A Viking For The Viscountess Read Online Free Page A

from the wind. He returned to their sleeping place and brought out a heavy fur. When he advanced toward her, she took a step backward. He let her retreat, ignoring her fear as he wrapped the fur around her shoulders.
    “You live there?” he questioned, pointing toward the land.
    “Yes.” She held on to the edges of the fur, still staring at him.
    “Then I will guide the ship to the shore. You will grant me food and shelter in return.”
    Her gray eyes turned suspicious. “There’s no place for you at my house. I barely have a bed for my maid and my son.”
    A tension pulled at him when she mentioned a boy. “Where is your husband?”
    She reddened. “I haven’t seen him in six years. I think he’s dead.”
    The traces of fear in her voice made him now understand her apprehension about the night they’d spent together. “And do you believe this?”
    She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t know what to believe. But last night I was asleep… I never meant to—” Crestfallen, she stared at her feet, as if humiliated by what they’d done.
    Arik took the fur covering with both hands, pulling her to stand closer to him. “I thought you were Svala, the woman who was promised as my bride.”
    Guilt stained her cheeks, but she raised her eyes to his. “What I did was wrong, and it won’t happen again.”
    In her voice, he heard the firm resolution, and it irritated him that she’d dismissed him like a mistake to be swept aside. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d brought her pleasure last night, and by the gods, he wasn’t without honor. He would never take a woman without her consent. But he wasn’t at all averse to tempting her.
    “It might.” To remind her of it, he tilted her chin up and kissed her. It was a kiss of possession, to place a claim upon her. But when he tasted the softness of her lips, he gentled his mouth upon hers. Her hands dug into his shoulders, as if to protest. But he caught her against his chest, pulling her closer. And whether or not she wanted to kiss him, she yielded to him like a temptation she couldn’t have.
    If her husband were alive, Arik would have understood her reluctance and honored it. But six years was too long to leave a woman like this behind. He had no doubt at all that her husband was dead.
    Abruptly, she shoved him back, breaking the kiss. Her face flushed and she reminded him, “I have to go back to my son.” She moved as far away from him as she could, and he saw the way her hands were shaking.
    Arik moved to adjust the mainsail, then returned to the rudder, turning the vessel to make use of the wind. “Come here, Juliana of Arthur. Hold this steady.”
    She eyed him, but he stood firm on his order. He needed her help to steer the boat properly. After a moment, she climbed over the rows of benches until she reached the stern. Her face was pale, her lips swollen from his kiss. “You’ll keep your word to bring me home to my son?”
    “Yes.” He stood and held out the rudder, guiding her hands. Juliana sat with her posture straight, not looking at him as she held the wood. She looked as lost as he felt. But he would bring her back to her home and learn whether or not she was telling the truth.
    The path of his life had taken an unexpected turn. Never had he been given any reason to doubt his place in Valhalla. But…what if he wasn’t truly dead? What if there was another purpose for him now?
    He took his place on the bench, rowing toward the shore. Behind him, she remained silent. He glanced at the woman, and her expression held worry before she flushed at the memory of last night. Unlike Svala, she seemed embarrassed, as if she’d never expected to feel pleasure.
    The memory of her passionate moans, the fervid touch of her hands, made him want to toss the oars aside and claim her body once again. But he understood her need to return to her son.
    “Who are you really?” she interrupted, when he continued his rowing. “Did Marcus send