She came from a long line of Viking warriors, hair and spirits blazing. She remembered the cold burn of fire in ice, the chilling breeze barely kept i... check by the flames. She remembered.‘Come here Jean.’She knelt by the flames, carving the small piece of ochre oak she had been given for her birthday. She ignored him, as she had been trying to do, for the last few days. But every night, he had returned.‘Come here, Jean.’The voice was more purposeful now. But still, she ignored him. Her father. He lifted his head.“Oh, Marilyn.” It was inadequate to express how he felt, but any other words would have been inadequate, too. She was so sexy, so responsive, so beautiful.And, after a while, so encouraging when her fingers played with his hair. He reached up to hold her breast. It fit in his palm and fingers while he teased her nipple with his thumb. He kissed her thighs, only slowly approaching the sweetness where they met.“So sweet,” he said. He only partly meant her thighs, partly her. More

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