He bit his lip, but didn’t press the issue. He understood. She needed more time. He would give her time, but he would never give up on winning her again. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You should try to get some sleep. You must be exhausted.”
“I am. In so many ways.” She moved across the room, still not looking at him. “I can’t believe this is happening. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up in some psychiatric hospital. Are you sure this isn’t a dream?”
“For me, it’s a dream come true.”
She picked up the discarded shirt she’d been wearing earlier. “Can I ask you a serious question, Reece?”
“Of course. Anything.”
“Do you know where I can find a bathroom?”
He laughed.
She turned and glared at him. “I’m being serious.”
“I know. I just expected something a bit more important.”
“Trust me, Reece. This is very important.”
“I imagine it is. I’ll take you to the latrine, my saucy wench. And then I’ll take you to bed.”
Chapter 6
Lara blinked her eyes open. Light streamed in through the small round window above the bed. Her first vision of the morning was Reece’s face, leaning over her. She smiled and stretched languorously.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep.
“Watching you.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to see what you look like when you aren’t bustin’ my balls.”
Her grin widened. “Hope you got your fill.”
“Not yet.”
He covered her eyes with one hand.
“Now what are you doing?” she asked.
“Shh. You’re still asleep. If you’re asleep, you won’t fight me when I do this.”
“Do what?”
She felt the tip of his nose brush against the side of her neck, followed by his tongue. He gently suckled the flesh just beneath her ear and she was frozen in place with pleasure. He nipped her earlobe and she tensed. His warm breath in her ear caused her to shudder. “Beautiful, Lara,” he whispered.
“Reece?”
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.
“I don’t want you to.”
His breath caught. “Do you really mean that?”
“Yes.”
There was a knock at the door. “Eirick, you don’t mean to laze in your bed all day, do you?” Thora’s voice carried into the room.
Reece groaned.
“Yes,” he called. “That was my intention.”
“It’s time to go for your hunt,” his mother insisted. “We have no meat for supper.”
Reece removed his hand from Lara’s eyes. She blinked them open to look up at him.
“I’ll be there in a moment,” he called. His mother moved away from the door. “What a nag.”
Reece bent his head and brushed his lips against Lara’s. When he moved to draw away, she buried her fingers in his thick, silky hair and lifted her head to kiss him. A groan vibrated in the back of his throat as she suckled his lips eagerly. He drew her closer, his hard body pressing against her length. Future me is a lucky girl, she thought. She gasped when shifted on top of her and ground his hard cock into her mound.
Oh God, yes. Current me is even luckier.
Reece tore his mouth away and lifted up on his arms, gazing down at her with passion-glazed eyes. “You shouldn’t encourage me.”
With a wicked grin, she rocked her hips and he pulled a shuddering breath through his teeth.
“It’s been too long,” he said.
Balancing on one arm, he pushed the covers down to her waist and reached for the hem of her night shirt.
There was another knock at the door. More like a pounding. “Eirick!” a deep voice shouted. “There’s a storm brewing. We must go now.”
“It’s going to be a while longer,” Lara said.
“You mean you’re going to send me out in front of my men in this condition.” He ground into her again to make her very aware of her effects on him. She could feel that he wouldn’t be needing a sports car to compensate for anything.
“Don’t you have Vikings to lead, villages to pillage, small animals to kill for our lard stew?”
“I’d rather tame a saucy wench.”
“You’re going to need more than that to tame this saucy wench.”
He grinned, looking irresistibly cute with his hazel-green eyes sparking with mischief. “I can try though, right?”
“Maybe later.”
“A maybe is better than a no.” He kissed her gently and climbed from the bed. He turned his back to her, and what a gorgeous back it was, strong and smooth, with the cutest butt known to woman situated just beneath. He adjusted himself in his undershorts and reached for his pants. He slid them on and turned to face her. She couldn’t keep her eyes from shifting to the bulge in his pants. “Do you think anyone will notice?” He turned to the side with his hands on his hips. His rigid cock forced his underdrawers into an unmistakable tent that protruded from his open fly.
