A Viking For The Viscountess by Michelle Willingham

the sort of woman I am.”
    He pressed her back, brushing his mouth against her cheek. With his fingers splayed above her breast, he murmured against her throat, “You enjoyed that night. You wanted me.”
    “I don’t deny it. But I thought you were a dream. I never imagined—” Her words broke off when he reached to the back of her gown, where several round, hard objects clasped the fabric together. He pulled at the edges, trying to free her from the garment.
    She took one of the pillows and whacked him with it. “Keep your hands to yourself, Thorgrim.”
    He stared at her in disbelief. She’d actually struck him? A white feather descended from the pillow, and he grinned, contemplating his next move. He picked up another pillow and held it like a shield.
    A strange smile crossed her face. “Don’t you dare.” In warning, she picked up her own pillow.
    But the moment he lowered his guard, Juliana struck him hard across the cheek, releasing a flurry of white feathers. Then she sent him a sly smile, revealing her own sense of mischief.
    It was the last thing he’d expected. It seemed that Juliana of Arthur had more daring than he’d imagined.
    “You struck me, woman. For that, I will retaliate.” Without mercy, he whacked her shoulder with the pillow.
    A laugh broke free from her, and she began striking him back until the feathers fell like snowflakes. He had never seen her like this, no longer filled with melancholy but instead playful. He wanted Juliana to smile like this all the time.
    “I think we’ve butchered these pillows,” she said. “When Marcus returns to this room, he will be quite surprised to see what we’ve done.” She reached out and plucked a feather from his hair, and he caught her wrist.
    “I like hearing you laugh.” He kept his grip light, stroking her skin with his thumb. He fixed his gaze upon her, not bothering to conceal his desire. She was a beautiful woman, and he intended to touch her again.
    He took her by the shoulders and lowered her back to the bed. Without asking permission, he reached back to the fastenings of her gown, wanting his mouth upon her bare skin.
    “You cannot have me,” she responded.
    “Can I not?” He lowered his mouth to the soft space between her shoulder and throat. The moment he kissed her, she let out a shuddering breath.
    “I fight for what I want, Juliana. And I never give up.” He threaded his hand through her hair, bringing his mouth to the space above her bosom. “If I have to kill the man who took these lands from you, then I will. If my life’s blood spills, then I shall at last have my immortality in Valhalla.”
    He cut off her words of protest by kissing her. Her lips were sweet, like a summer plum. He tasted her, prompting her to open her mouth for him. She was yielding to him, kissing him back as he gave up on the gown and moved his hands to her skirts. Here, at least, he could touch her.
    “I did not know who you were on the night I claimed you,” he said, lowering his mouth to her calf. “I thought you were the woman who betrayed me.” He kissed the back of her knee and was rewarded with her cry and the outbreak of gooseflesh upon her skin. When she didn’t push him away, he knew that she was enjoying his touch. It suddenly made his seduction more interesting because she was nearly clothed.
    “I didn’t know what I was doing,” she murmured. “I thought you were a dream.” A gasp broke forth when he cupped her intimately, feeling the wetness of her arousal against his palm. “Mr. Thorgrim, you mustn’t.”
    But her body didn’t lie about what she was feeling. “My name is Arik.” He stroked her, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was meant to silence her dismay.
    Her busy mind was working again, making her believe she should not take pleasure with him. His own lust was raging, but this time, she didn’t kiss him back.
    “I don’t know if my husband is alive or dead, Thorgrim,” she said against his mouth. And then