A Deal With Her Rebel Viking (HQR Historical)

by Michelle Styles

  He’d always known a time like this would come. He’d expected it more than two dozen times before. Always he had welcomed it, but this time, he hated it. He wanted to live, not die. There were things he wanted to tell Ansithe, things she should know.

  A roaring sounded in his ears. He tried to shout, but no words came out. The blade drew closer.

  But just when he thought it must reach him, using the last ounce of strength he had, he pivoted. The blade sliced through air instead of flesh.

  ‘Ha. Missed.’

  He turned to meet his assailant and felt his ankle buckle, sending him to the ground.

  * * *

  Ansithe watched the unfolding battle with her heart firmly in her mouth. It was far harder than she had realised to remain above the action and just watch people she cared about fight, get hurt and possibly die. She had thought the battle for Baelle Heale was hard, but this watching was far worse.

  Moir was in the middle of the melee, fighting as if he had a death wish. Nerian, the Wessex captain, fought alongside him, but Ansithe’s unease grew.

  These attackers were better prepared than anyone had considered. Moir and his team were outnumbered. It was almost as if the outlaws had expected this trap and welcomed it.

  She pressed her lips together and sent an arrow flying towards the melee, towards the outlaws’ position. It fell well short of her intended target, the tall warrior who appeared to be bearing down on Moir. But it did make him glance up and pause. That hesitation gave Moir the opportunity to spin around.

  Ansithe ran forward, notching her arrow in the bow as she did so.

  When she reached a better position, she allowed another arrow to fly. This one landed closer, but again missed as her target moved at the last possible breath. Ansithe cursed, loudly.

  Moir fell to the ground, stumbling.

  The next blow from the man would mean his certain death.

  She fitted her next arrow to her bowstring and whispered a prayer.

  * * *

  Moir knew he had not rolled far enough and prepared himself for the next and final blow, but heard a strange gurgle instead.

  His opponent fell forward with an arrow neatly through his throat.

  Ansithe had struck true.

  ‘Watch what you are doing, Moir.’ Bjartr held out his hand and pulled Moir to standing. ‘You were nearly killed. And we can’t have that.’

  Moir ignored the searing pain in his arm. ‘Let’s finish the job.’

  Bjartr’s eyes bulged. ‘Together?’

  ‘Yes, together.’

  * * *

  When the fighting finally stopped, Ansithe ventured on to the battlefield on shaking limbs. She counted several bodies, but none which appeared to be her Northmen or any of the Wessex warriors.

  She heaved a sigh of relief.

  ‘Has anyone seen Moir?’ she asked.

  ‘He’s been hurt, but is making light of it,’ Bjartr called out from the other side of the glade.

  Ansithe ran to his side. Moir was cradling his arm. His face was smeared with dirt and blood, but Ansithe had never seen anything more handsome or welcome. She ran to him and threw her arms about him. He gathered her in and held her close.

  Ansithe put her hands against his chest. ‘You’re hurt.’

  ‘You should see the other man,’ Moir dismissed her concern with a laugh, but his face was grey from the pain. ‘Bjartr exaggerates as usual. It is but a scratch. I owe you a life debt once again. Your arrow killed the outlaws’ leader right before he could finish me off. You are, in truth, a Valkyrie, Ansithe, but one who is determined to keep me from feasting at Odin’s table.’

  A sudden lump formed in Ansithe’s throat. ‘I wasn’t sure if any of them hit their intended target. I... I had to move closer to get a better shot even though I know what I promised.’

  ‘More than hit. You felled him. You saved my life.’ His hand gripped hers. ‘I thank you for it.’

  ‘Who were they? They fought better than we expected.’

  ‘Those who are alive are refusing to speak either in the North language or Mercian. They wear no identifying brooches either. No identification of any sort.’

