A Viking For The Viscountess (28 page)

He remembered surrendering his life to save her son.

“Arik,” she whispered.

The name was slightly different, and yet, it was right. He continued kissing her, and when her hands moved to his hair, he pulled her in so close, it felt as if their bodies were merged.

“Juliana,” he breathed against her mouth. “I do remember you.” The visions were fragmented, but his emotions broke through the fog of memory.

She gave a tremulous smile, and he could see her fighting back tears. He kissed her again, feeling the rise of longing within him. Her arms wrapped around him, and she met his mouth with desire of her own. Past and present collided, and he was powerless to resist the roaring needs.

He gazed at her, feeling the wildness coursing in his blood. Right now, he wanted her desperately, as if a barbaric part of him had risen to the forefront.

“We were together not long ago,” he reminded her. The vivid image of her naked body was branded in his mind, and the way he’d taken her hard. “I remember touching you. Claiming you.”

He cupped her face, and she rested her palms upon his chest. There was uncertainty in her eyes, but her cheeks held the flush of her own desire. “You did, yes.”

“And there was a child.” He drew his hand down to her flat stomach, wondering if he had only dreamed of this.

“There could be,” she murmured. “I believe it is true.” She reached up to touch his hair, skimming her fingers down his face. “Do you remember how it was between us?”

He pressed her back, kissing her hard, until both of them were breathless. “What do you think,
kjære
?”

“When you behave like this, I know it’s you,” she whispered. “My Viking, returned to me.”

And so he was. The tangled memories seemed to grow clearer, and he understood that Freya had indeed granted his wish to return, and he had been placed within this life.

Arik lifted Juliana up, and she had no choice but to hold tight for balance. The scent of her skin pulled him in, and he kissed her throat. “I gave up my eternity for you. And I would do it again without question.”

Juliana stared into his eyes and could not deny the truth before her. The man she loved was here again, and the joy inside was so great, she felt as if she could soar upon it.

It saddened her that the duke was now gone. And yet…she wondered if he might have been the reason Arik had returned. Somerford’s death had been unexpected, but perhaps when the old man had died, he had found a way to plead for mercy in the afterlife. She rested her cheek against Arik’s shoulder, so grateful that he was alive.

The man who stood before her now was not the duke’s son as she’d feared…he was indeed Arik Thorgrim, the man she loved. The intensity in his eyes pulled her under, and she understood his dark need to claim her. Right now she wanted to join with him, to be one with this man.

“I don’t know how you were brought back to me,” she said softly. “But I love you, and I intend to savor each moment we have together.”

He held her as if she weighed nothing, and though he was fully clothed, she could feel the hard ridge of his desire nestled against her.

“I was given the chance to join my family in Valhalla,” he admitted against her mouth. “But it was no longer what I wanted. I could not go back when my spirit was bound to yours.”

She rested her cheek against his, reveling in the hardness of his body against her own. “And my heart is bound to you.”

He drew back and narrowed his gaze at her. “You’re going to be my wife, Juliana. No man will ever lay claim to you, save me.”

It wasn’t a question, but she already knew her answer. “I will, yes. Though it will likely scandalize all of London.”

“I don’t care about them. Only you,” he said. “I love you,
kjære.
And you are mine.”

She smiled at him. “I never imagined that I would spend the rest of my life with a man who brings a battle-ax into the ballroom.”

“And I will bring it again if any man dares to threaten you.”

She laughed, leaning in to kiss him once more. For a time, he remained where he was, holding her close. “Once, I believed I had to die before I would ever find such happiness.” He kissed her softly. “But I’ve found it in you.”

EPILOGUE

JUNE, 1812

A
rik walked alongside his wife while Harry ran along the shoreline with the dog Bartholomew. Juliana carried their infant son Gregory, who was gurgling and beaming. Never in his life had he imagined that he would have such a family—a wife who stole his breath every time he looked at her, and two sons who gave him such pride.

“You cannot imagine how many letters I’ve received from Grandmama,” Juliana was saying. “Apparently our secret wedding last year was the talk of the ton
.
The gossips are all wanting to know how a fisherman’s daughter caught a duke for a husband.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps they should be asking how a Viking won the heart of a goddess.”

