Garth
Viking Surrender
Sassa Daniels
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. With the exception of well-known historical figures and places, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Copyright © 2019 - Sassa Daniels
Cover Design by Emmy Ellis
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Contents
About Sassa Daniels
Introduction
VIKINGS
Garth
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Epilogue
Nine Passionate Viking Romances
About Sassa Daniels
Sassa Daniels is a bestselling author of steamy contemporary, Sci-Fi and historical romance. She spends her days lecturing on medieval literature and her nights dreaming up larger than life heroes and the women who’ll challenge them. With her faithful Westie by her side, she loves to roam the Scottish Highlands where she was born and raised, looking for inspiration for her next book.
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Welcome to the Viking Surrender series: a scorchingly hot collection of nine sizzling Viking romances.
If you’re yet to read the Prologue to this romance, please do before you dive in to Garth and Ytha’s story.
(find it FREE here, on Amazon)
The Prologue sets the scene for all that happens next, so you don’t want to miss out…
We hope the nine romances in this series provide welcome escape and entertainment, that they inspire you and transport you.
While you’re cheering for our heroes and heroines, we want you to cheer for yourself. Like the women and men in these tales, you’re stronger than you may realize, more resourceful and more determined.
As for happy endings, we all need to believe that things can get better if we persevere, that there is hope, and the chance to embrace a life of love and friendship and contentment.
Go get ‘em!
VIKING SURRENDER
A horde of battle-hardened, ferocious Nordic warriors.
A Pictish village at the mercy of its enemies.
A harrowing bargain struck for nine fearful and reluctant brides.
Delivered into Viking hands, claimed and conquered, each bride must accept that she belongs to her new master. But, as wedding nights bring surrender to duty, will fierce lovers also surrender their hearts?
The Highland wilderness is savage, life is perilous, and the future uncertain, but each Viking has sworn protection, and there are no lengths to which a man will not go to safeguard the woman he loves.
Nine provocatively sensual tales of suspense, seduction and adventure, told against the forbidding backdrop of medieval Scotland.
Journey together with indomitable heroes and intrepid heroines, as they discover that the raging storms of fear and passion can transform into enduring devotion.
Dare to enter our world
Garth - by Sassa Daniels
A proud warrior, he hides a debilitating weakness. The village outcast, she’s plagued by terrifying visions. Their marriage seems cursed from the start. But, as they come to terms with their union, will they find the love they both need?
Garth
Sassa Daniels
1
Achnaryrie Village, Gaillaibh, the land of the Picts, Scotland
912 AD
Hours had passed since their vows had been taken and still her new husband had not uttered a word to her. He’d dragged her away before the great feast to celebrate the marriages between the women of her village and his Viking brethren had begun. Rather than seeking to be alone with her, though, he’d shoved her into the house and gone off to fetch his things. So far, he showed no sign of wanting to consummate their union, and there was little chance of that ever happening while he refused to come within an arm’s length of her. Ytha opened the door of her cottage, just a crack, and peered through it. Yes, he was still out there, and he did appear to be sulking.
“Ridiculous man!” she muttered to herself.
Although his back was to her as he crouched low to the ground, she could see the way his shoulders slouched forwards, and she just knew his face would be wearing a dark, glowering expression. She shook her head in despair. It should not be possible for a man of his imposing stature to look like a spoiled child, yet Garth Svenson did it with apparent ease. Ytha blew out a breath of frustration. Why did she have to get stuck with the most pig-headed Viking of the bunch?
“What is he doing out there?” her friend, Nessa, asked.
Ytha shrugged. She had no idea what he was doing, but the greater question was why he would agree to marry her if he didn’t want her as a wife. His behaviour made no sense, but then she was not an expert when it came to the minds of men. All she knew was that every moment he chose to keep his distance from her was like a stab to her heart. She wanted a husband but, more than that, she wanted him.
Upon hearing she was to be one of several women from the village who would marry a Norse warrior in exchange for their protection, she’d been secretly thrilled. Ytha had no prospect of marriage with one of her own people, so she’d felt the arrival of the Vikings was a gift. Used to being on the fringes of the community, she’d seen marriage as a chance to finally gain acceptance from the villagers. The Vikings shared close bonds with one another, and she’d hoped their presence here would make everyone like one big family.
Ytha had always been something of an outsider. She’d spent her childhood in forced exile, living in a hut in the forest with Nessa, a wise woman who’d been cast out from Achnaryrie decades earlier. At the point where Ytha had reached her thirteenth year, Nessa had persuaded her to return to the village to be with her people. Only her sister, Ailsa, had truly welcomed her presence. Friendship had come to them the very instant they’d met. They’d become even closer over time, making up for the years of their childhood that had been lost to them. Ytha worried that Ailsa was still wary of her sometimes, especially when she experienced one of her visions. Whenever she saw the future, her body remained anchored in the earthly realm, but her mind was transported to another place. It could be frightening, she supposed, for those who witnessed her strange trances.
