‘Honourable?’ He stared at her in disbelief. ‘I’m an outlaw, remember?’
‘You were an outlaw—now you’re a knight. And you’re more honourable than you think. You’ve been nothing but honourable since we met. I just didn’t appreciate it at first.’
‘That’s not why I lied to the Earl.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Then why?’
‘Because I didn’t want to see you get hurt. Is that so hard to believe?’
‘No. It’s what an honourable man would do.’
‘Oh, for pity’s sake! Forget it, Aediva, it doesn’t change anything.’
‘It changes everything!’ She put a hand on his chest tentatively. ‘Svend, I know that you saved me, and I know what you risked. I wouldn’t lie to you again—not after that. You can trust me.’ Black eyelashes fluttered closed and then open again. ‘If you want to.’
‘Want to?’ He felt every part of himself stiffen at once. He had a feeling they weren’t just talking about trust any more. ‘Do you want to?’
She nodded silently and his voice turned to a growl.
‘Be careful what you wish for.’
* * *
Aediva held her breath. His voice was low and dangerous and achingly familiar. It made her body feel tight, as if all her nerve endings had sprung to life at once. He’d said that he wanted to protect her. He’d said that he could forgive her. Could he learn to forget as well? And if he could...if he didn’t only care about his reward...was there still a chance for them?
Did he still want her? Did she still want him?
Yes.
A thrill of anticipation coursed through her, impossible to resist. She knew the answer with every fibre of her being. And if his voice could arouse her so easily, what could the rest of him do?
He cupped a hand around the back of her neck, scrutinising her face as if he were searching for something. ‘I need to trust you, Aediva.’
‘You can.’ She trailed her fingers down the length of his jaw. It felt strong and solid and unmistakably male. She ached to explore the rest of him.
‘No more lies.’ His own fingers tightened convulsively, as if he were struggling to hold himself back.
‘No more.’
Emboldened, she slid her hands over the hard contours of his chest, scarcely able to believe her own daring. He gave a sharp intake of breath and she froze, waiting for him to push her away, but he didn’t move. Did he still want her? She had to find out.
Slowly she let her fingers drift lower, over his taut stomach and then down, and found the answer ready and waiting, throbbing against her fingers, harder and stronger with every pulsating heartbeat.
She gasped and then his lips seized hers, his tongue pushing its way inside her mouth as if he wanted to punish and possess her at the same time. She responded at once, her lips meeting his with equal ardour, a low moan of desire giving way to one of pure, unrestrained pleasure.
Strong hands gripped her shift, half pulling, half tearing it over her head. Then for a tantalising moment he held himself still, his blue eyes black with desire as they raked over her body.
He groaned and she smiled in answer, pushing herself up towards him as he gathered her into his arms. Instinctively she wrapped her arms and legs around him, revelling in the touch of his skin and the weight of his body, stunned by the depth of her desire. His lips and hands seemed to be everywhere—trailing kisses over her breasts and stomach, along her thighs, up the insides of her legs...
She moaned. She felt as though he were tightening something inside her, winding it tighter and tighter until she thought she might snap. Now that she lay naked and vulnerable beneath him she wanted urgency, but he seemed to be taking his time, torturing her with pleasure. She wasn’t sure what she wanted, but she wanted it now.
‘Hurry...’ She moaned in frustration and he gave a low answering laugh, circling a nipple with his tongue and gently licking the tip. ‘Svend...’ She dragged her nails over his back in retaliation and he shifted upwards at once.
‘I don’t want to hurt you.’ His breathing was ragged.
‘You won’t.’ She arched her body beneath him, felt the heat of him straining between her legs.
‘Cille...’