Stolen by the Viking

by Michelle Willingham

‘I love you, Breanne,’ he said. ‘And I want you to be my wife.’

  He hadn’t meant to blurt out the words so suddenly, but it was the truth. He didn’t want to awaken without her by his side. She had never perceived him as less than a man, and with her, he was whole. He didn’t care where they lived, so long as they were together.

  Breanne’s face transformed with a blend of relief and joy. ‘Yes,’ she wept. ‘I promise.’

  He buried his face in her hair, feeling gratitude that she would share her life with him. When he pulled back, he saw Feann watching, and a look of understanding passed between them. The king knew that he would guard her with his life and defend her.

  For so long, he had lived for vengeance, never realising that it was a hollow emotion. In the end, death would not heal the wounds of loss. Only love could do that.

  When he took Breanne’s hands in his and faced the people, one of the men approached. The man had dark hair with threads of silver, and he regarded both of them. With a glance at the others, he spoke only a few words. ‘Our council of brehons would like to speak with you both to discuss the future of Clonagh.’

  Alarr didn’t answer at first, though he knew it was a grave concern for them. King Cerball wanted Breanne to govern her own lands with a loyal man at her side. But Alarr would never let anyone take her from him now. And that left him questioning what was right.

  ‘I would like to speak to them as well,’ came the voice of Feann. ‘And I would like to propose that Breanne should become your queen.’

  She was already shaking her head in refusal. ‘I know nothing about ruling over a clan. And I will not wed another man for an alliance of your choosing. The only one I will take as my husband is Alarr.’

  He held her close, feeling her tension rise higher. But the older clansman surprised him by nodding in agreement. ‘Having a Lochlannach as your husband may prove to be of value. There are several settlements nearby. It would be an advantage to have someone who could intercede on our behalf and prevent raids.’

  Alarr sobered as he realised what they were asking. They wanted him to stay at Clonagh with Breanne. Only a man of honour and strength could rule over a small kingdom. He held Breanne close, and though he had never imagined such a life would be possible, he would do anything to remain at her side.

  Four days later

  Breanne stood beside her father, the immense joy swelling up within her. Feann’s expression held a tight emotion and he ventured, ‘You’re certain that wedding this man is what you want.’

  She nodded, and smiled, feeling as if her heart would soar out from her chest. ‘It is.’ Her only regret was that Alarr’s brother Rurik was not here, though she had sent a message to Killcobar. Likely, he was on a ship already, journeying to Northumbria, in search of answers. But she hoped he would return to visit.

  Breanne wore a gown of deep green with a golden torque around her throat. Her hair was braided back with flowers, and the thought of her wedding brought a surge of emotions brimming up within her. Alarr meant everything to her, and she could hardly believe that they would be married this day.

  ‘King Cerball will not like this union,’ her father warned. ‘He wanted you to wed an Irish ally.’

  ‘But you will intercede for me, won’t you?’ She met his gaze with her own fervent hope.

  ‘I will speak with him,’ Feann promised. ‘But I cannot say that Cerball will approve. If you allow his soldiers to stay for a time, he may relent and call them back, once he is certain there is no threat.’

  Breanne didn’t like the thought of the ringfort remaining occupied by Cerball’s guards. And yet, she also understood that it was a means towards peace and a compromise was necessary. In time, perhaps she could convince the king to send them away.

  ‘I hope that will not take long. The people feel uneasy with so many outsiders.’

  Her father nodded with understanding. ‘It will take time for them to accept the changes. But so long as you remain queen and appoint a small council of advisors, it will suffice.’ One of the terms of their marriage contract was that Alarr had sworn to let her rule over Clonagh. He had admitted to her privately that he agreed with her father. It was easier for the people to accept an Irish queen than a foreigner. In the meantime, Alarr intended to oversee their defences and protect the ringfort from harm.

  Breanne reached out to take her father’s hand. Feann walked with her from the small dwelling and led her outside. Alarr was waiting for her, but she could see the apprehension on his face. Not from the marriage, but likely from memories of his previous wedding ceremony. His gaze shifted around the ringfort as if searching for invisible threats.

  He wore his Lochlannach attire of a woollen tunic, leather armour and dark leggings. She was not at all displeased, for she was about to marry a warrior. This was his custom, and she was proud of his physical form. His dark hair was wet, and his face held the stubble of a dark beard. Around his throat, he wore a bronze necklace with small hammer pendants. It gave him a wild appearance, and a rush of desire filled her up inside. Later this night, she would welcome the chance to feel his hardened muscular form against hers.

  But when Alarr caught sight of her, his expression transformed. There was wonder in his eyes, as if he could not believe she was standing there. She smiled at him, and he gave an answering smile. When he took her hands, she squeezed his in reassurance.

  ‘I love you,’ she whispered.

  ‘I love you,’ came his answer. ‘And Freya herself could not be more beautiful.’

  Before the ceremony could begin, there was the sound of an approaching horse. To their surprise, the gates opened, and a single rider drew near.

