“This is it, my sweeting.” His voice sounds triumphant as he presses his free palm against the dark wood. “These are my private quarters.”

Something about his tone makes my insides quiver, the resonance taking on that authoritative edge that has driven me wild since he first enslaved me back in the Viking camp outside Donrose.

I blink up at him, feeling my emotions surge as my heart pounds faster and faster within the walls of my chest. “Is this where I am to stay, my Lofðungr?” My question sounds small in the shadows, my voice bouncing off the stonework and disappearing.

The corners of his lips turn at my words, and I swear I am almost panting by the time he speaks. “Well, of course, Aurelie,” he murmurs, pulling me toward him with two powerful arms. One hand rises to my dark hair, and slowly he tugs my head backwards, so that my face rises to meet his eyes. “You are mine now, and you will stay wherever I am.”

I swallow hard at the intensity in his tone.

“I trust you will be happy here,” he continues as his thumb strokes the edge of my chin with gentle caresses. “I am a prince after all, so I can keep you in the manner to which a princess should be already acquainted.”

That makes me smile, and I lower my eyes despite the hand at my face. Anders tuts at me, his hand pushing my face higher until my gaze returns to him. “You know better than to look away, Aurelie,” he warns me.

I pull my lower lip between my teeth, anxiety at the soft admonishment stirring within me. “I apologise,” I reply. “I will be happy,” I assure him. “I am happy with you.” And I mean it, his mesmerising blue eyes holding my gaze steady.

All at once the hand disappears, and he jerks the strong door beyond us open. We both move forward, my steps tentative as I peer into the darkness.

Anders drops my hand for the first time since we arrived, pacing into his old room. The musty scent of the air hits me as I follow after him. Evidently, Anders has not been here for some time.

“We’ll need a little light,” he announces, already striding past me to one of the lit candles in the hall. I stand in the middle of the space as he returns, armed with two candlesticks, now both aflame. He proceeds to light each torch in the vicinity, and soon enough the flickering lights reveal his large private quarters.

“That’s more like it,” he smiles, shifting the door closed with his left hip, as he paces back toward me. “It’s cold, and full of cobwebs,” he explains, looking around, “but it’s home.”

I look around me, taking in Anders’ private space. “How long has it been since you were last here, my Lofðungr?” I ask him, as I remove my longsword and prop it against a nearby piece of furniture.

He tilts his head as he shakes off his large furs, thinking on my question. “It has been some time,” he muses. “Several seasons have passed since I left Lundborg.”

I glance around, taking in the ornate furniture in the room. At the far end is an oversized four-poster bed, and when my eyes fall over it, Anders chuckles next to me.

“Ah, yes, my sweeting,” he agrees with a dark laugh. “That is the place where I shall have you bound and splayed.” He closes the distance between us in one stride, his large, muscular frame towering over me once more.

I look up to him, fighting to push the air in and out of my body. “My Lofðungr,” I murmur, but there are no more words. The swirling mix of panic and arousal makes me giddy, and I reach for his forearm to support me.

His face softens at the gesture, and within a moment his full lips come crashing down onto me. His kiss is demanding, possessing me and leaving me ragged as he pulls away. Now my head is spinning, the caress of his lips a temporary reprieve for my mind, which is still trying to make sense of all the changes that have occurred in my life of late.

“I understand, my love,” he purrs, spearing me with the dark intensity of his gaze. “This is all new, and it will take you time to feel settled—to belong—but belong you will, my sweeting.”

He pushes his groin into me, the evidence of his arousal clear at my belly. A reflexive groan escapes my lips at the sensation. My body, unable to resist my Viking prince, moves even closer to him, my hips rolling against his hardness.

Anders smiles, his blue eyes sparkling. “Oh, Aurelie, yes,” he murmurs. “I want you too, but first…” He pauses, a wicked grin spreading over his handsome face. “First there is the matter of your transgression in front of Olaff.”

My anxiety, so recently calmed by our rising passion, resumes full pelt. “But, my Lofðungr?” I ask, hearing the tremble in my voice.

“Aurelie?” His response is fast, and one of his dark blond brows arches as he repeats the enquiry back to me. “Do you protest?”

“I do, my Lofðungr,” I implore him. “Please, I did not mean to offend. I wanted only to offer the other side of the story?”

He nods as his large palms collect both of my hands between us. “On this point I am clear,” he replies, never breaking eye contact with me as he speaks. “Yet you spoke out when you did not have permission. You interrupted us, and were defensive, arguing against my account, and contradicting me in front of my brother. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

I hesitate, seeing the genuine feeling in his gaze. Is that what I had done—contradicted him? Yes, I muse, I suppose that I did, and yet I meant no ill by it. I had only wanted to defend Donrose, and speak for those who are no longer here to defend themselves.

He towers over me, motionless, waiting for me to think on my behaviour.

“I see I have undermined you,” I say finally, the notion clear to me for the first time. “I am sorry to have caused you embarrassment in front of Olaff.”

Anders leans in, his lips grazing my mouth again as he trails kisses over my lips. “So, now you understand?” His tone is even and I know he is not angry, and yet still my core liquefies at the prospect of what he may have in mind for my penance.

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