Free Viking's Love by Karolyn Cairns Page B

hatred for him.
    He laid her upon his bed furs and covered
her, returning to the deck to drink with his men. Thoughts of her
on his sleeping mat were making him feel more than a little
amorous. He knew taking his new slave to his bed was too soon.
    Joran couldn’t understand the overwhelming
relief he felt that Ivar allowed her to live. He refused to
acknowledge his own personal feelings, knowing he lusted for the
girl. She would go home come spring. Why he cared if she lived or
died troubled him.
    The girl certainly had no fondness for him.
Lust aside, he found himself wanting to know her in a personal way
that mocked his intentions to make her suffer as his slave the next
six moons.
    Joran engaged his men on deck, laughing as
they recounted his slave’s daring victory over Hakon, a feeling a
pride filling his chest as Grogan recounted her skill. She was a
surprise, this English girl. They all enjoyed the telling, admiring
her despite the fact she was Harold’s daughter. She made her sire
proud this night, whether he deserved it or not.
    Allisande woke slowly, feeling enveloped
within a warm cocoon. She sighed, stretching into that warmth.
Encountering a distinct hardness made her eyes fly wide, seeing
Joran’s hairy chest beneath her nose, her thigh locked between
his.
    She felt alarm to feel desire stirring within
her, an awareness that made her retract her knee lodged between his
and scoot away, only to be dragged back by his heavy arm.
    His blue eyes were open, meeting hers with an
intent look. A sob of denial escaped her lips before his mouth took
hers. Joran pushed her back against the furs, his lips stroking
hers apart. She felt dizzy as his tongue engaged hers. His hands
wove into her hair, holding her fast as he drank from her lips.
    Her heart thudded in her chest, overwhelmed
with his nearness. Joran rolled her beneath him, his big body
trapping hers. She struggled to breathe as he kissed her, her heart
hammering in her chest.
    His hands were like iron manacles that held
her fast. She weakened as a heady rush of pleasure suffused her,
lulling her to still in his arms. He eased up her tunic slowly
while he worked the fastenings of her pants, his lips never leaving
hers.
    Allisande struggled in earnest, pushing
against his chest until his lips drew away from hers, confusion
evident in his gaze. “Don’t say no now, Allisande,” Joran growled
as he held himself aloft, his throbbing hardness pressing against
her thigh insistently. “You know this is what we both want.”
    “ Speak for yourself, Viking!” Allisande
pushed him away from him, embarrassed to have succumbed to his
kisses. “I have no say in what you do to me, Master!”
    Joran stared down into her angry features,
fighting his desire to take her as he wanted. He pushed away with
reluctance. He glared down at her. “You are mine! I own you! I
don’t need your permission to enjoy your body, Girl!”
    “ Take what you want, Viking! But know I
will hate you forever!” Allisande struggled to disengage herself
from him.
    Joran fell back against the furs with a
curse. He watched as she jumped up and distanced herself from him,
seeing the anger in her lovely face. What he felt those few moments
made him grin. “You fight yourself more than me, Allisande. We both
know you cannot hope to hold me off until spring. I will enjoy
seeing you come to me, my sweet slave.”
    Allisande scoffed at his words. “Your wait
will be a long one, Viking! I am not about to lower myself to
becoming your whore! You will find no soft beckoning wench here! I
already told you what I would do to you if you try!”
    Joran chuckled as she spit in fury, finding
her adorable. She looked pleasing despite her dirty appearance. Her
raven curls were askew, hanging to her hips. “You fight yourself
more than me, Allisande. I think I can taste a willing woman at my
lips.”
    “ You think what you wish, Viking! You
have all the power now, do you not? Have I any choice in any of
this?