Part 5 (1/2)

”Loveday?” He hardly recognized his voice. Her eyes opened, clouded, stabbing into him, even as the need to move raked him. She was so tight.... If he'd hurt her... ”Sweetheart?” Oh, G.o.d. Loveday...

”Please...Evelyn-”

She was stretched tight, full to bursting, but he had stopped and she was dying, burning, wild for the continued rhythm of his body within her. But he held still. His eyes on hers, his hoa.r.s.e voice told her why he'd stopped, but even to rea.s.sure him, words jammed in her throat. Instead, she lifted against him, begging with her body for his possession, moaning at the fierce pressure within her. His groan answered her wordless a.s.surance, and he began to move in deep, long strokes that found every hidden need of body and soul, and a.s.suaged them with fire. And she responded, finding and matching his rhythm so that he became hers, just as she was his. So that the fire leaped and redoubled between them.

He held her spread beneath him and loved her deeply, fiercely, every stroke of his body into hers a claiming and a surrender. She no longer knew which was which. He lowered his mouth to hers and took her cries, absorbing them into his own deeper groans, filling her mouth to the same ancient rhythm that rocked them until she flamed, and whirled to the edge of the abyss to hover there, crying out for release.

And he gave it to her. One strong hand slid under her bottom, lifting her into his thrusts so that she broke and fell, shattering, dissolved in ecstasy.

Evelyn felt it, let it take him, sheathing himself deep in her convulsing body. Every muscle hardened to steel, and his world shook, splintered as his own consummation flared white-hot, spilling into her in fierce joy.

They had forgotten to draw the curtains, and the pale dawn crept in, gilding the soft, fragrant curls that flamed across his chest. Every silken curve snuggled against him, her hand resting over his heart. He lifted it to his lips, kissed the slender fingers and replaced them. Nothing had ever been so right.

”We have a problem,” he murmured, nibbling at her ear.

She wriggled, squirming against him so that he hardened. ”Hmm?”

”Your paintings. I'll have to commission some nice sedate tapestries to cover them.”

”What?” She sat up, realized she was naked, and clutched at the sheet to cover her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. ”The devil you will!”

He grinned and twitched the sheet away from her. ”You haven't considered the scandal, sweetheart.”

”Having paintings of your mistress seducing you all over the walls will upset society?” All vestige of sleep had vanished from her eyes, which had narrowed to golden shards. ”You should have thought of that before you commissioned them!” She tried to grab the sheet back, but he hung on, and she glared at him.

He glared right back. ”Mistress be d.a.m.ned! It's the scandal of having erotic murals of my wife seducing me that will rock society!”

There was a moment's silence. Then she whispered, ”Wife?”

”Wife,” he said firmly. ”I may be a selfish aristocratic b.a.s.t.a.r.d-Lionel had that right-but I'm not stupid. I don't make the same mistake twice. I told you I was keeping you this time, and you agreed.”

Heart pounding, she said, ”I know you said you were going to keep me, but you don't actually have to marry me to do that, you know.” It would be easier to remind him if her foolish heart could forget the tender words he'd whispered during the night. Words of love. Words she had given back to him. In his world love didn't necessarily include marriage.... ”I mean, I'm here now. In your bed. I thought you were asking me to be your mistress. Just because I'm Lionel's sister-”

”No.” Evelyn drew her into his arms and pushed a tumbled curl out of her eyes. ”You're Loveday. Not Lionel's sister. And I have to marry you because I love you.”

Her heart shook, more at the tenderness in his voice and hands than the words themselves. She couldn't doubt that he loved her, but she was still a n.o.body. He was a viscount. ”But-your family won't like it now any more than they would have six years ago. And I...I won't know anyone. No one will want to know the sister of an artist! And what about my painting? I can't give it up!”

He actually laughed. ”Is someone asking you to give up your painting?”

”Wouldn't you?” She couldn't quite believe that he wanted to marry her, let alone permit her to continue painting.

”No.”

She still wasn't convinced. If he thought she'd paint as a ladylike hobby...

”Professionally?”

He grinned. ”It will make up for your lack of dowry. Just don't sell any nudes of yourself to anyone but me. That's my only condition.”

He viewed her outraged expression with satisfaction. ”And my family can mind their own business,” he went on. ”They'll come around.” They would have no choice.

He thought of Phoebe Angaston. ”Also, I can guarantee you at least one female friend in society.” One who would use her considerable influence to help Loveday. A portrait of the lovely and wealthy Miss Angaston, for example... Besides...” he gestured to the paintings ”...you haven't considered. This is my town house! I can't marry anyone else but you with those on the walls!”

PLEASURED BY THE VIKING.

Mich.e.l.le Willingham.

Author Note.

The Vikings have always had a strong presence in Ireland, all around the coastal areas. By the medieval era, they had blended in with the Irish tribes, intermarrying with them.

Pleasured by the Viking is the story of Gunnar Dalrata, a Viking warrior who falls for an Irishwoman, Auder o Reilly, whom he knew years before. The awkward, adolescent girl has transformed into a stunningly beautiful woman, but Auder is promised to another man. Gunnar's protective instincts are on edge, for he has no intention of letting her go.

This story is connected to Harlequin Historical Surrender to an Irish Warrior. Gunnar Dalrata plays an integral role, and I hope you'll enjoy learning his connection to the MacEgan Brothers.

I always enjoy hearing from readers. You may email me at or by mail at P.O. Box 2242, Poquoson, VA 23662 USA. Visit my website ator on Facebook at /mich.e.l.lewillinghamfans.

Look for Mich.e.l.le Willingham's.

Claimed by the Highlander.

The first of a Scottish family miniseries coming soon from Harlequin Historical.

Chapter One.

Glen Ocham, Ireland.

1181.

Twilight descended, casting shadows upon the cashel in a fading veil of gray. It was a spring night of celebration, a time when the Irish gave thanks for their prosperity. But for Auder o Reilly, it was the beginning of the end.

Her skin was frigid, for the life she'd known was slipping away, like water from between her fingertips. In two days, she would travel north to the Norman settlement governed by Lord Miles de Corlaine, Baron of Maraloch, to be his bride.

The very idea of surrendering herself to the Norman made her shudder. Aye, she would protect the lives of her kinsmen, by forging this alliance. They would be safe from invasion, their lands joined together. And Lord Maraloch was a wealthy man who could give her everything she would ever need.

But that wasn't the reason she'd agreed to marry him.

Auder's gaze settled upon her mother, who was sitting apart from the other women. Halma o Reilly's thin face held a serene expression, but there was pain and loneliness beneath it. The shadow of humiliation from her husband's misdeeds surrounded her still.

It's not your fault, Auder wanted to tell her mother. You don't deserve to suffer for what Father did.