Storm Trilogy

by Ria Cantrell

  Rhianna smiled nervously at Erik and he winked at her. Reaching for her hand as she rode beside him, he said, “Have no fear, my love. They are going to love you as much as I do.”

  When Ragnorsen Keep grew closer, Rhianna could see the colors of Erik’s house standards flapping in the cold nocturnal air. His men fell in line behind him and a soft chant began to fill the night.

  “Ragnorsen…Ragnorsen…”

  It resonated from the ranks of his men and seemed to echo from the walls of the keep in the distance. Rhianna soon realized that it was not an echo at all, but a response. They were chanting in unison to the voices behind her, in welcome of their riding party. She sat a little taller; her fatigue suddenly evaporating in the chill of the night air. As they clattered across the drawbridge, Rhianna’s eyes beheld the wonder of Ragnorsen Keep. It was adorned for the coming Yuletide and the boughs of holly only added to the magnificence of the place. This was her husband’s home and now it would be hers.

  As Erik helped her from her mount, there were people waiting to greet them. An older couple stood hand in hand and Rhianna knew in an instant who they were. There was no denying the sire of her husband as he stood next to the beautiful woman, Rhianna knew had to be Erik’s mother. As Rhianna curtseyed before them, Erik then made the introductions, “Father, Mother, I want you to meet my wife, Rhianna Ragnorsen nee du Montefort.”

  Erik’s father, a big Norse Viking, who was an older replica of her husband, smiled down at her with kind blue eyes. He dashed formality to the wind and pulled the beautiful girl who had won his son’s heart into a bearlike embrace. Pleasantly surprised, Rhianna hugged the giant Viking back, feeling instantly like she had truly come home. It had been so long since she had parents of her own but when Erik’s father held her, she felt like that empty place that had lived so long in her heart was instantly filled. When Rurik Ragnorsen released her, Lady Brekka likewise embraced her. “Daughter,” she said. “Welcome home.”

  Rhianna saw the sweet smile on Lady Brekka’s face. It reached her sparkling azure eyes and Rhianna truly felt the warmth of her welcome. The lady wore a lovely crimson bliaut with a rose colored stomacher. It cinched her waist and Rhianna could see that Erik’s mother still sported quite the girlish figure. She was stunning! Two long golden braids hung in casings on each side of her face. Though she was a married woman, her head was not covered in a veil, but she wore a simple circlet over her braids with an oval garnet mid forehead. Rhianna noted that this woman, her husband’s mother, was a very beautiful woman indeed. Such beauty was only matched with her grace and her loving demeanor. Rhianna knew instantly that they would get on splendidly.

  Suddenly overcome with emotion, Rhianna raised glassy eyes to Erik. A tremulous smile lifted her lips. “Yes…home. I am home. I am so happy to meet you both.”

  Rurik linked his arm through hers and he said, “Come inside and have something to eat. Indulge an old man and tell me how you tamed that wild Viking of ours.”

  Wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black, Rhianna thought but she giggled and said, “In truth, I think it was the other way around for your son was ever persistent to get me to like him. I am grateful for his patience and understanding.”

  The last, Rhianna said with a smirk and Erik was rolling his eyes to the heavens. Lady Brekka was quite certain that these two had an interesting courtship, for she could instantly see the fire in the young woman. She had no doubt that they loved each other deeply and she could not have wished for a better wife for her son.

  Brekka Ragnorsen smiled with tears in her eyes, as well. This was the mate of her son. The Fates had finally brought her to him. She had seen her so many times in her own dreams, and here she was, more beautiful than she had imagined. So many nights she would wake with visions of the woman who would win and claim her son’s heart and she would pray that the girl would find him soon. Brekka did not always tell Rurik what she had seen. He had grown used to her Ways that had deep ties to those who walked before her. Hell, the Norsemen were pagans long before they embraced Christianity. She had prayed for her only son to find that mate who would fill his life with love and joy and every time she did, she dreamed of a dark haired beauty with emerald eyes. Brekka wanted grandbabies to fill the keep before she was too old to enjoy them, but Erik had always been a warrior first. Still, here she was, the woman she had dreamed of time and again. This was the half that had been missing from her precious son’s heart. This was the woman to quell his wanderings and to settle him.

