Wildly Romantic: A Multi-Genre Collection

by Lana Williams

  “Margit killed Gorm with your dagger.”

  Ragna gasped. “I don’t understand. How did she get it? It was stolen from me by one of the men who attacked us at Husembro.”

  Kjartan looked to Dieter for an explanation. “We repelled them easily. They were probably not expecting a large force. The burly giant who stole Ragna’s dagger swam out to reach the escaping longboat, after Thor bit his leg. We assumed he drowned.”

  “Evidently not. It may have been Roar Knutsen. Reider wounded him in the battle, but he looked as though he had been in a recent fight, limping badly. He may not survive. Margit already had the dagger. She killed Gorm and threw herself on Reider’s mercy. Upon seeing his reaction to the dagger, she must have realized how much he cared for you. Roar may have been the one to reveal your existence. Margit used Reider’s concern to her advantage, leading us to believe she had you imprisoned and held sway over your life.”

  Ragna chewed her nails, something he had never seen her do before. “Reider was concerned for me?”

  Kjartan took her hand. “What Reider feels for you is more than concern.”

  Ragna slumped into a chair. “But he is to wed Margit.”

  “He will not wed her if he knows you are safe.”

  She came to her feet. “Then we have no time to waste.”

  Kjartan chuckled. “Ragna, you are the perfect mate for Reider. But there is more I need to tell you. Sit down. You will not believe the next part.”

  Ragna pouted, and sat huffily. He beckoned to a young woman seated at a table near them. She came to her feet and approached them, holding a bundle, which she placed in front of Ragna. Ragna frowned and looked inquiringly at Kjartan. “Open it,” he said.

  She squared her shoulders and opened the cloth wrapping, gasping at the object she beheld. “My dagger—wait—no, it isn’t mine! But it looks—” She glanced up sharply at Kjartan.

  He put his hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Ragna, may I present my cousin, Dagfrid. This dagger is hers.”

  Ragna’s frown showed her confusion. “But it is identical to mine. It’s as if the same person carved the hilt.”

  He held out his hand. “Exactly, cousin.”

  Dieter interrupted. “You mean to say the same person did carve them? That you and Dagfrid and Ragna share an ancestor?”

  Kjartan did not expect to be emotional, but as he took hold of Ragna’s hands, he choked on the lump in his throat. “Ragna, I believe, four generations ago, we shared a grandfather.”

  Ragna sat open-mouthed, running her fingers over the carving of the Viking. She looked from Dieter, nodding with an amused look on his face, to Dagfrid, beaming a big smile, to Kjartan. Then she too smiled broadly and leapt into Kjartan’s arms. “This is wonderful. We knew our roots on my mother’s side were Danish, but I never expected to meet any of my relatives. When I set sail, I did not intend to visit Denmark.”

  Kjartan hugged her. “Fate sometimes has a way of making things happen that we do not plan.”

  Dieter pumped Kjartan’s hand. “I suppose we are vaguely related too! I am married to Ragna’s sister, Blythe.”

  Ragna turned to Dagfrid and embraced her. “Cousin,” she rasped.

  Wiping away tears, she asked Kjartan, “But where is my dagger now?”

  “Reider keeps it with him.”

  XXI

  While he waited for the guards to bring Margit from her cell, Reider settled into his father’s throne and brooded, his hand resting on the hilt of Ragna’s dagger. He seethed with dread, longing to hold Ragna and be assured of her safety, frustrated by his powerlessness.

  In the custody of two of his men, Margit burst into the Hall, dishevelled, dirty, and toweringly furious. The stink of the gaol clung to her. “This is no way to treat the woman you are to wed, Reider Torfinnsen.”

  Reider tightened his grip on the dagger, itching to thrust it into Margit’s heart. Did she indeed hold Ragna captive, or was it a ploy to manipulate him? He dare not take a chance with Ragna’s life. If Roar Knutsen survived his wounds and the fever that ravaged him, Reider might extract the truth. Margit was unaware that Roar still lived.

  Reider missed Kjartan’s counsel, but it had been imperative that his friend go to Husembro to determine what had happened there. He had to be wary with Margit, had to make her believe he would indeed marry her. His heart belonged to another, a woman who might never give herself over to a man, but he knew he would not live long if he wed Margit.

