A Viking's Peace Page 3

  He snorted. “Gods. We’re even a tourist trap on Earth.”

  She frowned. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  He pulled his lips into a thin, silent line.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I’m being rude.” Except it didn’t sound like he was sorry, or that he believed he was out of line. It felt like a dismissal, and rather unfair when she’d been nothing but pleasant to him.

  “It’s no more of a tourist trap than the Space Exploration Center at Cape Canaveral.”

  “My point exactly.”

  “You’ve never been to Earth!” She shook her head. It was her turn to bite her tongue. The peaceful garden no longer held immediate appeal, not with her current company and his archaic, jaded opinions. She turned on her heel and headed back to the longhouse.

  She could feel him behind her. Well, it was a free country, at least for him. The son of the King could probably stalk her for real without any recrimination. Simply walking back to a state dinner was no crime.

  “Ashleigh.” She froze mid-step. It was the first time he’d used her first name, and the sound of it on his tongue flooded her body with heat. “I’m a wary man. I like the life we have here, and I’m loath to see that change.”

  3

  She turned slowly, hands spread. She wasn’t the enemy here. “You need medical equipment for your beloved settlements. Better education and travel opportunities for your youth. A connection to your past.”

  “This is our connection to our past. All the best parts of our culture were outlawed—”

  “You know that’s ancient history.”

  “So I can carry this in Florida now?” He brandished a dagger, pulling it silently from the folds of fabric at his hip.

  “Well, no, but—”

  “How many independent farms remain in what used to be Denmark?”

  “None, but—”

  “The nastiness might be ancient history, but the iron fist is still clamped down hard.”

  “I’m here to show you we want to understand. Support, even. Whatever you need to be comfortable with rebuilding our connection, I want to hear it.”

  “So you can report it up the chain only to have your president do whatever he wants?”

  She lifted her hands in the air. “That’s a bigger question than I could answer tonight. I don’t know. But we have a few months here. We’ll figure it out.”

  He stepped closer. “Will you storm off again if I tell you how naive that sounds?”

  She let herself smile. It was that or stomp and yell. “Yes, probably.”

  “Don’t,” he rumbled, closing the gap between them. Her palms rested flat against his chest and she reflexively fisted her hands on the leather straps of his tunic.

  “Don’t what?” she whispered, tipping her head back to look him in the eye. Her pulse sped up at the hungry look she found there.

  “Run away from me.”

  “I wasn’t running so much as setting boundaries.”

  “And what boundaries might those be?” he murmured, dipping his head closer to hers. The second moon was on the rise, just over his shoulder, she lazily noticed.

  “I’m really not sure.” Maybe the moonlight was like the water, she thought. She certainly felt drugged, like she was in an altered—and highly sexual—state. “Something about you can’t talk to me like that and sometimes discretion is the better part of valor.”

  “Fortune favours the bold.” His mouth hovered right above hers but he didn’t press in closer.

  “Not exactly true in diplomacy,” she drawled, her words slow and heavy.

  “I wasn’t talking about politics.” His mouth covered hers, his beard tickling her cheeks and chin as his lips parted, willing hers to do the same, and because of the damn moonlight she did just that.

  Kissing a Viking was nothing like kissing anyone else. His kiss, while seemingly innocent, seemed to reach deep inside her and licked flames at her most private parts. She opened for him, and the veil of innocence fell away. This kiss was anything but chaste. His tongue teased at hers, alternatingly firm and yielding, stoking her fires and promising he knew how to thoroughly make love.

  She stroked her hands up his chest to his strong, corded neck. She eagerly ran her fingertips over his skin, hot and tight under her touch. But even as his flesh fed her desire, a warning brewed in the back of her mind. His hand slipping under her uniform jacket was the wake-up call she needed.

  “No,” she whispered, then repeated the refusal a bit louder.

  His palm stilled against her bare waist, and even as she pulled away, her insides tugged for him to stroke higher. And lower. Everywhere.

