Viking's Love (9 page)

Joran took her to the enclosure, marveling at
how light she was in his arms, and how good she felt there, in
spite of her 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? No, it appears you will have your way and think little of my
future while you appease your selfish needs!”

“
My needs are hardly selfish, girl,”
Joran taunted her, his blue eyes twinkling up at her in amusement.
“You will enjoy me as I will enjoy you. Why do you fight
it?”

“
You are my enemy! That is
why!”

“
I am not feeling like an enemy right
now, Wench.”

Allisande laughed scornfully down at him, her
violet eyes raging with anger. “Had I my sword in hand, you’d lose
that part of you that you value so highly!”

Joran cocked his head and chuckled up at her.
“At least allow me to show you its joys before you render it
useless, my lady.”

Allisande scowled at him, her face burning.
“I will cut it off if you come near me with it! Know that now,
Viking! You would rethink your intention!”

Joran absorbed her threats with a grin.
“Would that be before or after, my ornery slave? You will have
little to complain of after, I think.”

“
Oh! You’re an arrogant knave to think
me so weak-kneed!”

“
I could only hope you so weak-kneed,
Wench.” Joran drew aside the furs to expose his impressive
erection, making her take a step back in shock.

Joran chuckled at her horrified
expression, knowing she dreaded coming to his bed with every fiber
of her being. He tasted a response on her lips, one he planned to
cultivate and foil her attempts at making him force her into his
bed.
She will come to me;
he
thought and grinned up at her, his throbbing erection meriting a
squeak of dismay from her as she backed away.

“
You are obviously full of yourself if
you think that, Viking! I’ll not lay with a man who killed all that
I loved!”

Joran’s grin faded under her words, realizing
he more than earned her spite. While he desired her and wanted
nothing more to drag her back down with him, he realized her hatred
of him was indeed an issue.

She longed to kill him for what he did to her
and her family. He could see the resolve in her tense features as
he sat up. She hated him. He felt deflated to know had he met her
under different circumstances; it might have been different between
them.

Allisande was a female any man would be proud
to call his own and appreciate fully. Seeing her stand before him
with such defiance was only a reminder that she wasn’t just any
woman, but his enemy’s daughter.

It angered him to know he had his work cut
out for him in making her soften towards him.

“
Your father was a coward who left you
and your mother to die!” Joran snapped heartlessly, seeing her
flinch at his words. “That is the man you would mourn now? If you
would hold it against me, ask yourself what choice I had but to
kill him?”

Allisande looked miserable at his words,
knowing them to be true. Harold was undeserving of such loyalty.
“He was still my father! Despite what you claim he did!”

“
I make no claims! He had no loyalty to
his own people! You would defend him even now?”

Allisande couldn’t argue, but still did.
She’d not debate her sire’s guilt. “It wasn’t me who did this
thing! My brother and I had no say in whatever was done!”

Joran met her gaze without blinking an eye.
“It is our way, Girl. It doesn’t matter. Someone must pay.”

“
I did nothing to you! I did nothing to
your father!” Allisande cried in outrage. “I have done nothing to
anyone!”

“
I would say you have done something to
me,” Joran confided, gesturing to his engorged manhood.

“
You’re a disgusting pig of a man!”
Allisande shrieked and backed farther away from him.

“
I would make a pig of myself with you,
most assuredly.”

“
You will find me wanting, Viking! I’ll
not give you any pleasure!”

Joran enjoyed the sight of her in the early
morning light, her raven curls dancing in outrage, her jeweled gaze
spearing him where he lay.

He wondered where his legendary detachment
was now, always evident with the fairer sex but her. This girl
brought out his flirtatious side, making him want to kiss her into
submission. “You will give me pleasure, Allisande, make no mistake
in that.”

Allisande made a sound of protest. “You have
a woman, do you not? What have you any need of me?”

“
You heard more last night than you let
on,” Joran observed dryly.

“
Your woman will not like you wandering
in your absence, Viking!”

“
She goes home when we return. Worry
not of her, Slave, but of your own resolve to avoid me.”

Allisande bit back harsh words as she watched
him rise from the fur mat, disgusted to feel her pulses leap at the
sight of his nude body, all hardness and strength. He was enough to
make any woman’s blood warm.

