A Deal with Her Rebel Viking

by Michelle Styles

  ‘I intend to.’ Something punched Moir in the gut. He could have used Palni on this venture. The warrior was good at tracking. He seemed to have a second sense about danger. But there was no way he could travel yet, even on a horse. He would be more of a hindrance than a help. ‘But I’m going to have to leave you here.’

  ‘There will be opportunities for friendship between you two.’

  ‘This is hardly going to be a picnic for two. We are going to find her sister and the missing guards.’ Moir was aware that his cheeks were flaming as the priest, Ansithe’s priest, gave him a hard stare.

  Palni adopted a falsely innocent face. ‘If you make her unhappy, you will have to answer to me.’

  ‘I have no intention of making her unhappy. There isn’t a...’ He paused. He was not in the habit of speaking about his intimate relations with women and did not intend to start with Ansithe. What they had shared was far too precious to be bantered about. ‘Friends means friends. I want to speak about other things. More important than any fancy you might have about me and Ansithe.’

  ‘It is you who keeps bringing it up.’ Palni gave a delighted laugh before he sobered. ‘I have a great deal of respect for Lady Ansithe. I don’t want her to be hurt, whatever there is between you. It is going to be dangerous if these outlaws were confident enough to attack an armed group of travellers.’

  ‘She wants to go. She wants to protect her sister.’

  ‘These things have a way of happening.’ Palni waved an airy hand. ‘She has the soul of a Valkyrie, but she also is flesh and blood, not a creature from a skald’s tale. Remember that before you put her in harm’s way.’

  The priest made a few protesting noises about Ansithe having the soul of a Valkyrie and crossed himself.

  Palni smiled. ‘Some people just do, Father. And you should be glad, or otherwise we would not be playing King’s Tafl here.’

  The priest stopped mid-complaint. ‘In that case, I am very glad for Lady Ansithe’s prowess with her bow.’

  Palni grabbed Moir’s tunic and pulled him closer. ‘She is a good woman and good for you from what I can see, but think about what sort of future you can offer her before you go any further.’

  Moir’s guts twisted. He wished he could punch something hard. He jerked away from Palni. ‘Tell me something new.’

  ‘If you harm one hair on Lady Ansithe’s head, I will have your guts for bowstrings.’ Palni gave a nod. ‘I bet you wouldn’t think that I’d do it, but I will. She and the good Father here saved my life.’

  ‘She is a grown woman, a widow, able to make her own choices. We both know what we are about.’ Moir shifted uncomfortably. His joining with Ansithe was far too new to think about without wanting her immediately. He had hoped for more time with her, but now there was this obstacle in his way. Palni seemed to have read him with a single glance. He had to hope that no one else had noticed.

  ‘What does that have to do with anything? I know what you are like with women—too dedicated to Andvarr’s felag ever to settle down.’

  ‘You don’t need to worry about me. Everything will be well. I have no intention of hurting her.’

  ‘No, you never do, but you refuse to suffer people, particularly women, interfering in what you see as your duty. If protecting her means you not fulfilling your vow of loyalty to Andvarr, which one will you choose? Are you in truth his hound or your own man?’

  His insides ached at Palni’s question. It had been the same one which had circled his brain ever since he’d watched Ansithe sleep in his arms and knew he had deep feelings for her which would never vanish.

  And he was still no closer to the answer, not one which made any sense. He wanted an honourable future with Ansithe. A longer future than the one which was currently on offer. One which would last many sunsets. He wanted to hope and plan. She made him want to live, instead of just existing, waiting for the next battle, the next order from Andvarr. Moir clenched his fists. He had to be better than his father who had betrayed his commander’s trust. He wanted both—his position in Andvarr’s felag and Ansithe.

  ‘I devotedly hope I never have to make that choice.’

  * * *

  Ansithe stood outside in the yard, rather than remain in the hall where Cynehild kept bursting into tears and declaring that this family must be cursed to suffer more than its fair share of bad luck. She had listened until the prophecies of doubt and doom became too much, made her excuses and had left the maids to try to console Cynehild.

  The air was far cooler than earlier and the sky had darkened to a jet black. A crash of thunder reverberated two heartbeats before the rain started to pelt down in great silver sheets.

  Ansithe sighed. Setting out in this was a recipe for getting lost, Cynehild was right about that if nothing else. Ecgbert would not be able to see his hand in front of his face, let alone be able to guide them to where Elene was sheltering, even if they used smouldering torches. They would have to wait until morning.

  The storm matched her mood and her sense that everything was ending, before it had properly begun. She and Moir were a fleeting dream, with no more substance than a wispy summer breeze.

  Having a relationship with Moir was simply not going to work, particularly not now that Elene had been kidnapped. It changed everything. It reminded her that Moir was one of them, the Great Heathen Horde who raided and took women for slaves. Had she been in his thrall like Cedric claimed?

  Her heart protested that there had been another reason for his travelling deep into Mercian territory. She simply did not know what it was and she wanted to know. Desperately. And did she trust him enough that he would not escape once they were clear of the manor house?

