Page 172 of Whisper of Nightmares

Something coils deep in her center as Dagfinn’s hand resumes caressing the ache between her thighs. He plunges deeper. Faster. The pleasure in her tightens until she can no longer stand it.

And then she is surging, edges fraying as Dagfinn buries himself deep.

He pushes her into oblivion.

Every muscle tightens around him.

Then she is tumbling over the edge, the two of them writhing in sweet pleasure together.

They relax against each other, chests heaving. Bodies slick. Stars alight in their eyes.

Dagfinn pulls himself free, but he doesn’t leave her side. He nuzzles closer, his hand tracing delicate circles upon the curve of her hip.

He kisses her neck once more, softer now. Less urgent.

A little breathless, Euphemia says, “I could get used to waking up like this too.”

Dagfinn chuckles against her back.

A knock at the door all but douses the bliss from the room.

Kelda’s voice sounds from the other side. “My apologies to disturb you both. Are you awake?”

Dagfinn pops onto an elbow, one hand remaining on Euphemia’s side. “Aye. We’re awake. What is it? Is everything alright?”

The weary sigh on the other side of the door is one of profound relief, and Euphemia suddenly wonders if Kelda has spent the entire night racked with fear, waiting to see if Dagfinn would survive the night unharmed. Unchanged.

“Everything is as fine as it can be,” Kelda replies. “Asvald is readying the carriage to take us to town. Will you be ready soon?”

Dagfinn and Euphemia share a look of mourning. Safe here in this bed chamber, wrapped in her own haven of bliss, Euphemia had nearly forgotten about Percival, let alone their plans of confronting him at the town assembly today.

Dagfinn turns his attention upon her, and Euphemia nods. Even though there is nothing she wants more than to stay in this bed with him, they know their time has come. At least there will be more days like these to come.

“We’ll be down soon,” Dagfinn says to his mother.

“I’ll have some biscuits ready for you and meet you by the carriage.”

Dagfinn rises first, and though Euphemia has now enjoyed his body twice, she still cannot help but shyly avert her gaze as his naked bottom half walks across the bedchamber. Opening the armoire, he retrieves a fresh set of garments for her, some of the finest she’s seen in her wardrobe yet. A dark crimson, velvet gown layered over a golden-hued chemise.

He comes around to her side of the bed and helps her dress. The gown is finer than anything Euphemia has ever owned, its velvet too soft beneath her fingers and its color, rich.

The lingering caresses of Dagfinn’s fingers upon her bare skin as he guides her in and out of her garments tells her he wishes they didn’t have to go yet either.

Dagfinn readies himself next. Donned in a high-collared linen shirt and a dark wool surcoat that bears the Varinsson family crest, he looks like a different man. Not the wild creature of her dreams, wrapped in fur and leather. Not the beautiful, vulnerable man trapped in his tower.

A lord.

A very handsome lord.

“Something wrong, my lady?” he asks with a crooked grin when he catches her staring.

Her cheeks burn. “No. Nothing at all.”

His mouth quirks and he takes her hand and guides her downstairs where they join Asvald and Kelda at the carriage.

The ride into town is quiet.

Beyond the windows, the countryside slides beneath a pewter sky, bare branches clawing at the horizon, clouds gathering. Inside, no one speaks. Even the creak of the wheels and the occasional jolt of the carriage seem unnaturally loud.