by Allie Mackay
Margo shuddered.
She gripped the edge of the hut’s door, unable to take her gaze from the spectacle.
Until a sudden movement from the opposite side of Until a sudden movement from the opposite side of the bay caught her eyes and a loud splashing rose above the chaos, making her turn toward several large and fierce Viking ships that flashed out from the harbor and straight into the bay. The dragon ships’ long oars rose and fell like pistons, and white water hissed down their sides as they sped toward one of the other large warships.
Before Margo could blink, the lead ship sheared down the side of the other one, snapping her long oars like wooden matchsticks, laming the ship.
She tore her gaze from the frightening sight, and it was then that she saw the tall, raven-haired warrior at the prow of the attacking warship.
A ship with fierce black and red raven heads decorating the tall stem and stern posts.
The proud warrior lord was Magnus in all his battle glory.
“Magnus!” Margo’s heart split. Relief rushed her and her knees almost buckled. “Oh, God, he’s here!
Magnus has come for me.”
She was safe now, whatever came.
“He’ll see me slice you to ribbons is all he’ll do here.” Donata shot an arm around Margo’s waist, pulling her close as she jabbed Margo’s belly with the tip of her dagger. “I’ll keep you in sight here, at the door, until he’s on the strand. Then I’ll cut you good.”
“He’ll kill you.” Margo was sure of it.
“He can try.” Donata wriggled the fingers of her knife hand, and tongues of red fire shot from her fingertips, the flames hissing in the cold, damp air.
“Magnus MacBride can’t touch my magic.” She closed her fingers around the dagger hilt again and the flame tongues fizzled away.
“No, you’re wrong.” Margo tried to speak as strongly as she could. “Your magic can’t harm him. He doesn’t fear you, so you have no power over him.” She hoped to God she was right.
“We shall see.” Donata’s tone made Margo’s blood run cold.
Margo willed courage to flood her senses and bolster her. She also kept her gaze on Magnus, taking strength from him as Sea-Raven spun in a tight circle, churning the water, as she shot after another Viking warship, clearly meaning to slice more oar blades.
The beating of the oars made the water boil; men’s shouts blended with the splintering of wood as the attacking ship’s bow raced down the side of her enemy, snapping the oar shafts. Margo’s heart filled her throat as she watched, unable to look away. Other ships she recognized as part of Magnus’s fleet were clashing just as fiercely with the Viking ships.
Everywhere warships spun and attacked, slamming into one another, grapnel chains flying as the ships into one another, grapnel chains flying as the ships crashed together, men leaping from one bow platform to the next, swords and axes bright in the air.
The fighting was loud, red, and terrible. And never had Magnus looked more powerful, bold, or gorgeous.
He towered above his crew, all huge men. Dressed for warring, he was mailed and helmeted. Even from shore, Margo could see that his eyes blazed with fury.
His hair was unbound, spilling loose from beneath his headgear. A glistening raven skein, the long strands flew around his shoulders in the wind. He held Vengeance high in the air and the glinting blade shone red, as did the steel of his mail shirt and the rings on his arms. And like so many of the other men, he was cheering as they sent fire arrows arcing across the sky, many of the arrows finding their mark in Viking sails or on deck.
Within moments, the loch was ablaze. The warships’ sails were burning quickly, the fires leaping from ship to ship. And still men fought, yelling and screaming, many jumping into the sea to avoid the flames, and then sinking as their heavy mail weighed them down.
It was chaos.
Beside her, Donata mumbled, speaking low incantations Margo didn’t understand.
She didn’t care.
Donata was underestimating the power of love, a much greater force than any sorceress’s babble and threats.
When Magnus reached the shore, he’d rescue her.
Margo didn’t doubt it.
She kept her gaze locked on Magnus and the Sea-Raven.
He didn’t see her.
Nor—her heart stopped—did he see the huge, half-naked Norseman climbing stealthily up the far side of the Sea-Raven, a wicked-looking dagger clutched in his teeth, deadly purpose in his eye.
Magnus had his back to the assassin.
