Sandra Hill - [Vikings II 02]

by Madly Viking Truly

“I just want to go on record as stating that Joe Rand is no longer my patient.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  Uh-oh is right. Major uh-oh! “You’ve already said he’s not a patient at the clinic anymore. I want to establish a paper record that he’s not my patient, either.”

  “For the lawyers?”

  “If need be.”

  “Maggie, be careful. You’ve got children to consider.”

  “I’m doing this for my children…as well as myself. He wouldn’t hurt them any more than he would hurt his own children.” No matter what Joe said, she couldn’t lay the blame for his daughters’ deaths on his shoulders.

  “Are you sure about this, Maggie?”

  “As sure as I’ve ever been about anything in my life.” And she was, she recognized with a freeing sort of ebullience.

  “I wish you luck then…or a miracle.”

  Maggie suspected she’d already been handed a bit of both.

  “You can stay….”

  Jorund glanced up an hour later to see Mag-he standing in the doorway of the den chamber. He lifted one eyebrow in question. He hadn’t realized that his staying or not staying had ever been an issue. He’d just assumed…well, he supposed that had been presumptuous of him.

  “For a while. Till…till we figure things out.”

  “What things?”

  “I just talked to Harry—Dr. Seabold—and everything is settled.”

  “What has Dock-whore Sea-bold to do with my settling?” Understanding struck him like a lightning bolt. “I am no longer your pay-shun.”

  She nodded.

  Despite all that weighed him down, Jorund couldn’t help grinning. If he was no longer considered her pay-shun, then that opened the doors to all kinds of…well, possibilities.

  “Don’t get any ideas,” she chided him. Meanwhile, her gaze kept coming back to his exposed chest, visible through his unbuttoned shert, which he hadn’t bothered to tuck into his braies after his recent shower.

  “Oh, I have ideas aplenty. I wonder if my ideas coincide with your ideas.”

  “Probably.”

  “Probably? Probably? Sweetling, you’d best not toss out such seductive words unless you plan to follow up on them.”

  She just shrugged, but that shrug shouted a thousand things to him…all of them sexual.

  “Sweetling, huh?” she asked with a soft smile. “I like the sound of that.” Her voice was even huskier than usual. Jorund had been fond of that huskiness from the start. Now he would like to experiment with different ways of tuning that huskiness to his own satisfaction.

  “Come here, Mag-he,” he said, and was surprised that his voice, too, was husky.

  She backed up a step instead. “Slowly…we’ve got to take things slowly here.”

  At first he wanted to balk…to argue that going fast was the better course. But perhaps she was right. He had been assailed by so many new emotions these past hours.

  “For now, let me help you make up a bed for the night.” Motioning him to stand, she stepped into the chamber. The soft folds of her scarlet silk robe outlined her body as she moved, especially where it was belted at the waist. He felt an immediate jolt of awareness at the joining of his thighs. Was she wearing undergarments under the robe? Or had she come to him naked, already prepared for his lovemaking? Oh, what a heady thought that was! His entire body went hot and throbbing with the mental picture. He had been without a woman for a long time. He had been without Mag-he for a long time.

  Was now the time?

  As she showed him how to pull out the bed mattress that was magically enclosed inside the sofa, the scent of lilacs wafted his way, and he recalled that the girls had said their mother was taking a bubble bath. Then, taking soft pillows, bed linens, and blankets from a close-it, she began to make up the bed. Each time she bent or turned, the filmy robe clung to a different, more enticing curve of her body.

  He smiled.

  Turning suddenly, she caught him in the smile, and seemed surprised—then embarrassed. Did the blush that now flooded her face and neck also color other parts of her body?

  “Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, Joe,” she informed him as she turned her back to him and worked to smooth out the wrinkles in the blanket. That gave him a good view of her backside as she bent to the task. Holy Valhalla, the wench had more curves than a Norse fjord.

