The Captive - By Joanne Rock Page 0,15

strange heat that flooded her skin at his attention.

“Ah, but you must drink.” He reached to wipe a stray droplet from her cheek. “It is important to sustain yourself after a long journey.”

Perhaps it was the glittering seriousness of his otherworldly eyes or possibly the heated brush of his fingertips along her skin, but she went very still. Oddly, she feared if she allowed herself to move, she might very well lean toward the Dane instead of away from him. But she told herself that was only because the barbarian represented the only thing standing between her and the wilderness—the only protection she had in the world now that she no longer was under her overlord’s care.

Still, her skin hummed pleasantly where he’d touched her cheek and she could not understand why.

The scent of burning pine and savory fish filled the shelter even though a hole in the roof above the hearth allowed much of the smoke to escape. Gwen nestled deeper into the one corner of the room that still provided protection from the elements.

“Even when you know what is best, sometimes it is more polite to offer people a choice in the matter.” Her words felt soft and scratchy in her throat, as if she’d not used her voice in a long time.

“I am not the only one who thinks they know best.” He settled near the pallet, his strong thighs splayed close enough for her to touch.

You please me.

His pronouncement echoed in her mind, confusing her when she longed to take refuge in her anger at him for stealing her away.

“You will never have what you seek from me,” she warned him. Or did she warn herself? She had no earthly reason to feel this strange warmth when he came near.

“I seek to check your knee.” His hands reached toward her and it took a moment for her mind to catch up to his words. “And this I will do.”

No sooner had he finished the warning when she felt his hand between her legs.

She arched back, away from his touch, but she’d already scooted into the corner, her spine pressed to the plank wall. Her hands went to his chest, seeking to hold him off or push him back, but all of her strength did not equal a small fraction of his. He merely shifted his shoulders, keeping her arms at bay while his hands made free with her under her gown.

Panic welled as his fingers skimmed up her calves and dipped into the hollow at the backs of her knees where her skin lay bare to his touch. His thumbs stroked a hot path along the inside of her legs.

She expected impatience. Perhaps even violence. But she did not anticipate the gentle probe of his fingers against her swollen flesh. Tenderly, he felt around her knee, front and back. And even though his upper body pinned hers with easy strength, he seemed to use care with his callused hands.

She wanted to protest, but she seemed frozen. Words dried on her tongue as the warmth of his shoulder penetrated her gown about her waist. For a moment, she almost thought he touched her because he wanted to, because he’d decided she should be captive to his pleasure after all.

The notion did not disturb her nearly as much as it should have with his thumb rolling up a tendon toward her thigh. Sweet sensation shimmered along her skin. His scent surrounded her, his potent proximity stirring something deep within.

Her breathing quickened as they stared at one another in silence. The hearth fire popped and hissed. Then, without warning, his bold hands drifted up her thighs, awakening her good sense.

“Nay!” Squeezing her thighs together, she finally found her voice in the odd battle of wills.

If he was going to force himself on her, she would at least make sure he did not touch her without a fight.

He leaned back, no longer pinning her, but not releasing her, either.

“You will bleed from the scratches of my nails,” she threatened, rearing back so hard she banged her head on the wall behind her. “You will discover the wrath of the Christian God.”

“It is slightly swollen.” His voice remained utterly calm, as if he had not heard a single word she’d spoken. “If we need to leave during the night, you will let me carry you so we can make haste.”

His hands disappeared from her legs as he rose to his feet, her gown falling back into place to fan about her

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