Season of the Sun by Catherine Coulter Page A

fool’s throat. If any other man makes a move toward us, come to my aid and we’ll slit his throat together.”
    It was Magnus, and he was striding toward her, his cloak billowing in the heavy air behind him, his head bare. He looked invulnerable and as brutally beautiful as his vessel, and she felt her flesh become warm and her breathing quicken. He was a powerful beast, this man, and she knew in that moment that she would have him and none other. Two days of knowing him was a lifetime. She forced herself to stand quiet, waiting for him to come to her.
    Magnus stopped not a foot from her. He said nothing, merely stared down at her, no expression on his face. “I thought I heard a woman’s raucous voice shrieking for me, shrill as the caw of a rook. Did you hear anyone like that, Zarabeth?” He looked over her head and to his right and left. “Nay, I see her not. No one is swimming in the water, neither a mermaid nor a sea dragon, and there are naught but hairy sailors yon. All of them were dreaming dreams of plunder and fat casks of silver, no doubt, until her voice came to slice through their dreams, and mine. Ah, behind you. There she is, and she looks the termagant, foul-tempered and sour-mouthed. How very ugly she is—”
    Zarabeth whipped around and saw no one. Magnus began to chuckle. She felt his hand fall lightly on her shoulder.
    His voice deepened and all humor fell away. “You are impulsive, Zarabeth. It is a dangerous quality, but I shan’t chide you for it this time, though it angers methat you would come to me alone. Come here and let me look at you.”
    She smiled then and turned to find him there, just in front of her, and she leaned forward against his chest and lifted her face to his. She said, “I wanted to see you. It’s been too long without the sight of your face.”
    His hands came up to clasp her upper arms. “Was it, now? So you came here to the quay alone, with no protection, and bellowed out my name? What if another man had come in answer to your call?”
    She had no intention of dwelling on that possibility, saying simply, “I knew it was your vessel. It is the most splendid one docked here. It looks like you, Magnus, lean and powerful and savage. I took little risk.”
    â€œYour reasoning astounds me and pleases me alike. But do you really see me as being savage?”
    â€œNay, I meant brutal. It sounds odd, but ’tis true. Your vessel appears brutal in its beauty, as do you, its owner, its master.”
    â€œAll right, I promised not to chide you, and I won’t, for you have made me feel a man above other men. Just know, Zarabeth, any brutality in my nature will never be visited upon you. If you ever annoy me, why, then, I’ll simply kiss you.” And he did, swooping down, his cloak billowing around the both of them, pulling her up against his chest. His mouth was warm and firm, and when she didn’t part her lips to him, he gently eased his tongue along her lower lip, caressing her, nipping her, until she understood what he wanted and opened her mouth just a bit. It was wondrous, feeling his tongue touch hers, feeling the warmth of his body against hers. His large hands were holding her tightly against him. She felt his thighs against hers, felt the hardness of him against her belly.
    â€œMagnus,” she said into his mouth, and she felt himshudder. She wondered at this seeming power she held over him, but only for a moment, for he suddenly swept his hands over her buttocks and lifted her, pressing her hard against him. She stiffened at his assault and he instantly released her, sliding her down the front of his body, slowly, ever so slowly, until her feet once again touched the dock.
    He raised his head and looked down at her. “You’re breathing hard, sweeting. That pleases me. And you’re right. All my men and all the other men in every vessel along this quay are likely watching us