Free Twin Passions by Miriam Minger Page A

protector," he said thickly, walking toward her.
    As he drew closer, Anora was assailed by the man's rank
odor of sweat and grime. She longed to strike out at his leering face, but the
grinning giant held her arms pinned cruelly behind her. Feeling as if she would
retch, she cringed and turned her face away.
    "You look to be a fine, highborn lady," he
sneered, wrapping a strand of Anora's long, silky hair about his finger. The
disgust reflected in her emerald eyes incensed him. "Na' good enough for
the likes of you, eh, lass?" jerking her chin around sharply to face him,
he pulled the rag from her mouth and brought his lips down upon hers in a
crushing kiss. His tongue, hot and insistent, forced apart her bruised lips,
while his hands brutally squeezed her breasts through her wet clothing.
Sickened by his foul breath, Anora suddenly bit down hard on his tongue.
    Jumping back in stunned surprise, the man stared
furiously at Anora for a moment in disbelief. His scarred face was distorted in
rage, and a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. "English
slut!" he hissed, slapping her harshly across the face. The force of the
blow numbed Anora's senses, and she felt her body go limp.
    Laughing crudely at the sight of his wily companion
momentarily bested by a slip of a girl, the bearded giant spoke gruffly in his
own language. "By the blood of Thor, Svein, if you want the girl, take
her!" Ripping the sodden cloak from Anora's shoulders, he threw it on the
ground and pushed her down upon it. "Just be quick about it so I can have
a turn. I've never sampled so fine a wench before, and from the looks of her
she's probably never been ridden!"
    Looking up at their leering faces, Anora felt a
terrible dread wash over her. She did not have to know their language to read
the lustful intent burning in their eyes. Looking desperately about her for any
chance of escape, she knew it was futile. Gwendolyn was her only hope, but
glancing at the unconscious form of her sister, she knew she could expect no
help from her now. If they think she is a
boy, at least she will be spared my fate, Anora thought fleetingly. Then
suddenly Svein was upon her.
    Shoved roughly onto her back, Anora felt his weight
covering her body as one hand frantically lifted the skirt of her tunic and the
other savagely squeezed her breast. Hot tears flowed silently down her ashen
cheeks as all hope fled from her mind, the serenity of her world shattered
forever. Wishing for death to save her, she stared blankly into the blue depths
of the morning sky.
    Suddenly Svein's thick body rolled off her and he
jumped to his feet. Turning to his bearded companion, he spoke raggedly, his
breathing labored. "Did you hear the signal, Torvald?"
    Nodding, the huge man pointed in the direction of the
river. Once again the long, drawn-out sound of a horn could be heard in the
distance, carried high upon the wind.
    "Damn!" Svein spat angrily, fumbling with the
leather belt at his waist. Of all times to be signaled back to the ship!
Groaning painfully at the heated ache in his groin, Svein narrowly eyed the
trembling woman at his feet. Thor! His blood boiled just at the sight of her!
Yet he knew now he would have to wait to taste her charms. The signal could
mean only one thing—the longship was repaired and ready to sail. There was no
time to spare, or they might be left behind. Muttering curses to himself, he
bent to pick up his sword.
    "'Tis a shame to leave such a comely wench,"
Torvald stated regretfully, looking at Anora lying huddled at their feet.
    "Who said aught of leaving her?" Without
hesitation, Svein bound Anora's wrists and wrapped her in his fur cloak.
Swinging her up in his arms, he hoisted her over his broad shoulder like a sack
of meal.
    "Have you forgotten Hakon's orders, then?"
Torvald queried, shifting his feet nervously. A hint of fear glinted in his
eyes that seemed oddly out of place with his massive size. "A harmless
tumble with a wench is one thing —out