Any moment, the man’s long, thin blade would sink into Magnus’s flesh, killing him.
A quick stab beneath the ribs or a fast slashing cut across the throat, and all would be over.
Their future stolen before Margo had a chance to run and leap back into his arms.
“No-o-o!” The denial tore from her throat, welling up and ripping open something hard and tight inside her, letting so much strength and courage burst free that she was able to knock Donata’s dagger from her side. She wrenched from the sorceress’s grasp.
“Magnus, watch out!” Margo ran forward, charging through the pockets of men who were now fighting along the shore, skirting and leaping over the fallen, screaming at the top of her lungs.
She could hear Donata chasing after her, yelling and cursing.
But Margo raced on.
The man with the knife in his teeth was already on board the Sea-Raven.
Margo stopped at the edge of the surf, staring at the scene in horror. Magnus was so close, but in such peril. She could see the flash of his grin, the white of his teeth, and even hear his deep, victorious voice shouting at his men to gorge their blades on more Norse blood.
But it was his blood that was about to be spilled.
His killer was creeping forward now, the dagger no longer in his teeth but raised and ready to strike.
Obviously a well-skilled warrior, he used the distraction on the Sea-Raven to blend into the shadows, slinking quietly along the other side of the ship from where Magnus and his men fought against the nearest Norse ship.
He was almost upon Magnus.
“Magnus, no-o-o!” Margo waved her arms and screamed. “Behind you!” She yelled with all her might, so loud that her throat ached, burning like fire.
“Nae, behind you!” Donata’s cry filled the air as she grabbed Margo, jerking her around. “You die now,” she hissed, her hand raised and already slashing downward, aimed at Margo’s heart.
Margo froze for an instant, terror icing her, her eyes on the flashing blade.
Then adrenaline, fear, or maybe just the sheer will to live exploded inside her and she leapt aside, flailing her arms with all her might to ward off the dagger’s descent.
Her face twisted with rage, Donata appeared unable to stop the blade’s trajectory. She reeled, slipping on the shingle, as she tried to capture Margo again. But the blade sliced down with lightning speed and the viciousness of hate, plunging deep into a heart that knew only darkness.
Donata’s eyes flew wide, locking on to Margo’s in the horror of her last breath.
“Oh, God!” Margo clapped her hands to her face and backed away as the other woman toppled, crumpling to the rocky shore. Her sightless eyes stared heavenward, no longer flashing silver and inspiring terror, but blank and powerless. The sea was already claiming her, lapping at her black silk cloak, pulling at her long raven hair, and washing red-tinged spume onto her silver and jet bangles.
Donata was dead.
And Margo hadn’t even touched her except to defend herself.
Still. . .
She felt as if she’d killed someone.
“It wasn’t you, lass.” A deep, beloved voice called behind her and she turned to see Magnus striding up out of the surf, a score of his men coming behind him.
They all held swords in their hands—bloodred swords—but they were grinning so broadly to see her that she sobbed and ran the rest of the way to Magnus.
&nbs
p; His gaze flicked to her waist as she neared him, his eyes widening. “God’s mercy!” He pulled off his helmet and stared at the bloodstains, his face turning ashen. “You’re hurt!”
His men formed a circle around them, their faces equally grim now.
“What did she do to you?” He reached her, the horror on his face breaking her heart. “I’ll—”
“It’s nothing, only flesh wounds.” Margo shook her head, glancing down at the red stains on her gown’s middle. “She nicked me, that’s all. She was taunting me, trying to scare me back in the drying hut. It hardly hurts.”
“You are sure?” His face was fierce. He kept glancing at her waist, a muscle jerking in his cheek.
When he looked up again, he was ashen with horror.
“Oh, Magnus, don’t look that way. I’m fine, truly.”
“Praise God.” He closed his eyes, the color returning to his face. “I thought—”
“And you are safe! I’m so glad!” She flung herself at him, her eyes blurring as he grabbed her, sweeping her up hard against him and kissing her roughly. “I thought you’d be dead.” She pulled back to look at him, smoothing his hair.
