Sold to the Viking Warrior

by Michelle Styles

  His mouth trailed down her skin to where the material skimmed the tops of her breast. Her back arched, inviting him to sink deep.

  Slowly he lapped at the material, turning it translucent so that the dusky pink colour of her nipples shone through. Round and round he lapped. Then slowly he pushed the material further down until it was gathered about her hips.

  The cool air made a pleasing contrast to the heat from his mouth.

  ‘Beautiful,’ he whispered against her skin.

  Her body shivered in anticipation. ‘Truly?’

  He pushed the last bit of material from her, causing it to pool at her feet. Her hands instinctively went to cover the apex of her thighs but he gently moved them. He gave a crooked smile. ‘Truly, but you are not completely naked.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  He reached into his pouch and withdrew the slender gold key. With a click, he undid the shackles and allowed them to drop to the floor. The pile of gold glinted up at her. Her wrists and ankles felt feather-light.

  ‘Why are you doing that?’

  ‘Because I wanted to see you completely unadorned. Much better this way.’ He placed a kiss on the underside of her wrist. ‘Don’t you think?’

  He scooped up the shackles and put them in a trunk.

  She tilted her head, trying to assess his mood. ‘You are the master here.’

  ‘See how much I want you before you find fault.’

  He quickly took off his clothes. Her breath caught at the magnificence of him. His skin was golden, but covered with a network of silver scars. She traced the longest down to where his member stood proud from its nest of curls. He was so beautiful that it made her lungs hurt.

  She snaked her arm about his neck and pulled him down on to her. ‘We shall have to see what we can do about this, then.’

  He laughed and fell to the bed, pulling her on top of him. ‘It is your turn to call the rhythm. Ride me. Let me see your pleasure.’

  * * *

  Slowly, slowly Liddy came back to earth. The torches were flickering and beginning to go out.

  She leant down and brushed her lips against Sigurd’s. There had been a new depth to their joining, something that she wasn’t willing to put into words yet.

  ‘Shall I put the shackles back on?’ she asked, rising up on one elbow.

  He shook his head. ‘No need. Everyone knows who you are.’

  ‘And who am I?’

  ‘The woman who shares my bed. The woman who makes all men envy me. My butterfly. You give me hope.’

  ‘You make it sound like I flit from here to there, never resting.’

  He laced his hands through her hair. ‘As long as you come back to me.’

  Liddy drew a shuddering breath. This was the nearest Sigurd had come to saying that he cared about her. Her heart beat far too fast. She wanted to think that he might care for her. ‘Thank you. You made me feel beautiful.’

  He nipped her chin. ‘That is because you are beautiful. In fact, like this and in my arms, I would say you are the most beautiful woman in the world.’

  ‘I have imperfections. My nose isn’t straight and my hair never does what it is supposed to. And then there are the scars from carrying my children...and my birthmark.’

  He put two fingers over her mouth, silencing her. ‘They enhance your beauty. Never let anyone tell you differently. They are what make you, you. Who wants bland perfection when you can have true character?’

  Liddy laid her head on his chest and hoped that he was right. If Malcolm was right, then Sigurd would have to marry a wealthy North woman and this affair would have to end. She would have to find a way to escape, even if it broke her heart. She could never do to another woman what Brandon’s mistresses had done to her. Maybe Brandon was right, maybe she was cursed and would always lose those she loved. She drew a deep breath. Over-thinking again. She made her own luck. Her butterfly mark was a symbol of hope, not fear. ‘I will try to remember that.’

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘Here I find you in this different fort rather than the old fetid one. Sharpening a sword, rather than drilling the men. I take it you have bedded our little saviour.’

  ‘Hring! I didn’t expect you back so quickly.’ Sigurd glanced up from the sword he was cleaning. The move further down the island had proceeded peacefully. The new quarters were more spacious and commanded a better view of the strait between the island and Jura where most of the shipping traffic passed. And he and Liddy had settled into some of the best sex of his life. Except it was no longer just passion, there was a deeper meaning to it which Sigurd did not want to think overly much about.

