Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Glossary
Praise for Viking Heat
“As always, Sandra Hill has penned a delight of a book. You can always count on hysterical moments and lots of hot love . . . Sizzles on the page.”
—Romance Junkies
I really enjoy Sandra Hill’s writing style. She throws in a ton of humor, mixes it with some romance and sex, and the end result is ‘whoa.’”
—The Best Reviews
“Viking Heat delivers . . . A very funny, sexy tale. Hill has a knack for the kind of engrossing storytelling that transports a reader to a different place—in this case, a very different place.”
—The Romance Reader
Praise for Viking Unchained
“Sandra Hill has truly outdone herself.”
—Night Owl Romance
“Hill goes a-Viking again! . . . It’s a blast!”
—Romantic Times
Praise for Down and Dirty
“Hill’s fans will be delighted . . . and readers new to Hill will be charmed by her entertaining style and unique voice. A welcome, poignant, and relevant addition to Hill’s sexy, hilarious, and clever time-traveling Vikings series.”
—Booklist (starred review)
Praise for the novels of Sandra Hill
“Exciting, unexpectedly erotic, and entertaining ... Another winner.”
—Booklist (starred review)
“Wickedly funny, deliciously sexy . . . Loved it!”
—New York Times bestselling author Karen Marie Moning
“Smart, sexy, laugh-out-loud action, Sandra Hill always delivers.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author Christine Feehan
“Wildly inventive and laugh-out-loud fabulous . . . Once again, the talented Sandra Hill proves that a real hero isn’t stopped by any obstacle—not even time.”
—New York Times bestselling author Christina Skye
“Hill writes stories that tickle the funny bone and touch the heart. Her books are always fresh, romantic, inventive, and hilarious.”
—New York Times bestselling author Susan Wiggs
“Some like it hot and hilarious, and Hill delivers both.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Another wonderful story that includes action, adventure, passion, romance, comedy, and even a little time travel.”
—Romance Junkies
“A perfect ten! . . . A must-read for everyone who loves great romance with heartfelt emotion.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“Only the mind of Sandra Hill could dream up this hilarious and wacky scenario. The Vikings are on the loose once again, and they’re wreaking sexy and sensual fun.”
—Romantic Times
“Feeling down? Need a laugh? This one could be just what the ‘dock whore’ ordered.”
—All About Romance
Berkley Sensation Titles by Sandra Hill
ROUGH AND READY
DOWN AND DIRTY
VIKING UNCHAINED
VIKING HEAT
DARK VIKING
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada
(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia
(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)
Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India
Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand
(a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196,
South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
DARK VIKING
A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / October 2010
Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Hill.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
eISBN : 978-1-101-44373-6
BERKLEY® SENSATION
Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
BERKLEY® SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
http://us.penguingroup.com
This book is dedicated to Hazel Green Brungard, an old classmate of mine. Hazel has long been a vocal and appreciative fan of everything I write, no matter the genre. She generously supports the Ross Library in Lock Haven, where we both learned to love books in its Victorian nooks and crannies. And most of all, she has an enthusiastic sense of humor when it comes to reading. Bless you, Hazel, for sharing my belief that the best books make you smile.
One’s self only knows what is near the heart.
Each man reads but himself aright.
No ailment seems to a sound mind worse
Than to have lost all liking for life . . .
That I saw for myself as I sat in my keep,
Awaiting a maid to woo . . .
For I did think, enthralled by love
To work my will with her.
—FROM “HÁVAMÁL” (“THE WORDS OF ODIN THE HIGH ONE”) OF POETIC EDDA, EARLIEST ORAL VERSIONS, CIRCA 800 AD
Chapter 1
Double or nothing . . .
With a loud whoosh, Rita Sawyer’s body went up in flames, and she prepared to catapult through the fifteenth-floor window of the burning skyscraper. The whole time she pondered whether she’d have the time or the inclination to shave her legs before her date this evening with her ex-husband’s brother.
Darron, who was suffering major post-divorce guilt . . . on his brother Scott’s behalf, of all things . . . had made it his mission in life to find her a mate to make up for his hound dog brother’s b
etrayal during Scott and Rita’s short-lived marriage. As a result, he was bringing along the “perfect man” for her. His words. Presumably heterosexual with a job. Absolute essentials for her as a twenty-nine-year-old veteran in the dating wars.
