Conveniently Wed to the Viking

by Michelle Styles

  He reached over and smoothed the tendrils of hair from her forehead. ‘No, to honour you. I’ve bedded many women, Skadi, but can scarce recall a single one. I want to remember you.’

  Ceanna worried her bottom lip. It was a new thing for her as well. She wished he’d pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless, but she wanted to be more than a warm body. She wanted him to remember her. ‘And you remember your friends?’

  ‘True friends are never forgotten. I’m a dangerous man to my enemies, Skadi, not my friends.’

  ‘I see.’ She paused and kept her heart from rejoicing. He considered her a true friend. And he was right—a friend was far more important to have. One could count on friends. She was determined to prove her friendship by helping him in his quest to find his sister-in-law’s murderer. Perhaps her aunt would know something.

  Her throat went tight. Such a creature could threaten her aunt and all those who lived in the monastery, but travellers stayed there all the time and it could have been merely that he was passing through. Ceanna could barely make out Sandulf’s features. She wasn’t sure if it was the intimacy of the darkness which had made him confess or because they were becoming friends. Summoning up her courage, she touched her lips to his forehead. ‘You might be dangerous to your enemies, but you are a good man. I’m grateful for your friendship.’

  A drop of moisture ran down her cheek. She wiped it away with a quiet finger.

  ‘Sleep. You don’t have any ghosts to keep you awake. I envy you that,’ he said in a rough voice and turned his back to her.

  * * *

  Sandulf lay in the darkness and listened to the soft sound of Ceanna sleeping. Friends, not lovers. The dull aching in his groin at her nearness showed what a lie that was. Luckily, she was far too innocent to understand—he wanted to be much more than her friend. What sort of rogue would he be if he took her innocence when she was about to enter a holy life?

  If he’d been anything like Danr, Rurik’s twin, he would have seduced her by now and got her out of his system. Danr was the one brother who could charm women out of trees and who never lacked for female companionship. He had a quick quip for any situation and had diffused more arguments with their father with a joke than Sandulf liked to count.

  Sandulf had sought to emulate him in the past, particularly where women were concerned, but with Ceanna, heartless seduction was impossible. He respected her far too much. He did want her friendship. It had been far too long since he had laughed with anyone, yet Skadi and her dog kept finding ways.

  ‘I will protect you,’ he said softly into the night.

  When she met her aunt, he wanted her to be able to say that she was as chaste as a nun should be. He wanted to give her a chance at the life she desired without regrets.

  It did not make it any easier, though, particularly as she snuggled closer. He put his arm about her and knew he would not sleep for the rest of night. He’d lied to her. He’d had his usual dream about Lugh and the killing spree, but this time, the woman he held as her lifeblood had streamed from her had been Ceanna, not Ingrid.

  He forced himself to think of killing Lugh rather than the warm body lying next to him. The thoughts were not as comforting as they normally were. If he failed, Ceanna would be in danger and protecting her had suddenly become more important than avenging Ingrid’s death.

  Sandulf forced himself to concentrate. He had not come this far on his quest, suffered that much, only to give up. Ceanna was important because she could take him to Nrurim.

  Lugh had to be at Nrurim—or he had been there recently—like Rurik’s new wife had said. Once he had dealt with the man, then he’d confront Brandt, give him Ingrid’s last words and regain his rightful place as one of the sons of Sigurd. Whatever that place was.

  He wrapped a tendril of Ceanna’s hair about his finger. The prospect did not excite him as it once had.

  Chapter Eight

  When Ceanna woke the next morning, sunlight filtered through the gaps in the thatched roof and the space beside her was empty. The only indication that Sandulf had been there was the faint indentation in the straw. She ran her hand over it, but it was cold, as if he’d been up for hours.

  Ceanna rapidly dressed and discovered Sandulf sitting at the table. Vanora lay at his feet and Mildreth plied them both with food while the owl slumbered on a rafter. The cat was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘I overslept,’ she said and immediately the heat rose on her cheeks. ‘I thought... I thought you didn’t allow dogs in the house.’

