Ice Maiden. Debra Brown Lee

Ice Maiden - Debra Brown Lee


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in the hearth.

      The moment she had been dreading had come at last, and now that it was here she was anxious to have done with it.

      “What are you doing?” she asked lamely, not knowing what else to say.

      “Trying to clear my head.”

      This surprised her. Brodir had never been concerned with such matters. In fact, he’d been deep in his cups most every time he’d taken her.

      “Perhaps this would go…better for you, were it not entirely clear.”

      He turned to look at her, and she could tell from his expression he thought it a strange thing for her to say. Their eyes locked, and he let the fur slip from his waist.

      Thor’s blood!

      Grant was nothing like Brodir.

      Heat suffused her face as the Scot dispensed with his leggings and cast them aside. His eyes raked her up and down, and she braced herself for what would come next.

      He moved toward her in the firelight, and for the second time in as many days she was acutely aware of his size and strength. He exuded a feral maleness that startled her.

      Lawmaker was right. She had underestimated the Scot.

      Rika drew herself up to meet him, fisting her hands at her sides. Fear was not an option. She would never give him that satisfaction. Never. Let him take her and be done with it.

      Her pulse raced as he eased himself onto the bed beside her. “Do it,” she demanded. “Do it now.”

      He cocked his head, studying her face. Why did he hesitate? Thor’s blood, just do it!

      All at once his expression softened. “Never in my life have I taken a woman against her will, and I’m no about to do so now.”

      Her heart stopped. Of all the words he might speak, those were the last she expected to hear. “But…you must.”

      “Nay, lass.” He shook his head. “Ye dinna want me, and…well…” He shrugged.

      The truth of it stung more than any blow Brodir had e’er dealt her. Grant didn’t want her. Her belly tightened. She knew all along he didn’t, so why did it hurt? She should be relieved, elated, even, but she wasn’t.

      Something else occurred to her. “It doesn’t matter what you or I want. It’s the law. You heard the elders—without consummation the marriage is not legal and I cannot claim my dowry.”

      He shook his head. “This coin is of great import to ye—to willingly give up your virginity to a man ye canna stand, and one you’ll ne’er see again.”

      She closed her eyes against the rage of memories blasting across her consciousness. There was no reason to keep the truth from him, for he was about to learn it for himself. “I am no maid, and therefore give up nothing.”

      The silence that followed was unbearable. She felt her cheeks blaze hot. Finally he said, “We can say that we did it, and no one will be the wiser.”

      Rika opened her eyes.

      He really didn’t want her.

      She almost laughed. That would never have stopped Brodir. His hate stoked his lust, and he wreaked it on her not as a lover, but an enemy.

      Nay, she did not understand the Scot at all.

      “Lawmaker sees all,” she said. “The old man will know we lie.”

      Grant laughed, and warmth flooded his eyes. “Aye, methinks naught gets past him.”

      Rika smiled, unable to help herself, and worked to instill a measure of gentleness in her words. Everything depended on the Scot’s cooperation. “Will you do it, then, as agreed?”

      “Aye,” he said, and slid his hand across the furs to cover hers. “I will.”

      The warmth of his touch startled her. She drew her hand away and, gathering her courage, stripped her shift off over her head.

      Grant sucked in a breath.

      “I will not struggle,” she said, and eased back onto the pillows. “Do as you will.”

      For a long time he did nothing—he simply sat there looking at her body in the softness of the fire’s glow. She feared to look at him, but curiosity overcame her apprehension and she stole a glance.

      His face was shadowed in the firelight, his hair awash in gold. Her gaze drifted lower, across the muscled expanse of his chest, which rose and fell with each measured breath he drew. His body was hard and lightly furred, all burnished gold as if the sun had kissed him.

      Her own breathing grew quick and shallow under his scrutiny. And when their eyes finally met, what she read in his stirred her blood.

      Desire.

      Nay, it could not be.

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