Pleasured by the Viking by Michelle Willingham

tentative smile. There was courage beneath it, and a note of interest in the widow’s face.
    â€œIf this is an acceptable alternative to the marriage,” Trahern began, “then we can proceed with fostering arrangements.”
    The Norman released Auder’s hand, not hiding his annoyance. “Either is acceptable to me. Though I suspect this lady would prefer that I release her from this betrothal agreement.”
    Auder stared at Gunnar, her blue-green eyes hesitant. Almost as if she weren’t certain he would want her anymore.
    He started to meet her halfway, but then Auder started to run. He caught her in his arms, and she clung tightly, her face wet with tears. Although the baron looked irritated, he turned his attention back to Clár and her son.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Auder whispered, as Gunnar lifted her onto his horse and swung up behind. “I never wanted to leave you. But I couldn’t have lived with myself if they attacked our cashel and you were killed.”
    â€œYou should have trusted me instead of running away.” He framed her face with his hands. “I want to take care of you. And I’ll make certain that no one ever speaks a word against your mother. What happened wasn’t her fault or yours.”
    â€œI wanted to do something to make up for what he did.”
    â€œIt’s not your blame to shoulder. Nor your mother’s.” He bent closer, resting his cheek against hers. “Make the choice of what you want. Not of what you think others want from you.”
    She leaned back against him, lifting her face to his. “I won’t run from you again, Gunnar.” With a faint smile, she offered, “I’ll run to you. If you’ll have me.”
    Two nights later
    Auder kept her eyes closed, upon Gunnar’s command. Her new husband had brought her to the house he’d built, and as she lay upon his bed, the cool night air blew over her naked skin.
    â€œDon’t open your eyes,” he ordered.
    Though she obeyed, she felt his weight sinking down beside her on the mattress. A light floral scent made her wrinkle her nose. Had he brought her flowers?
    The fragrance grew stronger, and she felt the softness of petals against her cheeks, across her breasts, and more flowers upon her stomach.
    â€œCan I open them now?” she said, laughing at the ticklish sensation. A soft silken texture brushed against her nipple, and she shuddered, her breasts straining toward her husband’s touch. His mouth replaced the flower, and she caught her breath at the heated texture of his tongue. He tasted and teased her, applying the slightest suction until she grew moist within her womanhood.
    â€œOpen your eyes,” he murmured. Auder obeyed and saw that he’d selected woad, madder and saffron, among other herbs. Rather than selecting flowers, he’d brought her the plants she used for dyeing cloth. “Morren helped me choose them,” he admitted. “I thought they might be useful to you in your work.”
    She reached up and pulled him down on top of her, the herbs scattering everywhere. “They’re wonderful, Gunnar.” Her mouth met his in a deep kiss, and she tried to show him all the feelings she couldn’t put into words.
    His hands moved over her skin, and the rough skin provoked a desperate need to take him inside her, to claim him as her own.
    She pulled at his clothing, and as the layers fell away, she lifted her leg over his hip, granting him access to her body.
    â€œDo you still believe this is something only men enjoy?” he teased, as his hand moved down to caress her.
    When his thumb brushed against her hooded center, she smiled against his mouth. “Not anymore.”
    He stroked her, and she reached between them to take his manhood into her palm. With her hand wrapped around his length, she fisted him until his face tightened. The moisture of his arousal coated her fingers, and she tried