A Storm of Pleasure by Terri Brisbin

cause of his fury, they did not speak of it. A good thing, for death would be his reply.
    Harald tore off his tunic and drew his sword, calling out insults and a challenge to all present. Within seconds it seemed, nearly a dozen men answered and he was attacked from all sides. He held his ground while offering a punishing assault to anyone who got too close. When he lost his sword some time later, he pummeled with his fists and feet. But even when he was beaten to the ground and too exhausted and too hurt to rise, the rage yet swirled in his gut.
    The image of Katla being pleasured by another man still burned bright in his memory. Worse, he had called Gavin “friend.”
    He could hear the sounds of her excited breathing. He saw the flush of passion on her skin. He remembered the sight of Gavin’s hand between her legs, claiming something that should be Harald’s alone. He screamed out his rage to the sky, not caring in that moment who witnessed his fury.
    The others left him where he lay, not speaking a word and never admitting that everyone within the earl’s household knew where and how his woman had spent the night. But to a one, they also understood that no one, not even Harald, had the power to stop it. So valuable to the earl was the Truthsayer that anyone denying a request from him risked dire punishment. When his breathing had slowed, Harald struggled to his feet. He thought several ribs might be broken. He bled from several gashes on his face. He spit out a mouthful of blood and used his tongue to feel for loosened teeth. Pushing his muddied hair from his face, he walked out of the yard toward the water’s edge. A boy caught up with him and, without a word, handed him his tunic and his sword.
    When he reached the shoreline, he stopped only to remove his boots. Dropping his sword and tunic on the sand next to them, he walked into the bay. Once the cold had soaked through his trews, he tugged them off. He dunked his head under the surface a few times to loosen all the caked-in mud.
    Harald splashed his face and used his hands to get rid of the blood there. He’d hope that the cold water would cool the rage that seethed inside him, but it did nothing. No matter how hard he pushed away the memories, they returned anew.
    He’d been present for the Truthsayer’s rituals and had served as his bodyguard a dozen or more times since Gavin had joined the earl’s household. Harald knew his ways. He only kept a woman for a few hours, never longer, because he exhausted them with his lust. He never called married women or those belonging to other men to his bed. If they came to him anyway, he sent them away untouched.
    He’d broken all those rules when he’d summoned Katla to him last night. Now, when he closed his eyes, Harald did not see Katla during one of the dozens of times he’d bedded her. Nay, now the only thing he could see was the way she’d looked in the Truthsayer’s arms. Her mouth had dropped open as he stroked her, and she writhed against his naked body. Worse, she wore naught but expensive gold and bejeweled armbands and neck rings that he could never afford to give to her.
    And neither one even noticed him standing before them.
    He pounded his fists on the surface of the water, sending out waves in all directions and splashing himself with an icy shower. Dunking his head once more, he realized that the worst part of this was that Katla had never made a sound during their coupling.
    At first, after taking her as his second wife in the old tradition, he’d gone to her bed and tried to be as quick and easy as he could. Harald understood that she only offered herself to him to save her brother, but it did not mean that he did not have feelings for her. Oh, aye, lust was one of them, for she was a beautiful young woman and he had the appetite of a man. So, he took her maidenhead with care and swived her quickly when he sought her bed.
    Regardless of her apparent lack of feelings for him, he found himself