Brianna yawned and slipped into her bedgown, glad that the day was finally ended. Perching on a stool and braiding her hair into one long rope for the night, she wondered when she had ever been so weary from having done so little. After adding another chunk of peat to the fire, she snuffed all but one of the wall torches, unbarred the door, and dropped to her pallet. She pulled the furs over her and yawned again. It was as though she were made of lead.

Closing her eyes, she immediately saw Wulf Thorsson's face, saw him laughing with her amid the snow and ice. How strange that he should have been so carefree with her after his anger of last night and his stiffness this morn. She sighed. The truth was she did not want to know why such a change had come about. In fact, if he turned cruel, she would consider it a blessing.

Hearing the door creak open, she lay rigid under the furs, her eyes squeezed shut. She did not want to see him nor talk to him. She wanted only to sleep and forget him, except that now her whole body was alive and tingling. Scarcely daring to breathe, she listened for the sounds of him preparing for bed. There were none. What was he doing, she wondered angrily, watching her? Her lids fluttered with the effort to remain closed, and then she gave up. Opening them, she found him gazing down on her. She swallowed.

"G-good evening, sire."

Brianna's heart was out of control. He was helmeted, his cloak flung back over one wide shoulder, and his sword and his great battle-axe were hanging from his belt. Torchlight glinted in his hair and put a dangerous glitter in his eyes. The sight of him almost snatched her breath away.

"I but wanted to see if you slept," Wulf said softly, "and now I have frighted you."

"Nay, you have not." What frightened her was his continuing concern and kindness. She prayed he would turn cruel and tell her she was not now free and never would be free; prayed he was about to sell her to Arab slavers; prayed she might forget their laughing together this morn...

Wulf looked on her entranced. If ever he had seen a lovelier wench, it was only in his dreams. He watched her sit up and rub her eyes, her shining rope of hair curving over one breast and drawing his gaze to the small nipples that thrust against her bedgown. He looked away. Nay, there would be none of that. She had made her wishes quite clear, and at this point he wanted only to stay on good terms with her. He removed his helmet and swordbelt and placed them at the foot of his bedcloset.

"Shall I fetch food or drink for you, sire?" Brianna asked.

Wulf shook his head. "Nay." Seeing that she was fully awake, he added, "You were happier this morn than I have ever seen you."

She shrugged. "'Twas a beautiful day to be out and about." She averted her eyes as he stripped off his leather tunic.

"'Twas naught but that then? The beauty of the day?"

Brianna was instantly wary. Had he seen her with Brian Boru after all? She answered through stiff lips, "Sire, I--know not what you mean..."

Wulf, sitting on the bed ledge to tug off his boots, said easily, "Lady, you marched through Dublin as though you owned it and then you near felled me with a snowball--and you say 'twas all because of the day?"

Brianna expelled a deep sigh. She was safe from discovery, but she must give him a more believable answer. She said quietly:

"You be right, sire. The truth is that-that ever since you freed me, I have wanted to shout it to all of Dublin-town." She added hurriedly, "Of course, never would I do such a thing, seeing as how none must know." She watched in astonishment as he came and knelt by her pallet. When his hands slipped under her hair and brushed her nape, she felt a shiver of delight. She gasped, "Sire, what are you doing?" It was then that she felt the chain being removed from her neck.

"I am returning the seal of Husaby to where it belongs," Wulf said. Still kneeling, he settled the chain around his own neck. "Tomorrow all in this stronghold will know you be a freedwoman. I should have considered your feelings earlier. 'Tis only natural you would want others to know."

"Sire, you cannot fault yourself for that! 'Twas for my safety."

Wulf's jaw tightened. Oh, ay, and he had been damned quick to take advantage of the situation. "You will be safe still should you care to remain here to work."

Brianna blinked. If she cared to remain? If? "Sire, where else would I be? I be a stranger in Dublin! Please, I--I will be your servant if you will have me."

Seeing her fright, Wulf said easily, "Of course I will have you. I but wanted you to know the choice was yours. On the morrow when I announce your freedom, I will make it clear you wish to remain as my servant and will still be under my protection."

Guilt brightened Brianna's cheeks as she whispered, "You be too kind..."

From the very beginning, she had found every reason to doubt him, but she doubted him no longer. Celt-hater though he was, Wulf Thorsson had proven to her that he was a good and honorable man who wanted her well-being. She was shocked now by the realization that she wanted the same for him. All along she had fought her attraction for him--he was more comely than any man alive and his resemblance to Boru fascinated her--but this was different. This had nothing to do with the way he looked or the way he made her heart race. This had to do with the man himself, with his gentleness and compassion. Of a sudden, she cared desperately what happened to him, and she knew it was the worst fate that could have befallen her.

Seeing the new tenderness in her eyes and the tears that had come so swiftly, Wulf grew watchful. What was this now--was her heart melting at last? Cautiously, he touched his fingers to the soft curve of her chin and then stroked her cheek. Her skin was like satin. And when one small hand slid atop his, the other shyly touching his face, tracing his mouth, the neatly bearded line of his jaw, his temple, lingering to touch his hair, Wulf's hunger for her kindled.

Gone, vanished like smoke, was his intention to be on but good terms with her. Long and long he had waited for just such a moment as this, and before it could vanish, he kissed her mouth, a kiss as light as a butterfly wing. She returned it, her parted lips warm and sweet and giving. And when he revealed a deeper hunger, she responded eagerly before she drew back. He reined his impatience.

