Viking Claim (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors Book 2) by Sky Purington

quite find it in him to suggest she drink slower. Instead, he slid a plate of bread in front of her. “Eat. Please. It will be easy on your stomach.” He nodded at her cup. “And help soak that up.”
    “No, thanks.” Her hand rested on her stomach. “I’m not really hungry.”
    Raknar disregarded her refusal and handed her a piece of bread. “A gift from me to you. One of the many ways I intend to tell you how sorry I am that your life was put in danger.”
    “One of many ways?” Naðr mouthed behind her back.
    Megan laughed and shook her head. “You can’t say no to a gift given to you by the king’s brother, Veronica.”
    Veronica's eyes narrowed a fraction. She was trapped. So she took the bread. “Thanks…I suppose. Consider your debt paid in full.”
    Kol grinned. “There you have it, brother. You are forgiven.”
    “Only once my conscience is clear will things be settled.” He nodded at the bread. “Eat.”
    And, thank Odin, she did.
    All the while, Naðr, Megan, and Kol filled her in on everything happening around them. It seemed, however, that she had a good grasp on many aspects of his society.
    Bread finished and back to her mead, Veronica looked at Naðr. “I’m interested in your court system, the Thing. How often do you oversee one of those?”
    Raknar wasn’t surprised by her question. He’d spent ample time with Megan, mostly fishing, and learned as much as he could about her sisters. He knew that Veronica gained treasure by providing images of herself and now he completely understood why. He’d likely give up a chest of gold for just one. But that wasn’t all that made up the woman. It seemed she had also learned herself in law , a means for people from her time to settle disputes and be held accountable for crimes. 
    “We hold the Thing regularly,” Naðr said. “There will be one tomorrow if you would like to attend.”
    “Definitely.” Veronica polished off her mead.
    Suddenly tired of the conversation, or more so her talking with anyone but him, Raknar downed the remainder of his ale and though he knew he shouldn’t, stood and held out his hand. “Come. Dance.”
    Veronica’s eyes turned up. “Not, ‘would you like to dance?’”
    Confused, Raknar shook his head and repeated. “Come. Dance.”
    Kol frowned.
    Naðr chuckled.
    “That’s his way of politely asking you to dance, Sis,” Megan informed. “Go for it.”
    When Veronica hesitated, he curled his fingers. “It will be good.”
    “Good,” she whispered, clearly unconvinced.
    He looked at Megan for guidance, but she only shrugged and grinned. “I think you’ll have to do better than good, Raknar.”
    Clueless as to what that meant, he only knew one way besides asking that worked.
    Taking.
    So he leaned over, scooped her up, and started walking.

Chapter Four
     
    Downright confused by his behavior and pretty darned embarrassed, Veronica said nothing until Raknar set her down in the dancing crowd. But trying to make sense of him or even retaliate against his brutish behavior became near impossible when he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. Then everything that gave her direction in life went haywire.
    Nothing but tall, hard, Viking male came against her and words literally became a mass of incoherent thoughts and actions. Raknar didn’t grope or make her feel used but did something far, far worse. He wrapped a hand into her hair and held her just close enough that she had no choice but to look at him.
    Straight into those eyes.
    They were his power. The place he took women before they knew what hit them.
    Veronica made to speak, but the words died on her lips when she realized she really didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want them to share a word. Not right now. As if he sensed her surrender, his lips curled up slightly and he pulled her against him, cheek against his chest. Her eyes slid shut and air whispered from her lungs as though she’d been holding it for centuries.
    What was