by Lexy Timms
CELTIC Mann
The Heart of the Battle Series
Book 3
By
Lexy Timms
Copyright 2015 by Lexy Timms
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2015 by Lexy Timms
Heart of the Battle Series
Celtic Viking
Book 1
US:http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VVK8S5W
UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00VVK8S5W
Celtic Rune
Book 2
US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00WXI50TI
UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/ B00WXI50TI
Celtic Mann
Book 3
US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00X65LPXC
UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00X65LPXC
In a world plagued with darkness, she would be his salvation.
The Vikings are on the verge of losing the battle of taking over the Britains. Their commander was thought to be dead, but is now siding with the enemy.
Erik is now labelled; the Saxon who kills his own men. The prince and heir to the throne is in love with a fiery Scottish woman. He must decide between loyalty and love.
His family and his army is in ruins. He may be the only one who can save them. Yet, the woman he loves is carrying his child. He must choose between them.
This is a 3 Book Historical Viking - Scottish Romance series
This is NOT Erotica but a romance love story.
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CHAPTER ONE
Erik
It had been two weeks.
Two weeks of questioning himself every day. He hadn't had a choice in the matter. He had to return to Denmark. Once things were righted, he could return. He would go back to that little farm in the middle of the Britains and get his woman.
How desperately he wanted to believe the lie.
The idea of her being with anyone else left him breathless and full of crimson fury. How had he let himself become so deeply involved with her? He crushed his fist into his other hand. What had he thought? They could be together and live on a farm like her father owned and no one would say a word?
His trivial dreams had pushed him to ruining her life. If she was carrying his child, what was the likelihood another man would make her an honest woman? He growled at the thought and pushed forward. Glancing to his left he nodded to John, his closest friend in the war outside of his cousin.
Marcus.
More anger boiled through his blood. Death would not be fair for that louse.
How in the heavens had things gone so sour? His own family plotted to take the throne and desired it so much that his brother, Nathaniel's life had been taken. Murdered.
"I know that look, Erik." John stared straight ahead, knowing better than to look Erik in the eye.
"The one that says I hate the fact that we're still walking?" Erik glared at John.
"The waterfront is only another day ahead. I'm talking about the look that says you want things to be different."
Erik pressed his lips into a tight line before finally admitting, "I do, but this life has yet to agree with my demands and desires."
"And what would you have be different? You're revered and the King of Denmark, the greatest country in the world."
"And my family is suffering loss yet again." Erik rolled his shoulders. "I need to kill something soon or I might actually go mad."
"I'm sure we'll have the chance before too long. Death seems to follow you—us—around no matter where we go." John quickly corrected himself, knowing Erik would take it personally.
"That’s because we bring it with us. Like a harbinger of darkness. Also, killing and taking... I'm not sure we know of a different path." Erik sighed and moved away from the group, stopping by a watering well as the five or six men he had with him huddled around one another, laughing and talking. Only a small handful of men had joined him during the battle with the Scots. The faithful few who knew the truth of his death. Shocking everyone on the field was the jolt they all needed to lose courage and forfeit the fight, but Erik's true desire was to bring a handful of men with him.
John had taken the men to the edge of the next city the day Erik had ridden out to meet Linzi. Erik told them to wait there. He needed privacy, and his willingness to trust anyone was now non-existent. No one could know about her. Knowing she was safe, and protected, on her father's lands was one of the only things bringing him peace of mind.
The tears in her eyes had almost done him in. He had been so close to letting her go with him, to picking the fiery redhead up and setting her on the horse in front of him. Her news had changed everything… and condemned him all at once.
He could handle anything happening to himself, but if she were around him, he would be more diligent, give more care to watching over her. He would have her guarded at all times and things might have been fine, but her confession about a babe… Did he believe the witch knew what she was talking about?
Erik shook his head, trying to eject the thoughts before they ripped him of his conviction. His mother needed him. His country demanded his attention. As desperate as he was to run from it all, he couldn't. His father's dying wish had been the instrument to nail him to the stake. He would fight for their lands because his family had bled for the crown in Denmark for years before him.
No way could he survive losing the lass and a bairn. That would be the end of him. They had barely been together. It wasn’t very likely she would be with child. The witch was spewing lies. He leaned over, pulling the tattered rope at the top of the well. The old thing reminded him of the one on Linzi's property, the lake just beyond the watering hole.
The night they spent washing each other had been beyond perfect. Never had he allowed a woman to truly take care of him. Sex was all they were allowed and he rarely gave himself to that. Linzi had stripped his walls bare and left him dreaming again.
