A Viking For The Viscountess (15 page)

A pang of frustration tightened inside him. He liked this woman’s courage and the way she had stood up to him. She had honor and loyalty. If she had belonged to him, he would enjoy awakening beside her or even giving her more children. Her blond hair would spill over her shoulders, tangling against him, if they slept together.

She should have another man to protect her—someone whose life wasn’t going to disappear when the moon grew full in the sky. The thought sent a dark fury through Arik, for he didn’t want another man to have that right.

The raw frustration continued to brew within his veins, minute by minute, until at last Juliana entered her room. She didn’t appear to notice him until he sat up on the bed.

“Arik,” she breathed. “What are you doing here?”

He crossed the room and answered her words with a kiss. Her startled mouth was open, and he claimed her, lifting her into his arms. She let out a slight cry of surprise, but he continued to kiss her.

Tonight, he intended to mark her, to brand her with the memory of him. If he had to leave when the moon turned, he wanted her to think of him with longing.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, as he pressed her back upon her bed. “Someone might find you.”

A knock sounded at the door, and Juliana leaped up, drawing the bed curtains closed to hide him. He stared at the fabric with amusement, wondering why Juliana had not simply sent the servant away. But a moment later, the maid entered. It soon became clear that the girl had come to undress Juliana for bed. From behind the heavy curtains, he caught a clear glimpse of Juliana’s nape and the complicated ties that bound her underclothing. The serving girl unlaced her, until she stood in a white garment.

He grew aroused watching, knowing that she was aware of his presence. The maid continued to undress Juliana, and Arik glimpsed her bare back before the maid lowered a creamy linen gown over her.

“Shall I turn down the bed, my lady?” the maid asked.

“No!” Juliana protested. “That is, no, thank you. I intend to sit by the fire for a while. Just leave it, if you please.”

She dismissed the maid and sat upon the chair. Wearing only the white garment, she appeared vulnerable. As if she knew what could happen between them.

Arik opened the bed curtains and eyed her. “Come here,” he commanded in a low voice.

She stood facing him, and the delicate fabric shadowed her lithe body. For endless minutes, she didn’t move, but her gray eyes locked with his. “I have to travel to my son in the morning,” she told him. “My grandmother is taking us to stay with her in London.”

“I will accompany you as your guard,” he said, but she shook her head.

“After tonight, you must go your way. As I must go mine.” She stood and crossed the room to stand before him. “And when you’ve gone, I’ll wonder if I only dreamed of you.”

He traced the edge of her jaw, moving his hand over her throat. In the moonlight, she appeared like a goddess. Her hair was now unbound, and he stole a lock, bringing it to rest over her breasts.

“I was sent to you for a reason,” he said. “You know this.”

She faced him with those quiet gray eyes, and there was a softness around her. “I tell myself all the explanations, but none of them make any sense. Except the one that is impossible.”

Her hands moved upon his heart, her eyes downcast. He sensed that she desired him in the same way, but there was only farewell in her posture.

He moved his hands to her waist. “It may be impossible, but can you not see what is before you?”

“I see a stranger.”

“You see a man who desires you.” He caressed her hips, drawing her close so that she could not deny the truth. “And you know what it feels like when I touch you.”

She closed her eyes, and he spied the rise of gooseflesh upon her skin. “I’m afraid,” she admitted.

“My life and yours are intertwined, though your world is not mine. I have seen mysteries that I cannot understand.” His hands slid up her torso, resting alongside her breasts. He wanted to strip away this garment, to bare her skin and taste it. “I understand what a man feels with a beautiful woman, and I want to savor whatever moments I have left.”

She remained quiet but didn’t ask him to leave. He wanted to lie beside her this night, to touch her. The thought of not seeing her again brought a strange sense of loss.

“I worry about my son,” she whispered. “I know that my grandmother will give us a place to stay. But in London, they will label him a bastard. He’ll be shunned by other boys his age.”

When she pressed her cheek against his heart, he brought his arms around her. Her hair smelled faintly of flowers, and he stroked it back. “If anyone spoke ill of my son, I would confront the boys’ fathers. Or I would teach my boy how to defend himself.”

“You’d give him a knife,” she remarked, and he detected a note of disapproval in her voice.

“Or teach him to use his fists.” He drew his hand down her spine, keeping her close. “Let him fight his own battles, and he will win the respect of others.”

“Harry isn’t a bastard,” she insisted. “I married William. And even if there is no register to prove it, I meant the vows I spoke.”

He understood that this was a matter of honor to her. “And do you wish your husband was here with you now?”

She let out a rough sigh. “No. I wish I could prove that Harry is his legal heir. But I would rather be his widow than his wife.” Pulling back, her gray eyes stared into his. “Is that wrong of me?”

“He is dead,” Arik insisted. “Or he would have returned to you.” He pulled her arms around his neck, bringing her so close, he could feel every curve of her body. “And I do not intend to let you go to London alone, Juliana.”

“My grandmother won’t allow you to come with us. Especially not after I said you were the duke’s son.” She moved her hips against his, as if trying to pull back, but the motion was even more arousing. “You will have to stay here.”

“Try and stop me.” He lifted her into his arms and held her tightly. She started to protest, but then he pressed her down upon the bed. “I take what I want, Juliana. I don’t ask.”

CHAPTER SIX

B
eing at this Viking’s mercy was both terrifying and provocative. She knew he wanted to lie in her arms and join with her again. The memory of this man made her ache, craving the pleasure he’d given her before.

Arik Thorgrim confused her. He was hard-headed and arrogant, but he was far more intelligent than other men she’d met. He was a man of strategy, one who knew how to read people. And God help her, he seemed to see beneath her protests.

