Michelle Willingham

by To SinWith a Viking

  It took only a few more penetrations before his breathing shifted and he groaned, collapsing against her. Caragh’s heart pounded so fast, she couldn’t catch her breath. But she felt alive in a way she never had before. Being with Styr, sharing this act with him, was everything.

  And she loved his skin upon hers.

  * * *

  Her brothers made him pay dearly for the rights to the land. Over the next few weeks, Styr journeyed back to Dubh Linn to bring over sheep and horses, as well as enough grain for every person in their clan. And when they’d at last agreed to the price, Styr spent his time building longhouses similar to those in the city.

  Caragh had come to see him each day and sometimes brought him water. Her presence only increased his desire to finish their home sooner. Her brothers had refused to give their permission for the marriage to take place until the dwelling was completed. Although Styr knew he could have taken her to wife at any moment, with his men as witnesses, he knew Caragh wanted her brother’s blessing.

  Being apart from her was slowly killing him. He hadn’t touched her in nearly a month, save for a few stolen embraces.

  He was working atop the roof one afternoon, laying thatch, when she approached with her brother Brendan standing behind. Shielding her eyes against the sun, she called out to him, ‘Will it be finished tonight?’

  ‘If I keep working until sundown.’ Styr climbed down the ladder, noting the soft smile on her face that belonged to him alone. His body stirred, and he didn’t resist the urge to pull her close.

  ‘My brother wanted to speak with you,’ she admitted, and Brendan stepped forwards.

  ‘I’ve come to ask that there be peace between us,’ he began. ‘For Caragh’s sake.’

  The young man’s face was sombre, and though Brendan appeared nervous, he continued his apology. ‘I thought I was protecting my people when we took your men and your wife captive. She—she’s safe now, isn’t she?’

  Styr gave a nod, still not revealing his thoughts. He knew Caragh wanted him to forgive her brother, but Brendan’s actions had threatened all of them.

  ‘I know this won’t matter to you, but my blade is yours, if ever you have need of it. I owe you a debt that I can never repay.’

  Styr glanced at Caragh, and saw the plea in her eyes. ‘My men will need help building their homes,’ he said at last. ‘Give them the labour of your hands until our work is done. That can serve to repay your debt.’

  He flushed, his head bobbing with thanks. Caragh’s blinding smile made Styr glad he’d compromised.

  ‘There—there’s one more thing I can do for you,’ Brendan offered, his face turning crimson. ‘I—I could keep my brothers away for the rest of the afternoon. So that you and my sister can be alone.’

  Caragh looked at her younger brother, aghast that he’d said such a thing. But his offer caused Styr to break into a laugh. He took her hand and called back, ‘I accept your offer, Brendan, and gladly.’

  ‘I can’t believe what my brother just said,’ Caragh murmured. She was holding a cup of cold water from the stream, and Styr accepted the cup, drinking deeply.

  ‘He’s more intelligent than I realised.’

  A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek, and she reached out to touch it, drawing a line down his throat, to his chest. Heat flared through him, and Styr dropped the cup, dragging her inside.

  He took her mouth, kissing her hard against the wall. Gods, but he would never get enough of the taste of her. Caragh’s arms came around him, and she pressed close. ‘If you finish the house today, we could wed this night.’ Her mouth was swollen, her eyes bright. ‘I’ve made a gown from the silk you brought me. I hope it pleases you.’

  ‘You could wear nothing at all, and it would please me,’ he gritted out. His hand moved up to the underside of her breast. ‘Though I would kill any man who looked upon your beauty,’ he murmured against her throat, caressing the hard nub of her nipple.

  ‘You’re not playing fair.’ She shuddered at the touch of his hands, gasping when he cupped her fully.

  ‘Not for something I want this badly.’ He kissed her hard, offering every promise of what was to come. She melted against him, opening while his tongue invaded her mouth. When she kissed him back, pulling him tightly against her, his arousal made her breathing quicken.

  ‘I don’t want to wait until tonight,’ she whispered. Her arms tightened around his waist, her face pressed against his heart. Styr gripped her hard, breathing in the scent of her hair.

  When she raised her head, she stared hard at him. ‘A madness possesses me when I’m with you. I don’t understand it.’ She steadied herself, then ventured, ‘Was it like this with her?’

  ‘What happened with Elena is in the past,’ he said, not wanting to darken this day. But when he saw the look of worry pass over her, he realised she needed to know that he no longer held any feelings for his first wife.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘It was never like this. Not in five years.’ Kissing her to force her not to speak, he murmured against her lips, ‘Elena is a good woman, and I wish her every happiness. But protecting her and being her husband was my duty.

  ‘We were friends,’ he admitted. ‘Lovers, even. But I never felt for her the way I feel for you now.’ He slid his hands beneath her skirts, touching her bare leg. ‘I love you.’

  Caragh was watching him, her eyes gleaming with emotion. She reached up to touch his face, and he rested his forehead against hers. He brought his hands over her heart, down to her breast. ‘If any man took you from me, I’d destroy him.’