Now she was left without him, in the midst of a war he started. He reached for the bucket as it surfaced, slipping one hand into the cool water and leaning over to drink deeply. How much did she hate him? The scene when he left her standing there would forever scar his memory.
She hadn't been quiet about it. Her emotions bubbling up and spilling out violently as she slapped at his face and chest. He had never been so close to crying in all of his life. It was all for the best, but without a doubt, he had left part of his soul, and all of his heart, with a doe-eyed lass in the heart of Scotland.
"Hey, you gonna share
that or you pulling the royal bullshit card?" John laughed, slapping Erik's shoulder.
Erik moved back, holding the bucket until his friend took a hold of it. "Nah... I'll never be royal by anything other than blood."
John chuckled. "I'm still trying to get over the shock that you're alive. I know it's been a few weeks, but the men can't stop talking about it. How did you survive and what the hell happened?"
“Marcus’ greed happened.” Erik ground his teeth together before adding, "A woman saved my life." He ran his hands through his growing hair, scratching softly and then rougher.
"Hopefully you took complete advantage of her kindness." John's mouth lifted in a smirk.
"Do you have a small blade knife?"
"Yeah. Let me get my bag. You thinking you got the lice?"
"I don't know, but my head itches and I'm not willing to take chances."
"Where the hell is your blade? The one your mother and father gave you?"
"It’s in my bag. It needs to be sharpened." Erik shifted his gaze toward the men. The knife held too many memories, good and bad. He left it in his bag, not wanting to feel the memory of her holding it or even looking at it. His sighing. It was better this way. He didn't need another reminder in his hands right now of her saving his life and him ruining hers.
"Your mother is going to be highly disappointed in you losing your beautiful locks. There hasn't been a bald king in a very long time."
"Yeah, because they all die before making it to old age." Erik took the bucket back and called to the others, turning it over to one of the other men as he followed John.
"Make it quick. I don't trust staying still for very long." John pulled his hand from his bag and handed Erik the razor.
"I'm hoping for a fight. I need to get out some of my aggression. I assume my cousin has made it to Denmark. The thought of it makes my stomach turn."
"I doubt it. He had a mess to clean up the day we left." John nodded toward the well. "I'll watch, stay as look out. Do what you need."
Erik finished shaving, his head slick and bald like Marcus' the last time he saw him. The trip to the docks wouldn't be difficult, but the men were getting tired. Erik looked around at the countryside, not seeing many options for them. The sun sat low in the sky and evening wasn't far off. They could sleep in the forest and take turns as look out.
If they were spotted as Vikings, a fight would be inevitable, but seeing that they were retracing steps they had already taken, places they had already conquered, the threat of being discovered was slim at best.
"You look ten years older." John chuckled as he moved to Erik.
"I feel like an old man." Erik rolled his shoulders as the sound of something moving behind them caught his attention. He held up his hand to alert his friend. John didn't get the hint.
"So tell me more about this lass that nursed you back to health. Please tell me she was Scottish. How badly I wanted to sink deep into one of those beautiful lasses."
Erik ignored his friend, turning and scanning the forest line as the dusk set in quickly, shadows playing along the trees. His mind must be playing tricks on him. However, his gut feeling usually didn’t. "I, unfortunately, developed feelings for the girl, so this is best."
John laughed. "Love is for the weak, my friend! No need to ruin lives with all of those extra feelings. Marriage is an agreement, one that's made with a wimpy, weak, bend-over-when-I-tell-you woman that mother chooses for you." He laughed as Erik popped him in the chest.
"Shut up for a minute. Something isn't right." Erik glanced at John, his eyes narrowing as he tried to listen.
John turned with his back to Erik as he arched his neck to look through the forest line.
"Love? Did you fall in love, cousin?" Marcus' voice snarled behind him.
Erik turned slowly as a smile slid across his mouth. "Perfect, cousin. I was hoping you would come.”
Marcus crossed his arms over his chest as John whipped around in surprise.
Only snakes could sneak up and not be detected. “Nothing like stripping a man of his pride and honor." Erik tilted his head, adrenaline rushing through his veins. How grateful to the gods was he that his murdering cousin was in front of him and not in Denmark with his beloved mother.
"Where's the pretty little tart who's stolen your heart, Prince Erik?" Marcus scowled, his eyes dark and soulless. Six men moved in behind him, the fight almost matched perfectly.
"I haven't the slightest what you're referring to." Erik used his peripheral vision, there had to be more men in the forest.
