Townsend, Lindsay - The Snow Bride (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (21 page)

“Aye? I wondered when you would explain him.”

She could read his face now and knew he was teasing. Relieved that he was more himself, Elfrida put aside the foolish, girlish question,
Gregory Denzil would not fight for me, but would you, Magnus?
and answered, telling him about Stephen and Hedda the laundress.

“I helped her with her washing, and once she lost her fear of me, she allowed me to fold and stretch sheets with her.”

Magnus sat cross-legged on a heap of cloaks, and she watched his long, clever fingers as he cut the pie for them both. Last night, those fingers had tickled and fondled her to delight and more, and his shaggy, black hair had curled and tingled against her throat and shoulders as he laved and caressed her nipples with his tongue.

He glanced up and smiled, saying something in the old speech she had to ask him to repeat.

“You distract me,” she admitted.

He laid down his knife, left the pie where it was on the thick trencher, and reached for her.

“I have not finished my tale!” she squeaked, sinking into his arms with as much pleasure as into a hot bath.

“Be quick, then, wench.”

She tapped his nose, and he caught and sucked her fingers. A lightning bolt of fiery desire burst between her thighs, and his eyes took on a deeper gleam. “Do not look so smug,” she protested.

He chuckled, and she watched his chest vibrate, reveling in how strong he was. “There.” He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. “Tell me now, or we shall never be done with it.”

“Hedda took particular care with a set of richly fashioned and dyed clothes that were very long in the legs and arms.”

“Belonging to a tall, thin man.”

“Exactly, and she kept them separate from the other clothes. She had a set that was just dry and those she put in a pack to take out. She would not let me go with her, she wept when I tried to do so, but I marked the direction she went and how long it was before she stumbled back into the washhouse. She had another set of similar clothes with her then, of the same kind, and she instantly set to washing those, as if she must make them ready for tomorrow. I asked her, as best I could, and she pointed at the sun, then at the sky where the noonday sun is.”

“Each
noon
, eh? And on foot, through snow, there and back in under a day? Not so long or so far.”

“No, less than an hour, I think, unless I rushed my prayers.”

“She went alone? No escort?”

“No.”

“And you heard no wolves howling?”

“No.”

“Excellent! Close and secure and safe from wolf packs, it should be easy to find—I marvel I have not spotted the place already, during the hunt, or seen clearer tracks. Denzil must have drawn us away from that part. I wonder why.”

Still with his eyes tightly shut, Magnus cracked his fingers and licked his lips, and again she thought how glorious he was, like a battle-scarred angel.

“She returned with mistletoe berries,” Elfrida went on, saving the best news until last. “To decorate the Christmas feasting, she said.”

“The mistletoe woods,” Magnus breathed, understanding everything, and now he opened his eyes. “That is enough. We can follow her tracks at daylight.”

“Or follow her.”
We, he said, not Mark or other of his men. We!

“Indeed. Well done!”

Her breathed hitched as he looked at her, pride and feeling shining in his eyes. “Should I ask for a reward?” she asked, “Or should I claim it?” She reared up in his arms and seized possession of his lowering mouth.

His apple-sweet breath filled her as his lips fondled hers and their tongues touched and embraced. His eyes, brighter than candles, remained fixed on hers, only on her. Her loins quivered and tightened in response.

“Little witch.” Each place he caressed tingled and yielded as if her body itself was singing, ringing like a church bell. She clawed at his tunic, longing to see him, taste him, touch him.

“Easy there, dove eyes, we have all of tonight.” He snared her hands in his own, pulling her wrists above her head so she arched like a wave. “Tonight, you take my magic.” He kissed her navel through the cloth of her gown, and she shuddered. “Tonight your witchcraft sleeps in my arms. You will be seduced and beguiled, Elfrida, and sob and say my name.” He laid her down on the mass of cloaks and gently nipped her throat.

“Magnus.” Dazed with desire, she tried to reach for him with her body and crush her breasts against his great chest, but fast as a striking wolf he rolled her onto her front, pinning her easily to the platform with his long legs.

His beard tickled her ear as he leaned closer still.
“
Did I not say I take you tonight, my naughty elf?
”

“
Yes,
”
she whispered, astonished at her own wantonness. She wanted this, she realized, moaning softly and lifting her hips to meet his gently sweeping fingers, running up the backs of her thighs.

He rested his hand on her bottom.
“
Yes, sir?
”

“
Yes, sir,
”
she repeated, her obedience acting as a sweet goad deep within her. She, who had never had a man before Magnus, who had been proud to call no man master, now ached to say the word.

Above her, she heard Magnus suck in a long breath, as though startled, but when he spoke he was as steady as ever.

