“I’d never do that.” He moved closer to her; their faces were only inches apart now. He inhaled the sweet musk of her skin, the scent of rosemary in her hair. Hunger, the same sensation that had taken him prisoner upon Lindisfarena, reared up. His breathing quickened, and his belly knotted. He reached up with his free hand and brushed away a tear on her cheek with his thumb. “I’d stand against an army to keep you. Will you be mine?”
She nodded, her eyes glittering. “Aye … I am already.”
He pulled her into his arms, his mouth slanting over hers. He had not planned to kiss her, yet the relief her answer had given him could not be expressed in words. He needed his body to show her what she meant to him.
And as before, whenever they kissed, the floodgates loosed a moment later. The taste of her, the feel of her softness pressed against him, made Aldfrith forget who he was. He forgot that his men and the cantankerous aunt were waiting outside, that the ealdorman of Jedworth had probably heard he was here by now and would expect a visit. He forgot everything in the world except Osana.
His tongue parted her lips, and she moaned, melting against him. His hands moved up, reaching for the heavy braid down her back. He unfastened it, as he had done that day in the monastery, and tangled his fingers in the heavy tresses. A low groan rose in his throat.
He wanted to see her naked with her hair spilling over her body. He wanted her to drag her hair over his own naked skin.
Osana kissed him back with a hunger equal to his own, leaving him in no doubt of her desire. This energy between them was like a summer storm, like flames devouring dry wood. Its intensity was violent, overwhelming.
Suddenly, the layers of clothing separating them felt suffocating. He had to see Osana naked.
As if reading his mind, she drew back from him, her breathing coming in gasps. Then she heeled off her boots, unbuckled the heavy belt around her waist, and reached down, grasping the hem of the long linen tunic she wore with a woolen overdress covering it.
In one movement she drew the garments over her head, exposing the long, naked length of her body and her full, pink-tipped breasts. Then she tossed the clothing aside and stood there, her chest rising and falling sharply. Even in the dim light of the hearth, Aldfrith could see her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dark pools of want.
His pulse thundered in his ears as he stripped off his own clothes. Her gaze devoured him as he did so, unabashed. Her lips parted, and he watched her attention travel down the length of his naked body to where his shaft now strained toward her.
One step brought them together, and then Aldfrith’s hands were everywhere. Her naked skin felt better than he could have possibly imagined: smooth as cream, firm and soft in all the right places. He fell to his knees before her, his mouth hungrily fastening upon her breasts. He suckled one hard, his teeth gently nipping her pebbled nipple.
Osana let out a high keening cry and dug her fingers into his hair, pulling him harder toward her. Aldfrith released her nipple and focused his attention on its twin, suckling her until she sagged against him, her moans filling the small room. His hands roamed over her body, over the smooth curve of her belly—where his child now grew—to the firm globes of her buttocks.
“Aldfrith,” Osana gasped. “Please … I can’t wait …now!
The desperation in her voice roused him. He released her swollen nipple and sank down onto the low stool behind him. It sat just two feet from the glowing hearth where Osana’s noon meal still bubbled, forgotten. He pulled her with him, drawing her down so that she sat astride his lap. Osana gazed down at him a moment before she leaned down and kissed him, recklessly, wildly. Her arms entwined around his neck, her breasts pressing against his chest.
Heaven preserve him, she addled his senses faster than strong wine. When she gently bit at his lower lip, her fingernails raking down his back, he felt the last shred of his self-restraint snap.
Aldfrith slid his hands down her back and cupped her buttocks, lifting her up to straddle his shaft. She reached down between them then and stroked the swollen length of him, before positioning his shaft at the entrance to her womb.
Tight velvet heat engulfed him as she lowered herself onto him in one long, achingly slow, movement—not stopping until he was buried deep within her. Aldfrith threw back his head and groaned, letting the sensation carry him away. If his heart stopped right now, he would die a happy man. Nothing had ever felt so good.
“Osana,” he gasped. “You slay me.”
She let out a soft, throaty laugh. “I hope not, milord.”
He opened his eyes and dipped his chin to meet her gaze once more. They sat entwined, breathlessly still. The heat of her enveloping him made it difficult for him to think straight. Wordlessly, he caught hold of her hips and rocked her against him. Osana’s eyes widened, and she let out a soft cry. Aldfrith repeated the action, this time raising his hips to grind against her.
Osana’s cry turned into a keen, and her body shuddered against his. He felt the walls of her womb contract against him, felt a rush of heat that nearly pushed him over the edge.
How long had he fought against this? Denying himself of Osana had nearly killed him.
Her mouth claimed his, kissing him deeply—and then she began to ride him. He steadied her hips as she moved, sliding up and down the length of him, slow at first, before tremors convulsed her body once more. Osana cried out against his mouth, her fingernails digging into his shoulders.
Aldfrith took control then. He held her hips tight and slammed her down hard onto him, again and again. He let go of control, let go of any rational thought, taking Osana until his cries joined hers— and he too flew over the edge of the abyss.
Osana recovered her breath and pushed herself up from where she had collapsed upon Aldfrith’s shoulder. Her body felt weak and boneless in the aftermath. He was still buried inside her. His body was slick with sweat, his chest still heaving from his explosive climax.
“Woman,” he murmured against her neck. “You are delicious.” His tongue snaked out, tracing her throat. Osana shivered, heat pooling in her lower belly. Would there ever come a time when this man could not melt her with merely a touch? Even his look made her pulse quicken.
She sighed, leaning against him once more and letting him work his way up her neck to the shell of her ear. “You are mine,” he whispered when he reached it. “Now and forever. The moment we return to Bebbanburg, I shall call for the priest.”
His words filled her with warmth. When she had seen him standing by the gate earlier, she had expected the worst: that he had come to slake his lust before he left her. Their last meeting in Bebbanburg had left a scar. She had felt betrayed, used, humiliated. He had turned the most beautiful experience of her life into something to be ashamed of.
But none of that mattered now. He had come to her, opened his heart, and revealed his past. She knew he loved her—and the depth of what she felt for him scared her.
