Page 24 of The Blue Viking

“Pretty, eh?” He laughed, and it was not a pretty sound.

His mirth was not of comfort to Maire, especially since he was staring at her with eyes that could only be described as smoldering. No man’s eyes had ever smoldered for Maire before, and she had to stifle the impulse to be pleased.

“Do not attempt to tell me what interests me when it comes to the man-woman arena. In truth, I have been watching you move about all day in that pink blanket-gown you are wearing—”

“It’s not a blanket. It’s an arisaid.”

“Whatever you call it, its pinkish color reminds me of a confection I ate once in the home of an Eastern potentate. It was so sweet, I remember licking the spoon afterward and my fingertips, as well.”

Maire was getting truly alarmed, not just by his lecherous words, but by how they made her feel. “My gown is not pink, it is faded red. And I do not understand this licking business. Now let me up.”

Of course, he did not obey her order, but kept the stone rocking with a mocking grin upon his face. His eyes were heavy lidded, burning intensely. “Let me explain this licking business, then. Never let it be said that Vikings do not make themselves clear. You look good enough to lick, Maire the Fair. All over. Stark naked. Starting with your nipples, which have already hardened with my words and ache for my attentions.”

“They do not…. They are not.” She glanced down, guiltily, before she could catch herself. Of course, there was no way he could see through the thick fabric of her arisaid. He had been guessing. The brute.

“You are a perverted man, Rurik.”

“Yea,” he agreed with a half smile. “That is one of the good things about me. Women love it.”

“Never let it be said that you are an excessively modest man.” Her upper lip curled back in a snarl. “Well, I am not one of your women, and will not be.”

“You were once.”

“Never again.”

He put up a hand, his eyes sparkling with the love of combat. “Protest all you want, Maire. This is my promise to you. Every day I bear your mark, you will bear mine. On fair days, I will work with your men and mine to build up the defenses of your castle against the MacNabs, but I will devote the long nights to you and you alone in your bedchamber. On rainy days, there will be more time to devote to your marking, and we might just spent day and night in bed. I have so much to teach you … so many ways to mark you.”

She gasped. She could not help herself.

“Somehow, after a few days of this, I think you will remember your dark arts, or find another witch to stir up a remedy for you. Surely, you are not the only witch in all the Highlands.”

“You don’t scare me, Viking.”

“I don’t?” The jut of his chin and the determination on his face did not bode well for her. Then, with deliberate insult, he let his gaze move down from her face to her chest. “Speaking of your nipples … and licking …”

Nobody is speaking of nipples. Please do not bring up that horrid subject again. I can feel that part of my body reacting already.

“… there is another place I would like to lick on you, sweetling,” he said. Before she knew what he was about, he rocked the stone more forcibly, causing her legs to flail, and he landed with deliberate intent between them. His sex pressed intimately against her sex, and it mattered not that there were several layers of cloth betwixt them. His lips were lowering to hers.

To her embarrassment, she heard a panting noise, and it came from her.

But Rurik was equally affected. She could see that in the sensual hazing of his eyes, his half-lowered lids, and the way he stared at her.

Maire knew then, without a doubt, that Rurik did want her in a man-woman way. She also knew that when he was done with her, she would indeed be marked.

Right now, she did not care.

Chapter Five

Quickly, Rurik eased himself atop the startled wench who lay like a sacrificial victim, arms and legs akimbo, where she’d landed when he’d rocked the stone. He’d intended only to scare the witch, who would not disclose the remedy for removing his blue mark.

That was what he’d intended.

But, oh, the consequences of a foolish man’s warped intentions.

As soon as he’d settled himself betwixt her inadvertently parted thighs, it was as if a thunderbolt struck him. All thoughts of intimidation or revenge fled his head. He should have known that a favorite part of his body would thicken with a will of its own. He wasn’t absolutely positive, but Lance appeared to be actually throbbing. Whilst manhood pressed against womanhood, and his senses grew as fuzzy as the moss he’d just been handling, he could not remember why he had hated this woman for five long years, why he needed to have her fearful of him, why it was important that he remain aloof and unmoved by her.

Unfortunately, everything that was male in him moved, of its own accord. Lance—the bloody lackwit!—was nigh smiling with anticipation.