  After Rhianna and Erik had unpacked their horses and made their way into the feast hall, they talked long into the night and Brekka finally said that she would show Rhianna to Erik’s chambers while father and son had a last drink before retiring, themselves. There was so much she wanted to share with the mate of her son’s heart, but tomorrow was another day. Instead, as she led Rhianna up the stairs to Erik’s rooms, she offered kindly, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Thank me? M’lady, I do not know what you mean. It is I who must thank you for opening your home to me.”

  “This is your home now, love. But I am so grateful that you love my son because you see, a mother worries that her only son would never find a mate to make him happy…and you do. I can see that you do. I can see the way he looks at you and you at him. It does a mother’s heart good to know her son has found the perfect mate. Thank you for loving him.”

  Rhianna blushed and said, “I do love him, with all my heart. He is the other half of my soul. Erik is easy to love…I suspect it is because his mother taught him how to be a good and loving husband.”

  Wiping an errant tear from her eye, Brekka Ragnorsen said, “You honor me, my daughter. I hope you will have many happy years here.”

  Rhianna hugged the beautiful mother of her husband, feeling love fill her heart for both Brekka and Rurik, and she said, “I know I will. I feel like I have found my destiny, here with Erik. For so long my family consisted of just my brother, but he has a wife of his own now.”

  “We are your family, now, my sweet girl. And the luckier are we for it. You are home, where you belong.” And Rhianna knew that she truly was.

  ~The End~

  Celtic Tempest

  By

  Ria Cantrell

  I dedicate this book to my husband Paul, who has shown me how to embrace my

  destiny. He brings love and passion to my life every moment of every day.

  ~Prologue~

  The mists enveloped her as she stood at the crest of the rise, causing a chill to pass through the young girl recently turned woman as she waited for the Ancient One to finish her supplications on her behalf. It was the old custom to spend the night on the precipice as womanhood blossomed newly in her body. So many of the old ways were lost now, but the Old One had made a promise to the girl's mother to teach her the rites of old. This was her passage rite from childhood to womanhood and she vowed to be brave.

  The Old One finished the draught that would induce the dreams that many young girls dreamed on this night of nights. After uttering the last invocations in the ancient tongue, she gave it to the girl to drink. With trembling hands, she took the vial, praying that the Old One would not have poisoned her. The noxious looking fluid seemed to swirl with strange colors as she lifted the potion to her lips. Oddly, it was not odious to taste. The girl swallowed it down in one gulp and waited to feel different. She watched the Old One eyeing her and she realized she did not feel different at all. She did not want to tell the woman that the draught had not worked. It would be best to let the Old One think she had conjured correctly rather than to make her think she had failed the girl and the promise to her own mother. As if reading her thoughts, the Old One spoke. Her voice was soft, despite her many years.

  “Dunna' doubt it, girl. It will work.”

  How did the Old One do that? She always seemed to know what she was thinking. She always knew when she was somewhere not fitting for a girl to be. The old woman walked around the girl, wit
h her arms stretched out. The girl thought she was dangerously too close to the ledge of the outcropping. She feared the old woman would teeter and drop over the side. Again, the woman pinned the girl with a knowing look and she continued her circle around her. Finally she said, “Ye’ will dream of the one destined for ye’ to marry. Ye’ must ne’er forget him, for he is yer’ future. Ye’ may doubt it to be so, but I have seen it in my visions. Sleep now, and wait for him to show himself.”