  She gripped him hard, and he answered the embrace, his hands moving over her body. She was whispering words of endearment in her language, and a moment later, she touched his hose, reaching for his arousal. ‘I want you, Styr. This very moment.’

  She started to raise her skirts, and he turned her to face the wall, bracing her hands on either side. He freed himself and palmed her bare legs, lifting her skirt to her waist. Stepping between her legs, he slid his arousal against her. She was already wet, and before he could say a word, she reached down and guided him inside her.

  Scalding heat enveloped him as she pushed back, and he filled her, primal in his need. Their coupling was fierce, and she bent over, meeting him with every thrust. He took her hard, but she seemed to welcome the swiftness of their lovemaking as her breathing quickened.

  And when she arched against him, trembling hard with the force of her release, he let go of his control, revelling in the way her body accepted him, squeezing hard against his length. He spasmed against her, holding tightly to her waist while he rested his head against her shoulder.

  ‘I can’t get enough of you, søtnos.’ Withdrawing from her, he lowered her skirts and turned her to face him. With a wry smile, he admitted, ‘You may not sleep tonight.’

  She kissed him, resting her cheek against his. ‘There will be time enough for sleep later.’

  He brought her over to a low bench to sit, pulling her on to his lap. Her cheeks were flushed, her arms around him. Then she drew his hand down to her womb. ‘Even if we never have children, Styr, having you at my side will be enough.’

  ‘You say that now, but—’

  ‘No. I know you’ve dreamed of going to those lands across the sea. We could go together,’ she offered.

  ‘Some of those places aren’t safe for women.’

  She moved her hand over his shoulder. ‘You would protect me, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I’d take a sword in the heart for you.’

  Caragh moved her hand upon his chest. ‘I want to sit beside you and let the sails take us where they will.’ His dreams, of journeying to foreign places, mirrored her own. As long as he was with her.

  ‘What of your family?’

  ‘We will see them every summer,’ she said, ‘and spend our winters in the warmer lands, just as you said.’

  He touched her cheek, guiding her into a kiss. ‘I always thought the gods had cursed me. I made sacrifices and raged
against them.’

  She saw in his eyes that he believed it. ‘You were never cursed.’

  ‘No. And neither was my first marriage a mistake. It led me here, to you. The greatest treasure I could ever have.’

  * * *

  They wed upon the sands, speaking their vows before friends and family. Caragh wore the crimson silk he had given her, the soft material clinging to her body. When they were married, Caragh took his hands in hers. ‘There is no woman on this earth who loves you as much as I do.’

  He kissed her hard, and she welcomed the familiar warmth of his body pressed against her. ‘I am your prisoner, now and always.’

  ‘As I am yours,’ she whispered.

  With a smile, he took her hand, walking with her towards the feast that awaited them.

  As the last of the sun gleamed against the dark waters, she saw the outline of his ship...and knew their journey had only begun.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Accidental Prince by Michelle Willingham.

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  Chapter One

  The outer borders of Lohenberg—1855

  Karl von Lohenberg had always been a bastard. For twenty-five years, he’d merely thought it was a personality disorder rather than a reflection of his birth.

  He’d been raised to believe he was a prince, the fürst, who would one day be king of Lohenberg. And only a fortnight ago, one word had stripped away his future: bastard.

  His father had ordered him out of the palace, granting him land and a manor house near the borders, as if to say: hide him where he won’t cause any trouble.

  Bitterness smouldered within him, at the way they’d turned their backs on him so quickly. Did they believe he was planning to kill or overthrow the true prince? Were the years of obedience and loyalty nothing to the king and queen? They treated him like a lighted fuse, leading to a keg of gunpowder.

  Karl was stronger than that. He knew, well enough, that he’d never regain the throne of Lohenberg. It rightfully belonged to his half-brother Michael, and he wouldn’t blacken the royal family or his country with scandal, fighting for something that wasn’t his.

  He’d given his life to his homeland, believing that one day he would be king, responsible for the lives of many. He liked being in command, and by God, he’d been good at it.

  Fate might have picked him up by the collar and beaten him into a bloody mass, but he wasn’t about to slink quietly into the shadows to lick his wounds. This was his life, and he intended to live it on his own terms.

  For there was another way to restore his position. Cold-hearted and villainous, yes, but it was a solution.

  He simply had to marry a princess.

  Karl reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter he’d received a few days ago like the shred of hope it represented. His betrothed, Princess Serena of Badenstein, was leaving the palace on an impromptu holiday to her grandfather’s hunting lodge in Hamburg. Alone. The letter from her sister Anna thanked him for his promise to accompany Serena as her protector.

  At first, he hadn’t understood the letter. He’d made no such promise, since he’d known nothing about Serena’s plans. They hardly knew one another, for Karl had only met the princess twice in the six years they’d been betrothed. She was beautiful, with a heart-shaped face, dark blond hair, and green eyes that held years of unhappiness.