  “We can’t,” she said, heavy with regret. “This is unprofessional.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” he said dryly. When she gave him a doubting look, he laughed. “Not now, but earlier. I know it’s not…wise, to indulge ourselves like that.”

  “You thought about kissing me earlier?”

  “You didn’t?”

  “Fair enough.” She licked her lips. “But we can’t do it again.”

  “Not tonight, anyway.”

  “Not ever.”

  He dropped his gaze to her mouth then slowly dragged it back up to her eyes. “I’m not going to make a promise I can’t keep.”

  They were standing just a few feet from the side entrance to the longhouse. Inside, the music shifted to a more twisting, sensual sound.

  “Ylsa’s done,” Reinn muttered. Ashleigh moved to the doorway and watched as the trolls ambled away from the dais, following the swaying, naked back of Reinn’s ex-wife. She disliked the woman right away, which was entirely unfair.

  Like a palpable wave, the energy in the room shifted. All the Midgardians knew what was coming and they couldn’t wait.

  “We should go back to the garden,” Reinn murmured behind her.

  “Why? What’s coming next?” She glanced back at him, her breath catching in her throat at the awareness of how close he was. He shifted again, and she could feel his heat against her back.

  “A dance, of sorts.” He wasn’t touching her, exactly, but his lips were right behind her ear, and his narration of what was unfolding in front of her felt intimate and illicit. “There will be coupling.”

  “We’ve read about this,” she said, her breath rising and falling rapidly in her chest. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t get lost in the spectacle of sex, but that was before Reinn wrapped himself around her as she watched.

  “It’s just a show. This isn’t who we are.”

  “You don’t want me to watch this, do you?” She glanced back at him again.

  “No.” His blunt answer didn’t surprise her.

  “You don’t approve?”

  “Of dancing trolls and sex for shock value? Do you?”

  “It’s entertainment. Maybe not my thing, but I don’t think you like any of this. The feast. The pageantry.”

  He looked at her. “No, I suppose I don’t. It’s one thing if it’s for the court. Fantasy and fun. But as a tourism industry just to boost our economy? We came here to live authentically, Ashleigh.”

  She had no counter to that. But he seemed alone in his position and that made her want to stand by his side. That doesn’t sound loyal to the FedNat, Lt. Tavistock. But her gut churned with disquiet at the thought of being a part of something that bothered this man.

  “This doesn’t matter to us, you know. We don’t want to promote Midgard as a sex vacation or something like that. Your planet is beautiful.” She may not have seen much of it yet, but she knew outside the city limits lay farms and smaller settlements. Carefully regulated industry allowed within the city and elsewhere on the planet augmented the food produced on the Artisan Flats, but the population overwhelmingly supported their protection.

  “It is. And I will show you all of it.” Rough pride filled his voice. “But tonight…I’ll swallow my distaste. You might as well understand all of who we are.”

  “We don’t need to—”

  “No,” he said quietly, his thumb stroking her cheek as he gently turned her face back to the women spinning slowly in a circle in front of his father. “I think I might like to watch you watch.”

  Heat infused her core as he settled her back against his front. Hard leather, cold metal, and right in the middle of her back, the unmistakable thickening of a very impressive erection. She pressed her legs together. From kissing to not kissing to voyeurism in no time flat. She could handle this.

  She had to—prying herself away from his warm embrace certainly wasn’t going to happen.

  — —

  So much for backing off.

  But he didn’t care. As the dancers twirled, removing first the scarves wound around their upper bodies, then their gauzy skirts, Ashleigh’s breathing increased and her skin warmed. He stroked her cheek, not daring to press his hand to her belly again, although the need to claim her was overwhelming.