To be honest, she was still raw and angry over Scott’s infidelity, whether it was one time, as he outrageously claimed, or dozens, as she suspected. She’d seen what adultery had done to her mother, as well.
Having known Scott since kindergarten, she’d seen him at his worst, and it wasn’t even when she’d caught him in bed with a fellow physician. Think seven years old and green snot. She shouldn’t have been surprised when he’d turned out to be an adulterous snot when he grew up.
She had an ulterior motive for meeting with Darron tonight. He was a top-notch financial advisor, and Rita was facing monumental money problems since her mother had died, leaving her with medical bills out the wazoo. It wasn’t the long bout with cancer that caused all the problems, but the experimental treatments not covered by insurance, for which Rita had gladly taken out loans, and the year as a caretaker when she’d had no income. Unfortunately, all in vain. Collection agencies now had her on speed dial.
“Scene Three, Take Two. Lights! Camera! Action!” Larry Winters, the director of this latest spy thriller star-ring Jennifer Garner and Hugh Jackman, shouted through his bullhorn.
Whoosh! Bursting into a ball of flame, Jennifer went sailing through the glass and the air with expertise, landing on a trampoline that looked like the roof of another building, from which she then front flipped onto yet another rooftop, aka a padded platform. Of course, it wasn’t really the fifteenth floor, but the third, and it wasn’t really a skyscraper, but a set prop, and it wasn’t really Jennifer Garner, but her, Rita Sawyer, stunt double.
“Cut!” the director yelled. “That’s a wrap! Great job, Rita!”
Immediately, a technician began hosing down her flames while others were peeling back her flameproof wig along with the tight cap that protected her short, spiky blonde hair à la the singer Pink, two Nomex jumpsuits, and gloves. Still others wiped the retardant gel off her face.
“Hey, Rita. Got a minute?” The producer, Dean Witherow, called out to her. “I have a couple gentlemen who’d like to meet you.”
Noticing the two military types in the visitors’ area, probably consultants on the film, she sighed with resignation. Folks were fascinated with her after witnessing some of her stunts, especially men who fantasized about what she could do in bed. Being a proud lady of the SWAMP, as in Stuntwomen’s Association of Motion Pictures, she’d heard it all. One lawyer from Denver once asked, before they’d even gotten to the entrée in a fancy L.A. restaurant, if she could do any kinky stunts during sex. Jeesh! And, yes, she could, actually. Not that she’d told him that.
After a quick shower in the doubles’ trailer and a change of clothes to jeans and an Aerosmith T-shirt, she walked up and let Dean introduce them. “This is Commander Ian MacLean and Lieutenant Jacob Mendozo. They’re Navy SEALs stationed at Coronado.”
Like many others in this country, she had a proud appreciation for the good job SEALs did in fighting terrorism.
The one guy . . . the commander . . . was in his early forties with a receding hairline that didn’t detract at all from his overall attractiveness. He was too somber for her taste, though.
Lieutenant Mendozo on the other hand, was whoo-ee sex personified. From his Hispanic good looks to his mischievous eyes, he was eye candy of the best sort. And she’d bet her skydiving helmet that he knew his way around a bed, too.
Rita Sawyer, get your mind out of the gutter.
Maybe I am suffering from sex deprivation, like Darron thinks.
“Were either of you among those SEALs who got in trouble for riding horseback into Afghanistan a few years back? I saw it on CNN.”
Both men’s faces reddened.
“We don’t talk about that,” the commander said.
Which means yes. “Why so shy? It was really impressive.”
“The Pentagon didn’t think so,” Lieutenant Mendozo explained with a wink . . . a wink his superior did not appreciate, if his glare was any indication.
“Heads rolled,” the commander agreed with a grimace. “With good reason. Necessity might be the mother of invention, but in the case of SEALs, they better be private ones.”
“What he’s trying to say is that a SEAL scalp is a coup for many tangos . . . uh, terrorists. It’s important that we stay covert. That episode in Afghanistan was a monumental brain fart.”
“Well, it’s been nice meeting you. Maybe you can—”
“We have a proposition for you,” Commander MacLean interrupted.
Gutter, here I come. She laughed. She couldn’t help herself.
“Not that kind of proposition.”
“Oh, heck!” she joked.
“I’m a happily married man. In fact, my wife would whack me with the flat side of her broadsword if I even looked at another female.”
The lieutenant smiled in a way that indicated he wouldn’t mind that kind of proposition.
