The Warrior's Salvation (Warriors of Eriu Book 1) Read online

  When he walked through the door, he found Clarice sitting up straight in the bed with her son sitting on her lap and facing her with his legs crossed. They did not notice him come in as they laughed together playing what must be a private game they shared, for he had never seen anything like it. They clapped hands to the rhythm of a song she sang, then sped up as she sang faster and louder, trying not to laugh and mess up.

  Wee Jeoffrey fumbled first, missing her hand and instead slapped her arm. She laughed so hard her head fell back and her dark brown curls tumbled over her shoulders. Clarice had a contagious laugh, one that he had always found impossible not to smile in response to. Right now, that tinkling laughter and her blue eyes pinned on her son caused an ache deep down in his heart when he thought about all they could have once been. He could not deny that he had missed her laughter and after all these years, it was a balm to his damaged heart.

  His eyes trailed down from her smiling eyes to her long white neck as she continued to tilt her head in laughter. Unable to resist, his gaze traveled lower, passed her sleek collar bone and down to where her large, firm breasts pressed against the thin white fabric of her linen nightdress. His pulse picked up in pace and a familiar ache began to throb below as he clearly saw the outline of her dark pink nipples pressing against the fabric, their tips pebbled slightly. How he longed to take one in his mouth and suck until she cried his name. Her body had filled out a bit more in the last four years and so far, he liked what he saw. Her woman’s body was even more enticing than before.

  As if she sensed his gaze on her immodest appearance, she stopped laughing and looked across the room, her eyes growing wide and her cheeks flushing pink as her gaze also landed upon his chest, still bare and sweaty from a long day of training. “Jeoffrey,” she squeaked as she tried to slowly hide beneath the wool blankets, but her son still sat on top of them and she could not yank them without forcing him off. Jeoffrey shamelessly stared at her breasts, up to her gaze, and then back down. He decided if he was going to play the role of protector for the next few days, he may as well enjoy what little he could. His sense of honor would usually prevent him from gawking so boldly at a woman, but she had proven herself to be a whore and no more. He would treat her as such.

  “Jeoffrey!” Wee Jeoff shouted in excitement as he bounded off the bed and wrapped himself around his legs in a fierce hug. He saw her deftly cover herself from the corner of his eye and sighed. It was a fine view while it lasted. Mayhap after she healed, he would allow her to stay a few days and take his repayment in the form of pleasure before sending her on her way. “Mama is feeling much better!”

  “I am glad to hear that,” Jeoffrey said with a smile. And he was. The sooner she healed, the sooner she would be gone.

  “Morna was very kind. My thanks for sending her, Jeoffrey.” She whispered from the bed, clutching a wool blanket to her bosom.

  “It was the decent thing to do. The sooner you heal the sooner you may be on your way, aye?” he quirked a brow at her, making sure she understood he was not willing to bend emotionally for her in any way. Aye, he would gaze upon her flesh when it was there for all to see; he was a man, after all. But that did not mean he would go soft for her. Nay.

  She licked her lips nervously and bit down on the bottom one. He thought he saw her chin begin to quiver and suddenly felt like an arse, then just as quickly pushed that emotion away. She had made the last four years of his life miserable. If he only had four days with her, he would do his best to make her feel just as awful. He knew it was petty and cruel, but he was a bitter man with revenge at his fingertips.

  “Aye,” she said boldly, trying to cover her hurt emotions. “We will not burden you any longer than we must. I am sorry to have come into your life in a most unwanted manner. I assure you it was not intended…nor was any hurt I have ever caused you.”

  He shot her a warning glare, reminding her of his threat to make her leave should she try any reconciliations or emotional manipulation on him. Perhaps he wasn’t bastard enough to make her leave the village, but he could make her leave his farm. She could stay with a widow in need.

  Clearly catching his warning, she snapped her mouth shut, turned her head to the side in anger and crossed her arms over her chest. As she turned her face, he caught sight of her yellowing bruise again and felt himself deflate. He really was being overly cruel. She had been battered. Even with so much resentment in his heart for her, he would never have wished such foul treatment to befall her.

