She stared directly into his eyes, barely noticing the scarred skin of his body. “Come back to bed. I’m cold.”
He placed another log on the fire. She smiled when he turned and walked slowly towards her.
“Even if it is only for a night?”
“Even then.” She lifted the blanket and he sat down, then rolled onto his side. They both shivered as he covered himself with the blanket and settled her against his chest.
“This changes nothing,” he murmured.
“I know.” She ran her fingers down his chest and then lower.
“You will need to give me more time than that to recover,” he said, laughter in his voice.
She sighed and turned around so that he was pressed against her back and closed her eyes, but he moved her hair aside and began to kiss her neck. He cupped first one breast then the other, toyed with her nipples, then spread his palm wide over her hip.
“It feels like you have recovered fully now.”
“You’re quite encouraging.”
“Mmm,” she murmured as he traced a pattern on the back of her neck with his tongue.
“I want you again.”
“Then take me.” She rolled to face him and kissed him.
She closed her eyes as he slid inside her once more, and held him close as she angled her hips to meet his thrusts. Soon both of them were sweat slicked and she could tell he was waiting for her to reach her peak, see it in the tenseness of his jaw as he moved within her. Then she forgot everything.
Afterwards, they lay side by side, their hands clasped. Gemma listened to the sound of his breathing as it gradually slowed into sleep. She had no idea what would happen now, but if staying here, just the three of them and forgetting about the rest of the world was an option, it was one she would seriously consider.
Chapter Fifteen
Arne woke from adeep sleep the following morning and reached for Gemma, but the other side of the bed was cold and empty. The things they had shared last night came back to him in a rush of images and sensations, and he smiled, feeling better than he had in years. It was like a dark shadow had been following him and was now gone, and he had Gemma to thank for it.
He rolled over and opened his eyes, expecting to see her at the fire or sitting at the table, but there was no sign of her. He sat up and looked around, but the shieling was quiet. Where was she? Where was Caelin? His heart started to race, and he grabbed for his clothes. Had she gone to find her countrymen? Were they, even at that moment, creeping up to the door, ready to kill him while he was alone and vulnerable?
A yip from near the fireplace, followed by Caelin’s soft voice soothing one of the cubs reassured him. He put on his breeks and kirtle then strode over and peered under the table.
Caelin grinned up at him. “Arne, look!” One of the cubs was licking from a spoon. “They are still alive. Maybe there is hope for them.”
Arne nodded. “I hope so, Caelin.” His heart slowed a little. Gemma would not leave Caelin just to spite him. He felt for the boy. He hadn’t realised Caelin understood just how precarious the cubs’ lives were. Caelin may be young, but he often seemed wisebeyond his years. But even with Caelin still here, it did not explain why Gemma had disobeyed him and left the safety of the shieling. “Where is your mother?”
Before Caelin could answer, the door opened and Gemma stepped inside, his leathers around her shoulders and a bucket of snow in her hand. She closed the door behind her.
“Where did you go?” he demanded.
She jumped, nearly dropping the bucket. “Nowhere. I was just outside the door, getting snow. I needed to make more food for the cubs and for us. You were sleeping and…” she trailed off, backing up against the door as she started to visibly tremble all over.
“Move!” For a moment she froze, and he thought she wasn’t going to budge. Then she did. He marched past her and yanked open the door. The icy air hit him immediately. The wind had dropped overnight, and the sun was bright, making the landscape sparkle. Even the dark trees of the forest were edged with pristine white. It was beautiful and cold and went some way towards chilling his anger.
He looked down. Her footsteps went only a few paces from the door and he could see where she had gathered the snow. It must have been her going outside that had woken him. He closed the door and looked at her. She hadn’t moved, was simply staring at him. He took a step towards her, ashamed when she took a step back.
“Did you really think I would betray you after…? After last night…?” She turned away from him, put the bucket down and slid his bulky leathers from her shoulders before placing them carefully over the back of a chair. Then she carried the bucket over to the fire and started to scoop the snow into the kettle, but not before he saw the hurt in her eyes.
“When can we leave?” she asked.
“Not today.”
“Oh.” She continued her task, and the silence grew. He heard the occasional groan of the roof timbers and made a mental note to go and brush the snow off it sooner rather than later.