  Ansithe slung her bow over her shoulder. An air of desperation hung over the men. They were a motley bunch wearing patched cloaks and boots which had seen better days. Looking at them, it was hard to figure out who they were working for. A frisson of fear went down her spine. She could not rule out the possibility that they were working for Guthmann. ‘We need to take them to the summer gathering and see if anyone will exchange them. They will have a reason for keeping silent.’

  ‘The Northman did not lie, my lady. You have the intellect and cunning of a man,’ Nerian said, coming up to them. He looked her up and down. ‘Combined with the elegance of the finest lady. A formidable combination indeed.

  ‘I will take that as a compliment rather than an insult.’

  ‘It was meant as one.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  The remaining outlaws stood with their hands behind their backs. They appeared to have lost their appetite for fighting, but also continued to appear very reluctant to speak beyond grunting a few words denying that they were working for or were aligned with anyone.

  ‘Do we know anything more?’ she asked Moir.

  ‘We don’t know for sure,’ Moir said in an undertone. Despite his protestations, Ansithe had insisted he wear a sling to support his injured arm. ‘Their leader is dead. It could be that your neighbour Cedric hired them to cause problems for you while your father was away, to encourage you to rely on him for help.’

  ‘It is worrying.’ Ansithe concentrated on the ground. She could see Cedric doing that. He had mentioned the possibility of outlaws attacking them, almost from the first time she’d seen him after her father and Leofwine had departed. And they should have been safe when they’d travelled back from the fighting, but they had been captured instead. Could Guthmann have been working with Cedric? She banished the thought as pure speculation. ‘I thought once they realised their leader was gone, they would be eager to tell us everything they know.’

  ‘We will learn soon enough who they are. They cannot harm you or your family now,’ Moir said.

  She frowned. ‘It is more important than ever that we get these men to the summer gathering as soon as possible and discover precisely who they are. Because even if they talk, they might not tell the full truth.’

  ‘My thoughts precisely.’

  ‘We have more hostages, Ansithe, isn’t that wonderful?’ Elene said, clapping her hands together and interrupting the conversation.

  Ansithe hurriedly stepped away from Moir and investigated the folds of her gown. ‘Yes, I know, Elene. I was there, remember?’

  Elene grabbed Ansithe’s hand, her face shining with excitement. ‘Don’t you see, Ansithe? We can send these in place of Moir and his men. They deserve to be free after what they have done to protect us. Capturing these men means we can return to court with our heads held high, but with different captives.’

  Ansithe took a deep breath. Elene had given voice to her burgeoning hope. There was a solution and maybe a future for them after all.

  ‘Impossible,’ Moir said flatly before she could agree with Elene.

  ‘Why?’ Elene asked.

  ‘The court officials have our brooches,’ Moir explained in an overly reasonable tone. ‘They are expecting us. My jaarl will have paid good money for me and the others. And we have no idea if these men are valuable warriors or worthless ceorls. Your father and brother-in-law still need to be ransomed, Lady Elene. And Palni remains in your care.’

  ‘We could say the brooches were stolen,’ Elene suggested. ‘That we had no idea who you were.’

  Moir bowed. ‘I know the anger which would ensue when people discover they were tricked and the revenge they’d take. You
want your father back and your lands safe. I have no wish to spend the rest of my life as a wolf’s head or being accused of cowardice. You and your sister must trust me on this.’

  A hard pit settled at the base of Ansithe’s stomach as she remembered what he had told her about his father’s betrayal. He wanted to be a better man. ‘But you can be taken straight to your jaarl, rather than to the court?’

  ‘There is no need for you ladies to worry about the exchange. I will ensure it happens,’ Nerian said, bowing low. ‘I will do my best to see these men safe. I owe them a life debt for saving me and my comrades.’

  ‘We are still going to the summer gathering,’ Ansithe said, crossing her arms. ‘We will see the exchange.’

  Nerian frowned. ‘There are many features about this incident which bother me. When I mentioned Baelle Heale to the captives, several exchanged glances. They definitely know the name.’