  But then Mag-he’s words registered, and jolted him out of his erotic musings. With disgust, he realized that he had been ogling her body like an untried youth before his first swiving. “Thanksgiving?” he inquired in as level a voice as he could manage. Well, I certainly hope I will be having something to be thankful for, after tonight.

  “In our country it’s a special day when everyone gives thanks for their bounty. In our home we have our Thanksgiving feast early so we can go to the Orcaland amusement park for the last day of the season…weather permitting, of course.”

  “And?” he prompted. Why was she telling him this now?

  “And I want to make sure you will be all right with that. Will you be able to stand being around my daughters? You’ve had a rather strong reaction when I’ve mentioned them previously.”

  He thought long and hard. It was a good question. Could he be in the company of twin girls, when his own cherished twin daughters were dead? “I think I will be all right. If I have a change of sentiment, I will take myself from their presence.”

  “I don’t want my girls to get hurt. I mean that.” The fierce expression on her face bespoke a mother’s protectiveness. Just as Jorund had been aroused by Mag-he’s sex-voice and her alluring robe, he was also stimulated by this aspect of her personality. “I won’t hurt them.”

  “Not just physically. I want your assurance that you won’t hurt them emotionally, either.”

  “How can I promise that?” he cried out. At the first opportunity, he was going to leave this time and place. The way things looked now, it might not ever happen. But then again, the window in time might open for him suddenly, without warning. How could he make pledges that might be beyond his power to keep?

  “My daughters love you, Joe.”

  To his dismay, he groaned aloud. A warrior should not display his weaknesses, but, in this instance, he could not help himself.

  “Don’t ask me why or how that happened; it just did. At least promise me that you will do your best not to hurt their feelings…or break their hearts.”

  “If I have that much power, I should depart your home now. I do not want to be responsible for their joy, or their sorrow.”

  “It seems to me you have no choice.”

  He nodded, suddenly choked up. But then he thought of something else…something that caused his throat to clear and his heart to lift. If he was going to be stuck in this land, then he was going to commence enjoying the benefits, such as they were. He had been docile too long…allowing events to lead him, instead of being the aggressor like the military chieftain he was.

  Mag-he stood on the other side of the sofa bed, wearing her siren robe, staring at him. There was no fear in her luminous blue eyes, just curiosity. And boldness.

  Her gaze kept returning to his chest, which was bared by his unbuttoned shert. He smiled with satisfaction. So the wench liked his body. That was encouraging news.

  She saw his smile. “I was just checking to see if Rita had scratched you badly.”

  He made a scoffing sound of disbelief. It was his finely honed body she was examining, not some piddling scratch.

  Her stubborn chin jutted out defiantly. Foolish wench. Even a hardened warrior knew when to yield to greater forces.

  He began to move around the mattress, a predatory rush of blood beginning to surge through his body. It was the selfsame feeling he had before every battle.

  “Wh-what?” Mag-he stammered. Her shaky voice belied her brave stance. Still, not one step did she back off. He had to admire her for that.

  “’Tis time,” he said, and took another step toward her.

  “Time for w
hat, Joe?” she whispered in that sex-voice of hers. He felt it all the way to his man parts, which began to thicken in appreciation. Truly, that voice of hers was going to be his undoing yet, if he were not more careful.

  “My name is Jorund.” Only a few more steps. Her intoxicating lilac scent was making him dizzy.

  “Jorund,” she rasped out. Her head was still tilted in confusion, but she had the good sense to back up one step, then another.

  He followed after her, in stalking mode now. “’Tis time,” he repeated.

  “For what?” she repeated, too. But now her back hit the wall.

  “For unfinished business.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Maggie’s senses reeled under Joe’s heated gaze.

  She should look away. She tried to look away. But she could not. She was too entranced by the sensuous flame that had ignited in his smoky eyes, scorching her inch by inch, as they roamed her figure in the Victoria’s Secret silk wrapper—a birthday gift from her girls two weeks ago. They’d obviously considered her frumpy old chenille robe unsuitable attire for daddy hunting.