  ‘You wanted to see me,’ Moir said. He stood very tall and correct. His voice held more than a hint of steel.

  ‘I wanted to go over what supplies we will need and if you think taking horses would be a good idea or not.’

  He came over to her, put his arm about her shoulder, but she stepped away from him. He peered at her with a quizzical expression.

  ‘I meant what I said earlier about ending it. I wasn’t waiting out here hoping you’d take me in your arms,’ she said, hating the great leaden lump which now occupied her stomach. His holding her was precisely what she wanted. If he did that, then the choice would be taken from her and she could draw comfort from him.

  He watched her with wary eyes. ‘We will get soaked if we stay out here, discussing supplies.’

  ‘It won’t take long but I wanted to get the benefit of your experience.’

  ‘The stables?’ Without waiting for an answer, he started towards them. ‘We should be able to speak without interruption there and can keep dry.’

  Her stomach went into tighter knots. She knew she should find an excuse and go. Being alone with him in a private place where she was aware of every movement he made was a poor idea except she needed to speak to him about the plans for the expedition and the rain was getting heavier. ‘The stables make sense.’

  The scent of dried meadow grass and the sound of the soft snuffles of the horses filled the deserted stables. Moir put his hand out as if to draw her into his arms. But Ansithe backed away and wrapped her arms about her waist. If he touched her, she’d break all the promises she’d made to herself about how, if she behaved with propriety, Elene would be rescued unharmed.

  ‘I understand you spoke with Palni,’ she said, drawing her brows together and putting on her serious face as Cynehild often called it. ‘Cynehild has promised to look after him until we return.’

  She didn’t add if they returned. It was possible that the outlaws could strike again, but she doubted they would be that bold. She and Moir would find Elene and the injured men quickly. It was when they did that her time would be nearly at an end with Moir. She’d have to send him back to court with the guards for the ransom. And goodness knew what would happen to him t
hen.

  ‘I’ve spoken to him.’ Moir watched her with hooded eyes. ‘Father Oswald believes it is good you are going to find your sister. He has gone to the church to offer prayers for her safe return.’

  ‘Father Oswald thinks I am beyond redemption.’ She gave a little hiccupping laugh and inwardly squirmed. So much for being nonchalant or stand-offish. She sounded pathetic and needy. She pressed her lips together and became more determined than ever to sound in control. ‘I rarely pay any attention to what he says.’

  ‘You do. You worry too much about what other people think, even though you pretend you don’t. And you remember the criticism, rather than the praise. It is why you ended things between us. It was easier for you to believe what an arrogant coward said than trusting your gut instinct about what is good and true in your life.’

  ‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ she protested, hating the truth in his words. Her own feelings about him terrified her. They went against everything she’d ever been taught, yet being in his arms had taken her beyond her wildest imaginings.

  The silence grew. Ansithe could hear the steady drop of rain on the roof. ‘I must make sure everything is in order. We need to make an early start.’

  His eyes flashed blue fire at her change of subject. ‘You wanted to speak to me about supplies rather than the composition of the party.’

  ‘I know what is required.’ Ansithe ticked the various items off on her fingers.

  He coughed. ‘My men and I will be ready to go but...can you trust Ecgbert?’

  ‘We need him. He is the only one who knows where the attack happened and is our one link to Elene.’

  ‘A man like him managed to escape with barely a scratch but a host of warriors was injured? That doesn’t strike you as peculiar?’ When she looked unsure, he added, ‘He has not proven himself loyal to you. For a start, he is too friendly with your neighbour, the one who wanted to take us off your hands and who had Bjartr beaten.’

  She pursed her lips together. Moir had made valid points. ‘So you are saying that the attack was by design rather than chance? I am not certain. Ecgbert may shrink from violence, but he is no traitor. He is very loyal to my father and tells him everything.’

  ‘He is either a coward who refused to risk himself to save your sister, or he is in collusion with whoever attacked them.’ Moir crossed his arms. ‘He could be leading us into a trap. You could authorise us to go on our own. Keep yourself safe here. You have Palni as my guarantee to ransom for your father and brother-in-law should the worst happen.’

  ‘Elene is my sister. I go.’ Ansithe flattened her hands against her gown. ‘Your promise not to escape specifically stated as long as you and your men were under my control.’

  His face fell slightly. ‘After what we have shared, you still don’t trust me to keep my word to you.’

  ‘My archery skill matches any,’ she said and willed him to understand that this wasn’t a question of trust. ‘I can be of use, rather than sitting back at the manor, tending my bees and waiting for news.’

  ‘Promise me if the fighting starts, you will go somewhere safe to shoot those arrows, rather than being in the heat of battle.’

  She watched him under her lashes. ‘Would you?’

  ‘I’m a battle-hardened warrior. There is a difference.’ He reached out and entangled her fingers with his. The touch made her forget everything about propriety and what she should or shouldn’t be doing and remember how safe she’d felt in his arms. She knew she should step away, but all she could do was to gaze up at his piercing blue eyes and cling to his hand. ‘I want to protect you. I want to make sure you are safe.’

  ‘I am safe. I will be safe. I can look after myself,’ she whispered, but her fingers remained curled about his.