  ‘It could be because of my grandfather...’ Ansithe’s voice trailed away to nothing. She paused, trying to think. ‘But that would mean local knowledge and these men are not locals.’ Her stomach knotted. What if they had not dealt with the entire nest of outlaws and more attacks were planned? Cynehild could not defend the manor on her own. ‘Oh, no.’

  A loud shout resounded from the caves.

  ‘Lady Elene,’ Nerian said. ‘One of your patients is calling for you. I said that I would get you for him and I became distracted. We can continue this discussion later.’

  Elene pressed Ansithe’s hand. ‘We do whatever you think best, sister, but I need to see to my patients.’

  ‘He is right,’ Moir said after they had gone. ‘There is no need for you to go to court. Return to Baelle Heale. Ensure Lady Cynehild and the others remain safe from any possible attack. Your father will join you in due course.’

  ‘You truly think that it will happen?’ Her voice wobbled. He had made no mention of his future intentions towards her. He wouldn’t. He was the man who lived in the present, after all. He’d made no secret of that.

  ‘I don’t pretend to know the future,’ Moir said, lifting her chin. ‘But my instinct tells me that it is no longer as simple as capturing these outlaws to keep your manor safe. Baelle Heale is in danger. You would never forgive yourself if you didn’t return, if you weren’t there to protect it.’

  ‘But—’ There was more to his request. She could hear it in his voice.

  ‘We don’t have the time to spare. Your father needs to be freed. You heard Ecgbert and occasionally he does speak sense.’

  A great black hole opened in her chest. Her vague hope that Moir would demand her hand once her father was released vanished. Earlier, waiting for the attack to begin, she had even halfway wondered if she’d ever return to Baelle Heale. Moir had been right—dreaming was pointless. He had been honest about how long things were going to last between them. She’d accepted it, never really thinking about the consequences, never thinking she’d give him her heart.

  ‘Cynehild will be going mad with worry. And we don’t know if the outlaws will attack Baelle Heale.’ She firmed her jaw and wrapped the tattered shreds of her dignity about her. She refused to beg. She’d never forgive herself if something happened to Cynehild and Wulfgar before Leofwine could return. Her sister’s happiness mattered to her. ‘I’d thought to go to the summer gathering first, but I trust your instinct—someone needs to inform Cynehild about what’s happened here. Someone who is better at navigating than Ecgbert. If Elene and I go back with Ecgbert, it means there are more men to guard our recently acquired captives. We can ride the horses which will greatly speed our journey.’

  His fingers squeezed hers before letting go. His eyes were inscrutable. ‘It must be your choice, Ansithe.’

  She wrapped her arms about her middle. She wanted to scream that she wasn’t sure about anything any more, that her entire world was shifting and she wanted to return to her safe world, only she feared it didn’t exist any more. Moir had made her see that she should want more than she’d settled for. ‘We need to tell everyone my decision.’

  * * *

  ‘We will leave in the morning for the court,’ Nerian said, giving Ansithe and Moir a significant look. ‘My men could use an extra night of rest and we will cover more ground that way. If that is all right with you, Moir?’

  ‘Shall we share a tent, Elene?’ Ansithe asked before she was tempted to find a way to take more time alone with Moir. As long as it lasts and no regrets when it ends, she repeated silently over and over.

  Her sister regarded her hands. The colour in her cheeks flamed. ‘I’d rather stay and look after the injured men. I would hate to think I might lose one after all this effort. You are not very useful when it comes to nursing, Ansithe. Admit it. Your stomach churns too much at the sight of blood.’

  ‘I see,’ Ansithe said. Her heart thudded in her ears.

  Elene put a hand on her arm and gave a conspiratorial smile. ‘There might be a handsome warrior who wants to share it, if you are frightened of being on your own.’

  Ansithe looked at her sister in shock. ‘Elene!’

  ‘Just saying. There is no harm in asking and his eyes have been eating you right up ever since you arrived.’ Elene gave a quick smile. She gestured about her at the makeshift camp. ‘Out here, everything is different. Normal rules don’t apply. Once we return home, then we can go back to being how we were, but for now, I have a duty towards those men and leaving them tonight would be wrong.’

