The only other guest in the room was sprawled atop a corner table in the shadows. He was snoring away amidst a rather impressive assortment of empty mugs. The round shield wedged beneath one arm and the scarred helmet resting askew his dark shoulder-length locks was a sure sign he was a supporter of William the Conqueror. A Viking raider...
Romance
Such is my curse, Branwyn O'Tyre. Every woman I touch is forced to lavish her affections upon me.
Romance, Magic
By Thor, I've been long without a woman.
I sought you out a-purpose in the hopes you would heal me from the effects of a spell. 'Twas cast on me by a most wretched sorceress.
Lord help her, but she was instantly drawn to his scent - a mixture of smoke and salt and mystery - as well as his strength. The pulse of his heart, the hum of blood through his veins, the aura of power and danger surrounding him.
Tell me what you felt when you first looked at me, Branwyn," he persisted, apparently oblivious to their audience. "What you feel now."The memory shook her with its intensity. "I saw light. I felt fire. I knew joy. Now I' am bursting with love. Take me home, Eirik.
By Thor," Eirik choked at last. "Unhand my future wife at once, Sven, so I may kiss her.
Sheer male interest filled his gaze which was entirely focused on her. She'd never before felt so female, so utterly desirable, so wanton.