  He dismounted and pushed his hood back. Alarr’s face held surprise and happiness when he caught sight of his brother Rurik. The younger man hurried towards them. ‘Did I miss the wedding?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Breanne answered. ‘I am so glad you were able to be here.’

  ‘As am I.’ Alarr gripped his brother’s forearms and smiled.

  ‘Your bride sent a message, and I could not refuse.’ He drew back and nodded. ‘I wish you both joy in your marriage.’ Then Rurik returned to stand by the other guests.

  Happiness overwhelmed her with emotions, and she struggled to hold back happy tears. The priest began the words of the marriage rite, and at last, Alarr spoke his vows. ‘In the sight of the gods, I take you as my wife, Breanne. I grant you my protection, and I will provide for you and our children. With Freya’s blessing, I swear to honour you.’

  The tears did fall, then, although she was smiling in the midst of them. The thought of Alarr becoming her husband brought a tender ache to her heart.

  Breanne met his gaze and spoke. ‘In the sight of the gods, I take you as my husband, Alarr. I will make a home for you and give you children, with the blessing of your gods and my own.’

  He gripped her hands tightly, and when she finished her vow, she could see the intense love in his eyes. He would never abandon her, and she had complete trust in him.

  The priest gave his blessing and then instructed Alarr to give her a kiss of peace. He did, and she embraced him fully, so grateful to be wedded to this man. But more than that, she was thankful that he had turned aside his vengeance and had learned to live in peace with Feann. She turned to her foster father, and whispered, ‘Thank you.’

  Alarr led her to the centre of the ringfort and leaned in to murmur at her ear. ‘It is time for you to address the people as their queen.’

  She kept his hand in hers and smiled at the people while they gathered around. ‘I invite all of you to share in our wedding feast and celebration. Know that you are welcome here, and it is our promise to protect this clan. In time, Clonagh will be yours once more.’

  At that, she saw tentative smiles among the people. Many raised their knees as a gesture of respect, and several cheered.

 
Alarr brought her a horn of ale and gave her the first drink before he drank from the same place her lips had touched. He covered the horn and then kissed her in front of everyone. It was a kiss of promise, and it kindled her desire.

  * * *

  Over the next few hours, there was feasting and dancing. She lost track of all the people, and there were so many names she would have to learn. But her happiness soared until she could scarcely contain her joy.

  The air had turned cooler, and Alarr drew his cloak around her after he saw her shiver. She turned to him, pressing her hand against his heart. His arms tightened around her. ‘Are you afraid, søtnos?’

  She shook her head. Afraid wasn’t the right word. She felt the deep pull of anticipation, and she drew her fingers lightly over his face. Alarr’s skin was darker from the sun, and his cheeks were rough with his beard. He took her hand in his and led her to the dwelling that would be theirs. She ducked her head beneath the doorway as she went inside. The air was warmer here, heated by the hot stones around the room. There was a bed of furs in one corner, and someone had laid out food and drink for them to share.

  ‘Is it right to leave the people alone at the feast?’ she wondered aloud.

  ‘I care not,’ Alarr answered. ‘I intend to spend the remainder of this day with you, my bride.’ He drew a low table nearby and bade her to sit down. He chose a selection of roasted fowl, boiled goose eggs, honeyed cakes, and almonds for her. He broke off a piece of meat and drew it to her lips. She ate and did the same for him, bringing her fingers to his mouth. He sucked one finger inside, and she felt the answering pull of desire.

  ‘Alarr,’ she murmured. ‘I find that I’m not very hungry right now.’ She drew her arms around his neck, hoping he would understand her meaning.

  ‘That’s too bad,’ he responded. ‘For I am starving.’ He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the furs.

  After he lowered her to standing, he unlaced her gown, sliding it from her shoulders until it pooled at her feet. He kissed her hard, his callused hands moving to her bare skin beneath her shift. She gasped when he cupped one breast, his thumb caressing the erect nipple.

  Alarr leaned in and kissed her, sliding his tongue over the rosy tip while he stripped away the rest of her clothing.

  He laid her back against the furs, and she could hardly breathe as he feasted upon her, tonguing one breast and then the other. His mouth was hot and hungry upon her skin, tasting every inch. His warm breath brushed over her navel, and he lifted her knees, spreading her open.

  She was trembling at that, feeling utterly vulnerable to him. He cupped her bottom, lifting her until he drew his mouth to her inner thigh. She was already aroused, but the tension of his mouth so close to her womanhood was driving her wild. He slid his tongue so close, and then moved to the opposite thigh, kissing her gently.

  She was desperate to have his mouth upon her, and her fingers gripped the furs tightly. ‘Alarr,’ she moaned. ‘I need you so badly.’

  In the darkness, she could see his head bent between her legs, and his hands gripped her hips, lifting her to him. With his tongue, he tasted her intimately, and she could not stifle her cry. His mouth tormented her sweetly, and she felt herself rising higher. He invaded her with his tongue, nibbling against her hooded flesh while a white-hot fire of need claimed her. She could barely gather her thoughts while he suckled against her most sensitive place.

