whispered. ‘No matter what happens between us.’ Her hand came up to cover his heart. ‘Our marriage will not rest upon the condition of having children.’
He leaned in, resting his cheek against hers. ‘I want to give you children.’ His hands moved to rest upon her waist. ‘I want to watch you grow round with my child, your breasts heavy with milk.’
His words held a power that entrapped her, as if she were the one wearing manacles. Against her body, she felt the rise of his arousal.
‘Your brothers are gone this night,’ he reminded her, nipping her cheek with a light kiss. ‘We’re alone.’
Her body responded to his sensual promise, aching for him. Against her gown, her breasts tightened.
‘What do you want from me?’ she whispered.
‘Everything.’ His voice was resonant, pushing past her defences. ‘Did you think I was going to let you walk away?’
She had no idea what to say, but eyed the chains. ‘This wasn’t quite what I had in mind.’
‘It’s more interesting.’
Her eyes widened, her skin warming at his suggestion. But she could not resist the urge to run her hands over his shoulders, feeling the strength of his bare skin.
It felt wicked, having a man chained for her pleasure. Deliciously so.
‘This isn’t fair to you,’ she whispered.
A slow smile curved over his mouth. ‘Søtnos, there isn’t a man alive who doesn’t dream of this.’
She realised, then, that this was his way of atonement. When he’d left her before, she’d nearly crumbled under the weight of her grief. He had chosen to stay with his wife out of honour and duty to their unborn child. She’d understood that, though it had devastated her.
‘If you wed me, I don’t want you to leave,’ she said. ‘I want a child, yes, but more than that, I want you.’ To emphasise her words, she ran her palm over his cheek, down his throat, to rest upon his heart. ‘With or without a child. It’s you I need.’
Styr held himself motionless at her words. When Caragh moved beneath his chained arms to kiss him, he claimed her lips, as if disbelieving what she’d said. Pulling back from him, she ordered, ‘Look at me.’
He did, and she framed his face with her hands, seeing the yearning that mirrored her own. ‘I don’t love you for the child you may or may not give me. I love the man before me.’ She pressed another kiss against his heart, and he drew his chained hands against her hair, holding her as best he could.
‘I don’t want you to hate me, years from now,’ he admitted.
She looped her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek against his skin. ‘I’ll only hate you, if you walk away.’
In his eyes, she saw the uncertainty, the belief of a man who saw himself as unworthy. And she realised that he was as broken as she had once been.
‘When you left, it was as if a part of me was gone,’ she continued. Emotion welled up in her eyes as she reached down to touch the lengths of chain. ‘I never should have taken you prisoner in the beginning. I understand now, what you suffered, not knowing if Elena was alive or dead. It was wrong of me.’
His hands came around her waist, pulling the chains taut until her body was pressed against his. She could feel his desire, and she warmed to it. ‘I love you, Styr. And though I may not ever be what Elena was—’
He cut her off at that. ‘She cannot compare to you. Not in any way.’ He took her mouth again, kissing her and shaping her lips to his. When she opened to him, she accepted his tongue within her mouth, matching his invasion with her own.
His deep voice was a breath of heat upon her skin. ‘From the moment I saw you, Caragh, you captured me.’
The desire to touch him, to feel his bare skin against hers, was an ache that could not be denied. At his words, she reached back for the ties of her gown, loosening it until the linen slid over her shoulders, over her bared breasts, and falling to her feet.
When Styr saw her body, he ached to touch her. Her slim lines had filled out, her breasts a generous handful that he wanted to caress. No longer could he see her bones, but a softer flesh covered the body he adored.
‘I am yours to command,’ he said, and by the gods, he prayed she would take advantage. Against his hose, he was rigid, almost afraid he would lose control the moment she touched him.
She drew near to him, her unbound hair falling across her shoulders in a dark pool. He lifted his chained hands, and she stepped beneath them, her expression shy. The length of the fetters grazed her nipple, and she gasped at the sensation.
‘It’s cold.’
‘Is it?’ He covered one nipple with his palm, gently teasing the other with the chain. She gasped, and he distracted her with his mouth, tasting the sweet flesh while his hands moved over her hips, lifting one of her legs until he could loop the chain between them.
She was so caught up in the attention he gave to her breasts, that she hardly noticed the length of chain until it slid between her thighs, moving upwards until it rested upon her womanhood.
A cry escaped her when he rubbed it gently upon her. ‘What are you—?’ A shudder broke forth as he drew it over her flesh.
His hands caressed her rib cage, his mouth still suckling her breasts while he tormented her below.
‘Remove my clothing,’ he ordered. But she was so caught up, her eyes closed at the sensation, she hardly heard him.
‘Caragh,’ he demanded, ‘look at me.’
Her blue eyes were hazed with pleasure, her hands gripping his shoulders. He repeated his request, and she fumbled with the ties of his hose, drawing them over his hips.
Her fingers brushed against his erect shaft, and it was as if she’d touched a torch to his skin. He nearly lost his seed at that moment, and he froze, trying to gather up the threads of his shredded control.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, pulling her hand back. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
It was the sweetest pleasure he’d ever felt in his life, but this was not meant to be a moment for his own release. To distract her, he moved the chain between her legs. Although he saw the flush of arousal deepening, her breathing growing faster, she never stopped her own torment. Her fingers curled around him, stroking him from the base of his shaft to the blunt tip.
He was losing command of himself, a prisoner to her touch in truth.
‘I love touching you,’ she admitted, exploring his rigid flesh with her hands. ‘You’re like warm stone.’
‘If you do that for much longer, I won’t be able to pleasure you,’ he gritted out. He lowered the chain and dropped to his knees. Her sex was wet, her legs spread apart for him. With no warning at all, he placed his mouth upon her intimately, and her knees buckled.
‘Hold on to the post,’ he ordered. With his hands upon
