Free A Viking For The Viscountess by Michelle Willingham Page B

center, carved of wood with four posts rising toward the ceiling and a canopy. The floor was covered with a softer woven carpet, and he bent to touch it with his hands.
    She indulged him, though he could tell she wanted to be out of this room immediately. Color flushed upon her face, and she remained over by the window, far away from the bed. Arik stood and went to touch one of the wooden posts. It was beautifully carved, with grooves etched in the wood and the image of leaves near the base. The bed covering, though dusty, was soft and warm. He sat upon the mattress, his weight sinking it down, and he imagined what it would be like to sleep in such luxury. His own home boasted little more than a pallet upon the floor, though he’d had dreams of one day owning a bed like this.
    “You’ve seen his room,” Juliana said, starting to close the window coverings. “I think we should go back. Someone might find us and—”
    “You said you did not share his room. Why?” If Juliana had been his bride, they would share a room and only one bed. He couldn’t fathom why a husband might send his wife to sleep elsewhere. It was unnatural.
    “William did not believe it was proper.” Her face turned crimson, and she started toward the door. “He visited me in my room, and sometimes he ordered me to come to his. I left afterward.”
    “Did he hurt you?” Arik saw her stiffen as her hand reached the door.
    “N-no.”
    “I don’t believe you.” He remained on the bed, watching the excuses form upon her lips.
    “I obeyed him, as a good wife should.” She kept her back turned, and he suspected she didn’t want to reveal the emotions she was holding back. Most of the happily married women he’d known had smiled and blushed at the mention of joining with their husbands. But not Juliana.
    “Come here,” he murmured.
    “I don’t want to.”
    “Do I frighten you?”
    She shook her head, but remained standing in place. “I don’t like this room, Thorgrim. It bothers me.”
    Upon her face, he saw her fear, and he didn’t doubt that her husband had misused her. A sense of anger curled inside him, for it was wrong to harm a woman. If Juliana were his, she would never experience anything except her own pleasure.
    Desire tightened within him as he remembered how she’d arched beneath him, taking his body. It had been a reckless claiming, one that haunted him still. He wanted to touch her again, to watch her achieve her own release as he sheathed himself inside her body—the way she had that night on the ship.
    The old woman’s warning, that he had less than a month to help Juliana, was a strong reminder that it was not wise to form ties with this world. Or with this woman. And yet, he wanted to take away her sadness in a way that both of them would enjoy.
    He lay back upon the mattress, sinking into a softness he’d never experienced before. “I like this bed.”
    “We’re not staying here,” she warned.
    He stretched out his arms, folding them under his head. “I could sleep very well on a bed such as this.”
    “I’m sorry, but you can’t. Not on his bed.”
    There it was. That frowning look, as if she was thinking of what she’d lost instead of enjoying the moment. He grew weary of her protests and stood. The moment he lifted her off the ground, she began to protest, until he flung her upon the bed.
    “What are you doing?”
    “You should try this.” He pulled her to lie beside him. “A man could enjoy a…a bed like this one, with a woman at his side. It is like nothing I have known before.”
    Her cheeks had gone pink, and when she lay beside him, he traced a finger over her face. When he moved his hand to her throat, he felt the wild pulse beneath his fingers. “Imagine yourself beneath this coverlet, wearing nothing at all.”
    She started to sit up, but he caught her hand. “Would you not rather make another memory upon this bed?”
    Juliana went motionless, and she would not look at him. “That isn’t