  Mildreth gave her a large wink. ‘Thanks to your man’s promise of doing extra chores last night, your dog slept beside the hearth and has been perfectly well behaved.’

  Sandulf choked on his food. ‘I was up early chopping wood. Our hostess will not need to worry about that particular chore for a while.’

  Up early? Had he even gone back to sleep after his nightmare?

  ‘I must have been more tired than I imagined. I can’t remember the last time I slept for so long. Normally I’m up before sunrise as there are always jobs to be done.’

  ‘Sometimes it is good to sleep,’ Sandulf said.

  ‘Particularly after exercise.’ Mildreth gave a high-pitched laugh.

  Ceanna knew her cheeks burned worse than ever, much to Mildreth’s cackling delight. She quickly concentrated on the table rather than meeting Sandulf’s eyes. It made it all the worse as a large part of her had wanted to do exactly what Mildreth thought she had last night.

  In the cold light of day, she was pleased that his sensible head had prevailed and that she’d done nothing to jeopardise her chances of becoming a holy maid. And she’d continue to do that. She wished the thought filled her with more pleasure. Deep in her heart, she knew she had been able to resist temptation because no temptation had been offered. Sandulf had believed her when she’d explained it was the best thing for her future. She wished she knew that for certain.

  ‘We should get going,’ she said. ‘I’d like to get to Nrurim as quickly as possible. My legs are fresh, Sandulf.’

  ‘You should go by the high road,’ Mildreth said, wrinkling her nose. ‘This track will eventually take you to it, but I know a short cut, one which ensures you miss the pass. It’ll take several days off your journey.’

  ‘We’d be grateful for any assistance,’ Sandulf said. ‘We both wish to get to Nrurim as speedily as possible.’

  Ceanna’s heart clunked. She had wanted that yesterday, but getting there would mean the end of her time with Sandulf.

  Mildreth stood up. ‘Once your woman finishes her meal, then we will go. She’ll need to keep her strength up for the night-time. I have a few things I need to get.’

  She bustled out of the room before Ceanna could object.

  ‘She believes we...’ Ceanna whispered. ‘About us. Our relationship.’

  ‘It makes her happy to think about a little romance,’ Sandulf said in a low voice.

  Ceanna concentrated on her pottage. ‘But we know the truth. Friends, not lovers.’

  He squeezed her hand and the gleam in his eyes deepened. ‘We do indeed.’

  She withdrew her hand, hating how the warm pulse travelled up her arm. ‘Friends. We are both entirely too sensible to be anything else.’

  He put his fingers against her lips. ‘Hush. She returns. And I doubt anyone but you considers me sensible.’

  Ceanna turned towards the door. Her mouth tingled from his light touch.

  Mildreth put a cloth-wrapped package in front of Ceanna. ‘For you, my lady. Take a drink of this here tea every morning.’

  Ceanna glanced inside the package. It was filled with sweet-smelling herbs. She recognised raspberry leaf and rue. She swallowed hard. ‘And this is for...?’

  Mildreth lowered her voice. ‘You aren’t wed, are you? The tea will keep a baby from settling in your womb.’

  Settling
in her womb.

  Ceanna instinctively put her hand to her stomach. The words to proclaim it was impossible rose in her throat, but she forced them back down and took the package, tucking it into the pouch she had fastened to her waist. ‘I’ll be sure to take steps.’

  ‘My remedies are highly sought after, I’ll have you know,’ Mother Mildreth said with a decisive nod. ‘Many a day I’ve had a queue of women and men making their way here. Some I choose not to serve.’

  ‘I’m honoured.’

  ‘Shall we go and discover that short cut?’ Sandulf proclaimed in a loud voice, clearly embarrassed by the whispered conversation.

  ‘Yes, I’m most anxious to get to Nrurim,’ Ceanna said and silently vowed that she would dispose of the tea as soon as possible. If her aunt discovered it, it might lead to awkward questions about her purity.

  She silenced the little voice which asked her why not take the risk and seduce him? She had always tried to avoid taking risks which would end in abject humiliation, but maybe her warrior was worth it?