She had thought that settling down with a husband would make her seem less threatening. Although she enjoyed her solitude, she did long to fit in here. Marrying the Viking should have put her on an equal footing with the other women of Achnaryrie. It was not just that she wanted to belong, however. The moment she’d seen the man who was to be her husb
and, she had wanted him. Tall, dark, and masculine, he exuded that same air of barely leashed aggression all the Vikings did, but Ytha sensed something softer in him, and that intrigued her. Unfortunately, she suspected Garth had chosen to listen to the malicious whispering about her that still circulated among the older villagers. There could be no other explanation for the contempt with which he was treating her.
Closing the door quietly so he wouldn’t know she’d been watching him, she turned to Nessa who was sitting on a low stool, mending a pair of woollen stockings for her. Ytha tutted despairingly. Even after all these years, the old woman still fussed over her like a mother.
“You needn’t do that, you know.”
“Your stitches are always crooked,” Nessa returned. “Besides, I like mending things for you.”
“And tidying, too,” Ytha acknowledged as she looked around the room to where the furs on her pallet bed had been straightened. The few pots and pans she’d left lying around had also been neatly stacked beneath the wooden table where she prepared her herbs.
“Someone has to watch out for you,” Nessa said with a sigh. “You are too isolated out here.”
“You live alone in the middle of the forest,” Ytha pointed out.
“Aye, but you are young. You should be among people more.”
Ytha smiled and shook her head dismissively. She liked being here on the very edge of the village, away from the other houses. It was close to the forest where she gathered herbs and foraged for wild mushrooms. There was no place she would rather be. She often wandered off for days at a time when she wanted to be at peace with nature. It suited everyone else that she lived apart from them as well. People feared her magic. She was quite sure that Eithne had only proposed she marry one of the stern warriors so people would worry less about her. A strong husband would surely be able to control her. Those who harboured suspicions about her could rest easy, free from fear of her placing curses or casting spells to cause mischief, if she had a dominant male to rule over her.
Truth be told, there was no magic in her. She had a sharp eye, a keen ear, and sensed things that others did not, but that came from experience, not some supernatural force. Her skills had been honed during her earliest years, when she’d lived in the wild. She was more attuned than most people to the world around her because she’d had to be in order to survive. There really was only one thing that set her apart. Occasionally she experienced visions of the future, but they were often vague, open to interpretation. She couldn’t call up an image of the future on command. One thing that never let her down was her nose for trouble. She could smell it as sure as she sensed right now that there was rain coming in over the sea. There was a storm brewing.
“Anyway,” Nessa said, breaking the silence, “I should go and leave you to it.”
“Must you leave?”
“Aye, it’s time you tried to lure that husband of yours past the threshold.”
“What would you suggest I do? Club him over the head and drag him in here?”
“Lift your skirts and let him see what’s his for the taking,” the old woman suggested. “No man can resist the sight of a pretty young cunt.”
Ytha grimaced. Those were not words she wanted to hear from a woman who was like a mother to her.
“I will come and see you soon,” she said, ushering Nessa out of the door before she could say any more.
As she watched Nessa disappear into the trees, Ytha sniffed the air. Certain that it would, at the very least, be raining before long, she sighed. Even if the heavens burst, she knew Garth would not relent and come inside. These Vikings came from tough stock. They were perhaps even more resilient than her own Pictish ancestors. This new husband of hers had already proven himself extremely stubborn in refusing her invitations to come indoors. He would not show any sign of weakness. Even if it meant spending the night in unnecessary discomfort, he would not bend. Ytha huffed out a breath. Enough was enough. She could hold her peace no longer.
Grabbing a sealskin from the wooden trunk she kept her few possessions in, she strode out to where Garth sat with his back deliberately turned to her. She had to admit, he’d made himself quite at home at the edge of the strip of land she tended.
He had a bed made for himself with a thick fur to lie upon and another to cover himself with as the night grew cold. His weapons, gleaming in the sunlight, were laid out as though on display. She was no expert on such things, but Ytha could tell that the axe, knives, and shield were beautifully crafted.
There was a brace of rabbits that Garth must have caught, and he’d managed to find a cooking pot and a platter to eat from. Perhaps they’d come from one of the Vikings’ supply boats but, more likely, one of the old crones from the village had given them to him. Small recompense for being married off to the local pariah, she supposed. The fire he’d built but not yet lit would cook his food and keep him warm. The one thing he did not have, though, was a means of keeping himself dry if the weather got worse.
