Read Online Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 05] by The Blue Viking - Free Book Online

would be sweet dreams this night. And wet, he would warrant.
    He couldn’t wait.
    Maire’s body was accustomed to awakening each morning before dawn, and this day was no different.
    There was a difference, however.
    In her hazy half-asleep state, with her eyes still closed and her senses not yet fully alert, Maire mulled over the events that had transpired the previous day and what she must do on this new day. She was free of her cage and the MacNab…
for now
… but there were plans to make to ensure their continued safety here at
Beinne Breagha
. First, she wanted to seek out Wee-Jamie and spend some time with him… simple but important mother/son activities, like combing hissilky black hair, or playing run-run-catch in the heather, or skimming rocks in a favorite trout stream. Jamie was her life, and she missed him desperately.
    On her back, she yawned and started to stretch out the nighttime kinks.
    That was when she noticed another difference about this morning … the most significant difference. There was a man sharing her bed … a
naked
man, she realized with a startled yelp. And she wasn’t much better, with her thin chemise hiked up practically to her… well, hips, and one shoulder strap having slipped down to a bare breast.
    It was that horrid Viking … Rurik.
    Even worse, he was wide awake and staring at her… hotly. Well, that wasn’t precisely correct. He was staring at her exposed breast as if he were considering whether to lick it or not.
    Lick it? Lick it? Where do I get these ideas?
    Despite all the reasons she had to hate Rurik, Maire felt an intense ache begin in her breasts, which caused their traitorous nipples to bead for his appreciative scrutiny.
    “Maire,” he groaned, as if she were deliberately torturing him.
    Hah! He wasn’t the one being tortured. She was.
    He ran the tip of his tongue over his lips, as if they were dry.
    They didn’t look dry to her. In truth, his generous lips appeared slick and warm and inviting.
Oh, blessed St. Blathmac… his lips are not inviting. They are not, not, not
, she insisted to herself. She was losing her mind. In fact, she had to restrain herself from arching her chest upward toward said lips, whichwould definitely be a brainless thing to do.
    And if Maire’s day wasn’t starting out badly enough, she observed another even worse thing. She realized belatedly that not only did she have a naked Viking in her bed, but she was lying flat on her back whilst he lay on his side, with his left arm resting on the pillow above her head, a hairy leg resting over her thighs, a hand resting possessively on her stomach, and something hard
not
resting at all, but pressing insistently against her hip.
    Oh, Maire knew all about men and their morning erections. In truth, it was the only time her husband had been able to bear making love with her. Then, and when he was falling-over drunk from imbibing too much
uisge-beatha
.
    She tried to roll over and shove the big brute away, but he was immovable … like a stone wall. Besides that, her hair was caught under his arm, and her legs trapped under his thigh.
    With a grunt of disgust, she yanked her chemise up to cover her breast.
    He chuckled.
    “What… are … you … doing … in … my … bed?” she gritted out.
    “Best you stop wiggling about, Maire, or Lance will be impaling your sweet target.”
    She stilled for a second and felt the male appendage pressed into her hip move. It actually moved. Was it growing larger? She didn’t dare look. “Lance?”
    “My manpart.”
    “You name your manpart?”
    “Nay,” he answered and grinned unabashedly, “though many men do.”
    “Many men are lackwits.”
    He shrugged. “Mayhap. Where women are concerned, you may be right. In truth, a man’s
lance
often has a mind of its own. So, really, women should not blame men for their lackwittedness in that regard.”
    “Now that’s a piece of male ill-logic, if I ever heard it.”
    “Hush, Maire. You’re offending