Naturally, the period of abstinence would have affected Aric’s performance if he had not been an experienced lover, but he wanted Fearn to remember this time more than she had the first, taking her slowly through each phase while keeping in mind what she had been through to come as far as this. Her sighs and cries of ecstasy, now embellished by words of love, were to him the sweetest sounds, urging him towards a climax that came together with hers, sending them both soaring into a new kind of happiness where dark thoughts of time and separation had no place. ‘Dearest love,’ Fearn said softly into his ear, ‘is this what marriage does? Is this how it is when we can tell of our love instead of keeping it hidden? I do not believe I could be happier than I am now.’ With a squeak of sheer contentment, she snuggled in to his side, breathing in the male odour of his powerful body, his exertions and the heady scent of success.
‘From now on, sweetheart, this is how it will be for us,’ Aric told her. Then, after a long pause, he said, ‘Talking of families...’
‘Were we?’
‘Well, in a way. Did you see where Meld went after she’d finished pelting us with flowers? Did Clodagh manage to prise her away from Wenda?’
Fearn smiled, smoothing her hand over his chest. ‘So much for our plans to keep mother and daughter apart. We should have known they’d have to meet. It was wonderful to see how Meld and the boys played together. They were so caring of her, while Wenda and Clodagh looked on like two mother hens. The last I saw of them was my mother holding little Meld in her arms, fast asleep, while Wenda kissed her forehead and said goodnight.’
‘No hysterics?’
‘Not at all. Wenda kissed my mother, too, before they parted. Then she and Olof went off with their arms around each other, perfectly content.’
‘It’s Sunday tomorrow.’
‘Today, actually.’
‘And isn’t there some rule about not making love on a holy day? Whoever made that one up didn’t have a wife like mine.’
‘So that means you won’t be observing it?’
‘Certainly not, Lady Fearn of Lindholm. That would be expecting too much.’
Fearn’s hand slid further down on to his stomach, and beyond. ‘Good,’ she murmured. ‘We must not ask too much of an expectant father, must we?’
* * *
One of Fearn’s first tasks on the next day was to write to her half-sister the Queen to tell her the exciting news and to ask her to send a message to Mother Bridget in Jorvik. She had always kept her quills and ink in the precious golden reliquary casket of Irish origin, but when Haesel opened the lid, she hesitated. ‘Lady,’ she said, ‘I think perhaps you should come and see this for yourself.’
Aric, who was pulling on his leather boots, raised his head to watch.
‘What is it?’ said Fearn, looking inside. ‘Carry it over to the light.’
A flash of gold scintillated as Fearn lifted out the magnificent object and held it lovingly in her hand, turning it this way and that to see the details. It was a tiny model of a sleek Viking ship made of pure deep yellow gold complete with sail, ropes, oars and a dragon-headed prow, and recognisably Aric’s new ship that had brought her and Haesel back to Lindholm. He stood beside her, basking in her delight. ‘Do you remember what you once said to me about gifts, sweetheart? You said that the only gift I could give you would be a ship to take you home. Will this one do instead?’
‘Yes, beloved. Thank you. Indeed it will. I am home now.’
Haesel tiptoed away as husband and wife came together as if, she thought, they had been meant for each other from the start.
Epilogue
Within days of their marriage, a new house had been built for Haesel and Hrolf near enough to the longhouse for them to be on hand at all times. The maid, however, did not follow her mistress’s lead in adopting the Danish dress, preferring to wear her veil swathed around her neck as before. When Haesel’s child was born in the spring of the following year, Eve took on her responsibilities until Haesel felt able to resume them, after which they worked in tandem, for by that time the mistress herself was a new mother. The strong, lusty and quite noisy infant was named Finn in acknowledgement of his Irish ancestry, with eyes as blue as the fjord on a summer’s day and hair like a silver halo. After the two marriages, Haesel no longer received any ‘seeings’ because, she assumed, neither she nor Fearn needed to know what the future held for them. Fearn’s gift of healing, however, remained as strong as ever.
With Loki’s help, Freya managed the stud farm and expanded it, selling stock far and wide and gaining a reputation for excellence that made her much wealthier than her father had been. When Aunt Astrid died quite suddenly one night without any kind of warning, she was buried with great honour and affection up on the cemetery field next to her relatives, where her ashes were marked with a triangular outline of stones, as some women’s were.
Fearn and Aric went on to raise a family of five healthy children, but Aric did not take part in any more raids on England, having been easily persuaded to take a hand, as he had once done, in the breeding and training of Freya’s horses. Which pleased everyone, particularly Fearn.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this story, you won’t want
to miss these other great reads
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BETRAYED, BETROTHED AND BEDDED
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Author Afterword
Although Lindholm is situated on the Limfjord in northern Jutland, I hope my Danish friends will forgive me for moving the early settlement a little closer to the water’s edge than it actually was. The shoreline in the Viking era was likely to have been marshland, with the famed cemetery of boat-shaped graves on a rise of land known as Lindholm Hoje—heights—positioned inland. The settlement was regularly covered by sand and had to be moved more than once. The cemetery was completely buried, to be excavated as recently as 1952-58. The Lindholm Hoje Museum is devoted entirely to Viking artefacts discovered in Jutland and is impressive in every way. It is a must for all Viking enthusiasts.