"Ahhh, you do...” Marcus stayed just out of reach of Erik’s sword should he pull it. “Long copper-colored hair, big blue eyes? Not ringing a bell?” His smile curled into a snarl. “No? Not even the rose-colored inking over the sensual slope of her shoulder and onto her pert breast?” He leaned back and grabbed his cock over the leather covering it. “I can't tell you how long I've waited for a woman like her. I must say, I’m so glad you've left her for greater things. I'll take care of her... don't fret."
A spark burst into a flame that consumed him as Erik raised his fist and charged, Marcus the target of the madness that rushed through him. How did his treacherous cousin know about Linzi? He had to die. There wasn't any way around it. As much as his actions would hurt their family in the long run, they wouldn't have anything left if Marcus made it back to Denmark. Or touched Linzi.
Marcus moved, but not quickly enough. Erik's fist plowed into the front of the other man's face as Marcus stumbled back. Erik drew his long sword, his body almost trembling with a deadly combination of fear and anger. "Traitor!" He spit at the ground as he approached his cousin.
"Yes," Marcus mumbled as a smile drew on his bloody lips. "That you are."
A large Viking, now one of Erik’s men, moved between them, his short sword plunging into Marcus and pinning him to the tree behind him. It happened so quickly, Marcus did not have time to react.
Erik’s mood shifted quickly as his cousin screamed, the need to take Marcus' head from his shoulders dimming for a moment. Memories of them growing up as soldiers together rolled over him, and though fate offered no other option, it felt like another death inside his breast.
Would life ever stop offering pain and suffering in large quantities? Would love or rest ever be rewarded to him for pushing forward as his father wanted him to do?
The behemoth turned and bowed to Erik. "For you, my king. I will cut off his head and bury him in a shallow grave for the animals to feast upon."
Lost for words, Erik nodded and motioned for the large man to move. He had envisioned Marcus in Denmark wearing his brother’s crown. Instead, the large battle at home had turned into a wisp of nothing on the forsaken land. Marcus hung limply against the tree. The giant of a Viking pulled his sword out of Marcus. He fell to the ground like a sack.
Two of Erik’s men held him up as his head lulled unnaturally. As much as Erik wanted to finish off his cousin to ensure the man was dead, he had seen death enough to know that if Marcus wasn't yet, it was soon to come. Where had the six men standing with Marcus run off to?
Erik’s shoulders slumped. "Do as you have said and meet us at the edge of the village. I need to return to Denmark. All of you who are for me will be beside me." He nodded toward the forest. “Find Marcus’ men and kill them also.”
"Aye. For the crown prince." The large man yelled as Erik motioned for a few of the soldiers he had known from youth to follow him.
One battle had finished too easily... but certainly another lay on the road ahead.
He was to be crowned king, but nothing could be more disturbing. It was an honor he didn't deserve and never wanted, but with everything that had happened it would not be his choice. He would serve the people as was expected. Was there any chance of his mother accepting Linzi and the child, if there was one? He knew the answer. This country had caused his mother only death and heart break. She would never allow a common lass from here to sit upon the throne beside him. He would be
expected to marry a princess or some female of noble standing. Marcus sighed.
Without Linzi... he was nothing but a lie.
CHAPTER TWO
Linzi
"Valhalla could not keep me from you, lass. I would march across all the land and fight every battle before me if it meant getting back to you."
Erik's words rolled over her frayed nerves day in and day out. It had been more than fourteen days since he left and not that she expected to have word of him, it still stung nevertheless. Her confession about the bairn in her womb had done little to deter him. Their moment of passion after her words should have been quickly followed up with his willingness to stay here, or take her with him, but he hadn't done either.
He was stubborn, and determined, to leave her in the safety of her father's home. All because of a baby she wasn’t even sure was growing inside of her. He had grown more tenacious with each passing moment.
"I shouldn't have told him." Linzi finished wiping the three mugs that sat before her, dinner over and the night having fallen across the land. Her father and Sara were out taking an evening walk around the property to ensure no one with nefarious intent hid in wait.
Sadness washed over her as she finished her chores and walked to the open door of the small house. He wouldn't return, of that she was sure. He was the rightful King of Denmark and his people would never allow him to leave. And she was… nothing.
And why would he want to? Leave a large kingdom and a beautiful palace for a small shack in the middle of Scotland? How many women had he been with before her? How many would there be after?
Linzi pressed her fingers to her lips as she tried to keep her supper down. Times were more strained than before the fighting began two weeks prior. To lose the little bit of sustenance she had sitting inside of her would be a torrential waste. The new life possibly growing inside her needed it more than she did anyway.