A Viking For The Viscountess (24 page)

A moment later, he felt her walls tightening. She shuddered and he rewarded her by taking her nipple into his mouth. He added a second finger inside her, and she cried out, still squeezing against him.

“Don’t stop,” he ordered.

Juliana couldn’t have stopped if she’d wanted to. The shocking sensation of his fingers inside her was making her body ache. And then, oh then, his thumb nudged her hooded flesh like he’d done the other night. He pressed against her, circling while his tongue did the same. She strained against him, her breathing hitched, while she clenched his fingers.

The throbbing became a deep pulse that robbed her of all senses. She was drowning in sensation, feeling as if every inch of her skin was flooded with desire. Like an invading warrior, he took her under, making her tremble with the force of his touch.

She couldn’t stop the wave of release that shuddered through her, sparking such a deep spasm that every inch of her skin seemed to shudder beneath his hands. It was breathtaking to be touched by this Viking.

But she didn’t want to sit on his lap and accept his touches, giving nothing in return. Juliana bent down, kissing his hair and drawing him up to take his mouth with hers. She kissed him hard, slipping her tongue inside to mingle with his. Her sudden aggression pushed him even farther, and he stood up, taking her off his lap. In one swift movement, he tore her chemise down the middle. His face was harsh, offering no respite.

And she wanted none. Boldly, she reached for his trousers and began unbuttoning them, helping to rid him of his own clothing. When she finally saw his naked body, a flush came over her.

This man was not a duke’s son. There was no trace of softness upon him—only ridged muscles that outlined his form. Numerous scars lined his ribs and she saw another that cut across his shoulder. Men in her time did not fight like this. They rode horses, gambled at White’s, and sat in Parliament. They did not bear the scars of a man who had fought for his life.

She lowered her mouth to his chest, kissing a path over his hardened stomach. He was so different from William that merely touching him brought her a sense of wonder. It made her feel good to run her hands over him and watch his expression transform.

Arik lifted her into his arms, carrying her toward his bed. When he lay her down upon it, he covered her body with his own. Skin to skin, he kissed her, and she parted her legs so that he could move even closer.

The hard length of his erection rubbed against her, and she guided him inside her, needing to be filled by him. The moment he thrust deeply inside, he groaned, balancing his weight on his arms.

“By the gods, Juliana.” He couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought as she wrapped her legs around him, urging him deeper.

Slowly, he found a rhythm, sinking and withdrawing while she watched his dark eyes. “You are a Viking,” she murmured. “And you are mine.”

He took her nipple in his mouth, suckling her as he continued to thrust against her. In answer to his delicious torment, she squeezed him within her depths. It only deepened her own pleasure as he penetrated over and over.

“No man will ever make you feel this way,” he said, holding her hips as he continued the swift rhythm. It made her imagine what it would be like if she were a Viking maiden and Arik had come for her.

God above, he knew how to seduce her. She indulged in a forbidden fantasy, letting her imagination tempt her with visions of this man. If he returned from a raid and if she was at home waiting for him, what would it be like? Would he tear her gown the way he’d torn her chemise? Would he kiss her senseless, touching her bare skin until she was desperate to have him inside her?

She clenched his length as he slid in and out, and her nipples tightened as she let the vision spin off wildly. He was lifting her hips now, and the new angle brought a new pressure within her, making it difficult to catch her breath.

“Take me,” she commanded, “the way you would have, if you had found me on one of your raids.” She didn’t want tenderness now—this was about forgetting the world and everything in it. She wanted raw, physical lovemaking that would drive out the pain and uncertainty of her future.

“I don’t rape women,
kjære.
” He withdrew from her body, and she suddenly wished she hadn’t spoken. That wasn’t what she had meant at all.

“Forget what I said. I was just…imagining what it would be to surrender to you.”

His expression turned curious, and he asked, “You want me to claim you, then.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

His warm hands turned her over on the bed, her backside facing him. He guided her to spread her legs apart, but he didn’t take her right away. Instead, he massaged her bottom, parting her intimately so that she was breathless with anticipation. With his fingers, he grazed her wet entrance, opening her and sliding the tip of his erection inside.

Without warning, he slammed inside her core, and she muffled her scream of pleasure against the coverlet. It sent her spiraling over the edge as he drove himself against her. The sensation of being made love to like this was savage, breaking apart her inhibitions. She lost sight of who she was, becoming a woman who backed against him, nearly sobbing as he thrust again and again. With both hands, he palmed her breasts, teasing the nipples.

She was broken apart, a mindless abyss of lust and frantic need. God help her, this was what she’d wanted when she’d asked him not to leave her. Arik continued his ruthless penetrations, forcing her to come apart again.

But there was no sense of violence in his lovemaking. Instead, it was a desperation, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. She trembled against him, her fists seizing the coverlet while he claimed her.