  Ansithe pinched the bridge of her nose. Her heart called Elene’s advice sound. Her head whispered to consider the consequences. ‘The rules always apply.’

  ‘Then break a few.’ Elene leant over and whispered in her ear, ‘It is clear there is something between you and the Northman. I saw how you looked at each other. Everyone says you saved his life which meant he could save everyone else’s. How attuned you are to each other. Why should you always wonder what if?’ Elene put her hand on Ansithe’s sleeve.

  ‘I never wonder.’

  ‘When my maid died in that attack, I didn’t know what to do. I thought a woman on her own? How would I manage? But it has worked out. I enjoy looking after those men. They are alive because of me. I have proved my worth.’

  Ansithe hugged her sister tight. She had never realised that Elene suffered similar sorts of feelings to hers. ‘You didn’t need to. You have always been precious to me.’

  ‘Yes, I did need to. For me.’ Elene seized Ansithe’s hands. ‘Sometimes, you must seize your destiny, Ansithe. And don’t preach to me about obeying rules which you know in your heart are wrong. We both have that enough from Cynehild.’

  ‘And you and this warrior? This Wessex captain, Nerian?’

  Elene blushed and plucked at her gown. ‘I do not wish to discuss it, except to say that nothing untoward has happened. He is a very honourable man, but his prospects are not what Father would wish. We should leave it at that.’

  ‘Moir is Mercia’s enemy,’ Ansithe said.

  ‘But he isn’t yours. How could he be considered your enemy when he risked his life for everyone?’ Elene kissed Ansithe’s cheek. ‘Put yourself first tonight. For once in your life.’

  Ansithe’s mouth went dry. She’d been extra-careful since they had found Elene. ‘Elene, are you making an improper suggestion?’

  ‘Someone has to.’ Elene gave a resigned sigh. ‘I swear, Ansithe, sometimes you overthink things far too much. Right now, I suggest we use that stream for a wash. I want to make you beautiful, Ansithe. You look as if you have gone through a hedge backwards.’

  * * *

  Ansithe lay down on the furs which made up her bed. Elene had brushed her hair until it shone like burnished copper. She had even insisted Ansithe put on a clean under-gown before leaving her with a smile.

  Despite Elene’s prediction, she doubted Moir would come to her. He had barely looked at her throughout supper.
>
  Then he had disappeared off somewhere with the Wessex captain before she had the chance to speak to him. Some good Elene’s attempt at beautifying her had done.

  The niggling thought curled about her brain—had she done something wrong again? She had used her judgement in moving down the slope. She had saved his life, but maybe he had intended on using the confusion of battle as a chance to escape.

  The flap moved and Moir entered. In the dim light she could see the tiny droplets of water clinging to his hair like diamonds or stars. Her mouth went dry.

  ‘You retired unexpectedly early,’ he said. ‘I didn’t get a chance to say goodnight.’

  ‘You were elsewhere.’ Her throat tightened. ‘You and the Wessex captain were engrossed in conversation. No doubt you had to see to the new prisoners.’

  ‘Nerian is a good man and a fair one. He has posted guards about the prisoners.’ He held out his hand. ‘He said I was to have the night off. I’d already saved his life enough for one day.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  He came over and lifted her up so that she was standing. Her breasts brushed his chest.

  ‘Are you angry with me?’ she whispered. ‘For not staying where I was supposed to during the battle?’

  He smiled. ‘How could I be angry when you saved my life? A good leader allows his people room to make their own decisions. But you take far too many chances, Ansithe. Don’t do it again. Your life is too precious. People depend on you.’

  His mouth loomed over hers. ‘I knew the risks.’

  ‘As do I. I want you alive, Ansithe, because I want to do this to you. I have wanted to do this all day.’

  His lips came down and captured hers. It was a fierce kiss, but one which also explored and roamed, intoxicating her with its intenseness.