  He forced a smile. “Are the guards not taking adequate care of you, Margit? Do you not have food, and warmth?”

  She sneered at him, scratching her head as though it itched unbearably. “You will free me now, or the woman will die.”

  The frenzied glint in her eye gave him pause. Margit’s thirst for power had pushed her into madness. He would need to be wary. “If you kill her, you and I will never wed. What assurances do I have that you will not murder her after you and I are married?”

  She sidled up to the throne, and put her hands on his thighs, leaning forward to emphasize her cleavage. “I give you my word.”

  Reider snorted and removed her hands. “The word of a woman who has betrayed every man who ever trusted her? I will not agree to the ceremony unless you guarantee her freedom.”

  Margit put her hands on her hips and paced. “Hah! Then you will kill me and turn to her.”

  Reider shook his head. He would not take the life of this pathetic creature, but neither would he allow her to harm another soul. “I give you my word not to have you executed. You know me as a man who honors his promises. Now, what is my guarantee?”

  She glared at him.

  Would she relent?

  He returned her stare.

  Margit thrust out her chin. “I cannot reveal where she is.”

  He leapt to his feet and strode over to her, anger and frustration rising in his throat, his nose inches from hers. “Because you do not have her. You are lying.”

  She spat in his face.

  Disgust rose in his throat. He wiped his cheek and ordered the guards to take her away. She screamed obscenities as they dragged her out.

  His innards in knots, Reider went to see if Roar still lived.

  The giant’s fever had left him, but he lay rigid on his pallet. His eyes were closed, his pallor ashen. The thrall who tended him, one of his concubines, shook her head. Roar was dying.

  “Has he spoken?”

  She kept her eyes downcast. “A few words.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He is in pain, my lord prince. His words make no sense.”

  Reider looked at the once-mighty warrior. Had this brute slain Ragna? Or imprisoned her? He had to know. He turned to the thrall. “Leave us!”

  She bowed and obeyed at once.

  He leaned close to Roar’s ear and whispered his name.

  The giant’s eyes flickered open.

  “You know who I am, Roar?”

  The giant nodded. “My lord Reider,” he rasped.

  “You are dying, Roar.”

  Knutsen nodded and swallowed hard.

  “Will you enter Valhalla, Roar, or will the guilt of your misdeeds consign you to Hel?”

  Roar’s eyes opened wide. “My lord Reider, I regret my part in your father’s murder. It was a mistake to support Gorm. I beg your forgiveness.”

  Reider grasped Roar’s cold hand. “I acknowledge your repentance.”

  The tension eased out of Roar’s body. Reider watched him for a short while, then put his hand on the man’s festering shoulder and pressed gently. “You are not free yet, Roar. What have you done with the blonde woman from Husembro?”

  Roar winced. “Blonde? Nothing! I swear. I took her dagger, but I did not kill her.”

  “You left her there?”

  The giant licked his lips, breathing hard. “I had to escape. Her vicious hound sank its teeth in my leg. I do not know what happened to her.”

  Reider smirked. Thor, a vicious hound? The plucky d
og had evidently saved Ragna. He eased the pressure on Roar’s shoulder. “And you gave her dagger to Margit?”

  Roar snorted. “Not willingly.”

  Reider gave the dying man ale to sip, holding it to his parched lips. “Is there anything else you wish to tell me?”

  Roar clutched Reider’s hand. “You will be a good ruler, my prince.”

  They were his last words.

  XXII

  “Strand ahead!” Ivar shouted from the prow, Thor barking at his side. The Danes in the accompanying longboats yelled in jubilation and lifted their hands in salute. The noise caught the attention of men on the beach, who waved back.

  Ragna gripped the side of the knarr with one hand. Dieter held the other. He kept silent, for which she was grateful. She had always been strong, but now she worried she would cry like a baby if Reider had indeed wed Margit. Perhaps it was fanciful to believe he cared for her, a wilful Englishwoman. A Danish prince would no doubt be expected to marry into another powerful Danish family.

