Vanquished by the Viking. Joanne Rock

      She peered up into Reinn’s face, the sharp cheekbones and chiseled jaw unyielding. But she could swear there was something softer in his eyes, just as she had suspected that first day when he sat at his brother’s side in the great hall of the conquered stronghold. His gaze held her as surely as his arms. She could not look away.

      Warmth curled through her, a slow sweetening of her blood that left her with a surprisingly pleasant feeling despite her aching knee, her gritty clothes and damp skin. She felt drawn to the Norseman, her shoulders leaning closer. Closer.

      Just when her eyes drifted shut, she heard a commotion up the shore. Dogs barking. Men shouting.

      Turning, she saw a throng of wavering torches at the castle walls on the cliffs above. Ice filled her veins.

      “They’ve realized I’m missing.” She shoved against Reinn, needing to run before they caught her.

      But to her surprise, his feet were already moving. Not toward the keep, but toward his vessel and the freedom of the open sea.