  * * *

  ‘You’ve been silent since we left Mother Mildreth’s.’ Sandulf bent down to retrieve Vanora’s stick. Unlike yesterday, Ceanna had not kept up a steady stream of conversation. He discovered he missed it. ‘Have I upset you? Is there something I failed to do? I thought you’d have been pleased to sleep.’

  ‘Why would you think that?’

  ‘You and silence are not natural partners. When you are quiet, you hum.’

  Ceanna kicked a stone which went skittering along the path. ‘You barely know me. I can keep quiet when the occasion requires.’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy it. I thought I liked silence, but right now...’

  ‘You’d like some relief from your thoughts?’

  He had to resist drawing her into his arms and kissing her senseless. He forced himself to pick up a stick and toss it for the dog. ‘Precisely.’

  ‘I wanted to let you know I never asked her about the tea to prevent babies.’

  ‘Ah, that.’ Sandulf concentrated on the stick.

  ‘I’ll teach you Pictish to pass the time.’

  ‘Do you think I will have a need of it where I’m going?’

  ‘You never can tell.’

  He threw the stick again. ‘I am good at picking up languages.’ Sandulf tossed the stick further and harder than he intended. A talent which would have remained uncovered if he’d stayed in Maerr. ‘I discovered it on the way to Constantinople.’

  ‘It can be difficult. The Gaels rarely try beyond a few words.’

  ‘But I want to.’ He pointed to a tree. ‘What is the name for that? Will I have to pay a forfeit if I get it wrong?’

  She ducked her head. ‘You are starting to sound like Mother Mildreth.’

  ‘Perish the thought. And I’ll teach you some of my language in return. You never know when you might have a need of Norse.’

  * * *

  ‘We made it,’ Ceanna said staring down at the wooden walls of the monastery. Like most of the buildings in the Kingdom of Strathclyde, the monastery was fashioned from wood and set behind a palisade in case of attack from marauders.

  A few short days ago she had thought seeing the monastery would be like coming home, except now with the silver-birch logs towering over her, it felt more like she was entering a prison.

  Arriving here meant that she would have to say goodbye to Sandulf and she wasn’t ready to do that. She’d grown accustomed to his banter and his quiet helping hand under her elbow when she needed it. She struggled to think of anyone she’d rather have had as a travelling companion. They had discussed so many things since they had left Mother Mildreth’s, arguing in a light-hearted manner and setting the world to rights. She had started teaching him to speak Pictish and was surprised at how quickly he was learning it while he had taught her a few words of Norse. She’d ignored his repeated suggestions of meaningful forfeits as being teasing designed to make her blush.

  Ceanna had begun to see that Sandulf was correct—they were friends. She felt as if she could confide practically anything to him. Everything but her growing feelings towards him—those she knew would have to be kept as a dark secret.

  Friends, not lovers.

  The last thing she wanted on this bright sunshiny morning was to go into those darkened buildings and devote her life to prayer. She tried to remind herself of all the reasons why this was the correct thing to do—her life, her people, honour and pride—and why she should be pleased at taking this step. Her attempted deception felt very wrong suddenly.

  ‘I thought it would take longer,’ she said when she noticed Sandulf looking at her with a quizzical expression. She was going to miss his little looks and asides.

  ‘It took less time than I worried it might,’ Sandulf said.

  Ceanna wrapped her arms about her waist. She had nearly flung them about his neck and begged him to take her away from here. There was something about the place which gave her an unsettled feeling which curled about her insides and refused to let go. ‘We seemed to have escaped whoever attacked Urist’s camp.’

  He paused for a long while before answering. ‘I know.’

  ‘It worries you.’

  ‘Given the carnage back there, it surprises me. Something’s not right. I dislike surprises when lives are at stake.’

  ‘But you do like them at other times.’

  The light in his eyes deepened. ‘It depends on the nature of the surprise.’

  ‘I normally like my life to be well ordered and safe. Once I choose a course, I tend to keep it. This time has been unsettling—I keep having to alter my plans.’

  ‘Some plans are worth altering.’

  ‘And others you hold fast to.’

  A smile hovered on his lips. ‘I’ve kept my end of the bargain—protection until you reach safety.’