  The girl settled herself in her cloak amid the pine needles on the hard ground. She sighed. It was going to be a long night. Beside the changes in her body causing her discomfort, it was a particularly cold night on the ridge. She wondered if she would even sleep at all, let alone dream, but as she felt the warmth of her cloak wrapped about her, she felt strangely sated and drowsy. Breathing the scent of the pine needles in, she seemed to succumb to her dreams in mere moments.

  ~~~~~

  ~ He was tall. She could see that as he rode toward her, standing in his stirrups. She should have been frightened because he was clearly not a Highlander. Instead, he turned and flashed a smile that lit his handsome face. How oddly he was dressed; not wearing a plaid of her clan. In fact, he was not wearing a plaid at all. His legs were clad in leather trews, that were so form fitting, they looked like his flesh itself. His leine was very much not Highland attire.

  To her horror, she realized he was a Britton. She was sure of it. She had heard the stories of his kind, murdering and raping her people. Yet, when she looked at him, she could sense that he seemed to want no harm to come to her. She stared at him as if she was a dullard. He was handsome. Some would say he was beautiful. She waited for him to scoop her up and take her to be ravaged, for these English were monsters. She knew what they were capable of.

  She had dallied overlong in the village and was walking back to her keep as the sun began to set. In hurrying back to the keep, she had not realized that this stranger was approaching. By the time she realized there was an English monster in her village, he was upon her. She thought he would run her down or worse, take her to be violated. Just when she thought he would snatch her up into his saddle, he nodded and smiled again. He rode past her swiftly and as she watched him ride off, he turned to smile at her one more time. Their eyes met and she felt her heart stir. Something made her gasp as she looked at him. There was something important about this man. She was supposed to know what that was. Then, somewhere in her subconscious thought, she was aware that she was still on the mountain rise. She was drawn back to her past, for this was her future.~

  Was Morag right? Was that man him, the one she was destined to marry? Was she still dreaming? She felt she would never forget him, even if she never saw him again...and then she woke up.

  Her heart was hammering wildly. The first rays of morning were warming down on her through the boughs of the towering pine tree overhead. She blinked. It had been a dream. It was just a dream. Then as the realization of what she had seen in the land of dreams and magic came to her, she was sickened in horror.

  No! It could not be. She would never wed a man who was an enemy to her people. Too many had died at the hands of the English. This was not her destiny! She wanted to cry. It had to be a mistake. Her young heart nearly broke at the thought of being wed to a raping, murdering Englishman. She made the vow to never wed if it meant not bringing this evil to her land.

  Morag watched the young girl who was her charge and she saw a gamut of emotions play across the beautiful face of the maiden. So, she had seen him, too.

  “Well, was he not handsome?”

  “I...I didna' dream of my intended. Yer' draught did not work, this time.”

  “Oh, Aye? Perhaps ye’ will remember him after ye’ dream again, because ye’ will see him again. Of this I can promise ye’.”

  The young girl shook her head, “no”.

  “Why are ye' afraid to admit it?”

  “I am no' afraid. I just didna' dream of my intended, that's all.”

  She could never admit that she dreamed of a dreaded Englishman, nor could she ever admit that seeing him had stirred her beyond her wildest imaginings. Destiny could be changed and she vowed to change hers. These Old ways were fast becoming the superstitions and beliefs of the past.

  And though she denied it, many nights she did dream about him. She hoped to forget about a young girl's fancy as life had a way of dulling memories of the past. She told herself many times that a young girl's fancy was just that. She was a daughter to the laird of a powerful clan in the Highlands. There was no time or reason to dwell on so silly a thought and so, as the years went by, she told herself that her dream that night on the rise over the glen was just a fantasy; something conjured in the drink she was given to ease her discomforts of becoming a woman.

  Chapter One