  ‘I see you have acquired her dog,’ Hring said as the wolfhound bounded forward to greet him. ‘Is Lady Eilidith still about, then? You haven’t sent her back to her family. From what they say your women last less than a month before you move on.’

  Sigurd nodded. The charge was a fair one. Until Liddy, boredom had set in very quickly and he moved on. Liddy was different. ‘Liddy remains in my care.’

  ‘I heard your mother’s story. My daughter reminded me about it when I visited her. Ragnhild has a good memory for details.’ Hring tugged at the neck of his shirt. ‘I guess I owe you an apology.’

  ‘Your daughter knows about my mother?’ Sigurd asked in astonishment.

  ‘My late wife was a cousin of your father’s—I thought you knew. She could not stand his wife. She would have wanted me to assist you.’

  Sigurd bowed his head. He had not ever truly considered who his father might be related to. Or that some might wish to take his side. ‘I had no idea that we were kinsmen. Rather than looking to the past and family connections, I have allowed my sword arm to carve my place.’

  ‘You need friends, Sigurd. Friends who can smooth matters over.’

  Coll padded back and settled down at Sigurd’s feet. If Liddy was busy supervising the household chores, the dog seemed to prefer to be with him. Sigurd made sure that he always had plenty of dried meat or hard cheese for him. ‘It is amazing how quickly people will move out of my way.’

  Hring nodded. ‘And when you are surrounded, what will happen to Liddy?’

  ‘How was the North country?’ Sigurd asked, choosing to ignore the tiny spark of fear. What had Hring heard?

  ‘No room for anyone who disagrees with the King.’ Hring rubbed the back of his neck. ‘My daughter will be joining me here. It is well past time that she was married, whatever Ragnhild thinks of it. She needs a warrior to tame her ways.’

  ‘I am sure she will find a mate,’ Sigurd said carefully. Hring was a valuable ally, but he would not be marrying his daughter. ‘But personally I’ve no intention of marrying.’

  ‘You travel alone.’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘Have you found the missing tribute?’

  ‘It is somewhere on this island. I can feel it in my bones.’

  ‘Ketil will require more than a feeling. He will demand payment. You exceeded your orders. Can you provide the gold? Even you are not that wealthy. You need a wealthy wife to provide the amount.’

  The tension eased slightly in Sigurd’s shoulders. Hring was definitely angling for an alliance through marriage. It showed that the grizzled warrior felt Sigurd would be confirmed as jaarl, provided he gave Ketil the missing tribute. ‘There is no need to speak of an alliance. I have no plans to change my current situation.’

  ‘So you do have feelings for that woman.’ Hring shook his head. ‘You are a great warrior, Sigurd, but you are thinking with the wrong part of your anatomy. Use your brain.’

  ‘And Beyla?’ Sigurd asked between gritted teeth. ‘Did you find her and deliver the news to her? I want every detail, no matter how small.’

  ‘Beyla swears she knew nothing of Thorbin’s sc
heme. She collapsed in a dead faint when I told her. Her father and Ketil fought together many years ago. I gathered her influence contributed to Thorbin’s rise. She expressed her disbelief that Thorbin could betray Ketil in that fashion, though.’

  ‘Beyla refused to come with you? She has no interest in this island?’ Sigurd frowned. Had he been mistaken? It was his last gamble—Thorbin would have confided in Beyla and Beyla would be unable to resist claiming the gold. It was his final plan if other schemes failed. Had Thorbin been telling the truth and had the murder of Ketil’s envoy been a terrible accident? ‘I need to know!’

  ‘I can’t make her out. A very cold fish. She made it very clear that you were childhood sweethearts, but she was forced to marry Thorbin.’ Hring bared his pointed teeth. ‘That is a lady with an eye to the main chance, if you catch my meaning. She is coming, since it is you who defeated Thorbin. That is a woman with matrimony on her mind.’

  Sigurd pressed his lips together. Forced to marry was not how he would put it. Beyla had made her choice and made sure Sigurd had discovered it in the worst possible manner. He would have defended her to the death, but she wanted something more than a strong arm and a willing heart.