She was disgusted to be no different despite
her icy demeanor. She stayed a fair distance from him as he
dressed, swallowing hard to see his hard muscled buttocks presented
to her as he bent to retrieve his garments. He grinned as he
turned, drawing his tunic over his head. “I felt your eyes on me. I
liked them there, my ornery wench.”

“
You are conceited!” Allisande accused,
reddening to know she had appreciated every bit of what he covered
up.

Joran chuckled, his even white teeth flashing
in his arresting face. “I am but convinced of your admiration of me
as your master, fair slave.”

Allisande bit back a comment as he bent and
retrieved a pitcher of water and washed his mouth and face,
ignoring her as he went about his morning absolutions. She heard
her own stomach growling during his grooming as he drew a comb
through his pale locks. She became aggravated of his primping,
knowing he did it for her benefit.

Joran eyed her mockingly before he left the
enclosure. “I will see to your meal, my lady.”

Allisande glared at his wide back as he left,
knowing he had control over her next meal, raging at its injustice.
For the first time in her life, she could command nothing but her
own feelings of resentment. Those feelings of outrage grew in the
hour that followed before Sarne appeared with a bowl of food,
smiling despite her scowl of displeasure. She heard the Vikings
laughing outside the enclosure, delighting in thoughts of killing
them all one day.

****

It was dark. He could make out her slight
shape lying upon the furs at his feet. Moonlight gave him an
adequate look at his lush prize. Even dirty and disheveled,
Allisande was glorious to behold.

Her perfect heart-shaped face was smooth and
unblemished. Her amethyst hued eyes were large and bright, her lips
full and tempting. Her curvaceous figure beneath the clothing she
wore heated his loins to such a degree; he regretted his rash vow
to go slowly and earn her trust. He knew he would fail in that the
minute he set eyes upon her.

Already he was beset with fantasies of
bedding his beautiful slave. Allisande of Lockwraithe was a
temptress when she wasn’t spewing obscenities and epithets at his
head. In repose, she looked like an angelic beauty. He grinned at
that thought, for he knew her to have Loki’s own temper when
roused.

The girl would need a strong hand if she was
to survive in his land. He hadn’t taken her to task for her abusive
manner towards him. If she spoke to his people as she did him, they
would think nothing of flogging her within an inch of her life.

She was a slave now with few rights.
Threatening the life of a free man had consequences. Threatening a
Chieftain could mean certain death. Allisande would have to learn
her place and soon.

Once they arrived at his home, none of those
loyal to him would allow her to speak to their Chieftain in such a
foul way. His serfs would likely set upon her should she threaten
him with violence as she did.

He chuckled when he thought of her reaction.
His feisty captive could give as good as she got. He had only a few
days left to him to instruct her on how to behave before she
reached his home, or it could prove disastrous.

Joran had never been violent towards women,
as most of his men were. His former wife, Aelynn, long-dead, could
never have claimed he beat her, even after discovering her many
infidelities.

Joran glowered down at the dark-haired girl
sleeping at his feet, despising the way he seemed to melt inside
the minute he touched her. His gaze softened as he saw her fair
face flushed in sleep. He longed to curl up against her under the
furs, but didn’t trust his lustful thoughts.

It would be difficult to keep her at arm’s
length when she succeeded in angering him as she did. Even now the
desire to make her his was strong within him, an instinct he knew
would only be appeased if he gave into those passions.

Despite her angry protests to the contrary,
Joran knew such a coupling would be glorious for them both, already
anticipating it. In her innocence, Allisande had no idea of what
passion her words provoked within him, making him desire to change
her view of him.

Joran’s attempt at cold detachment proved
futile against her goading tongue and prickly nature. He picked up
a fur blanket and was careful to make his bed as far from her as he
could get. He was grateful that sleep came to him soon, lulled by
the gentle rocking motion of his ship beneath his body.

****

Joran sensed her above him before he felt the
tip of her sword at his throat. He opened his eyes and stared up at
her. His eyes adjusted to the dark quickly. She glared down at him,
her violet eyes filled with hatred.