  Ceanna concentrated on smoothing the folds of her gown between her fingers rather than watching his mouth. It wasn’t his fault that those kisses they had shared had haunted her sleep over the last few nights and she wanted more. He had made it very clear that he was respecting her wishes. Keeping herself pure was essential in those seeking to become a holy maid and she knew her aunt would be able to tell any sort of lie. ‘I’m aware of that.’

  ‘Do you wish to go on alone? Are you asking me to wait here until you can return? I can take care of Vanora for you.’

  Ceanna stared up at the clouds scurrying across the sky. Her aunt had no great love for Northmen or dogs, but she knew she’d feel safer with Sandulf at her side. And Vanora was non-negotiable. Once her aunt had seen the great joy Vanora could bring, Ceanna hoped she’d be allowed to stay. She swore softly. She would never abandon Vanora.

  ‘We go together. My aunt will understand things better once she hears about my journey with you. She will be overcome with gratitude and will be able to assist in your search for this Lugh, this assassin.’ The knot in Ceanna’s stomach grew. On a good day her aunt would be overjoyed, but the last time Ceanna had seen her things had not gone entirely as Ceanna had planned.

  ‘That is something to hope for.’

  ‘I’ve practised my speech over and over until I have it down perfectly. I did have a vision—a vision of my death if I stayed.’ She clapped her hands together which made Vanora, who was inspecting a stick, jump. ‘I’ll make an oath to you in return—to find your sister-in-law’s murderer. I promise. A thank you for what you’ve done for me.’

  His gaze seemed to pierce Ceanna’s soul. ‘If you can’t keep the promise, I won’t hold you to it.’

  ‘We’re friends, after all, and friends keep their promises.’

  ‘They do.’ A muscle jumped in his jaw.

  Ceanna raised her chin. ‘Whoever destroyed Urist’s camp won’t be in this monastery. If this man with the shooting star on his face is here, I’ll find him f
or you and allow you to do the rest.’

  Sandulf’s mouth became a thin white line. ‘You’re not to search him out. Let me do that.’

  Ceanna winced. ‘I’ve no wish to quarrel with you. I’m trying to assist you in your quest. All I know is that if you go in making demands, they’ll turn against you and seek to protect someone who deserves no protection. Do it my way...for the sake of the language lessons I gave you.’

  Rather than answering her, Sandulf stared at the monastery and the small town which had sprung up around it, nestling within the shelter of its walls. ‘We’d best be going, then.’

  She wished she could grab his hand and run far away from there. Already she missed the ease they had had on the road.

  He caught her hand and raised it to his lips. A warm thrill went through her at his touch. ‘Thank you.’

  She folded her fingers about the kiss and tried to hold it. ‘I’ve done nothing.’

  ‘You’ve been my friend and you believe my story. I’d forgotten what companionship feels like.’

  The finality of his words washed over her, dampening her mood further. Was it her fault that she wished for something more? For it not to be over? She firmed her mouth. She’d given up wishing for impossible things.

  * * *

  When they reached the outskirts of the town, a guard stopped them. ‘State your business.’

  ‘I go to my aunt, the abbess, Mother Abbe.’ Ceanna put her head to one side. The town appeared nearly deserted instead of the bustling place she remembered from the last time she had visited. And the guards were busy stopping everyone who entered the garth, checking baskets and carts. ‘Is there some sort of trouble?’

  ‘The old King died here.’ The guard sniffed as if she was beneath his notice for making such a remark. ‘The assassin remains at large. The new King and his advisors endeavour to keep the peace.’

  ‘That was several months ago. The culprit has surely been discovered or is long departed,’ Ceanna said in an overly sweet way, the voice she used to coax her father into eating his pottage. She thought about what she knew. Her cousin, King Aed, had been brutally murdered while hunting near Nrurim, but the assassin had escaped in the confusion. Aed’s two young sons had also disappeared when the new King and his Regent took over. Rumours ran rife about where the sons of Aed could possibly be. Some had it that they had been kidnapped, others that they had been murdered by Giric, the new Regent.