Delectably Undone! Part 6

"It's nearly completed."

The s.h.i.+elded distance was back, and with it, the awkward silence. Since she'd met him, she'd rarely seen him unoccupied. Gunnar enjoyed building, creating structures with his hands. His home was one of the nicest she'd ever seen, with tight walls and a strong foundation.

Auder frowned at his skinned flesh. "Clar won't like what you've done to yourself." She deliberately mentioned the widow, to remind herself that Gunnar was involved with someone else.

"Clar is used to my rough hands."

With that remark, Auder had the sudden vision of Gunnar's callused fingertips moving over her own body. Her skin flushed, and an ache formed within her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. What was the matter with her? She knew better than to entertain such foolish thoughts. Immediately, she shut the thought away, refusing to think of it.

"I imagine she is." Auder glanced outside the cashel, feeling the sudden need to escape the boundaries. She wanted a walk to clear her head. "I'm going outside for a few moments."

"Not with them out there." He blocked her path, resting his hand upon the battleaxe hanging from his waist. "You're safer inside."

"They're camped a few miles away, and I won't go far. I just need...to get out for a few moments." The very walls of the cashel felt like a prison, closing in on her. If she could gather even a few moments of freedom, she could endure what lay ahead. She gripped her hands into fists so tight, the knuckles whitened. "You can come along and guard me if you want."

Discontent lined his face, and she suspected he wouldn't allow it. If it weren't for his promise to Morren, no doubt he'd be enjoying the feast with Clar at his side.

But when she repeated her plea, at last he shrugged. "For a short time. And not any further than the river bend."

She let out a slow breath of air. "Thank you."

Gunnar walked with her along the edge of the river. The waters were higher than usual, from all the rain. Most of the homes were elevated, to protect them from flooding, but nevertheless, she didn't like the look of the swollen water or the brooding clouds.

Auder sat down in the gra.s.s, letting her ankles dangle over the water, the scent of fresh greenery surrounding her. In a few more months, the hills would blossom with gorse and heather, exuding rich colors. But she wouldn't be here to see them.

Gunnar remained standing beside her, his hand resting upon the battleaxe at his waist. He stared out at their land boundaries, searching for any threat. There was a different edge to him, and she found herself watching him. Her awareness deepened, even as she warned herself not to fall into that snare.

He held a warrior's stance, and it seemed that every sense was attuned to danger. His eyes never left the perimeter, constantly searching.

Gunnar kept his grip upon his battleaxe, his mood growing as dark as the fading landscape. Although a marriage alliance was a civilized method of bringing the Normans and Irish together, he didn't trust the invaders. And the idea of handing Auder o Reilly over to their leader infuriated him.

She was far too good for the Normans. She was beautiful and shy, and nearly every man among his tribe and the o Reillys was infatuated with her. Her height rose well above most women, and when she stood, her mouth rested at his chin. She kept her hair tightly braided against her scalp, but below her nape, it hung free, down to her waist. It was a mixture of brown and red, almost like autumn leaves. Her eyes were blue and green, ever-changing in color.

"Tell me why, Auder," he demanded. "And don't give me reasons about protecting your clan. You hardly lived among them."

She wouldn't look at him, letting her wrists rest upon her knees. "You saw the soldiers. They want control of our cashel, and we can't withstand another attack. If my marriage will bring us together without fighting, it's for the best."

"That's not your reason. I know you better than that." He sat down beside her, reaching for her hand. It was stained red, and it evoked memories of when she'd been a girl, and he'd met her four summers ago. Each time he'd seen her, she'd had a different color of hands. One day blue, another day green. She'd been awkward then, with no curves to speak of, and a rounder face. More than once, he'd defended her against the taunts of foolish young boys.

He'd seen the promise of beauty in Auder the girl. But even then, he'd never suspected how beautiful she would be as a woman.

"My reasons shouldn't matter. It's the right thing to do, even if I am afraid." She straightened her shoulders, and it drew his attention to her lean body and generous b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her skin was smooth, her lips the soft rose color of a seash.e.l.l.