“Here, husband, take this!” she spat as she hurled the waterproof skin at him. “You may have need of it before the day is out.”
Saying nothing, Garth looked towards the cloudless skies and then to her, an eyebrow arched in question. If she hadn’t heard him reciting his vows before the priest, she would think him incapable of speech. It seemed, however, that the silent treatment was reserved especially for her.
“There is something in the air,” Ytha said, trying to ignore the way her heart fluttered in response to him staring at her with those intense brown eyes. Perhaps a different kind of storm was approaching.
He seemed to strip her bare with his gaze and a blush rose to her cheeks. Even while she squirmed under his scrutiny, he showed no flicker of emotion, and her inability to work out what he was thinking disturbed her. Usually, she knew precisely what was in a person’s mind, but now, when she needed to understand what his thoughts were, she saw nothing at all.
Frustrated, she forced her lips into an unnatural smile and stared right back at him. “Are you certain you wouldn’t like to come inside? If you stay out there, you might end up with one of Thor’s lightning bolts up your miserable arse.”
“Beiskaldi!”
Suddenly, he was on his feet, towering over her, and she was reminded that, despite appearances, he was no petulant child. A desire to dominate radiated from him. His anger was palpable. The hairs on the back her neck rose through fear, but Ytha did not retreat. He might have called her a bitch, but she knew, somehow, that he was not about to strike her.
“You seek to provoke me, meyla?”
Yes, perhaps she did. Anything was better than his sullen silence, even if she did dislike him calling her ‘little girl’.
“I merely wish to point out the danger, husband. You are tempting fate sitting out here. You do believe there is a god who controls the lightning, do you not?”
“Of course.”
“You believe in Thor, god of thunder, war, and”—she couldn’t prevent a snigger escaping her—“oak trees?”
God help her, she enjoyed poking at him, testing to see how he would react. Only, he didn’t respond, not at first. He just stood there in worrying silence, studying her closely as though trying to work her out. Refusing to be cowed by his intense inspection, she curled her lip in disdain.
“You mock my beliefs?” Garth said, his jaw tight.
The clenching of his fists told her he was holding back from putting his hands on her. It was thrilling to think he might grab hold of her at any moment. Danger crackled on the air, bringing Ytha’s entire body to life. Yet she knew not to push it. A man’s beliefs were sacrosanct.
“Of course not. If I wanted to mock you for anything, it would be for fearing a woman who stands a whole head shorter than you, not because of your religion.” With that, she turned and walked away, pausing only to throw some final words back at him. “Continue to brood, Viking. I can wait.”
Odin’s balls! The Pict had guts, he had to give her that. There
were few men who would look him straight in the eye and speak to him in that mocking tone she’d used, let alone women. Generally, they knew their place, but this one had no idea how to conduct herself. For her insolence, he wanted to spank that lush, rounded bottom of hers until she begged for mercy. At the very thought of her lying across his knee, trying to kick her legs in fury as he skilfully subdued her, his cock twitched. It was tempting to go in there now and demonstrate who would be master in his household, but he resisted. He was reluctant, though, to claim the home, and the woman who occupied it, as his. If he touched her now, it would set him on a path he was not sure he wished to tread. Although he’d agreed to take one of the women of Achnaryrie as his wife, he would have preferred anyone but her. Her bewitching green eyes screamed temptation but, like him, she was tainted. No good could come from a union of cursed souls.
He knew she’d been watching him, on and off, since he and his countrymen arrived on these shores, and he disliked being spied upon. He had no idea what she was thinking, if she planned to do him harm. Well, if she planned to try. Although he knew he could overpower her, there was something about his new bride that signalled trouble. She was too bold, too sure of herself. She acted as though she held some secret knowledge that put her at an advantage. Garth did not trust her. Yet, at the same time, he was drawn to her. That body of hers was lithe, beautiful. Her face was pleasing and her hair a glorious, flaming cascade down her back. His cock sat up and took notice when he saw the spark of defiance in her eyes. He loved the way she pursed those perfect red lips. A woman like her would be a challenge to tame but, as exciting as the prospect of being the one to do it might be, he couldn’t give in to his desires. He had to find a way out of this marriage before his resolve weakened. If he was not careful, he would end up throwing the beguiling witch down on the bed and burying himself deep inside her. If he did that, he would definitely be stuck with her. He had to find out if there was any way to break the marriage oaths he’d taken and still retain his honour.
Garth Page 1