  He knew what was coming next. The first dancer picked up a glass bottle of tarfutti oil and spun the next woman into her arms. Breasts to back, hip to hip, she drizzled her partner’s torso with a thin stream of oil and held her as a third woman joined them. Hands flashed, shiny in the dim lighting, cupping breasts and curving around bottoms. Another woman joined the writhing show, and then from the shadows came the men.

  In his arms, Ashleigh tightened up. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “No one can see us.” He slid his fingertips to her neck, and her moan was so quiet he could only feel it vibrating in her throat. “Let yourself enjoy it.”

  “You don’t…”

  “I enjoy you. Watching you get turned on makes me crazy.”

  “I’m not—”

  “I can smell you,” he interjected quietly as he traced her collarbone
at the top of her uniform. He ignored her little gasp. “Your scent is captivating. I’m jealous that I’m not the cause of it.”

  “You are,” she whispered, and that undid him. He ground his cock into her back, frustrated that he couldn’t drag her back to the inn and slide them both into the tub. He’d make her come with his hands and his mouth first, then fold her over edge and slide into her from behind. “No, Reinn, we can’t…”

  “I know,” he muttered into her hair. “But I want to.”

  “I do, too,” she gasped, and he slid his hand up to cup her face, turning her around so he could take her mouth. He kept it brief, a painfully short taste of her lips that only made the ache in his chest pulse harder.

  “Go back to the table,” he said, gripping her hips firmly and moving them apart. “Join the others. I’ll be there soon.”

  “We need to talk about this,” she whispered. But there would be no talking while her lips were swollen and wet from his kiss.

  He shook his head. “Tomorrow or the next day. Tonight has gotten away from us.”

  She stared at his mouth and nodded, a jerky acknowledgement that they both needed some space to think clearly. But the masquerade of not wanting each other wouldn’t last, they’d just proven that beyond a shadow of a doubt.

  Reinn would give Ashleigh and her team a few days to get settled, and there were meetings planned, but then they were heading north. He wanted to show her the real Midgard, not the carefully constructed facade his father was intent on presenting. And when exactly did she become Ashleigh? One day with her and he’d lost all sense of decorum and boundaries. Maybe when your tongue was down her throat, your cock wedged hard against her. He shook his head. It wasn’t just about getting her alone. He wanted to show Cell 3 and Lieutenant Tavistock another side of modern Viking life.

  Tonight they’d get the flash. Soon enough they’d see the reality. And something told him that his Earth counterpart would understand the quiet wonder of the Flats. And if he got to spend some one-on-one time exploring her wonders…that would be a nice bonus.

  Not here in the city. Not in front of court. Reinn bristled at the thought of sharing Ashleigh with anyone. No. Not here.

  But up north, under the stars…if she’d have him, Reinn would show her all the Viking hospitality he could muster.

  4

  Nine days had passed since the welcome reception. Nine nights of soaking in her oversized bathtub, touching herself to the memory of Reinn’s hands on her neck, his mouth on her ear, telling her how much she turned him on.

  Through meetings and polite group tours, he managed not to touch her, but his gaze was always there. Watching and promising that good things would come.

  She ought to be annoyed that he’d said they’d talk and then avoided her, but the distance didn’t feel cold. He was protecting her, and the steady hum of anticipation for what would happen when they truly had some privacy was delicious.

  At the end of the morning resources discussion, which had gone well, the senior Midgardian diplomat stood and addressed the room. “It’s been proposed that we split into four groups for the travel outside of the capital. This will allow greater immersion in one community, but it will mean that some of you don’t travel to the southern hemisphere until much later in your visit.”

  Ashleigh didn’t turn to look at Reinn. She knew this was his idea. He was a trusted advisor, and he’d used his position to get them separated from the rest of the delegation. She wasn’t going to risk that by lighting off the fireworks that would surely happen if she glanced his way. Navena had already pointed out how she acted like a schoolgirl with a crush around him. She could trust her friend, but no one else.