He found himself studying her in the torch light. A curl broke free from her braid, falling against the line of her jaw. The strands caught the light, a fiery red s.h.i.+ning beneath the brown. He wondered what she would look like with that hair falling around her shoulders, down to her hips.

Not yours, he warned himself. Best to turn his attention back to Clar o Reilly, the widow whom he was courting. Clar had a young son, Nial, who would be sent for fostering soon. Gunnar had an affection for the five-year-old boy, and he planned to teach Nial how to fish for his supper this summer. He'd show the boy how to guide a boat out on the waves, and it warmed him to think of becoming a father. In his mind, he imagined his future children running up to him, laughing when he swung them in the air.

It was a dream so nearly within his grasp. Clar would give her vow, if he asked it of her. But something had kept him from asking her to wed, and he suspected it had everything to do with Auder.

She cleared her throat, suddenly looking embarra.s.sed. "Gunnar...there's something I want to ask you. About men."

He waited, unsure of what she expected from him.

There was sadness in her eyes, as if she'd experienced failure. "It's about my wedding night." She gripped her knees with her hands, her face pale. "I didn't enjoy lovemaking the last time. There's something wrong with me, and I want to know what I should do to please my husband."

It took a great deal of effort not to choke over her words. "The last time?" He'd always believed Auder was a virgin, untouched by all men. "When did you ever take a lover?"

"A year ago." She shrugged. "I thought I'd see what it was like. I don't suppose he enjoyed it either. He left me as soon as it was over."

Gunnar wanted to ask who the man was, but didn't. The idea of breaking every bone in the man's body had a certain appeal. "If you didn't enjoy it, then it was his fault. There's nothing wrong with you."

She shrugged. "I think it's something only men like. Women merely put up with it, because they want children."

He bit his tongue so hard, it was a wonder it wasn't bleeding. "Auder, you're wrong. Most women do enjoy lovemaking quite a bit. Why do you think they still hold festivals to celebrate the old ways?"

"Because it's tradition?" she offered. Within her eyes, he saw the innocence. Whoever had claimed her virginity had obviously taught her nothing. It made him wonder what she had endured the time before.

"Because they want an excuse to join with a man of their choosing," he said.

She didn't return his smile, and her eyes held only suspicion, as though she didn't believe him. With a grimace, she added, "Perhaps the baron won't want to join with me after that first time. He already has a son, so I've heard."

Gunnar's jaw tightened at the thought of her enduring the Norman's bed. But even so, he wanted her to understand what she was agreeing to.

"If you wed him, he's going to want you each night." He stared into her eyes, willing her to understand what would happen. "Your body will belong to him. And he'll not hesitate to claim you."

She s.h.i.+vered, her lower lip dropping slightly. "Will I learn to like it?"

He edged in closer, until his forehead nearly touched hers. The urge to kiss her, to tempt her into experiencing her first taste of pleasure, was undeniable. If she belonged to him, he'd coax her until her body arched with need, trembling on the brink of release. He'd use his mouth to tease her flesh, until she was wet with wanting him.

"You might," he murmured.

A slight smile tipped at her mouth and a shaky breath escaped her. "Good. Then there's hope."

And she stood, walking away from him, back to the cashel.

"The contests are beginning," Morren said, and eased herself beside Auder, wincing as she sat. "I suppose we should enjoy the view."

Auder frowned, not understanding what she meant. But a moment later, she saw the men stripping down to their trews. Some had smeared animal fat onto their bodies, to make the wrestling more challenging.

She stared at the oiled skin, and something within her stirred. Although she'd seen the men bared before, there was something different in the atmosphere tonight. Now that the sun had set, torches flared all throughout the cashel. There was a primeval sense of barbarism, as though the men had become warriors of old. Some of the visiting Nors.e.m.e.n had dark runes tattooed into their skin, while others wore a gold arm band that gleamed in the torchlight.

But it was Gunnar Dalrata who made her breath catch. When he pulled off his tunic, baring himself from the waist up, Auder shut her mouth to keep from gaping. His wide shoulders were firm, his ridged muscles tight. The physical strength of his body was nothing she'd ever imagined, almost as if it had been carved from a piece of granite. She wondered what it would be like to touch his skin. Would it be warm and firm?

