Sirens of the Northern Seas: A Viking Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

“Because I must stay here, in Hendocia, and marry a worthy man from this kingdom.”

  “Why?”

  Her smile faded as she looked at him and he swore, for a moment, that he saw interest and, better still, longing in her expression. Longing as if, perhaps, she were imagining what marriage to such a man would have been like. It was just a brief flash and then it was gone.

  “You are asking many questions again,” she said softly.

  He nodded, feeling something warm and unexpected spark between him. This lovely maiden with the deep, blue eyes and long, red hair, with skin like cream and sharp of wit, had his full attention. He wondered if he had hers.

  “I know,” he said, his voice oddly quiet. “But that is the only way I may learn about you. I want to know about this maiden who has fought off the Demon King in order to guard his lair. Won’t you tell me why you cannot marry a man who has killed sea serpents?”

  She flushed, a pretty gesture, and for the first time since meeting this warrior lass, it was clear that her guard was going down somewhat. She seemed awkward, and a little flustered, by his question.

  “You… you do not need to tell me your intentions, you know,” she said. “It is not as if you need ask permission. A Northman would simply take me.”

  He nodded. “I know,” he said. “But I do not want to take you. I want it to be an agreement. I have no desire to take a kicking and screaming bride to my home. She would only make me miserable.”

  The sentinel smiled faintly. “There is truth in your words,” she said. “And should I have met you in other circumstances, it is possible we might get on. But as men are being killed over my head and women are being ravaged, by your men no less, surely you can see how foolish your question is.”

  Rhonan knew it was a foolish question; he didn’t need her telling him that. But still, he could only see his wants at the moment. The battle overhead had faded, leaving an odd stillness that surrounded them. As his men plundered and killed, stealing valuable items, Rhonan knew for a fact he had the most valuable thing in all of Hendocia before him. This warrior woman, in his opinion, was more than likely the only thing worth having in the entire kingdom. He wasn’t sure what told him that, or how he knew, but his intuition told him so.

  Looking at her, he just knew.

  “Mayhap,” he said after a moment. “But it is not foolish if I wish to make an alliance between Hendocia and my country. If I were to marry you, then we would join our two lands. Is peace not something that appeals to you, Bluebell?”

  The sentinel shouldn’t have believed him. It was quite possible he was just saying such things in order to gain her trust but, God help her, she found herself believing his sincerity. There was something in his tone and in his eyes that spoke of a genuine need.

  “How can you say such things?” she asked, pointing to the low ceiling of the tunnel. “Can you hear your men as they kill my people? And you want to form an alliance? You should have come in peace if that was truly your intent. You should not have come with murder on your minds.”

  He sighed heavily. “I realize that,” he said. “But peace was not in my thoughts when I came here. It only entered my thoughts when I found you. Would a peaceful alliance not be of interest to you?”

  The sentinel nodded. “Of course it would,” she said. “But only the king has such power to sanction a marriage like that and I cannot say that he would. He would not want to see me married to a Northman, even for the sake of peace.”

  Rhonan regarded her for a moment, studying her features through the smoky haze backed up against the ceiling of the tunnel.

  “Why wouldn’t he?” he asked. “What are you to him that such a thing would matter?”

  The sentinel seemed to falter. Having been so incredibly careful during the course of the conversation, she had said too much now. The Northman would more than likely be able to figure out her role in Hendocia based simply on what she had said, so she decided to be truthful. There was no use in keeping silent now.

  “Because I am to rule when my father is gone,” she said quietly. “I should not tell you this because it might change your mind about killing me, but I am the only child of the king. I cannot marry you because I must remain here. Furthermore, I will not move away from this door because it is my duty to protect it, to keep it safe. It is always the duty of the Daughters of Hendocia to protect this door. That is why you find me here, Rhonan from across the sea. You find me here because it is my sacred bound duty to stand here and protect this chamber with my life.”

