Free The Temperate Warrior by Renee Vincent Page B

desire to feel the burn of my limited temperance on your backside.”
    ****
    Gustaf watched the alluring sway of her hips as she disappeared behind a bush. And what a lovely backside ‘tis.
    Drawing in another deep breath, he tried to calm the enormous longing he felt for her. She was a woman who could effortlessly stir him into a whirlwind of need and lust. He had to find a way to fight the temptation of ripping off her clothes and sinking deep inside her. She’d barely bat her eyes at him and he was possessed by her spell. He was a weak man for falling prey to her whims…and he loved every second he spent enthralled by her charm.
    But it was distracting him and, right now, he needed to be more alert than ever.
    “My lord,” Jørgen called, as he came up from behind.
    “Are we ready?” Gustaf asked.
    “The men await your command on the langskip . No sign of the others.”
    Gustaf understood Jørgen’s cryptic message pertaining to the unwanted guests and only nodded. “What is this?”
    Jørgen handed him a long woolen cloak. “Diðrik said you might need it. ’Twas his wife’s.”
    Gustaf inspected the garment, the large hood catching his eye. It had a cavernous cover, perfect for hiding Æsa’s fiery hair. He hated to conceal her beauty in such a rudimentary fashion, but it was for the best. If the vagrants were keeping a close surveillance on a redheaded female, then perhaps he could slip her passed their attention by veiling the one thing they’d be looking for.
    The fact that they held such a keen interest in Æsa ate at his heart. If he’d not been convinced by Jørgen to turn the longship around and come for her, they might have succeeded in whatever it was they conspired to do. Every muscle in his body tightened at the thought.
    “What is it, m’lord?” Jørgen asked, feeling his pain.
    Gustaf’s teeth clenched as he confided in his friend. “What if we had not returned when we did? What if—”
    Jørgen’s hand upon his shoulder stopped him from finishing. “It does the mind no good to think of the possibilities. We are here. And she is safe.”
    Jørgen’s wise words brought him comfort and he was thankful for his optimism. He smiled, reminding himself that she was indeed out of harm’s way with his protection. “I have asked Æsa to be my wife,” he confessed in haste, looking to Jørgen for counsel, if not his blessing.
    “‘Tis a good match, m’lord.”
    Gustaf agreed and crossed his arms to his chest, silently affirming his feelings toward her.
    “Her level of punctuality suits you.”
    Jørgen’s sarcasm roused a hearty laugh and he eventually felt the need to call her. When she didn’t respond, his heart sank instantly, the cold hand of dread wrapping around his throat.
    Gustaf bolted toward the stream and called her name again, the sound of his pounding heart in his ears. Jørgen was hot on his heels as they burst through the shrubbery, finding Æsa staring into the water.
    “Æsa,” Gustaf said in exasperation, whipping her around. “Why did you not answer me?”
    Her face was white, ashen in color like she’d seen a ghost; her eyes were wide with fear as she continued to stare into the water. As his heartbeat settled, he took great pains to quiet his voice. “What happened, Æsa? What has frightened you?”
    He shook her hard when she did not answer. “Æsa, speak!”
    Finally, she tore her gaze from the water and her frozen stare fell on him. “Are you certain you killed Ragnar?”
    Her question took Gustaf by complete surprise, confounded by her bizarre inquiry. He looked to Jørgen first, seeing that his friend’s befuddlement matched his own, and back toward Æsa. She gawked at him with alarming eyes. Her breathing so shallow, she’d soon pass out.
    He looked at her earnestly, squeezing her arms in a soothing manner before he testified the harrowing truth. “Ragnar is dead.” Images of the man gutted and dangling from his insides flashed in his mind. He