Longing For Her Forbidden Viking. Harper St. George

the gates and pulled her cloak tighter around her, disliking the way she responded to him, but unable to stop the reaction. When he was near it was as if she forgot how to think. She’d tripped over her own feet and misjudged the distance between a pitcher and tankard on more than one occasion in his presence. He probably thought she was a dolt. It was his eyes, she’d decided. A blue so light they might pass for grey, they seemed to look directly into her soul and see far more than she wanted them to.

      His gaze roamed over her face in a slow glide that did strange and wonderful things to her belly. ‘What did Godric say to you?’ His voice seemed tinged with a suspicion she didn’t understand.

      ‘The usual. Saxons are good, Danes are bad.’ His lips twitched in the beginning of a smile. ‘He wants us to go home to Banford in the morning,’ she added.

      He sighed and the warmth of his breath ruffled her hair across the small distance between them. ‘Then this is goodbye?’

      Something was odd about him tonight. ‘I hope not,’ she answered with a bit more honesty than she had intended.

      As he let out a soft breath, his gaze met hers. His eyes had deepened, becoming intense, and his stare lingered on her mouth. Almost as heated as how he had looked at her outside the hall. ‘What do you want, Ellan?’

      His well-formed lips curved upwards, revealing even, white teeth and creases at the corners of his eyes. It made him look more human than godlike with an earthy attractiveness. Not once in her entire life had she ever felt this mindless infatuation for anyone else.

      The memory of their kiss tried to take over, but she shook it off to say, ‘I want to stay here.’

      ‘Really?’ He seemed surprised as his head tilted to the side a little. His gaze had turned discerning. ‘How will you thwart him?’

      She shrugged. ‘I’ll speak with Lady Gwendolyn. I’m certain she’ll allow me to stay.’ If only she were as confident as she sounded.

      ‘She might want you to stay,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘but don’t you think your father will insist? Will she go against his wishes and risk angering even more Saxons?’

      It was the same question she asked herself. Swallowing down her panic, she said, ‘I don’t know. I do know that she frowns upon women being forced to wed. Her own forced marriage turned out well for her, but she doesn’t approve of the practice. She’ll at least speak with him on my behalf.’

      ‘Forced marriage? Has Godric arranged a marriage for you?’ Lines formed between his brows. She wanted to believe that his interest in her prospective marriage was personal, but she didn’t think whatever was between them would inspire such concern.

      ‘Aye, but he wouldn’t tell me the man’s name.’

      ‘Why would he not tell you? Are you not close to your father, Ellan?

      Perhaps it was the stress of the evening, or simply the way she felt safe in Aevir’s presence, but something made her tell him more than she should. ‘To say that I am not his favourite daughter would be a great understatement. He simply wants to be rid of the burden I bring him.’

      ‘He doesn’t like daughters?’

      ‘He likes Elswyth well enough...or he did before she married a Dane. It’s only me that he despises.’ She shook her head, feeling heat creep up her chest because she had revealed her deepest shame with very little prompting from him. ‘It doesn’t matter. He can’t make me go through with it.’

      ‘You’re certain?’ He didn’t sound convinced.

      Nay, she wasn’t certain at all and that was the problem. In all probability she would be married to this unknown Saxon in a sennight. Her mind raced for a way out.

      He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression becoming neutral and guarded again. ‘You could always do as your sister has done. Marry someone else and your father has no control over you.’

      Everything inside her came to a shuddering stop. Lord Vidar would never take Elswyth from Rolfe and send her home with Father. No man would come between a husband and his wife. It was so perfect she wanted to kiss Aevir, but managed to hold that unruly impulse in check. ‘You’re right. I can marry without his approval. Father won’t have any control over me then.’

      His stare didn’t waver as he seemed to be attempting to read her expression. Suspicion still clouded his eyes, but when he finally spoke, he asked, ‘Did you have anyone in mind?’

      ‘A Dane. Someone who won’t fall under my father’s influence.’

      ‘Any Dane will do?’ he asked. His eyes narrowed and dipped back to her mouth.

      Her heart pounded in her head. Realistically, she knew that Aevir would never offer for her. She had no wealth or status to bring to a warrior who commanded his own small army of men. Yet, when she thought of taking a husband, he was the one she wanted.

      Would it really be so out of the question? Elswyth had married Rolfe, who commanded the entire Norse division of Lord Vidar’s army. Rolfe didn’t seem to mind that she brought him nothing but herself. It was true that Ellan barely knew Aevir, but she would hardly know anything about any other man she chose so quickly.

      If she didn’t ask, then she would never know. Taking in a ragged breath, she gave him a tremulous smile and tried to make her words come out light and teasing. ‘I do not suppose that you are looking for a wife?’

       Chapter Three

      A fierce wave of protectiveness overcame Aevir. It was so sudden that it staggered him, forcing him to take a step back from the lovely green eyes staring up at him with such a tender plea in their depths. The eyes of a girl who could potentially be in league with Godric’s hatred towards them, he forced himself to remember. A girl Aevir should not want nearly as much as he did.

      ‘I cannot marry you,’ he said.

      Her smile widened, surprising him. ‘Ah, then I suppose I’ll be forced to find another.’ She shrugged and made a show of looking towards the warriors moving about behind him as if she had expected him to refuse her all along.

      Was she really that determined to thwart her father’s wishes or was this some elaborate trick to get close to a Dane warrior? He couldn’t decide. He, who had made his living from his ability to size up his opponents and potential employers, couldn’t determine if the girl before him was authentic. He couldn’t look past his desire for her to see the truth and it made her dangerous to him. Rolfe didn’t seem to think the sisters were a threat. He had told Aevir in no uncertain terms that the girls were as much victims of their father’s hatred as the Danes. Perhaps he was right and Aevir simply wanted her to be a spy so that he could rid himself of his fascination with her.

      Giving her a nod, he went to turn away. Let her deal with her own problems. She was not his concern. Except as he turned, his gaze fell to her mouth one final time and he saw that her lips were trembling. Her eyes were unnaturally bright in the torchlight, unshed tears flickering in the shadowed night.

      Odin save him, he wanted to help her.

      Nay, the pure and undiluted truth was that he simply wanted her. Before he realised what he was doing to stop himself, he palmed her jaw, gently stroking her lush bottom lip with his thumb. Her mouth was as soft and warm as he remembered. He half-expected her to pull away, but she simply stared up at him, mute in her misery.

      Why did that misery twist something deep inside him?

      ‘I can help you another way.’

      ‘How?’ Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

      Part of him wanted her to refuse him. A bigger part of him thrilled that she might accept him. ‘Become my concubine.’

      Her lips parted in shock and he forced himself to stop