  Rhonan had suspected something like this from the beginning. The sentinel was far too well trained and educated to be a simple peasant or of the warrior class. She was royalty, from the top of her red head to the bottom of her leather-bound feet. He pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning on and bowed gallantly to her.

  “My lady,” he said. “I am Rhonan Gray Sword, son of Nordjul the Fierce. I am the only son of my father and I, too, will inherit the throne. When I do, I will marry you and have you for my queen. I will have you and no other.”

  The sentinel could feel a great deal of warmth from the man, a spark as it were. She wondered if he was feeling the same thing. The fire of life she had seen in his eyes flowed forth and into her, around her, and she was consumed by it. She couldn’t even explain the moment if she tried; all she knew was that she believed the man, and his sincerity, completely overlooking the fact that he was the enemy. He and his men had come to ravage her home. She should hate him, or try to kill him at the very least, but there was something in Rhonan’s eyes that spoke of a genuine want for peace.

  A genuine want for love.

  … love?

  “It is impossible, Rhonan,” she said quietly. “You must stop speaking of such things.”

  Rhonan moved in her direction, dropping his sword onto the ground to show that he was no threat. He didn’t want her to think he was a threat. He wanted to show her that he was sincere in his desire, a desire that he’d never more strongly felt. Something about this woman drew him to her, like a moth to the flame, and he was becoming increasingly helpless against her.

  “Why?” he asked.

  She had to chuckle at the man, yet again. “Is that your favorite word?”

  He nodded. “When it comes to you, it is,” he said. “Why must we stop speaking of this?”

  She noticed he was coming closer, without his weapon, and she took a step back, one step for every two he was taking. She ended up backing into the door she was trying so hard to protect.

  “Because it is impossible,” she said again, wary and giddy now that he was coming so close. Would he try to wrap his hands around her neck? Or would he try to run his fingers through her hair? “It is madness to speak of it.”

  Rhonan came very close to her, noting she was cowering from him as much as it was possible for the woman to cower. It wasn’t fear as much as it was suspicion, perhaps. Or even anticipation. It was difficult to know. All he knew was that her close proximity drove him mad with desire, wanting very much to kiss those pink lips. He’d had no desire to touch this woman when he’d first entered this tunnel but now he could think of nothing else.

  She belonged to him.

  “What would it take to convince you that I am sincere?” he asked huskily. “Tell me and I shall do it or I shall say it. I will do or say whatever you want, my sweet Bluebell.”

  The sentinel couldn’t catch her breath. He was too close yet not close enough. Everything about her felt giddy, her heart racing as the tall, handsome Northman brushed up against her.

  He’s too close! Don’t trust him!

  Her heart, and her attraction, wasn’t listening to her common sense.

  “If… if you are attempting to get through this door by speaking sweetly to me, it will not work,” she said, her voice quivering. “I will still fight you to the death.”

  He smiled with understanding, nodding. “I know,” he said. “I would expect nothing less.”

  He was so clo
se that she could see the pores on his skin and the delicious cleft in his chin. “Then move away from me. You must.”

  “Why?”

  “Stop asking that question!”

  He laughed softly. “I will stop asking if you will give me an answer,” he said, his gaze drifting over her silken red hair. “Tell me what it would take to convince you of my sincerity. I want to know.”

  The sentinel had to take a deep breath for her mind was as giddy as her body. Overhead, she could hear distant screams, and the sounds distracted her.

  “Do you truly wish to know?” she asked. “Take your men and leave. That is the only way I will know you are sincere.”

  Rhonan was very much focused on her lips as she spoke. It was most distracting. “If I take my men and leave, I will certainly return,” he said. “I will return for you. And you will marry me. I will not leave unless I have your solemn vow that you will marry me.”

  The sentinel looked up at him, swept up in that beautiful face, the warmth glittering in his eyes. As much as she knew she shouldn’t make the man any promises, something in her heart told her that she should. There was something sweet there; a sweet dream with a dangerous stranger, but it was something that gave her pleasure to think on more than anything ever had.