  Captain Reynolds handed out the assignments. Cells 1 and 2 would head south. They crowed. Dragons were an awesome assignment. Cell 4 would head east, to the Simple Lifers, and find out how their other cousins liked living on Midgard and what their concerns were. A good assignment for Commander Derek Jacoby, although his team looked less than impressed at the idea of heading away from technology and the joyousness of the Viking settlements.

  Ashleigh’s team was heading to the Artisan Flats, not far from Ny København. Less travel time, more private time. And a chance to see Reinn’s favourite part of his world.

  “This afternoon, you’ll work with your counterparts to plan itineraries, and transport will be arranged. Those going further afield will leave tonight by air. Cell 3, you’ll travel by rail and leave in the morning.”

  As they filed out, heading to the longhouse for lunch, Derek stopped her. “Lt. Tavistock, would you be able to join us for part of the afternoon? You spent a lot of time on Simple Lifer background before we got here.”

  She could feel Reinn watching her, as always. “Yes, of course. Sgt. Johnson can handle our planning session.” She glanced over her shoulder, ostensibly to confirm that with Navena, but Reinn was right there. Not quite glowering, but not happy, either. It didn’t take long for him to clarify his position. The comms device on her arm beeped as she tucked into her plate of roast meat and herbed vegetables with a sweet and tangy fruit jelly.

  Would you rather have gone to the east?

  She blinked at the unexpected note from Reinn. They’d only tested their comms connection once, on the third day of talks, when everyone else did. She’d thought about messaging him many times, particularly late at night as she tossed back and forth in the Viking-sized bed that was missing a certain Viking. But she knew that doing so would put another crack in the facade of their collegial relationship.

  And the lightning zap to her chest that happened at the sight of his name on her arm confirmed that. She lifted her finger and hovered it over the keypad for a minute before answering. No.

  I will miss you this afternoon.

  Wow. She stared at her arm, heart pounding, not trusting herself to look up. Her cheeks must be flaming. Noted.

  You’re beautiful when you’re flustered.

  Stop bothering me, she typed as she smiled.

  I’ve had to be good for nine long days, Ashleigh. She could hear her name as if he’d whispered it in her ear.

  Hasn’t been easy for me, either. Was this the stupidest thing ever? Who might be monitoring this channel? She was reminded of what Navena had said. Not forbidden. Just discouraged. She ignored the warning bells going off in her head and focused instead on the lovely butterflies taking flight in her stomach.

  Eat your lunch.

  Don’t be bossy.

  You’ll need your strength over the next week.

  Her fork clattered off her plate as she bumped it in surprise. She pressed the button to darken the screen. From somewhere else in the hall, he was watching her. She didn’t need to respond.

  The afternoon sessions flew by. She spent half of it with Derek’s group, then moved over to where Reinn and Navena were planning quite a robust trip north. By the time dinner rolled around, she was wiped. Instead of joining the group at the longhouse, she begged off. Navena shooed her away, promising to send a cold plate over soon enough.

  She planned on having a bath, but she lay down on the bed first and the next thing she knew her arm was beeping. Expecting it to be Navena, she slapped the answer button. “What’s up, buttercup?”

  A long pause filled the air before Reinn spoke, low and rough. “It doesn’t sound like you are, despite the attempt at a chipper greeting.”

  “Oh. I fell asleep.”

  “I can hear that. Go to your door. I’ve left you a present.” He chuckled. “And by the way, you didn’t eat your dinner. Bad girl.”

  She sat up like a bolt, nipples at attention. “Where are you?”

  “Sadly, no longer outside your door.”

  “Come back.” Everyone else would have left. It would be fine.

  He groaned. “I can’t, I have a meeting with my father. Besides, if I came to your room…We wouldn’t be quiet.”

  Her nipples agreed. “Soon?”

  “Tomorrow, min elskede.”

  With a beep he was gone, and she was left with a swirl of unexpected emotion. Desire she’d reconciled herself to, even though it was completely out of character. She wanted Reinn and had come to terms with that.