Page 21 of Merciful Seduction

She nodded. “If you stay here, I believe you will get a chance.”

Did she read minds? He focused on Mercia again. Did Lady Rachelle expect him to grovel and beg her companion to dance? The music stopped and he hoped Mercia would return to the table. But as soon as the musicians began playing again, another man bowed and Mercia extended her hands. How many wanted to dance with her?

He stabbed another piece of meat and gnawed it off the knife. Yes, he decided in that moment, she’s more beautiful than Kara—darker and softer in all the right places—especially her arse—the spot his hands craved to touch the most.

After four more songs, Mercia returned to the table.

“Captain Marteinn,” she greeted, flushed from exercise. “I’m happy to see you again.”

He stood, pulling the chair next to him out. “You look beautiful.”

She beamed then, nearly as brilliant as sunlight. “How kind of you to notice.”

“The gods couldn’t miss that gown.”

“This?” She smoothed her hands down her bodice.

“The color suits you.” And so do I …

“Lady Mercia?” Domarr stepped onto the dais. “Are you abandoning me in the middle of our meal?” He claimed a chair on the other side of Tyr.

Marteinn swallowed his anger at the intrusion, but didn’t give Mercia a chance to answer for herself. “The meat and wine will wait. The lady owes me a dance.”

She gazed up at him. “Yes,” she confirmed. “Please don’t wait on me, Domarr.”

Marteinn smirked at the younger man, pleased Mercia had chosen him instead.

Hugging her close, Marteinn maneuvered her across the floor, never stepping on her feet or losing pace with the music. What had changed his mind? Why had he gazed at her so intensely when Domarr issued his invitation to join him at the table?

Pride? Jealousy? She didn’t care. She’d accept any excuse he had if it put her closer to getting what she wanted.

He twirled her around, steering her away from the crowd.

“What are you doing, Captain?”

“I should think it clear, milady.” He gestured at the curtained alcoves along the nearest wall. Lovers often sought refuge in the rooms, away from prying eyes.

“Alone? In there?” Her heart beat frantically at the thought.

“Do you prefer the forest?”

If he were any other man, she’d cuff his face for such sarcasm. But his dark eyes were too hypnotic, and those full lips—the ones she couldn’t stop fantasizing about—proved too much to resist. She couldn’t get angry at him. “I’ll answer that question after I hear what you have to say.” Her skin prickled at her own audacity.

He pursed his lips, then opened the curtain. “Please …”

She stepped inside and he followed, letting the drape fall back into place. A small couch, two chairs, and a table were arranged in the small space, leaving little room to stand.

“I never said I wished to have a conversation with you, Mercia.”

The man didn’t possess a shred of patience. He leaned down, capturing her mouth. He tasted of ale and smoked meat, and it pleased her immensely. There was something intoxicating about him, perhaps the intense heat of his passion or the raw masculinity he exuded. Her knees buckled, but he held her steady, his fingers finding her aching nipples. He pinched them painfully hard, then cupped her breasts, squeezing them together and groaning inside her mouth.

This is what she coveted, the unfettered warrior. She didn’t care if he was thinking about Kara or any other woman; she just wanted him, in any capacity she could get him.

After he nipped her bottom lip, sending a pulse of pain through her body, she backed away, staring at him. “Why did you do that?”

“So you know where your lovely mouth belongs.”

“If I so choose.”