  “If you will leave and take your men, then I will vow to marry you if you return,” she said quietly. “But you will not return.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “I will indeed return,” he said. “You had better be prepared when I do, for I will hold you to your vow. Swear to me that you will wait for me.”

  Something told her that he meant every word. It was in his expression as well as his tone of voice, and it was that sincerity that compelled her to believe him implicitly. More than that, she wanted to believe him.

  Live the sweet dream just a little longer!

  “I swear,” she said. “Now you must take your men and leave.”

  He nodded. Then, he suddenly grasped her by the arms and slanted his mouth over hers, a kiss that had all of the subtlety of a thunder clap. The sentinel stiffened in his arms at first, fighting him, but very quickly she gave in to the power of the kiss as he suckled her lips, her tongue, and her chin, and anything else he could put his mouth on. The kiss was heated and bawdy, full of lustful promises.

  It was a kiss that all maidens hope for but few experience. The sentinel caved against him as he wrapped his arms around her and they savored one another, their kiss a gesture of silent promises of what was yet to come.

  A shout sounded overhead, a man with a deep and harsh tone. Rhonan’s head shot up because he recognized the voice. Odintide! He released the sentinel and quickly went to reclaim his sword. He took a few more steps towards the stairs and then collected her sword, taking it back to her and putting it in her hand.

  “Remain here,” he said quietly. “Do not come out no matter what. Is that clear?”

  Still dazed from the kiss, the sentinel cocked her head curiously. “Why?”

  He grinned. “Only I may ask that question,” he told her, touching her cheek gently. “Now, do as I say. Remain here and do not come out until morning. Promise me.”

  “But…!”

  “Promise me.”

  She nodded swiftly. “I promise,” she pledged. “Are you leaving now?”

  He nodded. “I told you I would,” he said. “I am a man of my word. But also remember what I told you… I will return for you. Swear again that you will be waiting for me.”

  A tremulous smile came to her lips. “I swear,” she whispered.

  Rhonan winked at her and, keeping a hand up to her in a gesture that was meant to secure her silence, he made his way over to the steps that led up to the ground floor of the longhouse. He was nearly to the first step when he heard her soft voice behind him.

  “Annynlea.”

  He paused and turned to her. “What did you say?”

  She stepped away from the door, in his direction, her deep, blue eyes glittering at him just as they had the first time he’d met her, but now, that glimmer was different. Warm.

  “My name is Annynlea, daughter of Eathesfed,” she said quietly. “I am the krigarprinsessan.”

  Rhonan smiled at her. “The warrior princess,” he murmured in translation. “I will return for you, Annynlea, daughter of Eathesfed of Hendocia. This I vow.”

  He heard Odintide’s voice again before she could reply and he bolted up the steps to find the man, to prevent him from going into the tunnels below. Rhonan knew if the old warrior went down there, and Annynlea refused to let him pass into the chamber she guarded, that it would be a fight between Rhonan and Odintide to the death.

  He wouldn’t let the man harm her.

  Annynlea’s last vision of Rhonan was as he fled up the stairs, into the common room beyond. She could hear his voice overhead as he spoke with others and she heard his command to vacate the longhouse. She went back to her door, the door she had won the privilege to guard, and she did as Rhonan had told her. She waited there until she began to see the light of morning filtering in through the open ceiling. Then, and only then, did she dare to come out.

  When she found her father later that day, he had miraculously survived the siege. She had quite a tale to tell him.

  Of a benevolent Northman from across the sea.

  Part Seven

  ~ Sepulchre There By The Sea ~

  One year later

  They came from the sea again. This time, it was in peace.

  Rhonan had sent a messenger ahead, a man in a longship without an armed escort, but rather dressed in fine silks and bearing a message for King Eathesfed and Princess Annynlea. Rhonan’s fleet had sailed on a mild day in June, thirteen months after the raid on Hendocia, and while the fleet anchored well off the coast of Havetrike, or the sea kingdom as his people often called Hendocia, the messenger was sent to the king along with nearly everything that had been stolen from Hendocia on that night Rhonan’s men had raided it.