But wait a minute. Did he say broadsword?
“Can we go somewhere for a cup of coffee?” the commander suggested.
Or a cool drink to lower my temperature.
Soon they were seated at a table in the commissary.
“So, what’s this all about?” she asked, impatient to get home if she was going to make her “date.” Now that her initial testosterone buzz had tamed down to a hum, she accepted that these two were here on business of some sort, not to put the make on her.
“How would you like to become a female SEAL?”
She choked on her iced tea and had to dab at her mouth and shirt with the paper napkins the lieutenant handed her with a chuckle. “You mean, like G.I. Jane?” she finally sputtered out.
“Exactly,” Commander MacLean said. “It’s a grueling training program. Not many women . . . or men for that matter . . . can handle the regimen.”
What a load of hooey! “Why me?”
“The WEALS program . . . Women on Earth, Air, Land and Sea . . . needs more good women who are physically fit to the extreme. With terrorism running rampant today, Uncle Sam needs more elite forces, and our current supply of seasoned SEALs are deploying on eight to ten combat tours. Way too much! So, we’re recruiting special people under a mentoring program. Bottom line, we need a thousand more SEALs over the next few years, and a few hundred more WEALS.”
“But why me?”
The commander shrugged. “We want the best of the best. Men and women who are patriotic ...”
I do get teary when the National Anthem plays.
“. . . extreme athletes,”
You got me on that one.
“. . . controlled risk takers,”
Stunts R Us.
“. . . skilled competitors who enjoy challenges and games,”
Does he see “Sucker” tattooed on my forehead?
“. . . people who love to travel.”
Yeah, like downtown Kabul is my idea of a Club Med vacation.
“Only one in a hundred applicants make it through Hell Week, you know.”
And you think I want to put myself through that? “You’ve gotta be kidding.”
Both men shook their heads.
“Each WEALS trainee has a mentor to get her through the process,” Commander MacLean added, as if that made everything more palatable.
“And my mentor would be?”
The sexy lieutenant gave her a little wave.
Okay, I’m officially tempted.
But not enough. She’d read about Hell Week. She’d watched Demi Moore get creamed in G.I. Jane. Who needs that? No. Way. She started to rise from her seat. “I’m flattered that you would consider me, but—”
“Plus there’s a sizeable sign-up bonus,” Lieutenant Mendozo added.
Rita plopped back down into her chair. “Tell me more.”
And she could swear she heard the cute lie
utenant murmur, “Hoo-yah!”
I’m in the mood for . . .
Steven of Norstead, proud son of a Viking prince, handsome as a god, far-famed in the bedsport, well-tested in battle, was bored. Actually, more than bored. In truth, he was in a black, nigh unbearable mood and had been for some time.
“Who ever heard of a depressed Viking?” Oslac, his friend and comrade-in-arms, inquired, followed by a loud belch.
He belched, too, just to be friendly.
They were both deep in the alehead following a full day and night of debauchery . . . or at least multiple partners in his bed furs, if he recalled correctly. Not all at once, praise the gods. Not this time anyway. But that other time! By the runes! Father Christopher had suffered a foaming fit when he caught him in the bathing longhouse with . . . well, never mind.
Vikings often practiced both the Christian and Norse religions, but it was no great loss when Father Christopher left them for an extended monastic retreat, leaving behind Father Peter, who was less inclined to foaming fits, leaning more toward foaming ale.
But that was neither here nor there.
“I am not depressed, precisely. More like I carry a huge weight on my shoulders. All the time.”
“Well, ’tis no small feat managing two vast estates. Norstead and Amberstead.” Amberstead was a large, self-sustaining estate that included a castle keep, outbuildings, and farmsteads, but Norstead was four times its size, and it also included a military garrison and armory, more skilled workmen and craftsmen, such as a blacksmith, weavers, cobblers, cattle herders, shepherds, stable hands, and a much larger timber castle. There was no way Steven could handle both estates without help. “And a fine job you do for me at Amberstead.”
It was difficult running the two estates that were adjacent but separated by rocky, mountainous terrain. If only Oslac would take over the much smaller Amberstead on a permanent basis, but he had property in Norsemandy that would be his on his father’s death. Still, for now, ’twas good to have a friend at one’s back. “Nay, ’tis more than that. I am only twenty and nine, and yet I have lost my zest for life. I can scarce get up in the morn, with naught to look forward to.”