The Viking's Forbidden Love-Slave (The MacEgan Brothers Book 1.5) by Michelle Willingham

Author:Michelle Willingham
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Historical Romance, Irish, Vikings, Warrior
ISBN: 9781460820032
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2007-12-31T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter Three

Tharand’s own mood had soured. Over and over, he reminded himself that Aisling Ó Brannon was a slave, a woman no different from the others he’d captured. And though none could compare to her beauty, he could not lose sight of his purpose.

Time and again, she’d surprised him. The sweetness of her arousal, the driving need to watch her come apart, was slowly stealing away his mind.

And when he’d kissed her…

Odin’s bones, she had a mouth that was made to be savored. When she’d kissed him back, he’d caught a sense of what it would be like to have her willing. And if he didn’t keep his hands off her, he would break his own vow not to get involved. It would only make it harder to give her up.

Abruptly, he stopped the horse. He couldn’t say why, but they would arrive at the king’s estate by nightfall. Once he gave her into Magnus’s custody, he could no longer protect her. The thought of other men bruising her fair skin made his fist tighten.

“Why did you stop?” she asked.

Without answering, he lifted her down and led her toward a small grove of trees. “You don’t know how to use a knife, do you?”

She eyed him with distrust. “Why would you think that?”

He held out his hand. “Give me the blade.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to show you how to defend yourself with it.”

“My brothers taught me,” she argued, keeping her hand upon the outline of the weapon beneath her skirt.

Tharand kept his hand outstretched, waiting for her to acquiesce. He couldn’t let her go to Magnus without a means of defense. Even if he stayed with her, he could not be with her at all times.

“Show me what you know,” he asked. As she withdrew the blade, he fell into a defensive stance. “Try to stab me.”

Aisling shook her head. “That isn’t really what I—“

“Do it,” he ordered, adjusting his stance so that his foot was anchored against one of the oak trees.

She reached beneath her skirt, giving him a quick view of a long bare leg. He tried to ignore the distraction, focusing on the weapon she held.

“Now aim for my heart.”

“And as I said before. You don’t have one.”

Didn’t she realize he was trying to help her? Damn it, didn’t she know what kind of men served Magnus? They would dishonor her in an instant, unless she made it clear that she belonged only to the king.

Tharand waited for her to make a move. He needed to see her technique before he could correct her.

The last thing he expected was to be pinned against the tree, the dagger embedded in his tunic. Aisling crossed her arms and regarded him. “You know that I could have killed you. I suppose I should have.”

He gaped at her, understanding that she was trained to throw the weapon, not to stab with it.

“Perhaps I should leave you here,” she mused, taking a step backwards, toward his horse. “You’d be warm enough with your cloak.

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