  “Morna will be here soon with our evening meal,” he grumbled as he turned away from her.

  “Morna also brings your meals? What a kind lass she is. Very beautiful, as well.” Clarice said and then looked at him from her peripherals, clearly trying to gauge his reaction to her statement.

  It was true. Morna was a bonny lass and anyone with a good set of eyes could see it. He also knew he could easily have her. And yet, he never had tried or even wanted to try. She was a very innocent lass who wanted a husband, a family, and all the things Jeoffrey was not willing to give to any lass. Nay, he found his release with the serving lasses of the village. They held no expectations and asked nothing further than a quick coupling to satisfy base urges. He would not tangle himself up with a lass who wanted more than he would ever give.

  And yet, the need to goad Clarice was too strong to resist. Let her feel the burning jealousy he had been living with for years. “Och, aye. Morna is indeed the bonniest lass in the entire village,” he winked. “But I prefer my lassies a bit more…experienced.” That was all he would say in front of Wee Jeoffrey. But he was certain he made himself clear. He had not remained celibate in his years away from her. Clearly, based on her son’s existence, neither had she.

  Just then Morna walked in carrying a tray with three bowls of steaming beef stew and a large loaf of fresh bread. It smelled amazing and Jeoffrey was glad she had agreed to bring their meals. He usually cooked his own food. Not only was he capable but with his farm, he had all the supplies he needed and more. But he had intentionally stayed away all day to avoid the distracting woman in his bed, which left him no time to prepare their meal. “You are a true treasure, Morna. My thanks,” he said as she placed them down on his low dining table. She blushed at his compliment but knew better than to take it for more than it was.

  “It was nay trouble. I must be getting back,” her eyes shifted over to Clarice and she flashed a warm smile before she bowed and left just as swiftly as she came.

  “Sit down at the table, lad,” Jeoffrey said as he grabbed a bowl of stew and brought it carefully over to Clarice. “Careful. Tis hot, Clar—woman.” Clarice let out a loud snort and then laughed until tears ran down her cheeks. Was she laughing at him? Aye, he supposed she was. He did sound like a petulant arse trying to avoid her name. He must say it and be done with it. “Clarice.” There. That was not so hard.

  “Jeoffrey,” she smirked at him, still trying to stifle her laughter and bent her lips to the bowl to taste her stew. He watched the steam rise to her face and create a glistening sheen across her forehead, much like the one she used to get after a long night of making love on a hot summer eve. His eyes instinctively moved downward again, hoping to catch another look at her sweet, plump breasts, but she had skillfully tugged the blanket under her arms to keep it from falling. By the reprimanding glare in her eyes, it was clear she had not missed his perusal.

  With a grunt, he walked away and grabbed the remaining two bowls, sliding them over to where Wee Jeoff sat quietly on a cushion. “Eat up, lad. This will put hair on your chest.”

  “My sire has a hairy chest. He eats stew,” Wee Jeoffrey said innocently and went to take a loud slurp of the thick gravy. From behind him, he heard Clarice gasp at the lad's comment, but Jeoffrey ignored them both. So, the lad had a father with a hairy chest. Harrold had an extremely hairy chest. More and more the evidence pointed to Harrold being the lad’s father…but where was Harrold? Had Clarice done to Harrold what she had done to Jeoffrey? Had
she tried to move up in the world to a bigger and better man, and left him with nothing?

  But the question still lingered where she had gotten those wounds. Harrold, for all the hatred Jeoffrey had for the man, was not violent. He could never imagine his own cousin causing such harm to a woman. Then again, mayhap he had caught her in the act of bedding another man and this was the result. He could never hit a woman, but many men did, and very few would not if they found their wife with another man.

  He kept eating his stew in silence. Wee Jeoffrey rambled on the entire time about the chickens, eggs, and his excitement about milking the cattle in the morning. Mayhap Jeoffrey could get the lad alone and ask him some of the questions he had been burning to ask. He decided he would try on the morrow.