He stroked her cheek, soothing her. “Sword Breaker tried hard to kill me,but your cry warned me. I spun around, ducking as he lunged. And then”—he grinned—“he learned the taste of my steel even before I’d straightened.”
He sobered, his gaze fixed on her face. “I have waited long to take vengeance on that one. If you hadn’t yelled—”
“Don’t say it, please.” Margo touched her fingers to his mouth, stopping the words before he could speak them. “If I hadn’t been here, you wouldn’t have been—”
“Aye, I would have been fighting him.” He took her hand, turning it so he could kiss her palm, the sensitive skin of her wrist. “Could be he might no’ have crept on board the Sea-Raven this day, but there would have been another day, a new battle.
Many such fights, and for as long as I would have needed to end his reign of terror.”
“And now?” Margo could hardly speak for the tightness in her chest.
“Now”—he took her face in his hands and kissed her—“you have done more than show me wonder and joy. You have brought me peace. Something tells me there will nae be much warring in these parts from this day onward. With Sword Breaker dead and many of his friends at the bottom of Loch Gairloch with him, I’m of a mind to enjoy my hearth fire more.
“And”—he kissed her again—“a certain cliff with a very fine view. If you will join me there?”
“Oh, Magnus ... you know I will.” Margo’s heart squeezed. She knew her eyes were misting.
Behind him, she could see the Viking ships burning, a few lone vessels speeding away toward the horizon, defeated and fleeing. Some men still fought, but halfheartedly, the battle now winding down.
Magnus and his men had won.
She had won.
Yet she twisted round to stare at Donata’s body, her black cloak drifting back and forth with the washing tide.
“You didn’t kill her, sweet.” Magnus cupped her chin, turned her face away from the sorceress’s body. “We all saw it happen. She lost her footing, stabbing herself after you leapt aside and her aim went off balance. That’s what happened.”
“Aye, that was way of it.” Orosius grinned, stepping out from the circle of men. “The force of the strike she meant for you drove the blade deep. No’ that it matters now. She’s gone, and I’m for home!” A chorus of ayes agreed with him.
Magnus grinned and lifted a brow at Margo. “And you, lass?” He glanced across the water to where the fierce red-and-black-painted dragon ship rocked in the surf. “Are you up for another sea voyage on the Sea-Raven?”
Margo didn’t hesitate. “Oh, yes.”
Magnus grinned. “Then all is well.”
Turning to Calum, he nodded briefly. “Gather the men and get any stragglers back on board. And”—he glanced at Margo, a look of hope in his eye—“tell any who haven’t yet noticed that we found my bride and she is well. We’ll have an additional passenger for the journey home. A lady who, I have reason to believe, will be staying with us for a very long time.
“I hope for the rest of my days,” he added, leaning close to her ear, the words for her alone.
“I hope so, too.” Margo could hardly speak.
“I thought so.” Magnus winked, and then kissed her, hard and swift. The embrace was so full of passion that it warmed her immediately, even after all the horror she had witnessed. Setting her from him, he looked at his men, waving them away. “Go back to the ship. I’d have a moment alone with my lady.” ship. I’d have a moment alone with my lady.” The men turned, dutifully striding away, back into the tossing surf. Only Orosius hesitated, returning after taking a few steps.
“Just one thing ...” He leaned close, lowering his voice so only Magnus and Margo would hear. “You erred about Lady Margo staying with you for a long time.”
His words put a fierce scowl on Magnus’s face and filled Margo with terror.
But then the seer grinned and thumped Magnus’s shoulder. “Truth is she’ll be with you throughout this life and all the ones beyond.”
He stepped back then, looking proudly sage. “That, too, I saw.”
Then he turned and strode back across the sand, his war ax still dangling from his hand and his step much too jaunty for a man his age.
“Do you think he’s right?” Margo hoped it desperately.
“Aye, he is.” Magnus’s tone was firm. “Orosius always speaks true.”