  He concentrated on the patterns etched into the sword. Beyla had taken the bait. She cared nothing for him and he had left her betrayal behind years ago.

  ‘Perhaps her first marriage was not a happy one.’

  Hring laughed. ‘An understatement. She has no thought for vengeance. On the contrary, she seems delighted that Thorbin is dead. He had humiliated her once too often. She declared as much when I told her the news. And she will make her own way. She wants you to understand what she can offer.’

  ‘I know what she has to offer.’

  ‘She inherited men and ships from her father. She has kept them separate from Thorbin. Apparently.’ Hring shook his head.

  Sigurd tapped his fingers together. There was far more to this than it appeared on the surface. Beyla might speak of humiliation, but she had never divorced Thorbin. If she had been truly unhappy, she could have gone and with no shame. Unlike the Gaels, in the North Country women could divorce.

  Beyla was not coming for some pretended emotion, but because she could scent gold. It was why she wanted control of her ships and men. His instinct was correct—Thorbin had confided in her. She was coming, not with marriage on her mind but gold and conquest.

  Until he sprung the trap, Beyla had to remain in ignorance. She had to think that he remembered her fondly and might contemplate marriage to her. Even the faintest whisper of the contrary could spook her.

  ‘I want her here and then I will decide what to do with her. Is she as beautiful as she once was?’

  ‘I’ve no idea what she looked like as a young girl, but Beyla could rival Sif in her beauty,’ Hring said, naming Thor’s wife, a goddess fabled for her golden beauty. ‘She can lay a claim to Thorbin’s holdings in her son’s name, Sigurd. Have you considered that?’

  ‘His holdings are forfeit. They belong to me as the victor of the battle.’ Sigurd concentrated on his sword. Even Beyla was not so lacking in feeling that she would harm her son, a boy who could be his, but belonged in every way to Thorbin. He should not be concerned for the lad. He hated that a small part of him hoped she’d bring the boy. ‘But I am pleased she is travelling here. It will be an end to it. Have quarters prepared for her. The best. I want no complaints.’

  ‘I like to call it stating the probabilities.’

  Sigurd pointedly began sharpening his sword.

  ‘You may be experienced in war, Sigurd, but you have little experience with women. Beyla is a determined woman. Eilidith...’

  Sigurd gestured to the door. ‘Get out, I have better things to do than listen to you prattle about my women.’

  Hring left in a hurry.

  Sigurd threw the sword down in disgust. Hring had no business speaking to him like that. And he wasn’t dishonouring Liddy. If he freed her, she might not choose to stay with him and he couldn’t lose her, not yet. She was the best thing to have happened to him in a long time.

  He glanced at where Coll sat resting on the floor. The dog gave a little growl in the back of his throat.

  ‘What is your problem? Your mistress and I are good together. She is happy here. Nothing is going to change because Beyla is coming. They are two separate problems.’

  The dog covered his nose with his paws.

  Sigurd shook his head. ‘I know what I am doing. And that includes not getting married.’

  * * *

  ‘Where are you going with that bedding?’ Liddy asked, stopping Mhairi. She’d spent most of the day in the still room, supervising the preserving of the fish for the winter. Her hair hung in damp ringlets, but she was quietly proud of what she accomplished.

  The woman gave a perfunctory curtsy. ‘A ship is expected on the next few tides, my lady. Hring has asked for a set of chambers to be made up for our expected guests. There is a rumour that they will include at least one Northern lady. Wagering has started on which one our lord will marry.’

  ‘Since when does Hring give orders? Why wasn’t I told?’ Liddy wiped her hands on the apron. Northern ladies with marriage on their mind. The tribute remained missing. Sigurd needed to find gold from somewhere. The vague dream she had of continuing on with him tumbled down at her feet. Her mouth tasted like ash. She’d allowed her dreams to overrule her judgement. Of course Sigurd would marry.

  ‘Lord Sigurd gave his approval. He didn’t want you disturbed for something as trivial as this, according to Hring.’