  By the time the meal was done, Wee Jeoffrey had fallen asleep on a pile of cushions near the hearth. He went to move the lad over into his bed, but Clarice stopped him. “If you wake him, he will never fall back asleep. Best to simply cover him with a fur and leave him be.” Jeoffrey refused to look at her, but nodded silently in understanding. Grabbing a fur from one of the benches lining the walls of his round shaped house, he brought it over to Jeoffrey and gently placed it over the lad. He looked around, wondering where the most comfortable place to lay down for the night would be. The earthen floor was pure torture on his back the previous night.

  “Jeoffrey?” He heard the question in her voice and stood up straight, preparing for a conversation he was not willing to have.

  “Aye?” He did not turn to look at her.

  “I am sorry to have taken your only bed…” her voice was hesitant and he knew where she was going with her apology. “I do believe if I sleep on my side, we can both fit.”

  He turned to look at her and furrowed his brow. “You want us both to share that bed?” Was she mad? Was he mad to be considering it? The thought of feeling her body’s heat against his was not an unpleasant one, but he did not know if he would be able to keep his hands to himself, especially after glimpsing her pert nipples earlier. He felt himself hardening just at the thought and decided it was a terrible idea. She would most assuredly feel his arousal against her back…but not if he slept facing away from her.

  Perhaps he should take her offer. He would not only get a much-needed night’s rest in a warm bed instead of the freezing floor, but he would prove to himself once and for all that Clarice no longer held any power over him. He would face away from her all night. Simple enough.

  “Are you certain, lass? Would that not seem too intimate for you?”

  “I feel awful, Jeoffrey. We showed up in your life and took over your home. You have been kind…well, kind enough to care for us. And yet, you’ve made your disdain for me quite clear. I cannot heal fast if I sleep on the floor and I know how badly you wish to be rid of me,” she said with a frown and looked down at her twiddling thumbs. She had always done that when she was nervous. Then her bright blue eyes came up suddenly and settled on his deep brown ones. “I would not feel right keeping you from your own bed another night.”

  He sighed and tapped his leg with his fingers as he contemplated his choices. He could survive a night on the floor. He was a warrior and a farmer. He could survive anything…even sharing a warm bed with the woman who haunted his dreams? Aye, he could do that. “Alright, Clarice.”

  She smiled up at him widely. “You said my name.”

  “Aye, I suppose I did. Clearly not saying it was harder than saying it.”

  She nodded and bit her lower lip to hide her amusement. “Right.” Scooting over as far as she could on the bed, she rolled away from him, leaving him just enough room to squeeze in. “Good night, Jeoffrey,” she sighed and yawned.

  He hesitated. He usually slept in the nude. He could not obviously do so now. Would he manage to sleep with his trousers on? His tunic was already off. He had been so distracted when he arrived home that he had forgotten to even put it back on. Deciding he was about as nude as he could safely be around the woman who tempted him to no end, he plopped unceremoniously into the bed beside her and sighed loudly. “Good night, Clarice.”

  ***

  Waking up sometime in the night, Clarice rolled over, trying to remember where she was. She was more asleep than awake and started when she moved her hand and felt something warm and smooth against her palm. Her finger trailed down the hard surface, feeling ripples and valleys interlaced with something course and ticklish against her palm. Her fingers grazed over something round and raised. Not knowing what it was in her dream-like state, she pinched it between her finger and thumb, trying to identify the strange object.

  A low moan rumbled near her ear and she felt warm breath graze her neck. She hadn’t felt a sensation like that in nearly four years. It was so hot, yet she wanted more. Reality started slowly coming to her as the sensations flooded her memory with images of her pulsing with pleasure beneath Jeoffrey all those years ago.