  He tugged her hands. Her body collided with his. He swore softly and put his mouth against hers, nuzzling her. She instantly looped her arms about his neck, pressing her lips to his. He brought his arms about her, holding their bodies close. And she gave herself up to the kiss.

  ‘What do you truly need?’ he growled in her ear. ‘Tell me the truth rather than giving me some lie.’

  ‘Your arms about me,’ she confessed, laying her head on his chest and listening to the comforting thump of his heart. Tomorrow, she silently promised, tomorrow she’d be strong, but for tonight she needed him. ‘I was wrong earlier to think this thing between us was finished.’

  ‘Are you using me to stop thinking?’ he said against her ear. His tongue tantalised while his teeth nibbled, sending sparks shooting through her.

  ‘Is that wrong of me?’ she murmured.

  He nipped her chin. ‘I’m not proud. I will have you any way I can get you.’

  His fingers went to where she had carefully braided her hair. With a few tugs, he had the arrangement down and her hair floating about her face. He buried his in the silken curtain.

  ‘Can I stay here with you?’ she whispered. ‘Being alone right now frightens me more than I can say. I don’t want to think. I keep remembering about when my mother died. You make it easy to keep the demons at bay.’ She placed her hands against his chest and felt his hard muscles move under her palms. ‘Is that possible?’

  He pressed a kiss to her cheek and gave a deep laugh which reverberated through her body, making a curl of liquid fire flicker and dance about her insides. ‘I believe that can be arranged. The physical exists between us, denying it would be wrong.’

  ‘I won’t deny it again.’ She pulled his face down to her mouth.

  Their mouths met again. Lips on lips. Tongue twining with tongue as the fire deep within her belly grew and raged.

  He nibbled along her neck until he reached her gown.

  He cupped her breasts over the material, drew small circles with his fingertips, teasing and tormenting them until her nipples became hardened points.

  ‘We are rather overdressed,’ he breathed in her ear.

  She tugged at his tunic and lifted it over his head. His skin shimmered silver in the faint light. She ran her hands over the indents from his many scars. His skin was warm silk under the pads of her fingers. She brushed his nipples and they became tiny nubs. She bent her mouth and suckled.

  He groaned in the back of his throat.

  His hands captured hers and eased her gently down among the clean hay. The lingering scent of summer flowers and new grass filled her nostrils.

  He rapidly undid her gown and pushed it up, revealing her body to his avid gaze.

  Then his lips feasted on her breasts, teasing the nipples while he kept one hand lightly holding her wrists. Her back arched to meet his mouth and she knew she needed this. She wanted this. Her head thrashed about as wave after wave of heat coursed through her body. Then gently, like a feather, she settled back down to earth.

  He was watching her with an intent expression.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, reaching up and touching his cheek.

  She’d been wrong earlier to push him away when all she had wanted was his touch to drive away all her fears and anxieties.

  ‘We are not done yet.’

  His mouth went lower, stopping at her belly button where his tongue played, lapping round and round until she was convinced the liquid fire would consume her once again. Her body writhed against his and she pulled at his shoulders.

  ‘A little longer,’ he murmured, releasing her hands and going lower still to the nest of curls at the apex of her thighs.

  He slipped a finger between her folds, caressing her.

  ‘I need... I need...you,’ she cried as her body writhed against the sheer seductive movement of his fingers. He made her feel beautiful and desirable, as if she could accomplish anything.

  He put her hand against his trousers. The hard length of him strained to get free. With fumbling fingers, she undid them and pushed them down. He pulled them off
.

  She held him and marvelled at his silky strength.

  ‘Put me where you want me,’ he growled in her ear.

  She nodded and placed him between her thighs. He surged forward, sheathing his length completely in her. Her body opened to welcome him.

  He collapsed down on her and then began to thrust. She joined him joyfully and together, the world exploded around them as the thunder reverberated in the sky.

  * * *

  Gradually, Moir became aware of his surroundings—the pebble pushing into the small of his back, the faint starlight infusing the stable now that the thunderstorm had passed.

  He gave her neck a nuzzle before rolling off her and staring up at the roof. He’d lied to her—their joining was not just about physical desire. He desired her mind. He desired the way she cared deeply about her family. She awoke protective urges in him that he didn’t know he’d possessed and for the very first time he could begin to understand why his father had been so determined to reach his mother that he’d betrayed his fellow prisoners.

  With great difficulty he kept his mind away from making halls in the sky and spinning dreams about how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this woman by his side. How could he ask her to share anything when his future was so uncertain?

  She had come to mean so much to him in such a short span of time. She had made him want to dream of the gentler things in life. She made him want to consider a life beyond war and his oath to Andvarr. He wanted to keep her in his arms for ever.

  He knew what she had done earlier—used his body so she could forget her fear, so she could have a few moments of peace. He’d done it often enough himself—finding an accommodating pair of thighs to keep the bad dreams at bay. He’d been happy to oblige.

  His heart clenched. This time, he wanted it to mean something more than just two bodies seeking solace in the night. He wanted it to mean something to her, just as it had meant something to him.