Free Pleasurably Undone! by Christine Merrill Page B

of meat.
    “Does the taste of beef offend you also?” he asked quietly. “Or only fish?”
    She raised her head up to look at him, taken aback by his offer. “I will eat meat.”
    “Good.” He used one of his sharper knives to cut the meat into small chunks. The mindless task eased him, and he tossed them into the pot of water.
    “Where are your other slaves?” Aisling asked.
    “I sent them away.” He preferred being alone, whenever he returned from serving the king. The thralls who tended his longhouse were under strict orders to remain at his father’s house while he was in residence. It irritated him, having men and women underfoot. Especially when he had a prisoner.
    Aisling reached up to a braid of dried onions he’d hung from the ceiling. She touched one of the vegetables and asked, “May I?”
    He shrugged, and she reached up for the onion. After checking it for signs of rot, she peeled it with her fingers. “If I may borrow your knife, I’ll cut this up for the stew.”
    “You already have a blade,” he reminded her.
    Her eyes narrowed. “That one is for later. It will be used to cut out the heart of any man who dares to touch me.”
    Self-assured, wasn’t she? He moved into her space, keeping the knife gripped in his palm. With his other hand, he reached out to her waist. “I’ll dare to touch you.”
    He wasn’t about to let this outspoken slip of a girl defy him. The knife rested between them, a reminder that she could not win this battle. “Will you cut out my heart?” He drew so close his thigh moved between her legs, daring her.
    “I can’t,” she whispered. “You don’t have one.”
     
    The journey to Lutus’s home was far more uncomfortable than he’d expected. With the slave seated in front of him on the horse, Tharand was forced to hold her while riding. His arm held steady against the curve of her breast, while her slim body rested within his legs. He had wrapped her in his cloak for warmth, and yet she leaned into him for protection against the cold.
    High above them, storm clouds bided their time. He urged his horse Ymir to move faster. The stallion sensed the impending need to reach their destination, and Tharand held her tighter.
    He still didn’t know why he’d let her keep the knife. Somehow he sensed there would be no danger from her. At least, not yet.
    The lush scent of her body invited him, tantalizing him with the motion of her hips rocking against his manhood. He grew hard, his length aching to sheathe itself inside her.
    Odin’s bones. He’d intended to deliver her to Magnus, an exchange for his sister’s life. A beautiful slave, bound to pleasure her master. Instead, he found himself wanting to discover her secrets. He wanted to slide his hands beneath the soft linen underdress. Feel the round breasts, her nipples pebbling beneath his thumbs.
    Her shoulders lowered, and he sensed a change. She knew of his arousal, tensing against him. A groan caught in his throat when she turned toward him. Her dark eyes hardened into ice. “I am not yours to take, Lochlannach .”
    The words challenged him, as surely as one sword striking against another. “I’ve already taken you, kjæreste .” And with that, he reached forward, lifting the edge of her skirts until his palm touched her bare thigh. He let the woolen cloth fall back into place, though he kept his hand upon the softness of her skin.
    She hissed, jerking her attention back to him. Though she tried to pull his hand away, he kept it in place. Lowering his mouth to her ear, he whispered, “When I bring you to Magnus, he will not be wanting a shy virgin.” He slid his hand up to the slit of her womanhood. Cupping her, he let the rhythm of the horse move his hand. She fought him, trying to reach the dagger. But a moment later, he felt her begin to bloom.
    Warm wetness coated his thumb, her honeyed arousal. Encouraged by it, he stroked her intimately until he was rewarded by the arch of her back. A low moan