  When he used his thumb to caress her, she could bear it no longer. Her body was alive, the release gathering tightly inside, and when he slid two fingers inside, she lost control. A thousand shudders broke over her, and she arched hard, gasping as the pleasure flooded through her skin. Alarr entered and withdrew with his fingers, and she reached for him, guiding his hard flesh inside. He invaded her in one swift penetration, and she gloried in the feeling of his body joined with hers. She met him, thrust for thrust, wrapping her legs around him.

  He deepened the sensations when he suckled at her breast once more, and she squeezed him within her depths. No longer was he gentle, and she revelled in his claiming.

  ‘Take me,’ she whispered. ‘I am yours.’

  He pinned her wrists to the furs, and she released her grip around his waist. Instead, she bent her knees to allow him a deeper angle. This time, his slick shaft rubbed against her, and she could not stop the release that erupted within her. There was only joy in making love to the man she adored, and she gave herself over completely. In his blue eyes she saw love, and when his face contorted, she watched as he took his pleasure, filling her with his seed. He entered and withdrew a few more times until he drew her legs to tangle with his.

  She smiled, feeling the heat of their joined bodies. When she touched his chest, she could feel his heart racing. ‘I am glad you captured me that day in the slave market,’ she murmured. ‘I cannot imagine a life without you.’

  He kissed her, tracing the skin of her back. ‘There is no life for me, without you.’ He hugged her close, and she slid her hands down his back, over the curve of his hip, until she reached the scars on the backs of his knees.

  He opened his eyes and stared at her while she traced them. ‘I am also grateful that you did not kill Feann. And that you made a truce between you.’

  ‘I did it for your sake,’ he admitted. ‘You are like a true-born daughter to him. He would do anything to protect you. And that is something I understand.’

  She brought her hands back to twine around his neck. ‘Will you be happy with me at Clonagh? Or do you wish we would return to Maerr?’

  ‘I want to visit Maerr,’ he confessed. ‘But that kingdom does not belong to me. It is my brother’s, if he can reclaim it once more.’ He kissed her mouth, and against her lips, he murmured, ‘There was a time when I would never have considered staying here. Éireann is not my home.’

  ‘But you belong with me,’ she answered.

  He leaned in to kiss her. ‘You will be my queen, and I will guard you. Whatever we may face, we face it together.’

  ‘Do you want to be a king one day?’

  He shook his head. ‘Only if there comes a time when the people ask it of me. Until then, I will be your protector.’

  ‘And my husband,’ she added. ‘Perhaps one day, you will become a father.’

  His expression softened, and she realised that he did want that as much as she. ‘I will do my best to make you happy, søtnos. In whatever life the gods grant us, with any children we may have.’ With a wicked smile, he caressed her sensitive breast once more. ‘It may take some time before that happens. We will have to keep trying.’

  She laughed and embraced him hard. Never had she imagined it was possible to feel so much happiness or love for a man. With Alarr, she became whole and beloved, and her eyes filled up with tears of joy.

  ‘I love you,’ she whispered, welcoming him into her arms. And as the afternoon drifted into twilight, he did indeed try again.

  And there was only the sweetest pleasure of knowing that she would awaken in this man’s arms for the rest of her life.

  Epilogue

  Rurik stared out over the dark-grey waves as the village of Glannoventa slowly came into view. The fierce wind rippling the sails of the ship assured him that he would reach it by nightfall. Boats bobbed in the sea along its coast. Further up, a fortress sat back on a hillside, the sinking sun turning the stones shades of orange and red. No doubt Wilfrid sat inside those walls, drinking ale and deceiving himself into thinking that he was safe. The man had no idea that vengeance was coming for him before the night was out.

  Rurik did not seek revenge for Sigurd’s sake—he had his own reasons. He despised his father for what he had done to Saorla. Sigurd had made promises to her that he had broken, and the past could not be healed of its scars. But Rurik intended to seek his own justice for his mother’s sake and his brothers. After speaking to his uncle Feann and the others, piecing together
what had happened on the day his father was murdered, Rurik had concluded that Wilfrid was the one responsible for the slaughter—and he would pay the price.

  He glanced behind him towards the shores of Éireann that had long since disappeared. Alarr had found his own peace with his new bride and would stay there and guard Clonagh. As for the kingdom of Maerr, they both knew it was not theirs. Now that it was ruled by his uncle Thorfinn, no one knew if Brandt would try to reclaim it. Their oldest brother had gone cold with rage, isolating himself from everyone. Sandulf and Danr had their own demons to battle.

  This battle was his.

  When Rurik looked back at the approaching village, the setting sun had slid from behind a cloud, casting a glimmer on the sea that reminded him of blood. A fitting prophecy of what was to come.

  No one would attack Maerr without retribution—he and his brothers had sworn it. Justice was coming for Wilfrid and anyone who stood in Rurik’s way.

  * * *

  Whilst you’re waiting for the next book

  in the Sons of Sigurd miniseries,

  why not check out the

  Warriors of the Night miniseries

  by Michelle Willingham

  Forbidden Night with the Warrior

  Forbidden Night with the Highlander

  Forbidden Night with the Prince

  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Tempting of the Governess by Julia Justiss.

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