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Viking Seduction

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Viking Seduction, 2003 New Concepts Publishing Genre: Viking Romance IBSN: 1-58608-341-4 Format: Ebook When Morgana left her native Wales, love was the last thing on her mind. At least it was until her ship was overtaken by Erik, the handsome blond Viking nobleman. She becomes his slave, trying desperate to escape to her own homeland. Morgana may escape him but can she flee from the love in her heart for him?

 

Reviews

Viking Seduction by Tracy L. Ranson is aptly named. From the minute of Morgana’s capture, Erik is out to seduce her. The story is fast paced and a pleasurable read. I would definitely recommend this easy read and I look forward to reading The conqueror, also by this author.
- Romance at Heart

Tracy Ranson's Viking Seduction is a heartwarming tale of how love can bloom between two different cultures. The characters are all richly endowed and come alive, the settings are fantastic and beautiful and the sparks fly, not only between the two main characters, but between Erik's parents as well. If you like Viking Medieval stories, I highly recommend this one.
- Escape to Romance

 

Excerpt

Painful throbs in her head brought Morgana back from the depths of dreamless sleep. How long she was there, she was not sure. The last thing she remembered was getting ready to run a Viking through ... her ship! A roving band of Vikings attacked her ship on the high sea!

Morgana opened her eyes. Where was she? Was she in her own cabin aboard the Golden Princess? On one side, moonlight bathed the rough-hewn tent in gray, outlining the confines slightly. Just beyond the edge, she heard the soft murmur of voices in a language she had never heard before. Where was everyone?

Morgana put her hand down and felt the soft fur pelts underneath her constructing a bed. It was warm but foreign. Fear pounded along her veins as the sudden realization of her situation sank in. She must have been captured to be taken God only knows where.

What was she going to do?

Were they going to ravish her and pass her around like some sort of sport?

Before she could think upon it further, the tent parted with the help of two large hands. Terror pushed Morgana’s heart to a new pace as a lump formed in her throat. Who was it that was coming into the dim room? Better still, what did they want with her? She backed up a little on the mound.

A very tall figure emerged from the opening and stood before her with arms crossed. From his silhouette, she could see his heavily muscled arms as well as his strong legs splayed out in a gesture of power. Light colored, wavy hair framed his unseen face.

“I trust you are well,” he stated in a strong masculine voice. She was taken aback. He spoke her Welsh tongue with a perfect accent.

“How ... how ... you know my language?” she managed to stammer.

Snorts of annoyance escaped his lips. “You forget that the Vikings have traveled the seas since time began. Most of us know many languages.” His arms fell to his sides where his hands went to his burly hips. “I suppose you could use some light.” With a quick snap of his fingers, a small pot, filled with oil, passed through. Though the flame was small, the light was generous enough for her to get a good look at him.

Warm golden light highlighted his bronzed skin underneath the strange fur vest covering his wide torso. He possessed a strong brow that hooded his eyes, almost like those of a hawk. His nose, aquiline and sleek, swept down to high cheekbones. Luscious full lips parted to let out a soft breath. Her heart thumped an extra beat as the masculine scent of him filled the dim room.

“Much thanks, milord. What ... what are you going to do with me?”

“That all depends.” Sitting beside her, the corner of the bed sunk under his weight, bringing forth the thought that at any moment this giant could spring on her and there was nothing she could to stop him.

Her eyebrow rose. “On what?”

The stranger picked up a strand of her hair and dangled it between his strong fingers. “On you. First, you are going to tell me who you are and what you are doing on the sea with a band of men.” Strange light danced behind the light gray eyes. What was his real intent?

She shook her head defiantly, crossing her arms. “No. That is my concern and my concern alone.”

In a swift motion, his strong arm locked around her waist and drew her against his hardened plane. Her trembling increased fourfold as her breath quickened. From her position, Morgana could do nothing but to look into his eyes. “Come, vixen, I can be very cruel indeed." His lips were inches away from hers, his breath warm and inviting. For a moment, she thought his lips would touch hers, but, as the moments passed, it became clear he was not. A bite of uninvited lust nipped at the back of her mind.

Morgana threw her head back. “If I do not?”

His lips turned upwards in a devilish smile. “Are you willing to find out?”

“If you must know, I was traveling as the ship’s whore, nothing more,” she snarled through gritted teeth. “I was given to the captain, but he unfortunately died en route. So, I dressed as a man to keep the others away from me.”

His gaze traveled all over her face as if to memorize every line then returned to stare into her eyes. “You lie.”

“Nay, I do not!”

He nodded. “You do. Whores do not have such soft skin,” he murmured in a low tone as his free hand captured hers, his fingers tracing patterns on the palm of her hand. “They also do not have hands of a noblewoman, so ‘tis best that you tell me your identity, or I will kill one of your men for every moment that you do not tell me.” Intense heat from his fingers seared up her arm and flowed around her body, exploding in a delicious meld of sensation.

A mask of smug delight crossed his face. “You would not ... ”

“No? Do you wish to discover that for yourself?”

Morgana drew in a deep breath and let out a reluctant sigh. “I am Morgana from Wales and betrothed to a very powerful man whose riches are vast. He would pay handsomely for my safe return.”

Small chuckles escaped his throat. “Then, I assume you sought to free yourself from an arranged marriage? Perhaps find your true love upon the sea?”

She tilted her head in a slight nod. “Aye, I wanted to get away but to find love, nay. I do not believe in such foolishness.”

It was the truth. Love did not exist, at least for her. All those times she had heard her mother cry because of one of her father’s indiscretions with the chambermaids, her heart shattered. The myth that a man took a woman’s heart, disregarding all others was for fools. Aye, the man kept the woman’s heart but not to treasure it. He had to hoard it, possess it, then destroy the fragile organ when he no longer desired the love. Her father's actions had proved it was all a lie. After her mother's death from a broken heart, she knew love never really existed.

“Now that you know my name, ‘tis my turn to learn yours.”

The corners of his full lips turned sensuously upward as the light in his eyes deepened. “I am Erik, son of Ragnar, Jarl of Darvisson. ” His blond brow rose in question. “Your lord and master.”


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