The characters of Earl Thored, Earl Oslac, King Ethelred—the ‘Unready’—and Aelfgyfu, his Queen, are all based on fact. However, although Jorvik—now known as York—received many demanding visits from the Danish Vikings, the one I have described in the story took place one year later in 994, when a demand for sixteen thousand pounds was paid to persuade them to leave. This kind of thing continued for several more years, each time costing more than the last, until the Danish Cnut became King of England.
Only a few miles north-west of Lindholm is the Borglum Kloster—priory—now an arts and exhibition centre, which houses, amongst other things, an exact replica of the Bayeux Tapestry made by a group of embroiderers known as the Vikingegruppen of Lindholm Hoje. www.bayeuxtapetet.dk. It is to these ladies I dedicate this story as thanks for their hospitality while guiding me round Lindholm and its Viking past.
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE WALLFLOWER DUCHESS by Liz Tyner.
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The Wallflower Duchess
by Liz Tyner
Prologue
The future Duke of Edgeworth stretched his chin, and felt the nick he’d made on his first attempt with shaving. When he’d told his father how he received the cut, he’d been told never to touch the razor again. But some day he’d be Edgeworth—and no one would dare tell him what to do.
His parents’ voices blended into the background as he worked with the mathematics. He liked mathematics and he liked that his parents singled him out when preparing him for his future.
His father sat at the other desk, and his mother read over his shoulder, but then returned to her sewing stand.
The Duke’s voice broke into the quiet. ‘The younger Miss Hightower?’
‘She’s a lovely little girl.’ His mother nestled into her chair, picked up her sewing and studied it.
‘Not the older one,’ his father added. ‘She scowls.’
‘The older one is Lily.’ His mother returned to her embroidery, grumbling at a stitch as she picked it loose with her needle. ‘And she’s not scowling. She’s figuring things out.’
‘That girl is quite well mannered, but not a duchess,’ the Duke said.
‘She is too serious.’ His mother never looked up from her threads, needle again moving in and out through the fabric. ‘But I’m sure she’ll grow into a beauty. The least attractive babies make the most beautiful people, and frankly, I’d never seen such an ugly baby as Lily was. Her eyes were huge and her little arms so scrawny. Reminded me of a starved mouse. But she’s more human looking now and one can do wonders with cosmetics.’
The Duke tapped his fingertips together. ‘With her father living next door, it would be easy to keep up with the young one’s upbringing. But I’m not sure... Their mother is such a...’
‘But that doesn’t mean the children will be. The small one is an obedient girl. Did exactly as her older sister instructed.’
‘Obedient.’ His father nodded and Edge had looked up in time to see the wink his father gave his mother. ‘I’ve never heard you say a duke needs an obedient wife.’
‘Oh, most certainly,’ she’d added, turning to leave the room. ‘Sad your mother didn’t tell you that.’
His father chuckled, patted the papers on the desk and said, ‘It’s settled, then.’ He looked at his son. ‘What do you think about the younger Miss Hightower?’
‘She’s a baby.’ Lord Lionel continued with his sums. ‘Babies can’t marry.’
‘She’ll grow,’ his father said. ‘If we choose while she’s young, we can see that she is educated and trained just as a duchess should be. Just as you want her to be. Once I inform her father that you’re interested in her, he’ll be certain she is raised exactly as she should be. The man understands the value of society even if he has only half a boot in it.’
Lionel shrugged. Perhaps he would wed Miss Hightower some day, but not the little one. After all, only old people married. They were twenty-five at least. Perhaps thirty. Yes, at thirty he could ask the older Miss Hightower to wed, because by then he’d be too old for it to matter.
And he didn’t think she looked like a mouse, but even if she did, it was fine with him.
Last Wednesday, he’d been studying in the gardens when Miss Lily had called out to him and she’d curtsied. No one had ever done that before and he had nodded to her, just as his father did when people curtsied to him. Then she’d asked him to play dolls. He’d said no, even though it sounded better than studying. Then she’d called him Lord Booby-head. The governess had walked out and reprimanded her and Miss Lily had scrambled to her house.
He felt sorry for her. He’d overheard what his parents said about her and it was much worse than booby-head could be.
He didn’t know what a booby-head was, but he was not it. After all, he was going to be a duke, just like his father, and everyone always spoke nicely to the Duke. It was a rule or law or something like that.
His younger brothers said they would never call him Edgeworth because that was their father’s title and when he became a duke they would call him Edgeworthless. But their mother had overheard and shamed them. She’d told him they would have to be well behaved or it would reflect badly on the whole family. They were of the peerage. They must always remember that.
Copyright © 2017 by Elizabeth Tyner
ISBN-13: 9781488021299
Captive of the Viking
Copyright © 2017 by Juliet Landon
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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