  ‘Anyone we should know?’

  ‘The ship is coming from the North land. I heard that it might be the late jaarl’s lady, Beyla. Oh, she is supposed to be a right witch, but beautiful.’

  Beyla, the woman Sigurd had been in love with, the woman who had held his heart. Liddy recalled his words about why he could never feel anything just after he purchased her from her father. She fingered her birthmark. How could she compete against a lady like that?

  ‘Why didn’t Hring say anything to me?’ Liddy wondered out loud, more to Coll than to the servant.

  Mhairi plucked at her gown. ‘Perhaps he thought it was better that you didn’t know. It is how Lord Thorbin was before he changed mistresses. All secretive. I remember Shona complaining about it before she disappeared. How the signs were clear if one cared to look.’

  Liddy shook her head, trying to get rid of the buzzing sound. ‘Sigurd isn’t his brother. He had the women buried.’

  ‘It is the way of it. Women buzz about a jaarl like flies around a honey pot. You might want to think about going in case your lord turns out to be like his brother.’ Mhairi tapped a finger against her nose. ‘Aye, I can see you are not wearing your gold any more, but it doesn’t make you any less a slave. It just makes you an ordinary one, not Sigurd’s special property.’

  ‘You know nothing about my relationship with Sigurd.’

  ‘Northmen don’t marry slaves, they bed them. They marry women with large dowries who can help their career. It is the way of the world. Get used to it.’

  Liddy clenched her fists. It took all of her self-control not to react to the woman. One of the lessons she’d learnt during her marriage was that responding to such taunts only made them worse. But Mhairi was right. This was the beginning of the end. Neither she nor Sigurd had discovered the missing tribute. He would have to find the gold from somewhere to pay Ketil if he wished to remain jaarl. Marrying an heiress, particularly one he still had feelings for, was the simplest way. Silently she vowed that she would not be around when he did.

  Liddy’s heart knocked in her chest. She wanted to laugh at the irony of it. A few weeks ago, she would have been thrilled at the news, but now she didn’t want her time with Sigurd to end. She had half-thought that they would drift on and on in this dream bu
bble. But of course, he had responsibilities and Ketil would want him married.

  ‘Of course, I had forgotten Sigurd’s bride would be arriving. So much on my mind,’ she said around the ash in her mouth.

  Liddy stopped. She couldn’t have deep feelings for Sigurd. It was supposed to be about passion, not feelings. Something she knew was going to end. And yet she cared about him.

  She clenched her hands. She had forgotten the hard lessons she’d learned during her marriage. She needed to get back to the person she was before Sigurd. And she knew where to start.

  ‘Where is Lord Sigurd?’

  ‘He is about to go to Kintra by sea. I thought you knew, lady.’

  Liddy closed her eyes. The day was getting worse. Sigurd knew she hated travelling by sea. He was going without her. He was going to arrange her future without her. She would see about that. No one decided her future but her. She was through with men dictating her life.

  * * *

  Liddy burst into the training area with her kerchief and apron slightly askew. Her butterfly mark was dark against the paleness of her face.

  Sigurd dropped his sword. His heart thumped far harder than it should do. Had Liddy heard the rumours about Beyla and the possibility he had played a part in the making of her son? He had been witless to think he could keep such news a secret. But she had to understand—he was going to look after her. The boy’s future meant nothing to him after what Thorbin had tried to do to him. She needed to trust him.

  ‘Is there something wrong?’ He braced himself for a stream of insults. Her eyes were too large for her face and bore an anguished look. He wanted to run through the person who had caused her any heartbeat of pain.

  ‘You said that you would take me to Kintra when you went and you are planning to go without me. You are going to go by sea. Can I no longer trust your word?’ Her words cut deep into his soul.

  ‘I am here, not in Kintra,’ Sigurd pointed out. There was little point in explaining that he wanted to make it clear to Aedan that Liddy was not for sale before he took her there to visit the graves. Away from the hall, he could explain about his plan to ensnare Beyla and why Liddy needed to be somewhere safe.