The draft horse crested a hill, and suddenly stopped. And not a minute too soon, Elizabeth thought. Her cheeks were burning, and her breath was ragged. Their sensual exchange had left her completely discombobulated, and utterly unsettled. How quickly she had turned to mush in his arms, throwing herself at him like a strumpet. Not only had she let him place his lips upon her neck, and his hands upon her breasts, she had permitted him to hunker her rear with his phallus! She had only met him this morning, and he was a dastardly Viking. Her wanton behavior was beyond reprehensible. What would the abbess think of her now? What did Ragnor think? Wordlessly, the Viking chieftain slid down easily from the horse, his face revealing nothing of his thoughts about their intimate encounter. He reached up gallantly to help her down from the tall steed, but Elizabeth raised her chin haughtily and ignored his proffered hand. She had been a competent rider as a girl and certainly didn’t require his assistance now.
