Viking's Claim (Kilts & Kisses #4)(18)

“Isn’t home up in the north?”

I look out over the hills at the ocean beyond, and I shake my head.

“Maybe once, but not anymore. Here’s been my home longer than there ever was, truth be told. And it’s time.” I shake my head again. “It’s time to stop what I’ve been doing. All of us need to. The fighting, the plundering, the terrorizing.” I scowl. “It’s ending, Rhona.”

She brings my hand to her lips, kissing it softly.

“But isn’t that who you are? You’re a Viking, Tor. That’s what you d—”

“Did,” I finish for her. “It’s what I’ve done for years. What we’ve all done for years. And little bird?” I turn, holding her hands and gazing into her eyes.

“And I’m done doing it. Our King, Haraldsson, up north—his lust for treasure and the power he thinks fear of us brings him has grown larger than it should. What we do now isn’t a necessity to support our home, it’s just to keep on plundering and killing. And I’ve had my fill. I’ve had more than four lifetime’s fill of it, Rhona. We all have.”

“And you’re going to say here?” she whispers, biting her lip eagerly.

I grin, nodding. “Yes, though it won’t be easy.”

She frowns. “Not when you’ve spent as long as you have fighting the highlanders.”

“This land here?” I nod around us. “It belongs to no lord. It’s away from other towns and cities, and it’s near the shore. It’s a place for us to start afresh, as the free men we always wanted to be. As the free men we ought to be, not the pawns of a king gone drunk off power and treasure. Here, we’ll build homes, and raise crops, and… fuck, whatever those little highland lordlings from your world do.”

She giggles, rolling her eyes before she gasps as I tug her into me.

“This life I live right now can’t go on, my little queen. I want to farm, and fish, and raising a family.”

She blushes.

“A family?”

“Aye,” I growl, sliding a hand to her belly. “I want my heir in your womb, sweetness. I want to breed you until you’re full and ripe with child.”

I scoop her into my arms, and when she moans, I kiss them away with my lips until her arms are around my neck and I’ve forgotten how long since I’ve breathed.

“Taking you may have been wrong, Rhona, but—”

“I’m glad you did,” she whispers into my lips.

I grin. “I was going to say, ‘but I’d do it a thousand more times.’”

Her lips crush to mine, turn tongues dueling as the fire roars through me.

“Tonight,” I purr softly, kissing her tenderly.

“Tonight?”

“Tonight, right now, the minute we get back to my camp…”

I level my eyes with hers, and I see the answer before I even tell her, or bother asking.

“Tonight, we’ll wed.”

Fire blazes in her eyes, and she’s kissing me hungrily before I even know what hits me.

“Yes,” she moans softly into my mouth.

“Be my bride, my love,” I growl. “My little warrior queen.”

“Yes,” she moans again, our lips crushing together as the moon glows bright, the stars twinkle, and the ocean crashes softly against the shore.





Chapter 11





Rhona




My arms tighten around him as the horse slows from gallop to trot. My face presses to Tor’s back, my lips brushing his bare shoulder as he reins in the stallion as we arrive back at the camp.

Everything feels… different now. Bigger. Like the world has opened up for me. I know it’s all to attribute that to losing my virginity to the savage, amazing man I’m clinging to. But I know that’s it. Maybe not just the act itself, but in truly giving myself to him. For years—maybe my whole life—I’ve thought of Vikings and especially of the infamous Tor Odinson as barely-human demonic creatures living off the blood of their victims. But now that I’m here, in the midst of them, and with Tor, I know how wrong I’ve been.

I know he’s so much more than that. And now, he’s about to be something else, too.

…My husband.

The camp is somewhat quieter than it was before, though people are still up, drinking and telling stories around a few fires scattered around the camp. Tor helps me down from the horse and turns to whistle at and beckon to a group near the main bonfire.

“Freya!”

A tall, lithe, absolutely stunning blonde looks up from the wicked-looking knife she’s been honing with a whetstone. Tor nods at her and she stands, pushing her braided hair over one shoulder as she moves towards us. Her fierce, ice-blue Nordic eyes sweep over me, and I find my hand tightening in Tor’s.

“You must be Rhona.”

The iciness melts from her face as she approaches, and she smiles as she says it.

“Rhona, this is Freya,” Tor rumbles. “Frey, can you help her with some clothes?”

“Of course, my jarl.” She raises a brow, smirking. “Anything in particular?”

Tor grins widely. “A dress, if you even own one.”

Freya sighs, shaking her head as she turns to roll her eyes at me, gesturing at Tor. “He likes to think he knows women.” She grins, leaning close conspiratorially. “He doesn’t, does he.”