"So, you fear me still."

Brianna shook her head. "Never will I fear you again."

Wulf caught both her hands, kissed the palms, kissed her slender white wrists. "What is't then? Never would I harm you."

"'Tis just that --" She could not go on for what was there to say? Was she to confess that she could not care for him nor make love with him because she was here to spy for the Emperor of Ireland? She covered her face.

"Brianna..." When she made no answer but began to weep softly, Wulf got to his feet. "'Tis all right, 'twill end here and now," he said quietly, but his pulsing blood was a torment. He was confused and angry. What in damnation ailed this maid? Was it that he was Norse and she Celt? There was much of intermingling and intermarriage between their two peoples, but for some the hatred was too great to overcome. Perhaps she was such a one.

"Brianna, hush you now," he murmured low. "Never would I force you to do aught against your will."

She raised a tear-streaked face. "Sire, I know you would not."

Wulf's heart was squeezed in a vise. Even in weeping, she was the fairest thing he would ever see in this life--drowned green-gold eyes, the long lashes webbed with tears; the sweetly arched brows and white forehead; her full, trembling underlip; hair like burnished chestnut. Pondering her quiet sobbing, he thought of that time when she had first spurned his kisses and he thought her a tease. Now he knew she was not. Thrall though she was, he saw that she was an honorable maid who craved him as he craved her. That she held him off after revealing her hunger told him that something was gravely amiss. She had some deep fear which he could not fathom, but while she wept was not the time to question her. He gently drew her up from the pallet.

"'Tis time you dried your eyes and slept, Brianna. You will feel better when you awaken." He led her to the bedcloset. "You will sleep here from now on. I am used to a pallet."

"Nay," Brianna murmured, her voice thick with tears. "I will not take your bed from you."

"You are not taking it, I am giving it."

Brianna gave her head a violent shake. "'Tis kind of you, but

I-I cannot." She did not deserve a nice bed, especially not his.

Wulf shrugged. "If 'tis your wish...

"'Tis my wish."

UNWILLING BETRAYER ~ Excerpt
©Joan VanNuys
Published by Hard Shell Word Factory

Raven's mood was black when, after the feasting, he returned to where Sunniva lay still asleep. His time spent with Haftor Kol had proven what he already knew. The bastard lusted for her and wanted her for his own. The only reason he'd not seized her already was simple--he feared having Trondsson of Marvik as an enemy. But it hadn't prevented his offering to buy her. Raven had growled a refusal and declared yet again that she was his betrothed, but Kol had been too drunk to understand. The matter, therefore, was not ended. By Odin, just as soon as this damned mist lifted, they would be on their way.

Quickly, quietly, Raven removed his clothing and crawled onto the pallet beside Sunniva. In the flickering lamplight, he saw that her lips were parted and her long sable-soft lashes brushed her pink cheeks. His heart brimmed with such love and longing for her that his body ached with it. He slipped his arms around her, kissed her mouth gently and saw her eyelids flutter open. Her eyes widened.

"Is't really you, or am I dreaming again?" Sunniva whispered, snuggling closer. She lifted her lips for another kiss.

Raven laughed, pressing her closer so that she could feel his need. "'Tis no dream, Sunni. I am here..."

She ran her fingers over his bare shoulders and arms, loving how hard and strong they felt. She traced his dark eyebrows and the lines of his cheeks and nose, the familiar curve of his mouth, now smiling at her. She stroked the dark fur on his chest, his thick raven-black hair, his beard--ay, even his beard she loved. Haftor Kol would think long and hard before angering such a dangerous-looking chieftain as Raven Trondsson of Marvik.

She slid her arms around him, melting against him, feeling his urgent hands moving over. She laughed then. "Methinks I have on too many clothes..."

Raven helped her to sit up. He then untied the laces on her tunic and pulled it over her head, cupping, caressing, tenderly kissing each breast in turn. How fair she was. How shining and perfect and glorious. But beneath his joy ran the dark thought of what she had endured before he found her. Gunnarsson had not let her go unscathed, that he knew, and how did the Magher chieftain figure into it? What had he done to make her fear him? He would find out, damned if he would not. But not this night.

"My little Sunni ..."

His gray eyes were gentle as he pulled down her leggings, kissed the small mound of her belly, her thighs and the down-soft triangle between them. He kissed every precious part of her as it was revealed to his starving eyes ... her dimpled knees and firm shapely calves, her ankles ...

Sunniva heard his breath catch, felt his hold on her tighten. She saw then that his gaze was locked on the band about her ankle. He had not seen it until now.

"That bastard..." Raven muttered a string of curses, his voice thick with fury as he stared at the abomination cutting into her skin--a wide bronze band with HEDEBY pounded into the metal.

"Shhhh, 'tis all right. 'Tis over and now I'm here with you. I'm safe. 'Tis all right." Seeing that he had turned pale, Sunniva cupped his face in her hands and kissed his mouth over and over. "I'm safe," she said again. "'Tis all right, Raven."

She drew his head down and felt the fury draining from him as he nuzzled her and touched his tongue to her hardened nipples. Fire streaked through her as his hands and mouth began moving over her, coaxing, teasing, finally possessing her...

BELOVED ENCHANTRESS ~ Excerpt
©Joan VanNuys
Published by Hard Shell Word Factory