  His voice was low and raw as he whispered, “You are so beautiful.”

  And Maggie felt beautiful at that moment. And raw.

  The man was stalking her…no doubt about it. She would have darted for safety if her back weren’t pressed to the wall. On the other hand, maybe she wouldn’t have fled. For once in her life, Maggie yearned to free the sensuality she’d suppressed for so long. She didn’t want to be self-conscious about her body or worry what other people would think. She wanted to be wanton.

  As Maggie stood, transfixed, he moved toward her slowly, but purposefully. Then, in a blink, he wrapped his arms about her waist, lifting her high, and walked her to the bed. Without breaking his stride, he tossed her onto the mattress and followed after her, landing between her inadvertently outspread legs.

  They both gasped at the delicious contact of his sex against her sex, even through the barrier of his denim jeans and her robe. The position had been an accident, but Joe wasn’t about to set aside the advantage. Instead he moved himself from side to side, adjusting himself more firmly in the cradle of her thighs. The whole time he watched her steadily, clearly wanting to witness her every reaction.

  Oh, this was too embarrassing for a sexually inhibited person like herself. Could he sense the passionate fluttering that had started between her legs and moved like wildfire to all the erogenous zones of her body? Well, at least she used to be sexually inhibited. Now she didn’t even recognize the wild woman who was yanking at his open shirt and tossing it aside. She could smell the clean, musky scent of his skin, but more than anything she wanted to see it, and feel it, and taste it.

  “Your eagerness excites me mightily,” he said as he brushed the palms of both hands over her breasts, causing them to peak through the silk fabric.

  “I’m not eager,” she lied. What she thought was, Touch me, touch me, touch me, again, again, again.

  As if he heard her thoughts, he put his open mouth over the tip of one breast and began to suckle wetly through the flimsy cloth barrier with a hard rhythm.

  Maggie almost shot up off the bed, except that his lower body still held her in place…his lower body that had a thickening ridge pressed against her in just the right place.

  He took her hands and encouraged them to explore his shoulders and chest and, yes, even his flat, male nipples. To her delight, he looked as if he might shoot up off the bed, too.

  And he grew even larger against her.

  And flexed.

  And then Maggie flexed back.

  There were so many hormones flying about that Maggie feared an explosion. In fact, an explosion was guaranteed if they continued on this course.

  But wait. Wait, wait, wait. Maggie realized that she hadn’t spoken the cautionary word aloud. “Wait!” she practically shouted now. She didn’t know if she was trying to be heard over the roaring of blood in her ears or his…probably both, because the heightened color on his face as he stared down at her, not to mention his ragged breathing, proved he was as turned on as she was.

  “Wait?” he inquired in a strangled voice. “Now you tell me to wait? What is amiss?”

  “I can’t make love with you here…now…not with my daughters in the house.”

  “Now you gainsay me?” His eyes darkened angrily to a steely gray. “Why not?”

  “Because it wouldn’t be right,” she insisted. “I have to set an example for them. I’m a single mother…an unmarried woman. My girls can’t ever think of me as being promiscuous.”

  “In my land, children respect their elders’ privacy. They know that lust and marriage do not necessarily go hand in hand.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re not in Oz now, Toto,” she said snidely, then immediately regretted her words. “It doesn’t matter what the morality is in your land—or my land. It matters what I think.” She put a palm over her heart for emphasis. “And I want my children to grow up believing that lust or love, or whatever you want to call it, do go hand in hand with marriage. Or at the least, a committed relationship.”

  He made a rude sound of disgust. “Like all women, you want something for your favors, then. Whether it be coin or the bindings of marriage, females are ever out to snare men with their wiles.”

  “You don’t know me at all if you think that.”

  She saw the stiffening of his jaw and the accusatory gleam in his eyes. She knew exactly what he was thinking.

  “I wasn’t teasing you, Joe.”

