The Viking's Captive

the only word he could think of to describe her was wild. Yea, Tyra was wild tonight, and he didn’t know why, but her being wild ignited a spark of wild-ness inside him, too.

Tyra was walking away from him, and he was enjoying the event immensely.

In her tunic and tight braies, her hips swayed from side to side in the most enticing way. Did females have any idea how sensual their arses could be when viewed by the male from this angle? If they did, they would probably always back away from their men. He couldn’t stop gaping.

The man could make a stone purr…

n odd silence came over the hall then. He looked up and peered through the smokiness toward the other end where a staircase led to the upper level. The most magnificent woman he’d ever seen was storming through the aisle between the long tables, heading toward the dais where he sat with Tykir, Alinor, Rafn, Bolthor, and the sisters. She was tall, very tall, with flowing blond hair. And she wore a long-sleeved, low-necked gown of crimson red which molded her body from truly splendid breasts, to narrow waist, to womanly hips.

It was Tyra.

Who knew? Who knew?

Adam put a hand to his heart to still the mad pumping there. He felt hot all over, and proud … so very proud … of his lady.

“Well, isn’t there some important question you have been yearning to ask me?”

She couldn’t imagine what he was referring to.

He stood and pulled her to her feet with him. An amazing feat in itself. She did not realize he had the strength.

“Don’t you want to ask me what I am wearing under my robe?”

When his mischievous comment finally penetrated the daze she was in, she blushed again, because, of course, she had wondered idly about that very subject. But a woman, and her pride, could stand only so much teasing. She pulled hard, and he released her hand. As she stomped down the rampart path, she heard the oaf laughing.

But she did not stop stomping, and he did not stop laughing … until he called out, “Nothing.”

And then he reminded her, “You owe me, sweet lady-warrior. Do not forget the kiss.”

As if I could!

He shook his head. “Nay, I will not kill you immediately.” He let his eyes sweep over her body now, just as hers had done to him. “I have other plans for you first. And the longer I stand here tied to this bloody pole, the more detailed my fantasies become.”

“Oh?” Clearly interested, she put her hands on her hips, her legs widespread to balance herself on the moving ship.

Oh, yea, really detailed. Keep standing like that and give me more ideas. “First, I intend to tup you till your toenails curl.”

She gasped. His remark had caught her off guard.

It had caught him off guard, too. Who knew he was going to say such a thing?

“Then I will tup you again till your eyes roll up into your head.” My tongue seems to have developed a mind of its own.

She regained her composure and glared at him, almost as if to make sure her eyes weren’t rolling. “Has the sea air turned you barmy?”

“And then I will make love to you again and again till you beg for more. That should take, oh, a sennight or two … or five. I cannot wait. How about you?” Mayhap Rashid’s flapping tongue has rubbed off on me.

“Pffff! You overstep yourself, Saxon, to speak thus to me. The only thing bigger than your nerve is your ego.”

“Or something else.” He glanced significantly downward.

She did not answer. In truth, she could not answer, for her mouth was hanging open. With shock or interest, he could not say, but either possibility marked success to his mind.

“Then … and only then … will I kill you,” he concluded, and grinned mirthlessly at her.

My God! The woman had muscles in places women were never intended to have muscles. And, by damn, they looked good on her.

“Uh-oh,” Rashid said and danced quickly away from his side.

Adam’s glance wavered briefly. In that instant when he looked to Rashid to see what the problem was, then glanced back, he saw that the demented woman had her broadsword raised high above her head and was lowering it. Toward him, of all things. He had no time to duck aside. The flat side of her sword hit him on the crown, causing him to see stars and his knees to buckle.

The warrior princess bent over him in the rushes, admonishing, “See what you made me do, you dumb dolt!”

He was a dumb dolt, because all he could think about was the magnificent set of breasts jutting out above his face.

Just before the blackness overtook him, the most amazing thing of all happened. She picked him up— she actually picked him up—and tossed him over her shoulder.

It appeared he was going to Norway, after all.

“I wanted you to meet me fam’ly,” Alrek explained