The Barbarian's Stolen Bride (Northmen Barbarians 1)

No, Fen—my savage husband—lived the hardened life of a warrior, and it showed on his body.

I felt myself melting a little bit more, my body growing soft and hot and… ready. He reached out and cupped my cheek, smoothing his big, calloused fingers along my jawline. Goose bumps of sensitivity popped out along my skin. I was so receptive to his touch.

I didn’t know if that was a natural thing, if everybody experienced this kind of sensation from just a seemingly innocent touch. But I never wanted it to go away.

And it was when he got down on his haunches before me, letting his hand slip from my face and slide down my arm, that I felt my brows lower in confusion at the expression he wore.

Fen held both my hands in his much larger ones, cradling them as he looked down at where we touched, watching as he stroked his fingers along the backs of my hands.

“Fen?” He didn’t answer for long moments, and I felt my heart start to beat a little bit harder as worry took control. “Is everything okay?”

He exhaled harshly, his broad shoulders rising and falling from the deep movement. But it was when he looked up at me that I saw an almost anguished look cover his face. I took one of my hands from his hold and was the one to caress his cheek, the scruff under my palm rough and oh so masculine.

“What’s the matter?” I couldn’t even comprehend or understand fully why I felt so close to him in such a short amount of time. Maybe it didn’t make any sense or seem logical, but it felt right, and I felt myself accepting it far easier than I’d thought I would.

“Do you forgive me?”

His words confused me, and I felt my brows lower even more as I shook my head. “Forgive you for what? What happened?” The way he looked at me made me feel like I should know what he meant, as if it was obvious, but I was racking my brain and couldn’t think of the answer.

“For my betrayal.”

The first thing that came to mind was that he had been with another woman, that he’d touched her, held her like he was holding me. Was that why he was late for dinner? Oh gods. That coil of jealousy and startling pain wound tight in my belly, and I felt all the blood leave me, pooling in the pit of my stomach like this hard stone. I was surprised at how upset I was at the very thought of Fen with someone else.

“Betrayal?” I hated that my voice was so soft and almost weak. I felt my throat closing off, my voice going reed-thin. I hated that I’d only been here for such a short time and already my heart was invested.

“I took you from your home,” he said in a grating voice that told me even saying the words cut him deeply. “I didn’t give you a choice. I saw you, knew I wanted you, and I made that my reality.” He lifted his hand and placed it over mine, which still cupped his cheek. His look was so intense as he stared into my eyes, as if he pleaded with me for forgiveness, as if he’d committed the most heinous crime imaginable.

“This betrayal you’re talking about is from making me your wife?” My voice was barely audible, and I was surprised he even heard it.

His throat moved up and down as he swallowed, his emotions so clear there was no denying how deeply he felt about this. And when he nodded in response to my question, I felt something in me shift.

I felt this relief fill me, as if this weight had been surrounding me but now was completely lifted. What he’d done had been wrong. Fen had taken me from my home, forcing me to be his wife. And I’d hated him for it, but even in the small amount of time we’d spent together, I felt something open up inside me—hope, an emotion I’d never experienced before, didn’t even know I could have.

It wasn’t love. Not yet. But it was something… something that could grow into that powerful emotion, I knew.

It would take time and patience. It would take trust and understanding. I knew all of this, but with Fen on his knees in front of me, pleading with his eyes and words for forgiveness, it was clear he understood what he’d done was wrong. And that was a step in the right direction.

“What you did was wrong,” I finally managed to say, now stroking my fingers along his lightly war-scarred cheek. “It wasn’t right, taking that choice from me.” The devastated look on his face broke my heart, and I gasped at how painful that was. “But you’re trying to do right by it now.” I smiled, the act easy, genuine. “You might have forced my hand, but you still gave me a choice.” I didn’t need to go into detail about what I meant, that he hadn’t forced my body to give in.