Even more, what would it be like to feel his body moving upon hers? Without warning, she thought of his promise, that a woman truly could enjoy joining with a man. Her imagination conjured up the vision of Gunnar lying with her, his hands sliding over her skin. A chill rose up, and she s.h.i.+fted her legs together.

Stop this. He's a friend, nothing more. He doesn't think of you in that way.

As if in answer to her self-chastis.e.m.e.nt, Gunnar approached Clar o Reilly, who sent the man a vivid smile. Pet.i.te and fair-haired, Clar was pretty enough that she could have nearly any man she wanted. An unexpected jealousy lashed out from within her, and it startled Auder, though she knew there was no reason for it.

Gunnar was free to choose any woman, whereas she would be married to the Lord of Maraloch within two days.

She reached for a cup of mead and swallowed quickly, while the men faced one another in the contests. One by one, they wrestled each other, their muscles flexing as they drove their opponents' faces into the dirt.

Match after match Gunnar won, until at last, he was offered the chance to kiss a woman of his choice. His gaze searched the crowd, many of the women calling out to him and preening. But then, his gray eyes settled upon her. Auder lost her breath, half-afraid Gunnar would approach. Her pulse quickened, and several of the others let out whistles of approval. She clenched her fingers together as the crowd parted, and he walked toward her.

Oh Danu, he was going to do this. Auder knew she should protest, say something to remind him of her betrothal. But her body was frozen in place, and she couldn't have moved if she wanted to.

He walked right past her, until he reached Clar, who was standing just behind her. Gunnar caught the widow's nape and kissed her hard, as though he wanted to drag Clar off to his bed.

Auder wanted to hide beneath the table. How could she have thought he'd meant to kiss her? Clar was the woman he wanted. Not her. Embarra.s.sment flooded her cheeks, and she prayed Gunnar hadn't noticed her mistake.

A s.h.i.+ver trembled through her as she imagined Gunnar's mouth trailing down the curve of her neck. She crossed her arms, and the pressure against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s evoked another unintentional response. Between her legs, she felt an unusual ache and the moisture of arousal.

Even if you weren't betrothed, Gunnar never wanted you, she reminded herself. And...she didn't want to share any man's bed.

A loud cheering noise caught her attention, and she found herself rising from the bench, crossing through the men and women to see what was going on.

The chieftain Trahern motioned for her to come forward. "We have our first! Who will join her?"

"First what?" she asked, uncertain of what he was asking her to do.

"The first in the women's contests," he said, grinning. "I'd say you have a definite advantage, Auder."

No. She was not going to be the center of everyone's attention, making a fool of herself. "That isn't why I-"

But her words were cut off by the men cheering. She thought she saw a few men exchanging money, placing bets.

"What sort of contest is this?" she demanded, fully intending to leave.

"A race," the chieftain answered. "If you win, you may claim a favor from any of these men." Trahern sent her a teasing smile. "You might as well torment them in the last two days before you leave."

"No, thank you," she said, and turned to leave. At that same moment, Gunnar stepped into her path. The faint stirring rose up again, at the sight of his sleek muscles and handsome face.

She glared at him. "Gunnar, let me pa.s.s."

"I thought you wanted to learn how to please your husband." He took her by the shoulders and turned her back to face the gathering women. "This is your chance to practice on the other men. If you're fast enough to claim a kiss, that is."

Though he spoke with the casual air of a friend, the weight of his hands pervaded the wool of her gown, the heat of his touch distracting her.

"There is no man here whose favor I want." She was about to push her way free of him, when she suddenly spied Clar o Reilly joining the women, her laughter mingling with the others. The widow winked at Gunnar as she prepared for the race. Seeing the woman's happiness provoked even more jealousy.

Right now, Auder craved release from the physical frustration and anger that filled her up. A hard run was exactly what she needed. Though she loathed being at the center of anyone's attention, she lined up beside the other women.

