“Right where you belong,” she said on a soft moan.
She was right. He was where he belonged, inside her and loving her.
It wouldn’t take long. They were both in need, though he didn’t want it to end fast. He wanted time for them both to linger in the enjoyment, in the pleasure that mounted too quickly in them.
“John,” she moaned, gripping the bedding beneath her.
She had yet to call him Ruddock when in the throes of passion and he couldn’t wait until she did, since it would mean she finally and fully trusted and accepted him as her husband.
Ruddock kept a fast, hard rhythm, knowing time wasn’t their friend as Sorrell’s moans grew louder.
“John! John!” she cried out.
He knew she was close and so was he. Any moment they would burst with unmeasurable pleasure.
“Lord Ruddock! Lord Ruddock!”
Pounding footsteps came rushing down the hall.
“Lord Ruddock!”
The frantic voice was suddenly steps from the door. Ruddock had no choice. He pulled out of his wife.”
Her groan of disappointed echoed in his ears and down to his manhood that throbbed unmercifully.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered and hurried off her to help her to her feet.
Sorrell fell against him, the unsatisfied passion coursing through her like a raging fire out of control.
“I promise. I’ll make this up to you,” he whispered as the pounding at the door sounded as if it would shatter the wood.
He didn’t dare kiss her or touch her, worried that he might make it worse for her and fearful he would come right there and then.
He went to the door and flung it open, swearing beneath his breath that whatever Erland had to say better have been worth interrupting him.
“My lord, a barbaric troop descends on the abbey.”
Chapter 18
“Stay here. Don’t leave this room. I mean it, Sorrell,” Ruddock snapped when she went to protest. “I’ll have your word on it.”
That wasn’t fair of him. He knew she wouldn’t lie to him.
“Your word,” he demanded.
“You have it,” she said, having no other recourse and understanding now was not the time to argue with him.
He left without another word and she stepped out of the room to watch Erland trail after him down the dreary hall.
“In the room and stay there, wife,” Ruddock called out without looking back.
He knew her too well, but she did as he ordered, slamming the door so he would hear it and know she had obeyed him. She did it, more so, to help him. With a barbaric horde descending on the abbey, he didn’t need to be worrying about a stubborn wife.
She paced the small room, her thoughts chaotic. Barbarians hadn’t attacked this area in ages. Why would they do so now? Was it women they were after? She paused at the thought. What if she needed to defend herself?
Her eyes scanned the room, looking for anything that might serve as a weapon.
Nothing. She could see nothing that would help her.
“Think, Sorrell, think,” she chided herself. “Don’t leave yourself defenseless.”
She continued searching the sparse room, growing discouraged as she did.
A sound caught her attention. Was that weeping she heard?
Before she reached the door it swung open, slamming against the wall.
A young, weeping nun dressed only in her nightshift, that hung on her slim body like a sack, and barefoot was shoved with such force into the room that she tumbled to the floor in front of Sorrell.
“Forgive me, my lady, he forced me to bring him here,” the young nun begged, looking up at Sorrell with terror-filled eyes.
Sorrell helped her up, the young nun clinging tightly to her arm, while she kept her eyes on the barbarian standing in the doorway. He was draped in furs with swaths of cloths around his legs and appeared thick in size, though it could have been the furs that made him appear that way. His hair was long and braided in spots as was his beard that reached to his chest. The two sizeable scars on his aged face and the sneer he wore was enough to frighten anyone.
“You both die,” the barbarian said and stepped into the room.
The young nun wailed in fear and the barbarian raised his sword to his side.
Sorrell fell to her knees, taking the young nun with her. “Please, please, I beg you let us pray before we die so that heaven opens its arms to us. Please. Please.”
The young nun’s slim arm fell away from Sorrell and her hands locked in prayer as she began to pray in earnest, tears pouring down her cheeks.
Sorrell lowered her head. She only had a moment, a mere moment. She didn’t let herself think of the consequences. It was her only chance to escape, to save herself and the young nun.
Her hand shot out and grabbed the end of a log the flames had yet to reach, the other end burning like a torch. She swung it up and at the cloths wrapped around his legs and they instantly caught the flame and climbed rapidly up along the barbarian’s clothing.