Harper St. George - In Bed With The Viking Warrior

“I still don’t know who I am... What if I’m an enemy?”

Injured in battle, Magnus awakens with no memory of who he is. Knowing he is in danger, he flees...only to encounter a Saxon maiden in peril.

Aisly hates the Danes who invaded her land and killed her husband. Yet, when a mysterious wounded warrior saves her life, she cannot turn her back on him. As Aisly tends to Magnus’s injuries, desire surges between them. But when Magnus’s true identity is revealed, she’s thrown into turmoil—she has invited her enemy into her bed!

Parting her lips just a little, she pressed them to his. His lips were soft.

But then his hands were on her shoulders and he gently pushed her away.

In that horrifying moment Aisly realised that she had completely misread his attention.

‘I want to. You’re so lovely. But it wouldn’t be fair.’

His voice was so gentle and his eyes so soft that she wanted to run and hide. The way her body was responding to him was nothing but wrong. And yet for some strange reason she felt close to this foreigner, closer than she’d felt to anyone in a long time. She was just so lonely. That was why.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, and moved back a little.

He caught her wrist before she could get far. ‘Never apologise for touching me.’

It wasn’t an admonishment, precisely. His voice was warm, and if she didn’t know better—he was an injured man—it was textured with longing.

Author Note

Some books start with a character or an event in history. Some start with a ‘what if…?’ This is a ‘what if…?’ story. What if two people meet and fall madly in love, neither of them knowing that they are supposed to be enemies? What if by the time they do find out it’s too late to change their minds and hearts but the world wants to keep them apart?

This is how Magnus and Aisly’s story started for me. Magnus is a noble warrior, bound by his duty but with a soft heart. The last thing he needs is a woman who challenges that loyalty. Aisly is focused and fiercely independent, and has already been burned by one bad relationship. The last thing she needs is another man in her life. Yet from almost the first moment they meet they recognise a part of themselves in the other. They’ll have to work through their own insecurities, whilst the world tries to keep them apart, to find their happily-ever-after.

I hope you enjoy reading their romance as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you so much for reading.

In Bed with the Viking Warrior

Harper St. George

www.millsandboon.co.uk

HARPER ST. GEORGE was raised in rural Alabama and along the tranquil coast of northwest Florida. It was this setting, filled with stories of the old days, that instilled in her a love of history, romance and adventure. At high school she discovered the romance novel, which combined all of those elements into one perfect package. She lives in Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband and two young children. Visit her website: harperstgeorge.com.

Books by Harper St George

Mills & Boon Historical Romance

Viking Warriors

Enslaved by the Viking

One Night with the Viking

In Bed with the Viking Warrior

Outlaws of the Wild West

The Innocent and the Outlaw

Digital Short Stories

His Abductor’s Desire

Her Forbidden Gunslinger

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk..

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For my parents. Thanks for all the babysitting so I could get this book finished!

As always, thank you to Tara Wyatt and Erin Moore for being there for me when the writing gets hard. Thank you to Brenna Mills for reading my unpolished drivel. Special thanks to Michelle Styles for her advice and sharing her historical knowledge. You all are the best. I can’t even say how much I appreciate the help.

And a big thank you to my editor Kathryn Cheshire for helping this story shine!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Author Note

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Smoke filled his nose, burning his lungs as he breathed it in, almost suffocating him until he blew it out in a long wheeze that left him dizzy and nauseated. But his body was so starved for air that he breathed in again almost immediately. A cough tore through his chest, wrenching him sideways, though he could barely move because his arms were caught under an unidentified weight. Slowly he opened his eyes, the heaviness of an extremely long sleep making even that simple task difficult and causing his head to feel muddled and full of cobwebs.

An orange blaze filled his vision and he closed his eyes against the sharp pain that stabbed through his temple. Belatedly, he became aware of the heat warming his body, almost blistering in its intensity because he was far too close to the fire. Turning his head away, he forced his eyes open again only to stare into a pair of grotesque eyes, their lids open wide, the irises clouded over, unseeing. Dead eyes. He’d seen dead eyes before. A tangled memory of dead bodies came to him. He moved his head away as far as his body would allow to see the rest of the face. The head’s mouth was open in a silent scream.

He opened his own mouth to call to someone, but nothing came out save a hoarse cry of anguish. He jerked back but was caught by that same unidentifiable weight as before. Only now he knew. Now, as he looked around him, as he took in the sheer magnitude of the eyes staring at him, he knew what that weight was.

He was in a death pile. Slain warriors had been stripped of their clothing, their identity, and piled high to be burned. It would save the hassle of burying the bodies and keep the vultures at bay.

He had no memory of how he’d come to be here. No memory of a battle and he didn’t recognise the men. The only thing he knew with any real certainty was that he wasn’t dead, but he would be if he didn’t get away. Wrenching hard on his arm, he managed to pull it free from the man lying on it. The force of the movement made him roll to the side, landing in a heap on the dirt next to the bodies. He lay there for a moment, fingers pressed to the ground as he tried to get his bearings.

Taking stock of his body, he made sure that all of his limbs were in good working order. Aside from some scratches, everything seemed to work. He was nude, but he’d have to deal with that later. It hurt to breathe, though. Now that he was opposite the fire, he could take his first breath of fresh air. It still burned going in. Pushing himself up to his knees, he groaned as a wave of pain moved through his head. His hand went to his forehead and found a crusty gash there. The blood had matted in his hair.