And at last, he buried himself deep inside, his rough breathing revealing that he’d found his own release. He shuddered, turning her to her side so that he had her body cradled against him. An aftershock claimed her, and she bucked against him, keeping his hands upon her breasts.

His warm body was against hers, their skin slick with sweat. She said nothing, but the shutters at the window were open, revealing the bright moon. There was only the faintest shadow upon it, and she realized that the full moon would come in another day or so.

She closed her eyes, praying that time would not separate them now.

Arik had barely slept at all last night. Having Juliana beside him had given him comfort in a way he’d never expected it to. It had felt right holding her near.

After the night they’d spent together, Juliana had asked him to escort her home. He had joined her in the carriage, and they’d spent a moment alone, driving through the London streets. His mind envisioned all the ways he wanted to touch her again, to drive her wild with abandon.

But today, he had lost sensation in his hands and fingers. There was no feeling in his legs anymore, and when he glanced at the morning sky, the moon was nearly full. He sensed that his last moments were slipping away.

Juliana was wearing the gown she’d had on the night before, and her hair was pinned up. Although outwardly she appeared composed, he could see the churn of emotions in her eyes.

“I don’t regret the choices I made last night,” she admitted, when they drew near to her grandmother’s house, “but I worry about the consequences.” Her hands rested upon her middle, and the sudden look in her eyes made him guess the reason.

“Are you with child?” he guessed. The thought warmed him with the promise of new life. A part of him would live on, and Juliana would not forget him.

She shook her head and shrugged. “It’s too soon to know. But…yes, it is possible, since we spent that first night together.” Her face flushed, and she asked, “Can you not stay with me?”

Though a child might indeed bind him to her, the loss of feeling in his body suggested that he could not. “I do not know,” was all he could answer.

“Grandmama has spoken of me marrying again, perhaps a foreign nobleman,” she confessed. “If there is a child, then I will have no choice.”

A fierce jealousy caught him in the gut at the thought of another man claiming her. Juliana had given herself to
him.
He wanted no other man to have her.
At least, not while I am still breathing,
he thought.

“You need not marry again,” he told her. “I will find a way to provide for you. You deserve compensation, and that you will have.”

“Or Harry and I could return to my father’s house,” she said. “It might be cold in the winter, but at least we have a home there. And no one will talk about the scandals I always seem to be entangled within.” Her cheeks were red, as if she was embarrassed about all that had happened.

He reached out to take her hand. “Do not fear what others might say. Their words mean nothing.”

That made her smile, though he suspected she believed he was teasing. The truth was, he would gladly cut down any man or woman who dared to insult her.

“I am glad you are here, Arik Thorgrim,” she told him, reaching for his hand. “And if there is a child, I will take care of it. You needn’t worry.”

He closed his fingers around hers, but it bothered him that he could no longer feel the heat of her palm. He thought of telling her about it, but it would only cause her greater worry. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her hard. At least he could feel the softness of her lips, drinking in the taste of her. And it was enough for now.

“I have to go back inside and face my grandmother,” she said. “Lady Traveston will not like what I’ve done.”

“You will not face her alone.” Though he suspected the older woman would disapprove, perhaps he could find a means of appeasing her. Particularly if she believed he was the duke’s son.

The footman opened their carriage door, and Arik stepped out first, reaching up to help her down. He took a moment to memorize her features, suspecting that this was the last day he would ever see her.

“Miss Nelson,” the footman interrupted, “I am glad that you’ve arrived. Lord Hawthorne is here.”

“For what reason?” Juliana wondered aloud.

Arik didn’t mind at all. He wanted to confront William of Arthur again, especially now. He touched her spine, guiding her inside. But she stopped at the steps. “Do not go with me. No good can come of this.”

“You are wrong. It was for this reason that I was sent here. He must make amends for the way he wronged you.”

“And he will,” she said. “But I will not bring violence around my grandmother and my son. Harry adores you. What will he think if he sees you attack his father?”

Arik ignored her words. “How do you know William is not here to claim his son and take him away?”

She went utterly pale. “H-he wouldn’t do that. He doesn’t even know the boy. And he said last night that he doesn’t care about him.”

“Then why is he here this early in the morning?” Arik was uncertain of the man’s purpose, but he was not about to leave them undefended.

“I don’t know. But I do know that I want him nowhere near Harry.” She was already hurrying forward, no longer seeming to care if he accompanied her or not. Arik kept a short distance behind her, allowing Juliana to take the lead. She paid no heed to the butler, who was trying to speak to her, but instead took the steps two at a time. It was clear that she was trying to ensure her son’s safety, above all else.

He didn’t follow her. Instead, he held back, waiting to catch a glimpse of William of Arthur. Something had caused the man to return here. And whether it was for Juliana or for her son, Arik intended to guard them both.