  Not once had he seen her smile. When they’d first met, she’d eyed him with distrust and more than a little fear. He didn’t know what falsehoods her family had told her, but he wasn’t that bad. He wasn’t a man who caused small children to flee into hiding. Usually.

  Why would the princess make a journey where her sister felt she needed protection? Wouldn’t she have her father’s guards and a hundred servants to keep her safe?

  His instincts warned him that something was wrong with this so-called holiday. It was doubtful that Serena had invited him at all. More likely, the princess had lied to her sister, to appease her.

  But Anna had turned the tables, letting Karl know that his bride was up to something. He didn’t doubt that Serena would carry out her plan of leaving the palace, but why was she planning to go alone? Was she running away? Or meeting someone else—a lover, perhaps?

  Grimly, Karl folded the letter, his mind taking apart each possibility. It was too soon for anyone in Badenstein to know of his fallen status. At the time Anna had sent this letter, he’d still been the heir to the

  Lohenberg throne.

  If he joined the Princess on her holiday, as Anna had suggested, his presence might grant her protection—but it would also compromise Serena’s reputation beyond repair. She’d have no choice but to wed him, even if he never laid a hand upon her.

  There would be hell to pay afterwards, but he could live with that. Once he became her prince consort, the scandal would eventually die down, and she could live her life as she wished.

  Karl stared outside the window of the inn where he and his men were staying. The skies were growing dark, and he was within a few hours’ ride of the palace. In the morning, he would put his plan into action. With any luck, he could claim the princess as his bride before anyone learned the truth about his lost kingdom.

  * * *

  Serena dragged out the small trunk she’d packed with a few days’ worth of clothing. Today she would leave the palace, seizing the freedom she craved. She would depart Badenstein with a handful of servants and reclaim her life. Although the risk of discovery was terrible, it was worth it.

  Beneath her tightly laced corset, her broken ribs had finally healed after so many weeks. Though it sometimes hurt to breathe or to lift her arms above her head, she’d grown accustomed to the pain. And after today, everything would be different.

  Serena ran her hands over the brass-bound trunk and then ordered Katarina, one of her most trusted ladies, to ensure that the trunk was placed inside the coach she’d carefully prepared. Her heart was beating so fast, she pressed her hand to her chest as if she could steady it.

  She had no doubt it would be only a few days before the messengers alerted the king that she was missing. Nothing escaped his notice, and Serena had to plan this carefully, so as to avoid getting anyone else in trouble.

  For now, she would go to her grandfather’s hunting lodge. Her father owned several estates in Badenstein and in Germany, but the lodge was rarely used any more since it had fallen into disrepair. Although they might search for her there, perhaps not until they’d investigated the other houses. It would grant her some time. She hoped to sell some jewels and purchase a small house or property somewhere no one would find her.

  Her head spun with all the details, and she worried about being caught. If her father learned of this...she shuddered to imagine it. Princesses were not supposed to run away. And although she had enough loyal servants to help her, it might not be enough.

  For now, she would concentrate on getting out of the palace. She couldn’t think too far ahead, or the worries would consume her. One moment at a time, one hour at a time, she decided. And before she left, she needed to see her mother.

  Serena chose a single rose from the arrangement in the crystal vase upon the end table. Queen Clara had always loved flowers. During the spring, she often sat in the garden where she could admire the blossoms.

  Flanked by her ladies,
Serena walked down the long corridor leading to the east wing. Before she reached it, two footmen blocked their way and bowed.

  ‘Your Highness, His Majesty has commanded your presence.’

  A layer of ice coated her stomach, but Serena lowered her head in acquiescence, following the footmen to her father’s chambers. Each time the king summoned her, she knew what was coming—a punishment for some imagined misdeed. Every moment she spent in her father’s presence was a mind-numbing game of trying to guess what sort of behaviour would help her to avoid his fists.

  No one could protect her from His Majesty. Not the guards or her ladies, for they’d lose their positions. Not her younger sister or her mother, who was confined to a sickbed. She was defenceless against him.

  Serena hated the pity in the eyes of the servants, for she didn’t like appearing weak. But after the last beating had left her unable to move, she’d had enough. Six years of suffering was too much to ask of anyone. Nothing would stop her from escaping.

  One of her ladies, Katarina, offered her a look of silent support. Serena squeezed the woman’s hand, and then withdrew, needing the time to gather up her courage.

  When the footman opened the door and announced her presence, Serena stepped forward. Her father, the king, stood with his back to them. He was a tall man, with greying hair and a physical form that rivalled his best guards. King Ruwald prided himself upon his strength, and he wore close-fitting clothing to show off his muscular arms and legs.

  ‘Were you planning to go somewhere?’ he asked softly, dismissing his men and her ladies with a hand. Serena curtsied and stared down at the Oriental carpet, her hand clenching her mother’s rose.

  Do not make him angry. Be demure and modest in your bearing. And perhaps he’ll leave you alone.

  The king moved closer, until he stood directly in front of her. ‘Answer me.’

  ‘N-no, Father. Of course not.’