“Dragon's eyes flew open. He stared at his hand curved over the alabaster mound of a perfectly formed breast, at the delectable rose-hued nipple peeking through his fingers, up past the firm set of a certain chin and straight into honey-hued eyes that somehow failed to appear the least abashed."Uh..." he said, which he rather thought was as articulate as any man could be expected to be under the circumstances, skald-souled or not.”

“He burned,his body drawn bow-taut. If he did not sheathe himself soon within his wife's silken depths...She looked at him directly, her eyes wide and candid. "All day I have wanted to...touch you."His dark brows rose. All day? Well that was certainly pleasing but it didn't make his condition any easier to bear. Harshly, he said, "You don't have to ask permission to touch me."She shrugged her lovely, almost bare shoulders. "I know,but under the circumstances..." Her gaze drifted down his body, rather pointedly, he thought.Which definitely did not help matters at all."You can touch me later," he said and reached for her again.She pressed her palms against his chest, tossed back her gleaming hair, and laughed. Really,he was going to die from this."Just a little now...please?"Dragon squeezed his eyes shut and reached deep down inside for the control that was so instrinsic a part of his warrior's nature.It had to be in there somewhere.Any moment now he'd stumble across it.”

“What is it?” Dragon asked.“There is a man, lord, just off a ship from Normandy. He’s in the tavern over there and he’s asking for the Lady Rycca.”“Is he? What manner of man?” “Tall, slender, actually he looks rather like her ladyship. He says she is his sister and he seeks word of her.”“Does Rycca have yet another brother?” Wolf asked. He was close to Dragon and had overheard the exchange. The news had him fingering the hilt of his sword.“Yes, she does, but I gather he’s an altogether different sort. Do you mind finishing up here?”“Not at all. Go ahead.”Scant minutes later, Dragon set a horn of ale in front of the visitor from Normandy. The young man looked up, startled. He was pale skinned, with eyes like honey and hair that held the promise of fire. Had Rycca been a man, she would have looked just like him.Happy, happy day that she was not.“What brings you to Hawkforte, friend?” Dragon asked as he took the seat opposite his new acquaintance. “I seek word of my sister, the Lady Rycca of Wolscroft. I have had troubling word of her in Normandy and wish to be assured of her safety.”Trouble involving Rycca? How astonishing. Dragon hid a grin and said, “You would be called—”“Thurlow. And you are—?”This time, Dragon’s smile would not be denied. “Ah, well, as to that, therein hangs a tale.”

“Do you not think you could share this with Dragon?""Dragon,who was reluctant enough for this marriage and who now finds himself with a wife he can never hide anything from. Who will always know whether he is telling the truth or not. You think he would welcome such a wife?"Cymbra thought for a moment. "Well...I don't know...Perhaps if you rubbed his feet."Rycca stared at her in shock, saw the look of pure deviltry in Cymbra's eyes, and burst out laughing at the same moment as her new sister-in-law-and friend-did the same.They laughed and laughed, not quieting until Lion stirred, gazed at them reproachfully, and opened his mouth to unleash a bellow that reverberated off the nearby hills and sent the sea birds scattering to safety."Oh,my heavens," Rycca said when it was finally quiet enough to say anything at all.Cymbra sighed.She rose, picked up her son, and tried to settle his head back against her shoulder. "It has been ever such.He almost brought the rafters down in the chapel at Hawksforte where he was christened.""It is most impressive," Rycca said as she, too,stood. "I suppose that accounts for his name.""It's actually Hakon,to honor Wolf and Dragon's father,but he is called Lion and I suspect he always will be."Just as he would be satisfied only to be set down. On his own two feet, he toddled off determinedly toward the top of the hill, leaving the bemused women to follow.”

“Again the king sighed. "That is a different matter.""Fine," Dragon said promptly. "I shall solve your problem for you." He made to rise.Rycca did not mask her response. She grabbed hold of his wrist with both her hands and yanked hard. "Sit down," she said emphatically, and then just to soften it, "I pray you,my lord."After a moment's shock, Alfred laughed. He shook his head ruefully. "You three must know how men envy you? The beauty of your wives is spoken of with awe, yet I am pleased to see they are not lacking in spirit either.""Mayhap too much spirit," Dragon growled, but he did not look truly angry, merely frustrated."Your killing Wolscroft will only cause more trouble," Alfred said. "No, this must be handled within the law."Slowly, Dragon resumed his seat but he looked in no way pleased about it. Rycca returned her hands to her lap and tried hard to look abashed. He wasn't fooled but he did reach over, take hold of her chair, and haul it up close to his so that he could rest an arm around her shoulders. A rather heavy arm, she thought, reminded of his strength and will.Not that she minded. Above all, she wanted him near her,not off risking his life against her father.”

“He could not be absolutely certain she would not get away-again.In the dark of night, haunted by such grim thoughts, Dragon found consolation. He had a fleet of ships at the ready. Before his willing Saxon bride could don boy's garb, run off a cliff, or plunge into a river, he would have her safely aboard and at sea. Damned if he wouldn't.He felt better after that and even dozed a little but was up and dressed before dawn's gray fingers peeled night away.”

“Take off your clothes. Better yet, I’ll do it.”“Oh, no!” She stepped back quickly in alarm, which prompted a swift frown from him. It vanished when Rycca said, “I saw how you manhandled that tunic. You aren’t about to do the same to this gown. Just wait a moment . . .”Even as she spoke, she deftly undid the laces down the side of the garment and lifted it carefully but quickly over her head. Her husband was in a mood, ridden by tension she could not understand. She wanted to placate him, yet she also wished to surrender to the urges he so effortlessly unleashed within her.Naked save for the gauzy chemise that hid nothing from his eyes, she stood before him, her head lifted proudly to conceal the quivering she felt within. She gloried in his gaze, hot and potent, raking over her. But when he reached for her, she stepped back again. “I ask a boon, lord.”She had never asked him for anything—save freedom and that he could not give. Caught, knowing he could hardly refuse, Dragon rasped, “What?” He had not meant to be so curt but speech was almost beyond him. He wanted her with a desperation he had never felt before save every time he lay with her, and even then he usually managed to maintain some semblance of control. Not now. He burned, his body drawn bow-taut. If he did not sheathe himself soon within his wife’s silken depths . . .She looked at him directly, her eyes wide and candid. “All day I have wanted to . . . touch you.”His dark brows rose. “All day?” Well, that was certainly pleasing but it didn’t make his condition any easier to bear. Harshly, he said, “You don’t have to ask permission to touch me.”She shrugged her lovely, almost bare shoulders. “I know, but under the circumstances . . .” Her gaze drifted down his body, rather pointedly, he thought.Which definitely did not help matters at all.“You can touch me later,” he said and reached for her again. She pressed her palms against his chest, tossed back her gleaming hair, and laughed. Really, he was going to die from this. “Just a little now . . . please?”Dragon squeezed his eyes shut and reached deep down inside himself for the control that was so intrinsic a part of his warrior’s nature. It had to be in there somewhere. Any moment now he’d stumble across it.”