna absently offered him a morsel of meat, accustomed to doing the same at home with her father’s hounds, which romped through the manor. When the white shepherd nuzzled her hand for more, she realized what she had done and looked up to see Garrick scowling at her. Good, she thought viciously. It was better than the self-assured smirk he had worn so often of late.
“What displeases you, Viking?” she asked in an innocent tone, though her eyes were alight with mischief. “Do you fear I have taken the dog’s loyalty from you?” When his countenance darkened even more, her grin widened and she pressed on. “You did not know he and I have become friends, eh? But what did you expect when you keep us locked together? ’Twill not be long before he does not even raise his head when I walk from this room.”
Garrick stared at her coldly for a long moment before he finally answered. “If you speak the truth, mistress, then ’tis time I put a lock on the door.”
Brenna’s face turned ashen. “You wouldn’t!”
“I would indeed,” he replied, an icy tinge to his tone. “Tonight, in fact, since I have naught better to do.”
“I was only teasing you, Garrick,” Brenna said, trying to make light of it. “You can trust your dog to do your bidding.”
“’TisyouI don’t trust,” he returned pointedly and made for the door with angry strides.
“How long will you keep me here?” she demanded furiously.
He turned at the door, the old sneer coming to his lips. “’Tis not I who keeps you here, wench, but yourself. You have only to serve me as I desire and you may enjoy the same privileges as the other slaves.”