  This time, the Northmen had returned not to take, but to give back.

  Nordjul the Fierce had died the previous winter of a malady brought on by what had been one of the worst winters in memory. Rhonan had taken his father’s place as the king of his people, now known as Rhonan the Wise, and the people rejoiced. Rhonan had progressive thoughts and ideas, opening wider trade routes and mending relationships with enemies who had once been allies.

  The new young king had done much to make his people prosperous in the short time he had ruled and now, he was returning to Hendocia to mend the relationship with them as well, although some said there was more to it than that. Much more. Having confessed to his mother about the red-haired Hendocian princess he intended to marry, Rhonan’s mother, a terrible gossip, had told her women about it.

  After that, rumors of Rhonan’s true motivation behind the Hendocian alliance ran rampant and most approved of it. One of those who did not was Odintide, who had lost his mind in recent months. He sat, alone and bitter, in a hut at the outskirts of the settlement, lamenting the great days of Nordjul who would rather fight than make peace.

  But that time was over with the reign of the new king. So on this day in June, a little over a year after having raided Hendocia, Rhonan once again came upon the shores of gray-green grass and of the tombs that were built near the sea. He sent the messenger to the House of the King along with a caravan of men carrying many returned Hendocian possessions. He also sent gifts for Annynlea, including a giant basket full of bluebells that he had picked himself from a field that grew wild near his home. Of course, the flowers were not fresh by the time they reached Hendocia, but it was the thought that counted. Rhonan wanted to make a statement and he knew that the bluebells would do that for him.

  He had returned for her.

  Eager to see his little sentinel, Rhonan waited an entire day after sending the messenger on ahead before moving his fleet forward within sight of the sea kingdom. He was the only one who brought his ship close to the shore, however, and he
made his men wait on the ship while he disembarked and walked through thigh-deep water to the sandy shore. This time, however, the shore wasn’t empty. The people of Hendocia had turned out to greet him.

  It was a line of dark figures upon the shore, grouped up among the sea grass. Dozens of villagers were watching and, as Rhonan leapt over the side of the ship and made his way ashore, he could see his messenger standing with a gray-bearded man in fine robes. Sea breezes swirled the sands and seagulls cried overhead as Rhonan came out of the sea and onto the sand, making his way towards his messenger and the elderly man.

  “Great Lord,” the messenger said, bowing to Rhonan when he came near. “I present to you Eathesfed the Great, ruler of Hendocia from the great House of Skyl.”

  Rhonan’s gaze fell on the old man, well-fed and broad, with eyes of a color Rhonan recognized. Bluebells, he thought. Just like hers. He nodded in the elderly man’s direction as a sign of respect.

  “It is an honor, Great Lord,” he greeted in the traditional greeting of his people when one met a man of equal rank. “I am Rhonan Gray Sword. I assume my messenger has given you the reason for my arrival. We come in peace, I assure you. Your people need not fear.”

  Eathesfed was studying Rhonan intently. “He has told me,” he said. “He has also brought that which you stole last year. A remarkable occurrence, I must say. I have not known any Northman to return that which he has taken.”

  Rhonan smiled weakly. “I have returned your possessions with a purpose in mind,” he said, scanning the groups of people to see if he spied Annynlea’s deep red head. “Did my messenger tell you that as well?”

  Eathesfed eyed Rhonan, seeing that the man was distracted and suspected what he might be looking for. In truth, he had been dreading this moment, ever since his daughter had told him the story of the Northman who, rather than kill her as she stood guard at the threshold to the Kongen’s Gull, seemed to want to talk and tell stories. In the midst of the terrible battle, this Northman had charmed his daughter to the point of convincing the young woman he wanted to marry her.