The Captive - By Joanne Rock Page 0,18

moment to tease a caress up her bare calf, but he heard Gwendolyn’s rapid breathing and saw her tense stance. He would retreat, for now.

“You must eat,” he ordered, pointing her back to the pallet as he moved away from it. “I will feed you fish while you explain why a widowed woman kisses like an untried maid.”

The words were a cold splash on her overheated body. Gwendolyn wished to evade the inquiry altogether.

In Richard’s keep, none of the other widows—not even Margery—would have presumed to question her first marriage. But if ever the other women took their criticism to an uncomfortable level, she knew if she ignored them long enough, they would cease. And in her husband’s home, she’d simply disappeared from his sight, avoiding the hall and locking her bedchamber.

Now, with her thoughts scattered and her skin tingling from Wulf’s kiss, she couldn’t begin to think of an answer to his query. Here, in this tiny space with just the two of them, there was nowhere to hide and no way to ignore him.

He had her dinner, after all.

Her legs trembled as she walked toward the pallet where she would sleep tonight. There was no fear in her quivering this time. Any man who could pull away from the kiss they’d shared—that was a man with serious self-control. As much as she wanted to hate Wulf for taking charge of her life like it was his right, she no longer feared him.

“If you did not enjoy my kisses, it is just as well.” She dropped to the pallet in a billow of skirts and rushes, then tucked the hem of her dress about her legs to keep it secure. “I am no camp follower to entertain you in that way.”

She peered up at him expectantly, ready to eat. Her belly growled.

“I did not say I didn’t enjoy it.” He retrieved the fish from the bed of fresh grasses where he had laid it. Now, flaking off a bit from the center, he steered the morsel toward her lips. “I will never forget the feel of your mouth.”

Gwendolyn had no intention of discussing it. She simply nipped the fish from his fingers, careful not to graze his flesh.

“Mmm.” The rich flavor surprised her. “It is very good despite the lack of spices.”

Safer to speak of the meal than the interlude that had preceded it. He stared at her for a moment as if deciding whether to press the matter, then seemed content to let her change the subject.

“Spoken like a Saxon,” he scoffed, scooping up another bite. “All of your spices usually hide the taste of bad fish. If your men were not too lazy to hunt every day, your cook would not need to salt away the flavor.”

Gwen took another bite and another, liking the way the slightly crisp outside hid a tender interior. Her senses were all heightened, her body still simmering with awareness.

“Who would have guessed a fierce warrior chieftain would prepare better fish than a keep’s cook?” She sipped the water he’d brought in earlier, wondering if it was only her hunger that made the meal taste so good.

“A warrior provides for himself every day he is not seated in his hall.” Wulf held another piece of fish at the ready for her, but this time, he did not offer it. He reached forward with his other hand and gently brushed something from her lower lip.

Warmth glowed inside her like a hearth fire turning to embers.

“Then I will not fear starvation under your care.” She tore her gaze from his and focused on the morsel that awaited her. “Although you do not dole out the portions as generously as I might like.”

She had only meant to tease him into feeding her. She had not anticipated the sudden stillness that came over him or the slow, deliberate stroke of his finger down her cheek to caress her jaw.

“I will provide all that you wish when you are ready.” His voice steamed along her senses, the deep tone vibrating through her skin and making her most secret places hum.

Slowly, she understood his meaning. He referred to the carnal intentions he had toward her. With incredible masculine arrogance, he seemed to think she would one day welcome his touch even though they were enemies. Even though he held her against her will. Even though she had never enjoyed coupling.

As much as she did not wish to discuss the topic they danced around, perhaps she needed to make her