A Viking For The Viscountess (8 page)

“You did not wish to die, did you?” When Arik gave no answer, Grelod continued. “Juliana needs your help, and you were chosen by the gods for it. But such magic cannot last beyond the moon. I have foreseen it. Death will come, and a great reward awaits the one who makes the necessary sacrifice.”

A silence descended between them, and a sudden chill came over her. Although Grelod had always believed in magic and foretelling the future, Juliana thought it was all nonsense. She only trusted what she could see or touch.

And yet, last night, there had been too many unexplained events. Hadn’t her boat been swept out to sea, leaving her in danger of drowning? Every part of that night defied logic. Her father’s boat was still missing, and a longboat was here in its place. The man who had come to her was primitive and domineering.

She could almost believe that he was conjured, not real. Like one of the Greek gods, brought down to earth to seduce a human woman. But could he be a Viking?

No. He reminded her of someone she had met, though she couldn’t remember who. He was only a man—and a familiar one—not some lost soul summoned from another time.

And yet, her body had reveled in Arik’s touch. She could not forget his hands upon her skin, the aching sensuality of his body moving inside hers. The memory was raw enough to arouse her once again.

Stop this.
She wouldn’t allow herself to fall beneath that spell. Her mind shielded itself from thoughts of the impossible, as she turned back to her son. She distracted herself by serving Harry the fish Grelod had cooked, eating her own small portion.

When Thorgrim and her maid returned, she tried to behave as if she’d overheard nothing at all. But as she ate, she could feel his eyes upon her, watching. Juliana stole a few glances at him, noticing how her father’s shirt strained against his muscles. He was a man who could easily be mistaken for an immortal god, with his fierce nature and strong sensuality.

Clearly, her brain was turning soft.

But as he ate, he used his hands to pick up the food, not touching the fork she’d placed beside his plate. He drank the ale she’d given him and seemed pleased by the meal. Juliana finished her food and stood from the table, helping Grelod clear the dishes away.

“Will you show me where I am to sleep?” he asked.

“I thought Grelod…” Her words trailed away when she suddenly realized that this was his way of wanting to talk with her again.

“I’ll put Harry to bed,” her maid offered. The old woman gathered up a large quilt and handed it to Juliana.

Though she accepted the quilt, her heart began quaking within her. She led the man outside, and her breath formed clouds in the air. It had grown dark, and she shivered in the cold.

The tiny shelter was barely large enough for two horses, let alone this man. Still, she brought him inside, searching for a place where he could sleep.

Guilt filled her up inside, for the interior was freezing and filthy. No man should have to sleep like this. It simply wasn’t right. She faltered, not knowing what to say, when Thorgrim took her hand and led her to the back of the space. His palm was warm against her own cool flesh.

“Your servant says I may stay only until the moon completes its phases.”

Words failed her, for she didn’t want to believe that any of this was happening. “You don’t have to stay at all. This isn’t your problem, and I—”

“Do you want me to stay?” His voice was dark and deep, reaching past her inhibitions. In the darkness, she was fully aware of him. He pressed her back against the wood, his body so near, she could sense the heat of him.

Yes, I want you to stay.
How she longed to lean on someone, to have him share her burden and help her overcome it. In this darkness, she was acutely aware of him. The heat of his skin allured her, making her want to rest her cheek against his chest, enclosed in his arms.

“There’s nothing you can do,” she said at last. “This is about proving I was legally married.” She wished now that she had never taken those vows with William. At the time, she had been young and naïve, believing every word he had spoken. But after he’d gone, she had learned to rely upon herself. She had grown stronger, realizing that her husband had abandoned her. Though it had hurt her feelings, she understood that she was better off without him. A marriage in name only was better than a husband who constantly belittled her.

And yet, within a single night, she had reverted to the weak woman she had been, blindly succumbing to a man’s seduction. It bothered her deeply that she’d let this stranger touch her as if she was a woman starved for affection.

“You are wrong, Juliana,” Arik said. “There is a great deal I can do before the moon grows full again. The gods sent me here for that purpose.”

She doubted if he could do anything at all to help. And yet…her own efforts had been unsuccessful. Was there anything to lose by letting him try? She was beginning to wonder.

“We will return to Hawthorne House at daybreak,” he insisted. “I will speak to your enemies and fight on your behalf.”

She half-imagined him wielding a battle-ax against the helpless butler, and the vision made her bite back a smile. “Even if we did go to Hawthorne House, the servants would turn us away.”

“Let them try.” He stood taller, and crossed his arms. The arrogant expression on his face was that of a man who believed he could conquer any enemy. “Or are you too afraid to fight for your son?”

It wasn’t that at all. She’d tried, truly she had. But with no means of proving herself to be the viscountess, she’d lost everything. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do.”