“But what if—”
“You will nae be swept away from me, Margo.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, his dark eyes locking on hers. “If you think I’m fierce against Vikings, you haven’t seen how I’ll fight if anyone tries to take you from me again. No Cursing Stone, if e’er such a wonder reappears. No fool time gates or whate’er you called the like. No force on earth will separate us, I promise you.”
“You’re sure?” Margo needed certainty.
“I’ll carve it in stone if you wish.” His voice was rough, his eyes darkening with an intensity that sent warmth spilling through her.
She held his gaze, her mind warning her that their love couldn’t possibly work. Her heart said otherwise.
He was so tall, strong, and handsome. A bold, invincible man who could make anything happen.
Yet it wasn’t his powerful build or his fierceness that convinced her.
It was the slow smile beginning to curve his lips. The way he was looking at her, his expression melting her.
She took a shallow breath, her heart turning over.
“You don’t need to carve it in stone.” She couldn’t believe her voice didn’t crack. “I believe you.” His smile deepened, but he also raised a brow.
“You’ll no’ be missing thon Pen-seal place? You know I must be asking. I’ll no’ have you turning unhappy and—”
“Unhappy with you?” She blinked once, twice. “And here, in the Highlands?” She couldn’t hold back her own smile. “There’s not a chance of that happening,” she promised, knowing she’d never spoken truer words.
Then she raised her hands to frame his face as she lifted up on her toes to kiss him, soft and sweet, gently and so full of meaning.
She leaned into him, hoping she could speak past the thickness in her throat. “Orosius was right. I know we belong together. I think I’ve always known it, known you. And you’re so right. I’m not going anywhere.
Certainly not back to—”
“Och, but you are going somewhere.” He lowered his head, kissing her again, deeply and more thorough. “Did you no’ hear? You’re returning with me to Badcall and—”
“I know.” She pulled back to look at him. “But Badcall isn’t what I meant. That’s where I want to be, with you, and always. I meant I won’t be going anyplace else.
“I’m here to stay.” She twined her arms around his neck, tunneling her fingers in his hair. “I’ve ne
ver wanted anything more.”
“Valkyrie ...” He took her face in his hands and kissed her again, hard, fast, and bruising this time.
When he broke away, his face held a look that made her heart swell with happiness. “You are all I have e’er wanted. My love for you fills me so completely I sometimes wonder I can draw breath.”
“I think I’ve loved you forever.” Margo spoke the words against his cheek, leaning into him. “Almost as if . . .” She let the words tail off, aware of the slow simmer beginning to darken his eyes.
“Be warned, Margo-lass, tempting me as you are.” He glanced down to where her breasts pressed against his chest. “I’ve a great need for you. And this night, when we reach Badcall, I’m going to slake it.” His smile turned wicked. “Unless you’d rather I no’?”
“Oh, no!” She pulled back to look at him. Desire whipped through her, hot, spearing pleasure. “I’d never deny you anything. I just don’t want to wake up and find I’m only dreaming.”
“You’re no’ dreaming, sweet.” He shook his head, the love she saw in his eyes melting her. “And I promise I’ll ne’er let you go.”
“Would you swear that on Vengeance?” She decided to be daring.
He patted his sword hilt and grinned. “You have my oath on Vengeance, Sea-Raven, Badcall”—he glanced over at the shaggy gray dog loping back and forth along the surf line, waiting for them—“Frodi, and anything else dear to me.”
Margo blinked, knowing that was serious.
“Did you no’ hear me? I love you, my too-rist.” He pulled her to him again, holding her so tight she feared he’d break her ribs. From the Sea-Raven, men cheered. Some were even thrusting their swords in the air, though Orosius’s war ax could be seen flashing in a bright circle above the other weapons.
Frodi barked, his tail wagging.
Magnus ignored them all.
“I do love you, Margo.” He bracketed her face again, smoothed back her hair as he looked deep into her eyes. “I think I may have done even before we met.
I know I’ll keep on loving you when we are no more.”
“Oh, Magnus ...” Margo couldn’t speak.
But she did do the unthinkable. Hot, burning tears began to leak from her eyes as he held her, spilling down her cheeks one by one and falling softly onto the rocky shore of a real live Scottish strand.