Blurb: When a young Viking buys Emer and takes her to his home, she has no idea where she is or if she will survive the night.
Excerpt: Flane wiped tears from his eyes, groaned and sat back against the wall. Small, weak eruptions of laughter threatened from time to time, but the flush slowly subsided from his skin as he regarded her. His merriment was hard to resist. Emer struggled to stay angry with him, but a small tentative smile betrayed her.
He saw it, and his reaction was swift. Rising to his knees, he reached for her and his mouth swooped down to join hers.
She recoiled, and jerked her head sideways. As he leaned in, she pushed against him, but her slender hands and reed thin wrists proved useless against his solid bone and muscle. Emer squeaked in outrage, and scrambled backwards to get away from him.
Still grinning, he seized her hand, drew it to his mouth and curved his tongue around her fingertips. Emer wrenched her hand from his as if his touch burned her, and lurched further away. Her back slammed against the wooden wall, and she pressed against it, panting, watching him.
"You're frightened, aren't you?" He sat back on his heels, watching her.
Emer shook her head in violent denial. "No."
"Of course you are. You're as pale as milk."
When his gaze descended to the spot where her breasts surged against the too tight cloth of her old gown, Emer instinctively crossed her arms and dragged her legs up, closing in on herself. There was no escape route, and her shoulders already ached from being pressed so hard against the wall.
Pride made her deny her fears, but she was afraid, and he knew it. She could not still the slight tremor that ran through her. Her blood fizzed and bounced in her veins and she could not think, let alone speak.
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