  “It felt like teasing. Are you one of those women who enjoy the chase, and get your pleasure from making a man grovel?”

  “No!” she asserted forcefully. “And I doubt whether you’ve groveled a day in your life.”

  “Then why come to me in your siren robe, giving me those come-take-me looks?”

  Now he was getting insulting. She tried to push him away, or squirm out from under him, but he wouldn’t release her.

  “I came because I wanted you, you big lout. Because I wanted you so much, I forgot that I have responsibilities.” She turned her face to the side, hating the fact that her eyes were misting over.

  He tipped her chin back with a forefinger so that she was staring up at him as he propped himself on one elbow above her. His anger had melted away, replaced by a rueful acceptance. “A big lout, hmmm?” he remarked with a self-deprecating grin as he fingered the ends of her hair, still damp from her recent bath, then sniffed her. He nodded, as if pleased with the scent of her shampoo. Lilacs…the same as her bath salts had been.

  “The biggest,” she answered with a small sob.

  “And you wanted me a great deal?” He was leaning so close that his breath fanned her lips as he spoke. When she declined to answer, he nipped her bottom lip with his teeth and rubbed his erection against her at the same time.

  She jerked back at the exquisite sensations those brief caresses engendered. If that wasn’t bad enough, he nudged her legs farther apart with his knees, then cupped her bottom and rocked her hips against him.

  She squealed. She actually squealed. Then she admitted, “A great deal.”

  “And still do?” he persisted.

  Now he was alternately wetting the inner whorls of her ear with the tip of his tongue and blowing it dry. It was as if a thin, erotic thread connected her ears to her breasts and genital area, because each flick of his tongue was causing her to swell and throb in delicious agony.

  “Still do,” she whimpered. “But, I repeat, we can’t make love.”

  To her surprise, he nodded. “Well, a kiss then. Surely it would be no great shock to your daughters’ sensibilities to see a man kissing their mother.”

  She laughed softly at his too-obvious ploy. “You don’t even like kisses.”

  “Oh, m’lady, you have sung that song too many times already. I have told you more than once that I have changed my mind on that issue.”

  “A kiss? That would be all?”

  “We
ll, a little touching, too.”

  “A little touching? Aha! Men have been saying that throughout the ages. A little touching leads to a lot more, and before you know it, well, you can guess where it all leads.”

  “The injustice of your remark wounds me, m’lady,” he said. “If I promise to give you only kisses and little touches, then that is what I will do. My word is my bond.”

  She nodded, because she really did want-no, need—a little bit of his loving tonight…something to seal this change in their relationship.

  “To be fair, I must advise you that I have been told I have clever hands.”

  Clever hands? What does that mean? I don’t want to know. Yes, I do. Oh, boy!

  “Mayhap it is the calluses on my palms from wielding a long sword for so many years. Or mayhap it is the flexibility of my fingers, which must needs thrust a spear or pull on the reins of a blood-maddened warhorse with equal dexterity. Or mayhap it is the things learned in the Eastern harems that—”

  She put her hands on either side of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

  He drew back a hairbreadth from her lips and said, “I may be willing to accept your terms, but he forewarned: there are things I want to do to you that no man has ever done afore….”

  Maggie’s heart skittered wildly at his words, and a hot dampness pooled between her legs.

  “Even so, I will keep my word, for now. Mere kisses and little touches…that is all.”

  Joe kept his promise then, but there was nothing mere or little about him.

  And, as to clever hands…Lordy, lordy!

  Jorund sat at the head table of Mag-he’s great hall early the next afternoon, awaiting the Thanksgiving feast.

  Actually, there was no great hall…not even a hall at all, for that matter. And only one table. But then, Mag-he’s keep itself was not all that large; he could touch the ceiling in any of the chambers. It was not as humble as the longhouses of his Norse cotters, nor as grand as the wood castles he, his father, and his brothers had erected in his homeland, following the Saxon and Frankish styles.