After a deep breath, she raised her shoulders back, trying not to think of how much she towered over the others. As the chieftain prepared to start the race, her attention stole back to Gunnar. She found herself studying his mouth, wondering what it would be like to kiss a man like him. Would his lips be soft and yielding? Or would they take command, forcing her to surrender?

Enough, she warned herself.

When the chieftain brought his hands down, signaling the start of the race, Auder picked up her skirts and ran hard. Her long strides cut across the cashel while the other women lagged behind.

No longer did she care that everyone was watching. Nor that she would have to wed the Norman baron in only two days more. She ran as though she could flee from the unwanted marriage, tearing herself free of the obligation. And when she crossed the line in the dirt, she heard the roar of approval from the crowd.

Everyone around her applauded, and Trahern took Auder's hand, raising it high. "The winner!" Laughing, he led her forward, adding, "Choose the man who will grant your favor. Your last favor, perhaps, before your marriage to Miles de Corlaine." He smiled. "And we are all grateful that you've agreed to this alliance."

The praise sobered her mood, for she'd wanted to forget all about the Norman. Several of the wrestlers lined up, each smiling as if he wanted to claim her kiss. The devastating shyness took hold, and more than anything, Auder wanted to flee again.

Gunnar stood on the outskirts of the men, in a clear message that he was not among those who wanted her favor. There was amus.e.m.e.nt in his face, along with a look of admiration at her win.

"Well?" the chieftain demanded. "Who is it you will claim?"

Her heart was pounding within her chest, and though she knew any of the men would accept her kiss, the fear seemed to solidify and freeze within her veins. This wasn't the sort of woman she was. If she offered a kiss to any of them, they might believe it was an invitation for more. And she wasn't prepared to take another lover.

This dilemma was Gunnar's fault. Were it not for him, she wouldn't have run this race. Suddenly the solution was easy, for there was only one man it was safe to kiss-someone who didn't want her.

She strode toward Gunnar and saw his amus.e.m.e.nt transform into apprehension.

"I'm sorry," she apologized to Clar, who had come to stand beside Gunnar. "But since this was his idea, this will be his punishment."

Lifting her head to meet his, Auder dropped a light kiss upon Gunnar's mouth. Then with a friendly smile, she turned away, leaving him to stare at her.

Chapter Two.

Gunnar had known she was going to kiss him. And though he'd wanted to tell Auder no, the words remained caught in his throat. It was a kiss, nothing more. A brush of her lips against his own, in a light gesture that a friend would give another. Easy enough to forget.

Only it wasn't.

Auder didn't know how to kiss a man-there was an innocence beneath her lips, of someone unawakened to the ways between a man and a woman. Like a spring bud, tightly wrapped, she kept herself hidden, not letting anyone know her.

She'd openly admitted that she didn't know how to please a man or how to gain his affections. Her shyness had held her back on more than one occasion. With such a powerful lord as her husband, Gunnar suspected Auder would fade into the shadows. The man would use her and discard her. There was no guarantee that the baron would keep the peace, either.

He still couldn't believe she'd volunteered for this. Were Auder as strong-willed as his sister-in-law Katla, she might have stood a chance. But she was softhearted and timid, too afraid to make trouble.

Clar reached out and took his hand as he walked her back to her house. "Why did Auder kiss you?" she asked. Though the widow's tone was friendly, he recognized the suspicion beneath it.

"I don't know. It was nothing." He pulled Clar into an embrace, dropping a kiss upon her cheek to rea.s.sure her.

Clar's arms slid around his waist, and there was no doubt of the invitation she offered when she pressed her body closer. But the widow's kiss did nothing to him. It didn't warm his skin the way Auder's had. It was pleasant enough, but it conjured up no desire or need.

The truth was, a simple press of Auder's lips had made a far greater impact.

Gunnar broke away, unsure of the troubling thoughts brewing inside. Clar seemed to sense his unease, and in her face, he saw disappointment. "It's late," she murmured. "I would invite you to stay, but I can see that your thoughts are elsewhere. Good night, Gunnar."