Read Storm Maiden for Free Online Page A

her
hands, she rinsed the cloth and continued washing. Here, where it
had been covered by his tunic, his skin was fairer, a creamy shade,
darkened with freckles. A silky down of reddish-gold hair began at
his neck and spread across his upper chest, then trailed down his
belly in a line to his groin.
    Awe and some other emotion she could not
identify assaulted Fiona as she rubbed the scented cloth over his
chest. The sensation of sleek skin over iron-hard muscles made her
throat go dry. He was so beautiful, so pleasing to look at. The
sight, the feel of him caused a dull ache to spread through her
body. She could do this forever, stroking him, feeling his
aliveness, the deep thud of his heart beneath his skin.
    She forced herself to concentrate on
washing. The dried blood that caked the gashes on his skin took
some scrubbing. As her fingers rubbed at the wound on his lower
chest, the Viking took a sudden, sharp breath. Fiona froze,
watching his face. When he made no other movement nor emitted any
sound, she returned to her task. A deep bruise was visible around
the cut. It seemed likely that the damage extended to the ribs
beneath. Fiona left the injury alone and began washing beneath his
left arm. He shivered slightly as the cloth touched his armpit, and
Fiona again tensed. Most people were ticklish there, but if the man
were truly unconscious, he should not feel it.
    She sat back on her heels, observing the
Viking closely. Could he be aware, but pretending unconsciousness?
Nay, it was absurd to think so. Why would a man lie as if dead
while a stranger bathed him?
    She watched him a moment longer, then went
on with her washing. After rinsing what she could reach of his
other side and back, she glanced with distaste at the murky water
in the cauldron. She should have brought more, but it was awkward
to carry and would have been difficult to explain if anyone had
noticed her. She would have to make do with what she had.
    Fiona took a deep breath and glanced at the
line of hair that ran down the Viking’s flat, muscular belly and
disappeared into the top of his trews. Her skin suddenly felt hot,
and the weak, aching feeling inside her deepened. Despite the reek
of his clothing, did she have the nerve to bare more of his
breathtaking-but-frightening body?
    Fool! she told herself. You mean
to have him couple with you—what difference does it make if you see
him naked? Fortified by the thought, Fiona sought out the knife
and used it to cut the drawstring of his trews. Grasping the
stiffened fabric, she slowly eased it down. She had not even gotten
it past his hips when the trews fell from her hands and she gave a
smothered cry.
    Sweet Bridget! Fiona gaped at the
large, erect phallus thrusting up from the Viking’s thatch of
reddish pubic hair. The man was as aroused and ready as a stallion
in rut! Suspicious, she darted her eyes back to the Viking’s face.
His features were still, expressionless. Was it possible that a
man’s body could be primed for lovemaking while his mind remained
unaware?
    Fiona swallowed hard. Dared she continue
washing him? At any moment, he might throw off his stupor and grab
her and rape her. But was that not what she wanted?
    Her eyes again took in his engorged male
organ. She had not thought men were so large. He seemed as huge as
a stallion—and she was no mare! Would he kill her if he coupled
with her? At the very least, it would be painful. She felt sweat
dribble down between her breasts. She must be brave. Losing your
maidenhead was said to hurt, but it could hardly be worse than
bearing a babe. If a woman’s flesh yielded to allow a babe through
the birth passage, surely it could accommodate a man of almost any
size.
    Fiona bit her lower lip and stared. Men
often referred to their phalluses as “shafts” and “swords.”
Observing one closely, she found the descriptions very apt. The
woman’s body acted as a scabbard—the sheath for the man’s weapon.
Fiona felt a blush firing her