“
Should I chastise you for that lapse?
”
He drummed his fingers very lightly on the curves of her behind, and stars seemed to explode in her eyes.
“
’Tis a sweet temptation.
”

“
Yes.
”
The word escaped before she even knew she would speak.
“
Sir,
”
she added hastily.

* * * *

He had only ever dreamed of this, Magnus thought, as he lifted and eased her over his lap, fulfilling and fueling a secret desire and loving mastery never acted upon. Since his battle scars, he had never presumed any woman would desire such tough yet tender play from him.

Why had he even begun it with Elfrida? Because she looked so appealing, and he had wanted to make her smile, to tease her a little, to have her scold him a little. She was so vivid in her fury.

I am in deep love indeed when I cannot wait for my wench to upbraid me.

And, witch as she was, unexpected as ever, Elfrida had surprised him.

He sat up, one leg curled and bent at the knee, the other straight out with Elfrida sprawled across it, swiftly breathing and tense, her whole slim frame expectant and submissive, stoking his own desire harder still.

You too, eh, my dainty witch? And neither of us admitting before now.
Admitting for him, he amended quickly, but knowing and learning for Elfrida. How could it be otherwise when she was a novice in the arts and coils of love?

Sex magic
, he thought, and smiled.

“Comfortable?” he asked, making sure her head and upper body were pillowed on the cloaks.

“I am,” she answered softly, wriggling a little to hide her face behind her arms, still shy of him—adorably shy, he thought, pierced by her trust.

Remember that always, Magnus, and go steady. Be her gentle knight. Do not rush her.

“Ready?” he murmured, combing his fingers through her long, soft flames of hair. Trust would mean relaxation and greater release for her.

She nodded, only a tiny movement, but he felt her tummy shift against his thigh. “Sir.”

Her acceptance and shy, blushing desire almost made him lose control. For several wild, heart-hammering moments he imagined tumbling her onto her back and having her, plunge in, dive in, ride on.

But his own wounds had taught him in a harsh school of patience. Some pleasure was almost pain, but true pain was only pain, and he would never tear, never harm, never ram.

“I love you, Elfrida,” he said and began.

Love you, sir
, she thought, too light-headed by then to speak. Hung across his knee, awaiting his sweetly punishing hand, she had lost all speech, including her own dialect. She could do nothing but luxuriate in her own vulnerability, secure that her ugly-handsome, loving knight would never hurt her.

She had spoken of sex magic, but all charms and magic were beyond her
.
I never knew
, she thought again, while the deepest part of her was calm. Magnus loved her, and he said he did, and she knew he did.

He would fight for me. I have no need to ask. I am as womanly as any, and a witch besides.

She was proud of herself and of her masterful knight, who had traveled to
Jerusalem
and who feared nothing, who could whistle any tune and who was kind. A man-angel in demon dress, her beast knight and snow knight.

Trusting and beloved, she did not know if she had slept a moment or if time itself had slowed down for her.

Her skirts were slowly lifted, and a delicious slither of cool air played upon her thighs. “You are a secret dream made real.” He pooled her skirts about her waist.

“And you for me,” Elfrida whispered, closing her eyes, longing for his touch.

“This is between us, is it not, and just us?”

“Who else?” She yelped as Magnus pinched her thigh, very lightly.

“Is it wise for you to dispute thus, when you are where you are and I am where I am?”

“But you asked...sir.”

She rolled slightly as Magnus chuckled. “I see we understand each other very well, little witch, and have no fear—you may argue as much as you please in any place and company save when we are in our bed.”

“And then?” Elfrida goaded, “and here, now?”

He fondled her behind, stroking softly between her legs. One long, slow caress and she whimpered, helplessly gripping the pillow of cloaks as a lightning jolt of pleasure erupted through her.

“The first release of many.” Magnus kissed the back of her neck and flicked her earlobe with his tongue. “You are pink and rose and will be warmer yet.”

She quivered, arching her back, thrusting her bottom higher into his cupped fingers. He feathered his hand across her behind, kissed her up and down her spine and purred a growling praise into her ear.

“Such a perfect, round, pattable, spankable rump.”

For you, all for you.
She did not know she had spoken aloud until his roving fingers streaked down, cupping her intimate places. “Lovely Elfrida. Gorgeous, red-haired, amber-eyed, sweet-thighed, clever, caring, round-assed girl. But first, before I spank you...”

He stroked and patted and caressed as he praised more, a mingle of old speech and his own. Hung over his knee, writhing and squirming, her loins tingling and on fire, her need and desire built and sharpened and then almost, almost exploded again.

She gasped, hearing herself pleading and not caring, wanting only more and more of sir, of Magnus, of him.