  The more the hot breath caressed the column of her neck, the more she arched her back, feeling her breasts press against the same hard surface she had just been touching. Opening her eyes, she was face to face with Jeoffrey’s contoured chest. Hard, sculpted muscle sprinkled with dark brown course hairs met her gaze, as did the object that still lay pinched between her finger and thumb. Jeoffrey’s nipple. Oh gods! She removed her hand swiftly and tried to roll away in her sudden mortification, but his strong arms grabbed her hips and held her to him.

  “Clarice,” he whispered her name reverently. The sound of her name spoken so sweetly made her break out in gooseflesh all over her sweating body. One hand came up and cupped her breast over her nightdress and her heart raced madly with anticipation and wonder. As if trying to repay her for her previous touch, his fingers took hold of her nipple and he pulled, pinched, and teased until she could not help but release a stifled moan against his chest. Her tongue flicked out and she tasted the saltiness of his skin. He growled low in his throat and pushed his hips against her thigh.

  He was hard as a rock beneath his trousers and she could feel the entire length of him. In her mind, she remembered what it looked like, felt like, and she was suddenly desperate to feel it again.

  Tugging at the string on his trousers, she reached inside and pulled him out, feeling his heat in her palm. He pushed into her hand and groaned. “Gods, Clarice, I want you.” She gripped him harder and started to run her hand up and down his length, just as she always knew he liked. It felt surreal to be laying in a bed with Jeoffrey after all these years, to be touching him so intimately.

  Part of her felt terrified. He had made himself clear that he held only disgust for her. He wanted her out of his life with all haste. But the pull between her body and his had always been consuming, pushing aside all logic and reason, if only they could bring their bodies together in a fevered rush. She knew she would never regret this moment, even if he did turn her out in a few days, but mayhap he would hate her even more after he came back to his senses in the morn. That gave her pause and she slowly released him from her firm grasp.

  Before she could say or do anything more, Jeoffrey had her flat on her back as he pressed her down into the bed. She squealed as her body suddenly became crushed beneath his, but her mind reeled and her core throbbed. Her gown was twisted around her thighs and she could feel him grabbing the fabric and tugging it higher. His eyes bore into hers like dark, endless depths of emotion. “I want to see all of you,” he whispered and she sat up and raised her hands, allowing him to easily remove her nightdress.

  “We must be quiet,” she whispered, knowing that her son was just on the other side of the room, but also knowing he was one of the soundest sleepers she had ever known. Nothing short of an explosion would awaken her son. The hearth fire had almost burned out completely and in the nearly pitch dark, he would not be able to see beyond his nose in any case.

  “I shall try,” he murmured and she felt his breath skim across her breasts just before he took a nipple into his mouth and sucked hard on the sensitive fle
sh. He must have remembered how much she loved that. Her body pulsed beneath him as his tongue trailed over to the other breast, giving it equal attention. Any sane thought or reservation she felt dissolved with every clever flick of his eager tongue.

  “Jeoffrey,” she moaned, arching her hips into his and feeling his rigid heat against her core. She tried to grab him and bring him into her, but he pulled back.

  “Not yet. I want to taste you. Do you still taste the same, Clarice?” His words were like fire in her blood as she felt him sliding down her body, using his hands to gently pry her thighs apart, avoiding her tender knees. Every part of her hurt, but the need for pleasure won out.

  It was much too dark for him to be able to see very much, but just knowing that she was spread wide for him made her heart flutter almost painfully, causing her breath to hitch.

  Then she felt the softest graze of his tongue on her woman’s heat and she bucked against his mouth. It was just as amazing as it had always been. This man had always been able to make her body combust with barely a touch. She wanted to grab at his hair and pull, push her core against his face and let him have all of her. When his licks became a soft sucking, he moaned and pulled her against him harder, clearly wanting as much of her as she did of him. “Please, Jeoffrey. I need you,” she whimpered.

  He pulled away and hovered over her, shaking from some sort of restraint. “You want me inside you, Clarice?”

  “Aye!” she groaned and shifted beneath him.

  “You want to feel me moving in you, taking you hard as I scream your name?”