“You are wrong. Hundreds of men obeyed my rule in Rogaland. I went on many raids and defeated countless enemies.” He spoke with such confidence, he was beginning to sway her common sense. She had already tried everything else in her power.

This man claims he’s a thousand-year-old Viking. You’re losing your wits if you think he can help you.

“You don’t believe in magic or traveling through time,” she chided. “It’s not real.”

“I do not know what is real anymore,” he said, his arms closing around her. “But you are real. And so is this.”

His mouth drifted across her lips in the barest kiss, tempting her to open. She tasted the warm breath of his mouth, the sleek length of his tongue as he invaded her. In the darkness, every touch was intensified, and she did not know what he would do next.

“Do you deny that I am real?” His hands moved down her spine, drawing her hips to his. Against her body, she felt the length of his desire, and between her legs, she softened to it, wanting him.

“I don’t know you,” she whispered, as his mouth came down over her throat, his hands rising to fill with her breasts. A shuddering gasp caught in her throat as he stroked the tips, reminding her of how he’d given her such pleasure.

“But you are no maiden. And I find myself wanting to be inside you again.” To illustrate his words, he slid himself against her, the hard ridge evoking the instinctive needs she couldn’t deny.

“Please don’t,” she whispered.

“You try my patience, woman. Already you have shared my bed. Why do you resist what I know you need?” His hand moved against her gown, sliding beneath it until he was stroking her thigh.

She was wet and aching for him. If she asked it of him, she didn’t doubt he would have her against the back wall, filling her up with rigid thrusts. Her breasts were tight, and when he cupped her intimately, she tightened her thighs around his hand.

“I can feel what you want, Juliana,” he said, his mouth moving back to her lips. With two fingers, he entered her, and a dark moan escaped her. Gently, he tantalized her with his thick fingers, moving deep inside. She closed her eyes, unable to breathe as he coated his fingers with her essence, his thumb exerting pressure upon her hooded flesh. “Let me take you there.”

Was this how a courtesan felt before taking a lover? This sense of desperate need, while her mind and body warred with one another? Her fingers dug into his shoulders, but she forced herself to back away from him.

“Don’t touch me,” she whispered. “I cannot forget that I am another man’s wife. And I can’t forget what’s important right now.” Slowly, she drew his hand out from beneath her skirts, struggling to catch her breath. “You may sleep on the floor within my house. But not in my bed.”

She could feel the silent frustration from him, the words he would not say. He was as aroused as she was, and at the moment, he was dangerous, feral in his wild desire.

“There will come a time, Juliana of Arthur, when you will beg to share my bed.” But he made no move to seize her or take her against her will.

And she feared very much that he was right.

CHAPTER FOUR

A
rik found himself aboard a large ship, the vessel tossing upon the sea as a violent storm shredded the sails. He heard himself calling out orders to his men, in a strange language.

Juliana’s language.

Such could not be possible. He knew not her words, nor could he speak them. But he gripped the mast, the rain pouring over him. He saw his men swept overboard by vicious waves, and he prayed for mercy in that language.

Lord, save me. Give me another chance to live, and bring me home.

The waves quieted, and the blood-red moon slid out from beneath a cloud. The world slipped into stillness, and he felt the breath of fear pass over him.

He thought he heard the whisper of a woman’s voice on the wind. Her words summoned him, and he felt his spirit being ripped free of his body.

Arik bolted upright and found himself lying on the floor of the house. His skin was frigid, and his mind was reeling from a tangle of thoughts he didn’t understand. Images roared through him, memories that didn’t belong to this life. Madness was descending upon him, and he fought it with every breath.

“Did you have a bad dream?” a boy’s voice asked.

Arik glanced up and curled his hands into a fist. Once again, he’d understood the boy’s words. The response came to his lips, though he hardly trusted what he was saying. “Yes. A nightmare.”

The boy sat down beside him, and in the dim glow of the firelight, he saw the child smile. Harry reached out his hand and the small fingers curled against his. “It’s all right. I’m here.”

The gentle response was one Juliana had likely given Harry over the years, but this child’s simple trust rocked him to his very soul. They were strangers, and yet the boy was offering him comfort.

He squeezed the child’s hand, and the boy added, “I’m glad you’re talking now. Do you want another blanket? I could give you mine.”

Arik stood, still holding the boy’s hand. He wanted to push back at the foreign presence within his mind that comprehended these strange words. It was like having another spirit dwelling within him. He could not know if it was a benevolent god helping him or whether it was madness drawing him under.

“Go back to sleep, boy,” he said quietly, guiding the child to the small bed that pulled out from beneath his mother’s. He helped the boy get under the covers and tucked him in, smoothing his hair back. Harry smiled at him, before closing his eyes.

He understood why Juliana would fight for this child. Why she would sacrifice everything to give him a better home and a better life. He would do the same, were he in her position.

Although he did not know what had summoned him across time, he believed their lives were intertwined with his.

And somehow he would save them.