Juliana’s soft smile was filled with love. “It must be the way you fought for her.”

He took her hand in his and added, “William Arthur was a fool to let you go. And I hope he loses every last penny he owns.”

This past spring, Arik had taken his seat in the House of Lords, watching the proceedings. It was not unlike a Viking
thing,
where his father and other advisors had made decisions regarding laws and had passed judgment. Though he had spoken rarely while Parliament was in session, he was starting to gain a sense of his new position as the Duke of Somerford. He had the older man’s notes and ledgers to assist him as well. And as time went on, the memories given to him by Eric Fielding, the duke’s son, had gradually begun to fade away.

The most gratifying part of his new life as the duke was witnessing the humiliation of William Arthur, the Viscount Hawthorne. The viscount had lost a great deal of his fortune, gambling at White’s. Two of Arik’s friends, Jack Warwick and Lord Gabriel Stanhope, had assisted him in bringing Hawthorne into greater ruin by appealing to the man’s greed.

Strangely, Hawthorne had no memory of visiting Juliana on the morning he’d demanded a share of the Viking hoard. It was as if the shooting had never happened. Neither he, nor Juliana, could understand it. It was as if time had reversed itself, erasing the deed entirely. No one remembered anything surrounding his death.

Perhaps Freya had smoothed out the edges of time, granting him Juliana as the reward for his sacrifice. Or perhaps the old duke had taken his place in the afterworld when the goddess had claimed,
a life must be given to take your place.
There was no way to be certain. But Arik believed that the strongest reason for his staying was their son, Gregory, who held him bound to the woman he loved.

Harry was running along the sand, picking up shells and other treasures, when suddenly he called out to them, “Mama! Papa! Come and see what I’ve found!”

Arik closed the distance, striding along the beach until he reached his adopted son. He knelt down on the sand, wondering what sort of shell Harry had found.

Instead, Harry picked up a gold ring. “I’ve found Viking gold, don’t you see? It must be part of a treasure!”

Arik studied the ring Harry had found, while the boy continued to dig in the wet sand with a large stick. A jolt caught him as he recognized it as one his father, Valdr, had given to him, long ago. He slid it onto his finger, and he glanced up at the sky, wondering if his father could see them now. He wanted to believe that there was peace between them and forgiveness.

Juliana kissed him lightly, then turned back toward Harry. “You do realize that he’s going to keep searching for more treasures, now that he’s found gold.”

“Do you desire more gold, my wife?” Arik asked, teasing her. “Shall I go a-viking to bring it back for you?”

“I don’t need any treasures at all,” Juliana answered. “I have everything I ever dreamed of, right here.”

If you enjoyed
A Viking for the Viscountess,
look for its sequel,
A Maiden for the Marquess,
coming in 2015. Also, reviews are always appreciated if you want to let others know what you thought of the book.

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A Viking for the Viscountess
is part of the mini-series,
A Most Peculiar Season
. Arik and Juliana make special appearances in other books, beginning with
Scandal on His Doorstep,
by Deborah Hale (available in December of 2014).

A baby is left on Jack Warwick’s doorstep. And the notorious rake doesn’t know if the child is his.

Jack shares a Mayfair town house with two friends, and a note left with the baby suggests one of the three bachelors is the father…but which one? And who will care for the child until they can locate her mother?

Jack can think of only one woman he would trust with such a delicate task. Annabelle Robb, the penniless widow of his cousin, has been too proud to accept his financial support. Enlisting her help with the baby is the perfect excuse to provide for the woman who was once his dearest friend.

Annabelle agrees, with great reluctance. She cannot turn her back on an abandoned child, for both she and Jack know the pain of being unwanted. Yet she’s afraid of spending more time with the man who broke her heart so long ago, when he never even knew of her infatuation.

Jack doesn’t know if he is the baby’s father, but he vows to reform his ways. Yet the more time he spends with Annabelle, the more he is torn between a sense of duty to find and marry the child’s mother…and his growing desire for Annabelle!