She did want him, despite all the reasons this was wrong. He was more alive than any other man she’d met. None of the gentlemen of the ton would behave in this way. They would court a woman by dancing with her or asking permission to call upon her.

Arik Thorgrim would never ask. It was not only his primitive mannerisms or his clothing. Everything about this man spoke of a warrior. And yet, he had never once harmed her. He was strong enough to overpower her at any moment, but he had not done so. He possessed the honor William had lacked.

When his mouth descended to her throat, her body cried out to steal a selfish moment with him. To take the pleasure he offered and give it in return.

He moved to sit beside her, before he guided her to stand up. “Take off the gown.”

A shiver of anticipation rippled through her at the thought of surrendering to him.
Yes,
her body cried out, while her brain refused to yield.

You could still be married,
her conscience protested. She didn’t know for certain if William was dead. And despite her body’s reckless needs, she did not want to be an adulteress.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “If I do this, it’s a betrayal of my husband.”

“In my land, if a wife is abandoned, she may divorce him and take another husband. The freedom is hers.”

“Here, a wife is treated as her husband’s property,” Juliana countered. “And the choices I make will affect my son.” If anyone discovered them together, it would lend credence to Marcus’s insistence that she had only been William’s mistress. She was not an immoral woman, nor could she surrender to desires that would bring about her ruin.

“Do you believe your husband is dead?” Arik asked.

She wanted to believe it. After so many years, the courts had declared Marcus as the guardian of the estates. Her husband’s brother was now, for all practical purposes, the Viscount Hawthorne.

“I think he must be,” she answered at last. “But it doesn’t mean I can allow myself to be seduced.” Even if William was dead, she had to be a model of propriety for Harry’s sake so that no one could point an accusing finger at her. But more than that, she was afraid of unlocking her own desires and reaching for the man she truly wanted.

Arik twisted a lock of her hair, touching it as if it were spun from silk. The look in his eyes held the promise of a sinful night, one she would never forget.

“Do you wish I had never touched you?” he asked, his voice low and deep.

His words were like a physical caress, luring her into temptation. “No.” She forced herself to meet his brown eyes. “I enjoyed being with you, though it was wrong.” The intensity in his gaze unnerved her. He looked as if he wanted to remove every barrier between them.

She reached out to touch his rough wool tunic. Arik guided her hand beneath it to his bare skin. She traced the scars of battle that edged his ribs.

Viking,
her instincts warned.

“Are you real?” she whispered. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m going mad.”

“Do I feel real to you?”

He did. The hot skin beneath her palm burned her blood in a different way. He was so unlike William. When she’d married her husband, she’d done everything possible to please him, but he had grown bored of her within a matter of months.

“I don’t understand how any of this could have happened,” she murmured. “I don’t know who you are.”

“But you know how I make you feel.” His wicked hands caressed her spine, finding a sensitive place. A tremor caught within her, and for a moment she almost believed in magic. She rested her palms upon his chest and could feel his heart beating. The warm male skin tempted her to press her mouth against him.

He removed his tunic, revealing a body that had been honed like a blade. The scars he carried revealed a man who fought and bled for others.

“Let me be with you this night,” he urged, running his hands down her throat to her tightening breasts.

She could say nothing, but instead, she captured his palms and held them upon her body. “I’m afraid.” Afraid of the way he made her feel and the way she responded to him. This man tempted her like no other.

“I will never hurt you, Juliana.” He drew his hands around her waist, keeping her close. “But I will hurt anyone who tries to take what belongs to you or your son. They will bleed for it.”

His conviction was undeniable, and a sudden fear iced through her. “You cannot kill anyone.”

“What I do matters not, for my life is already lost, Juliana. Soon enough, I will die. And this time, it will be over.”

Somehow, he believed this. And though she could not understand how anyone could be brought across time, there was no denying that he was vastly different from any man she’d ever met. He was bold and unyielding, a man who would fight for what he wanted. He was a man of action, not words.

More than that, he made her feel alive in a way no one ever had. With him, she could speak her mind, saying whatever she wanted. He seemed to admire it, and when she’d lost her temper, his eyes had narrowed with unmistakable interest. And God help her, she wanted him, too. It simply wasn’t fair that she’d married a man who had used and discarded her. And now that she’d met Arik Thorgrim, she felt as if the chains of her old life were breaking. He made her want a different life, one where
she
was in command of her choices.

Her hands curled against his chest, and she insisted, “None of us can know our fate. You—you might stay.” Blood rushed to her cheeks, for she didn’t know what he would think of that.

“Do you want me to stay?” His wide palms moved down her back, pulling her to sit on his lap. There was no denying that he was a strong man, far more imposing than any of the gentlemen she knew.

In his presence, she felt vulnerable. Arik Thorgrim knew how to unsettle her, how to tempt her wilder side. Nothing about this man was tame.

I take what I want, Juliana. I don’t ask.

Could he be real? Was there truth to what he was saying, that he had died in another time and could not move on yet?

Or was this the purgatory the clergymen spoke of? To die and be trapped between Heaven and earth, forced to live another life that wasn’t his?

She didn’t know—but selfishly, she wanted Arik to stay.

Juliana reached up and traced the scar upon his throat. “Why do you even bother with me? I am no one to you.”

“You know this is not true.” He caught her hand and passed it across his lips. A rush of feelings poured over her, and she wished she could rest her head against his chest and be held so tightly she could hardly breathe. No one had ever looked at her like this. Her heart was falling hard for a man she hardly knew. But there was no denying the connection she felt with him.