Page 60 of Truly, Madly Viking

The fierce expression on her face bespoke a mother's protectiveness. Just as Jorund had been aroused by Mag-he's sexvoice and her alluring robe, he was also stimulated by this aspect of her personality. "I won't hurt them."

"Not just physically. I want your assurance that you won't hurt them emotionally, either."

"How can I promise that?" he cried out. At the first opportunity, he was going to leave this time and place. The way things looked now, it might not ever happen. But then again, the window in time might open for him suddenly, without warning. How could he make pledges that might be beyond his power to keep?

"My daughters love you, Joe."

To his dismay, he groaned aloud. A warrior should not display his weaknesses, but, in this instance, he could not help himself.

"Don't ask me why or how that happened; it just did. At least promise me that you will do your best not to hurt their feelings... or break their hearts."

"If I have that much power, I should depart your home now. I do not want to be responsible for their joy, or their sorrow."

"It seems to me you have no choice."

He nodded, suddenly choked up. But then he thought of something else... something that caused his throat to clear and his heart to lift. If he was going to be stuck in this land, then he was going to commence enjoying the benefits, such as they were. He had been docile too long... allowing events to lead him, instead of being the aggressor like the military chieftain he was.

Mag-he stood on the other side of the sofa bed, wearing her siren robe, staring at him. There was no fear in her luminous blue eyes, just curiosity. And boldness.

Her gaze kept returning to his chest, which was bared by his unbuttoned shert.

He smiled with satisfaction. So the wench liked his body. That was encouraging news.

She saw his smile. "I was just checking to see if Rita had scratched you badly."

He made a scoffing sound of disbelief. It was his finely honed body she was examining, not some piddling scratch.

Her stubborn chin jutted out defiantly. Foolish wench. Even a hardened warrior knew when to yield to greater forces.

He began to move around the mattress, a predatory rush of blood beginning to surge through his body.

It was the selfsame feeling he had before every battle.

"Wh-what?" Mag-he stammered. Her shaky voice belied her brave stance. Still, not one step did she back off. He had to admire her for that.

"'Tis time," he said, and took another step toward her.

"Time for what, Joe?" she whispered in that sexvoice of hers. He felt it all the way to his man parts, which began to thicken in appreciation. Truly, that voice of hers was going to be his undoing yet, if he were not more careful...

"My name is Jorund." Only a few more steps. Her intoxicating lilac scent was making him dizzy.

"Jorund," she rasped out. Her head was still tilted in confusion, but she had the good sense to back up one step, then another.

He followed after her, in stalking mode now. "'Tis time," he repeated.

"For what?" she repeated, too. But now her back hit the wall.

"For unfinished business."

Maggie's senses reeled under Joe's heated gaze.

She should look away. She tried to look away. But she could not. She was too entranced by the sensuous flame that had ignited in his smoky eyes, scorching her inch by inch, as they roamed her figure in the Victoria's Secret silk wrapper—a birthday gift from her girls two weeks ago. They'd obviously considered her frumpy old chenille robe unsuitable attire for daddy hunting.

His voice was low and raw as he whispered, "You are so beautiful."

And Maggie felt beautiful at that moment. And raw.

The man was stalking her... no doubt about it. She would have darted for safety if her back weren't pressed to the wall. On the other hand, maybe she wouldn't have fled. For once in her life, Maggie yearned to free the sensuality she'd suppressed for so long. She didn't want to be self conscious about her body or worry what other people would think. She wanted to be wanton.