  The beauty of Reider’s homeland took her breath away. To one side the land was completely flat and green as far as the eye could see. Sheep dotted the landscape. To the other, the beach soon rose to become grass-tufted dunes. Beyond loomed soft blue hills, dotted with forests and farms. Her fur hood slipped to her shoulders and the wind whipped her hair over her face. She loosed her grip on the rough wood to smooth it back. Fingering the braided headband, she tossed her head and looked back to the beach.

  Reider stood on the shore, legs braced. His hand was raised in a welcoming salute, his long hair flying free in the breeze, her headband around his forehead.

  He had come to greet her! Her breasts tingled and she stifled the urge to giggle like a child, feeling her face redden. What would Dieter think? Her brother-by-marriage squeezed her hand. She looked up at him. He was smiling. She returned the smile and raised her hand to wave to the man waiting for her.

  As the knarr came into shore, Reider waded out into the shallows, arms outstretched. Her dagger was tucked into his belt. She laughed, climbed onto the side and leapt into his arms. “My Viking beckons again and I can do naught but jump into his welcoming embrace.”

  He too laughed and staggered backwards when Thor leapt from the boat. Reider cradled her, carrying them to the shore. “Must I always be saving you and your hound from the sea?”

  She reached up to finger the headband, then put her palm to the side of his face. “I seem compelled to leap into your arms, Reider.”

  Once they reached the beach, Thor jumped from her lap, wagging his tail furiously. Reider set her back on her feet, put his hands on her waist and pressed her to his body. “You came to me,” he rasped, then kissed her with a hungry intensity.

  She felt his hard male length against her belly and her heartbeat pulsed in a very private place. Kjartan and Dieter had both disembarked from their vessels and they led the good natured cheering. Ragna had forgotten she and Reider were not alone.

  ~*~

  Reider made a mock bow to his audience, and offered Ragna his arm. She introduced him to Dieter and told of his role in her rescue. Everyone walked in the direction of the Great Hall, but Reider pulled her aside and escorted her to his private lodge.

  She had followed him to Strand! He had recognised Ivar’s boat as one that could have carried her to safety, but she had chosen to come to him.

  Kjartan was right. He would be a fool to let her go. He kissed her again, inhaling the spicy scent he had missed. Ragna aroused him like no woman before. His heart had skipped a beat when he realized she was aboard the incoming boat. The moment the wind had whipped her hair over her face, his pik had turned to granite. He coaxed her lips with his tongue. “Open for me, Ragna,” he whispered.

  She parted her lips and he delved his tongue deep inside the warmth of her mouth. She tasted salty. Jealousy had surged in him at the sight of her holding another man’s hand on the boat. He cupped her bottom and ran his tongue over her teeth. The deep groan that emerged from her throat betrayed her longing. She had ached for him as he had ached for her. Did his prinsessen love him?

  Suddenly, she pulled away, pushing her hands against his chest, pouting. “You said you would come back for me, Reider, but I have been forced to search you out. You left me at the mercy of your step-brother’s men. Had it not been for Dieter and Ivar—”

  Life with Ragna will never be dull!

  He put his forefinger to her lips. “I know. In hindsight, I should have taken you to Dagfinn, but my desire for revenge and justice clouded my thoughts. I doubted everyone. Forgive me. When I was told of the battle at Husembro, my heart broke.”

  She frowned. “Your heart? You have no room in your heart for me. You told me so.”

  He put his hands over hers. “After Margit’s betrayal I thought never to trust a woman again. Anger consumed me. That was before I met you. You are direct and forthright, and you inflame me as no woman ever has. I would trust you with my life, and my heart.”

  She blinked and inhaled sharply. “You would entrust your heart to me?”

  He pressed her hand against his chest. “I already have. Can you not feel it beating for you? I want you to be my wife, Ragna, my prinsessen. It isn’t the life you’ve been used to, but—”

  Now she put a silencing finger to his lips. “But what of Margit? Kjartan told me you were supposed to marry her.”

  “I wanted her to believe that, because I didn’t know if she had captured you. I had to ensure your safety, but I would never have married her. It’s you I love.”