She shook her head, holding her breath. “I doubt it,” she gasped. She bit her lip to hold in a laugh and climbed out of the bed.
“You really should do something about this state you put me in, woman.”
“I’ll go get you some cold water. Just let me to get dressed.”
“Heartless, saucy wench. Getting me all excited and then refusing to follow through.” He tossed on his shirt and grabbed his boots before heading for the door. “I can’t take you dressing in front of me at the moment. If you need me, I’ll be in the latrine for a while. Be sure to knock before entering or you might catch me in a compromising position.”
She chuckled. “Don’t fall in.”
He left and Lara reached for the blue gown, smiling to herself. Reece Jericho was trouble, there was no mistaking that. That trouble was already neck high and still rising. She didn’t think it would be all that horrible to go completely under. She wouldn’t even struggle. Much. Resisting Reece’s allure was kind of like quicksand. The more she struggled the faster she sank.
Lara thought she might get some rest while the men were away on their hunt. Boy, was she wrong. Thora seemed to consider this day with Helga as a suitable-wife interview, and apparently suitable wives needed to know how to grind grain by hand, weave cloth, cure hides, and find firewood. They also needed to know how to gather eggs, milk goats, cook, clean and launder. By the time Reece entered the lodge near dark, Lara was exhausted. The only highlight of her day had been the realization that she was living through history. She was fascinated by the Viking culture, even though she’d done more manual labor in one day than she typically did in a month. Another thing she became thankful for were Helga’s obvious skills. If Lara completed the tasks without much thinking, Helga’s expertise just sort of took over and she was weaving cloth like a pro and milking the goat without getting the wind kicked out of her a second time.
Reece kissed Lara’s cheek and handed her a collection of dead hares tied together by their back feet. “You look tired,” he said quietly.
“What am I supposed to do with these?” she asked.
“Why, gut ‘em, skin ‘em, and cook ‘em. What else?”
Lara’s jaw set on a hard line. “No.” She’d worked her tail off today. And what had he been doing? Tracking down defenseless bunnies and skeweri
ng them with arrows.
“It’s expected of you,” he told her.
“I don’t care. I’m tired. Find someone else.”
“Don’t make this a fight, Lara,” he pleaded. “I’ll give you a nice massage later, when no one is looking.”
She snorted. “Like I’d want a massage from you.”
“Then you can give me a nice massage later. There are things in my pants that have been in need of your attention all day.”
The corner of her eye twitched. He grimaced, took her by the shoulders and turned her towards the exit of the long house. He directed her outside and when they reached the yard, he handed her a knife.
“See that this doesn’t end up stuck between my ribs,” he said.
“I can’t make any promises, darling.”
“Hurry up now. It’s almost dark. I wouldn’t want you to slice off your finger because you can’t see what you’re doing.”
“I have a mind to slice off certain male appendages at the moment. Since they are so in need of my attention and all.”
“Remind me never to piss you off, sweetheart,” he said.
“It’s too late for that, sweetheart.”
“I’ll keep the bench warm for you,” he said, and disappeared inside.
Apparently, gutting rabbits was not one of Helga’s better skills. She’d managed to do quite a hack job by the time she brought the meat into the long house. And gutting a rabbit was a lot different than throwing a store-bought, hunk of meat in the oven. She had a serious case of the dry heaves by the time she was finished. One at a time, Lara added the hare quarters to the dish iron heating over fire. The dish iron was like a flat frying pan, and fat spattered into the fire as she cooked. She burned her fingers more than once as she seared the meat and then added the pieces to the stew pot.
Reece was apparently several mugs into his mead already. He was celebrating with his men in fine style, encouraging them to tell stories of their exploits and cheering them on loudly. Thora refilled her son’s mug over and over again, until by the time Lara found the time to sit next to him, he was slurring his words. At least he could be classified as a happy drunk. Loud and happy. Lara wanted to shove a sock in his mouth. How dare he have such a good time while she was working her fingers to the bone?