  Andrew Brandham rode next to the Lord of Ragnorsen Keep, who happened to also be his best friend and he watched as the simmering fury flashed on his friend’s face. Andrew had been Erik Ragnorsen’s friend for nearly 15 years when they had both been fostered to a knight at the young age of 13. Andrew was Erik’s captain of his Elite Guard; a knight unto his own credit; happy to serve under his best friend. Andrew had shared both triumph and tragedy with the huge Norse looking blonde. This day he was not certain which would befall them. Erik had married the raven-haired beauty, Rhianna Du Montefort at the initial instructions of their king, but had at first protested the match. Erik had vehemently objected to being tied to the “old witch” because he had heard Rhianna was on in years and practiced mystical arts.

  Andrew felt his lips quirk remembering those days. His friend wore a similar look of fury when he met the girl in the village. She was quite a sight, splattered in mud from Erik’s own horse and full of spitfire and fury of her own, but Rhianna was far from the old crone Erik had imagined himself saddled to. She was actually quite young, very brave, mayhap a little “witch-like”, but very beautiful. What had started out tempestuously soon turned into a blossoming romance and Erik found himself completely in love with the little witch. Andrew adored her, too, and he was happy his friend had found the love of his life. Erik had sent prior requests to the king petitioning him to free him from marrying Rhianna, but heard no answer. Then, realizing how much he loved her, Erik decided to stop fighting the king’s orders and to marry her quickly.

  Rhianna’s brother and rightful Lord of Montefort keep had been missing for a long time and had been presumed dead, so the king had ordered Erik to take the keep under his care and make the girl his wife. Randall Du Montefort had returned; hale and healthy after all and with a wife of his own. Only now, after all this time, the king had decided to honor Erik’s initial request. He sent a missive ordering Erik to hold off on the wedding because he had a more important betrothal for his knight…a young Scottish girl who was the daughter of a powerful chieftain. Erik had written that it was too late and that he had already married Rhianna Du Montefort, but the king, in his sometimes cruel humor decided to nullify the marriage since there were yet no children. It was politically beneficial to align his powerful knight with the Scottish Clan. Andrew’s smile faded thinking about these unfortunate turn of events.

  He had never known his friend to be happier than when he married Rhianna. They complimented each other and his once hardened friend seemed happy and content. No longer did he harbor the wanderlust that was inbred from his Viking heritage. He had found a home and a love that soothed his soul and now the king wanted to declare that union void. Rhianna had conceived a child quickly…maybe too quickly, but tragic events caused the untimely miscarriage of their first born child. Andrew knew how much that had hurt his friends. Their marriage was as valid as any and Andrew stewed that the king could be so cruel and unreasonable. Erik had been a loyal and faithful servant in all things, but not this.

  So today, Andrew rode along side of Erik Ragnorsen to do battle with their king. Andrew glanced over at Erik and knew him well enough to know he should not speak. Erik was furious and righ
tfully so. Besides, Erik was passionate about many things and unfortunately one of those things was his absolute hatred for all things Scottish. Why, he practically spat the girl’s name when he learned of this preposterous alliance with a “Scottish Savage”. Andrew did not share the same venom for the Scots that Erik did, but he was wary just the same. He sighed. When he had vowed to defend Erik’s life as his captain of his Elite Guard, Drew also knew he would lay down his life for Rhianna. Andrew hoped the day would not end with such a decision.

  It was complicated. Bronwyn MacCollum was already a reluctant guest of the king. In truth she was more a hostage than a guest, but Andrew put aside those treasonous thoughts. The king agreed to her release only if Laird MacCollum would agree to a marriage with a powerful English match, in order to assure peace at the border lands. There would be a terrible war if this union was not honored because the MacCollum clan would consider Bronwyn abducted. Andrew was not naïve to the intrigues of the king, but in his service to Erik, he had been somewhat shielded from the nasty politics that went hand in hand with court life. Some people enjoyed the intrigue and mystique of court. Andrew was not one of them.

  After several long hours of silent fury, Andrew could keep silent no longer. He cleared his throat and spoke.

  “Perhaps the king will listen to reason, Erik. Cool heads will often prevail.”

  Erik turned an icy stare at his friend and said, “Drew, you don’t understand. There is no reasoning with this king.”

  “Still, if we present the reality…” Erik cut Andrew off.

  “The reality? Reality, huh? Drew, I didn’t tell Rhianna, but the last missive was the document of dissolution. That is the reality.” Drew looked confused.