A Storm of Pleasure by Terri Brisbin Page A

there many nights each week, bedding her almost to the exclusion of his wife and other mistress. He wanted to make her want him, he wanted her to be happy with him, and he wanted to take the ever-present sadness from her eyes. When she did not show enthusiasm or desire in their bed, he accepted it and did not dally there, expecting bedplay she did not want or a passion she did not feel.
    From the sounds that escaped Gavin’s chambers and echoed throughout the earl’s house in the silence of the night, Katla was definitely capable of feeling passion, but not for him. He pounded the water again at the realization that the Truthsayer had the woman he wanted and had somehow unleashed the desire within her that Harald wanted for himself.
    He walked out of the water and sluiced off what he could. Tugging his tunic over his head, he made his way back to his chamber to change his clothing and see to his duties. And it was then that Harald realized the true problem at the heart of his rage and jealousy.
    He had fallen in love with Katla Svensdottir.
    The thought stopped him. Pushing his sodden hair away from his face and wringing out as much water as he could, he fought the truth. He wanted her, surely, for he had watched her grow from a young girl to a beautiful woman, full of life and intelligence. He desired the woman she’d become.
    But in the months since her father had tried to draw him into the plot to rid Orkney of the earl and into the plot that extended to the Scots kingdom in order to gain importance in the eyes of the king, she’d become something more important to him.
    He’d seen the way she organized and controlled her father’s household with a quick wit and an efficient hand. Witnessed her strong and honorable behavior when her father was arrested and as she challenged him in order to save her brother. Seen the way she fulfilled her part of their bargain, never acting as though it was anything but her idea to be in his bed.
    All those things had made him fall in love with her. And even knowing that she did not love him in return and never would if she learned the extent of his involvement in her father’s demise did not lessen his growing need for her. He laughed harshly then—the irony of the situation was not lost on him at all.
    Both he and Gavin pursued her for their own reasons: his was love, Gavin’s was lust. He suspected that in the end, neither would end up with Katla or deserve her if they did.
    Harald walked down the corridor to his chambers, not meeting the gaze of anyone he passed. His feelings were too close to the surface, and he feared his temper was not yet under control. Let the others veer from his path and give him some time to accept the situation. He needed to be rid of this rage before Katla returned to him tonight.
    Above all, he needed to banish the image of the two of them, naked, entwined in passion. Taking a deep breath, he turned the corner and watched as one of the servants left his room. Good. He wanted no one rushing around his chambers now. He wanted to see and speak to no one for a while. Lifting the latch on his door, he pushed it open and walked inside.
    Katla sat in the chair in the corner, watching him with a different emotion from the sadness that usually shone within. Now it was fear he saw, and it turned his stomach.
     
    He looked terrible.
    One side of his jaw was swollen and he bled from two cuts on his cheek and forehead. He limped into the room, favoring his left leg. Harald wore only his tunic and carried his boots, trews, belt and sword.
    And it was her fault.
    Standing, she went to him and took his clothing and sword, placing them on the table. Pointing at the chair, she nodded to him.
    “Sit, Harald. Let me see to your injuries.”
    Katla poured some water from the pitcher into the washbasin and dipped a cloth in it. Dabbing it on the cuts she found on his face and scalp, moving his hair aside to check for more, she finally stopped most of the bleeding. None