  “You love me? How can you love me? I am stubborn, and wilful, everyone says so. You will think this amusing, but my family has always called me their Wild Viking Princess.”

  He was convinced then that Fate had brought this incredible woman to his side. “It is obvious to me you were destined to be mine. You truly are a Viking, of Kjartan’s lineage, and you will rule with me as my prinsessen. It’s fitting I called you by that name from the moment I met you. Be my bride, Ragna. I want to live my life with you.”

  ~*~

  From the tips of her toes to the top of her head, Ragna’s body burned for the man who stood before her. Agneta FitzRam had been right. Love conquered all. If someone had foretold that Ragna would marry a Danish prince who ruled a remote principality on the shores of the North Sea, she would have laughed in their face. Where was the excitement in that? Now she knew it was where she wanted to be, where she had to be.

  “I wish my mother and father had met you, Reider. My mother often told me I would know when I met my soul mate. She was right. When you beckoned me to jump into the sea, I obeyed without thinking. My heart knew you were my destiny.”

  Reider cradled her face in his hands. “You will wed with me?”

  She put her hands over his and smiled. “My parents would have approved of you, and I am confident my brother-by-marriage will give his consent on behalf of my older brother, Aidan.”

  Then she winked at him. “But I would have said yes anyway, with or without their approval. I love you, Reider Torfinnsen.”

  Reider whooped loudly, scooped her up and strode to the Great Hall, where a large crowd had assembled. Kjartan was introducing Dieter to everyone, and Ivar was renewing old acquaintances. Heads turned when Reider kicked open the door. “People of Strand, greet your future Prinsessen. Ragna FitzRam is to be my wife.”

  A moment of utter silence ensued. A lump stuck in her throat. They disapproved of his marrying a foreigner. Then a rousing cheer went up and she breathed a sigh of relief. They spent the next hour accepting hugs and handshakes of congratulations.

  At length, Ragna got a chance to speak privately with Dieter. “I am sorry Reider made the announcement without consulting you, Dieter. I suppose my visit to Blythe will have to wait a little longer.”

  He shrugged and kissed her forehead. “Be truthful, Ragna, my opinion would have made no difference. But for what it’s worth, I approve. And you won’t be too far away from Wolfenberg
here in Strand. No treacherous sea crossing; just a short cruise to Hamburg, and then overland.”

  She hugged him. “Thank you, Dieter. No wonder Blythe loves you. And thank you for coming to my rescue. Just one more favor.”

  He arched his brows. “Of course.”

  “I’ll be writing to Aidan, to explain. Perhaps a letter from you would help reassure him?”

  Dieter chuckled. “It would be my pleasure. He’ll have a difficult time believing the story.”

  Ragna laughed. “But he’ll be excited to hear of our Danish ancestors. I plan to learn of Kjartan’s family’s history.”

  Reider joined them and put his arm possessively around Ragna’s shoulders. “I apologise, Count Dieter, that I have not welcomed you properly to our lands, and thanked you for saving Ragna’s life. I hope you will stay for our wedding.”

  Ragna clapped her hands together. “Yes, please stay, Dieter, then you can tell Blythe.”

  Dieter shook Reider’s hand. “Of course I will stay, and let’s dispense with my title. We will soon be brothers-by-marriage.”

  Ragna liked the sound of that. Pride in her future husband filled her heart.

  XXIII

  Reider took Ragna’s hand. How to explain what must be done before they could be married? “Ragna, if I had my way, you and I would marry today. But Kjartan has discovered that my father was hastily buried in an ordinary grave, like a mere thrall. He will not find peace in the afterlife until he is honored with the proper burial rites. He will wander as a draugr.”

  Ragna frowned and looked to Dieter who explained, “A revenant.”

  She shivered and nodded her understanding.

  Reider continued. “I cannot be recognised as the rightful heir until my father’s spirit is laid to rest. I must drink the sjaund.”

  Ragna again looked to Dieter for help. “The funeral ale.”

  She squeezed Reider’s hands in reassurance. “Of course, I understand. My parents’ bodies were never found after they drowned. It was my father’s wish to be buried in the crypt at Montbryce Castle in Normandie alongside his father. I have often worried that their souls wander somewhere, searching—”