The Viking's Captive Read Online Free PDF Page B

her word.
    She seemed to be gritting her teeth. He thought she murmured, “Toad.”
    “What did you say?”
    “Load … I said you are a heavy load on me.”
    He smiled, sensing that his “load” was not all that burdensome to her.
    “You make me breathless,” he informed her. Women liked to know that their charms heated the male blood.
    “You suffocate me,” she said.
    The woman really was lacking in charm, he decided, though she had other assets to make up for that deficit. And, really, he could teach her how to be charming. It was an art form he’d developed at an early age. And no doubt she was acting foul-tempered to hide the fact that she was as aroused as he, even if she was a virgin, which he could hardly credit at her advanced age.
    “Give your word and you are free,” he told her.
    Her only response was to arch her hips and rock from side to side.
    His toes curled and blood rushed to all the important parts of his body. His pleasure at the brush of her sex against his was so intense that he felt like roaring and whimpering at the same time. “Your word, m’lady,” he nigh begged.
    She indicated with a jerk of her head that he should come closer. Then, into his ear she whispered, “There is a game you Saxons play in your high courts. ‘Tis called chess, I believe. Are you familiar with it?”
    He nodded, even as he frowned with puzzlement. His mind felt dull with arousal. “Yea, I know the game, but what has chess to do with us?”
    “If you know the game, then you will understand this,” she announced with a hoot of glee. “Check and mate!”
    Too late he realized that a sharp blade in her hand was pressed into his neck and was already drawing blood from the point imbedded in his skin just above the pumping vein. “Do not make a wrong move, Saxon, or you are dead.”
    It appeared he was going to Norway, after all.
T WO DAYS LATER, SOMEWHERE ON THE N ORTH S EAS
    How about a little bondage, baby? …
    On second thought, Adam decided, the wench wasn’t all that attractive.
    In fact, after two and a half days of being tied to the mast pole of a rolling longship … up one wave, down one wave, up one wave, down one wave … well, to say that his stomach turned at the thought of Tyra was a vast understatement. To make matters worse, each evening just before dusk the warrior-woman hoisted him over her shoulder and carried him ashore for overnight camping. With his head going ka-thump, ka-thumpagainst her backside, he was definitely un-enthralled with the outrageous wench … even if she did have a decidedly delicious backside.
    Despite his best intentions—and his being unenthralled—he had to admire her expertise and that of her warriors, who appeared equally at ease at sea or on land. He was on one longship and Rashid was on another, each ship manned by sixty-five vikings. There were no rowing benches. Instead, thirty-two men sat on their sea chests working the thirty-two long oars. The other thirty-two spelled them when their arms grew tired, while a helmsman guided the rudder. The Vikings hung their decorated shields along the sides of the dragonships, both for display and to stop arrows in case of a sea battle. Square sails of red and white stripes fluttered high atop both ships from single masts and yardarms. A group of horses were corralled with ropes in the center of each boat, including Adam’s and Rashid’s.
    In all, this Viking warrior-princess led her soldiers, even on the seas, with remarkable skill. As Rashid was fond of saying, “An army of sheep led by a lion would defeat an army of lions led by a sheep.” It was clear that Tyra was a lion … but then, her hard-muscled warriors hardly counted as sheep.
    That fact had been demonstrated to Adam only this morn when a Viking pirate ship attacked them. Out of the mist, the grotesque dragon prow of the marauding ship had appeared, like a giant sea monster. Reinforcing that image had been the battle shrieks of the pirates, like howling