Ensnared (Knights of Brethren #3)(5)
When Gunnar turned ten, he was fostered out to begin his knight’s training. It was also the year Bernhard married Sofia. Although Nanna was no longer needed to care for Gunnar, she’d still had Viola, until Bernhard decided to send his youngest sister to a convent to avoid someday having to pay a dowry for her. By then, Sofia had started having children.
During the eight years Gunnar was away, I tried to forget about him. It almost worked, since I was busy helping with Sofia’s babies. But the summer I turned sixteen, Gunnar finally came home for a visit. When he’d ridden through the gatehouse, hopped down from his horse, and swaggered into the castle, I’d been smitten like every other woman for miles around.
Not only was he beautiful—yes, even at sixteen I’d considered him beautiful—but he oozed charm and wit and life. He was like nectar, and the women around him were like dancing, buzzing insects needing a tiny taste of his sweetness.
I hadn’t expected him to seek out Nanna, but he’d been eager to see the woman who’d raised him and came searching for her the first night he was back. He found me instead.
I resisted him as long as possible, ignoring and rebuffing his flirtatious remarks and regard. But over the next couple of weeks, he made a point of talking to me, paying me compliments, and showing me more interest than any man ever had.
Foolishly I was flattered, even as I continued to keep him at arm’s length. Nanna noticed Gunnar’s attention upon me and cautioned against spending time with him, reminding me that we were no longer children.
However, the more I resisted, the more Gunnar sought me out, clearly seeing me as a challenge he needed to win. The day before he was scheduled to leave to meet up with the king’s forces and fight against the invading Ice Men, he followed me out to the hot spring and surprised me by jumping into the pool fully clothed.
I joined him—also fully clothed—and we splashed and played until we crawled out and lay on the basin beside the pool, letting the afternoon sunshine dry us. We talked for several hours about everything and anything. When dusk began to approach, I pushed up and began to re-braid my hair.
From where he was still sprawled out on the warm stone, he grabbed my hand and drew it away from the half-finished braid. “Leave your hair down.”
I swatted him and resumed my plaiting. “I can’t leave it down. ’Twouldn’t be proper.”
“Fie on all things proper.”
I paused and lifted a brow at him. “On all things?”
“Yes, proper is overrated.”
“Then you would have me run around like a loose woman?”
“No, not loose. Just beautiful.”
My fingers tangled in my hair came to a standstill. Had he just called me beautiful?
He reached up again, and this time when he grasped my hand, he laced our fingers. The touch of his skin against mine sent my insides into an eddy, twirling fast and leaving me breathless, speechless, unable to formulate a response.
His bottomless blue eyes locked with mine, and they were aglow with a burning I didn’t understand. All I knew was that he sent shooting stars across the distance, transferring a heat to my skin, setting me aflush.
“You always have been the most fascinating and beautiful maiden I’ve ever known.” His words, his eyes, his body radiated with sincerity. Then he lifted our intertwined hands to his lips.
If I’d thought I was hot already, it hadn’t compared to the explosion of heat inside when his lips pressed against my hand—soft, full lips that had smiled at me countless times and easily chased away my cares.
I was so mesmerized by the new sensations that I wasn’t aware he was tugging me down until our faces were mere inches apart. All I noticed was the length and lushness of his lashes. Then he raised himself up and caressed my lips with his.
The contact was sweet and warm and tender. But it scared me. Before I could rationalize my action or let him explain what he was doing, I jumped up and scrambled over the basin wall. I didn’t wait to see if he followed me. Instead, I ran the whole way back to the castle until I was in the nursery. Even there, I closed myself in the garderobe until my heartbeat returned to normal and my skin stopped burning.
All through the night, I tossed and turned on my pallet among the rushes, trying not to awaken the infants with my sleeplessness. My mind couldn’t stop reviewing Gunnar’s kisses to both my hand and mouth. Even though the kisses had been as soft and brief as the touch of a butterfly wing, they’d left me shaken and wanting more.
By morn, I’d decided I needed to see and talk to him again before he left. I tiptoed out of the nursery and made my way through the castle toward his chambers, certain the sound of my wildly thumping heart would wake everyone.
As I entered the hallway leading to his room, hazy dawn light spilled from his open doorway, enough light to outline him half-clad and kissing another woman. Passionately.
I halted abruptly and wasn’t able to contain my gasp. It echoed against the stone walls and must have been loud enough that he heard it. Though he didn’t release his hold of the woman, he broke the kiss and swiveled his head, enough that he could see me standing there two dozen paces away.
I was too shocked to say anything and could only stare.
For long seconds I waited. I wasn’t sure what I expected—that maybe he’d thrust the woman away in disgust, admit he was making a mistake, and beg me for forgiveness.