Magnus fired his furnace for the making of gifts, bestowing on Modwen a pair of brooches of his own design, intricately patterned, alongside a hair pin topped by a bird with outstretched wings. Taran had his own sword at last, and Alpia, a short dagger, the hilt worked with all the skills Magnus possessed.
Modwen had not been idle, weaving cloth of deepest green. Proudly, she presented matching tunics for Taran and Magnus, each embroidered with a pattern of ivy in a lighter shade. For Alpia, who was growing, there was a new undershift and gown, the yoke woven green and blue together. In their new finery, they would celebrate the turning of the year and give thanks.
Jul brought blizzards, as not seen in many years, but the Norsemen gathered in the jarl’s hall for wrestling, riddles, and puns, for the singing of songs and telling of tales. Their drinking games brought much merriment, each man competing to devise the cleverest insults. Yet it was Gladys who proved the sharpest tongued, to her husband’s amusement.
The fire pit blazed, filled with logs of oak and heaped high with fir branches and holly sprigs, over which roasted a boar brought down by Brandr’s own arrow.
As dusk fell, they rolled out a giant wheel, carved from wood and set aflame, which Garth and Ragnar pushed off, to whirl across the headland—a burning symbol of the sun, cutting through the darkness, its path taking it over the cliffs and into the raging sea.
They stood and raised their cups in honour of those far away, and those who would drink with them no more.
Beneath swathes of mistletoe gathered from the forest by the hardiest of men, the warriors then shared with all the legend of Odin’s Wild Hunt.
“He leads the souls of our ancestors, charging across the sky on Sleipnir, his eight-legged stallion,” the jarl said, speaking soft to the children crouched at his knees. “None would dare look upon the Ásgardr riders, as the worlds of living and dead are not fast in these winter days.”
“We’ll leave gifts of food and drink in the snow,” Rinda added swiftly. “So they’ll pass on without danger, have no fear.”
The Christian people of Achnaryrie gave their voices in marking their Saviour’s day, but the story of winter darkness and the light that would come again was familiar, Modwen said, for hadn’t such tales always been told, and wreaths of green hung to remind all of spring which would come.
In the months that followed, her growing child danced and kicked, though she often paused to sigh and catch her breath, rubbing the place where the babe moved. Modwen smiled at the life within her belly.
He’d been so young the first time that he’d paid little mind to the changes in Solveig’s body. Now, he marvelled at the wonder of it, getting close enough to Modwen’s stomach to feel the babe’s movements. He urged her to take her ease and let him fetch and carry whatever she needed.
With the softer breezes of late spring, Modwen’s time arrived, and though her cries of pain froze Magnus’s heart, fearful as he was for her safe delivery, their child was born quickly, aided by Myrna and Eithne.
A daughter!
With eyes as dark as his own and a head of lush hair.
He cried with joy at her delicate features.
As Modwen stayed abed, the babe snuggling at her breast, feeding lustily, Magnus sat beside her and wrapped both in his embrace.
How he loved them—this wife gifted to him by the gods, and this tiny child they’d created together. The feeling overwhelmed his heart.
Had he ever been this happy?
Yes, long ago—without thinking to be so again.
He cupped the child’s head, pressing his lips first to Modwen’s cheek, then his daughter’s. She was frail now, but she’d grow strong like the other newborns, gifted as of late to his fellow warrior brothers and their brides.
The next generation of Achnaryrie was secure. The years would see these children grow, and there would be many more.
“She’s all right, I suppose.” Taran groaned. “But can we have a boy next time?”
“You must ask your mother that.” Magnus ruffled the boy’s hair. “For now, you have two sisters and must join me in their care and protection.”
“A man knows his duty,” Taran recited with a satisfied smile.
“He does.” Magnus beckoned Alpia closer, giving her hand a squeeze, then placing it upon Taran’s. “Now, off with you both, for the new planting has begun, and that’s a job everyone must take part in.”
Once they were alone, Magnus brought his lips to Modwen’s and lingered there. For the time being, his wife’s body—tempting as it was—belonged to the babe, but he would show his passion in his kiss. All the while, his daughter suckled heartily, her tiny mouth eager for the milk that would nourish her.
When Magnus broke off, his voice was rough. “I love you, wife.”
“And I, you, dearest husband.”
His thoughts turned to that first day they’d landed on the shore below the headland of Achnaryrie. Another lifetime, when he’d thought himself forsaken and believed his jarl’s command to wed a cruelty wrought to torment him.
How little he’d known.
As if she were thinking the same, Modwen said, “I’m glad ’twas you.”
She raised her chin in request of another kiss, and Magnus whispered softly in her ear, though there was no one else to hear his words or to disturb them. He murmured promises of love for Modwen, and when her lips touched his, Magnus knew the gods were smiling on him.
Explore the other romances within the VIKING SURRENDER series.
Brandr - by Ashe Barker
Forced to wed a fierce Viking warlord to save her people, Eithne must surrender to her husband’s stern discipline, yet his tenderness takes her breath away. A man of his word, Brandr vows to protect her village from its enemies.
But what of Eithne? Who will protect her as she learns to care for this ferocious man who now leads her people and holds her heart in his mighty hands?
Ragnar - by Sky Purington
Intrigued by the symbol on his blade, Myrna chooses Ragnar for her husband. But how is she to love a man who lives in the past? Determined to remain faithful to his deceased wife, Ragnar both fights and craves Myrna, hungry for her healing touch. Will he give in and find sanctuary in her arms? Or will the shocking truth about his dagger end love before it begins?
Graeme - by Gianna Simone
Maimed and bitter, Graeme is forced to take a wife from the barbarians invading his shores. Resentful of her invading his solitary life, he vows to bend her to his will.
Rinda grudgingly weds a man she barely knows—who hates her nearly as much as she despises him. Yet, despite their shared animosity, the wounded warrior and shield-maiden share an unexpected passion that soon consumes them both.
Magnus - by Emmanuelle de Maupassant
Magnus is tortured by memories of his wife’s murder at the hands of savage berserkers, yet commanded to wed.
The valiant warrior finds unexpected passion in his new bride’s arms, but can Modwen’s love heal the wounds of his battle-scarred heart—or will another’s jealousy destroy them both?
Thorolf - by Vanessa Brooks
Ailsa, a woman scarred by the brutality of men, knowing peace only in the depths of the forest. Thorolf, a cunning warrior, as fierce as the wolves Ailsa adores. Enemies bound by marriage, their attraction is undeniable. But can her Viking husband tame Ailsa’s wounded heart?
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?
Jerrik - by Felicity Brandon
Brigid: The last thing I need is a husband, especially some Viking brute commanding my surrender.
Jerrik: Fight all you want, little Pict. You will yield to my desire...
Forced into a union she didn't seek, Brigid is terrified and aroused by Jerrik's masterful behaviour and car
nal demands. But, when he saves her son from the ferocious ocean, Brigid realises he may be the hero she needs, as well as the man she craves.
Steinn - by Lily Harlem
Married to a barbaric beast, Gladys cannot believe her bad fortune. A rough and raw Norseman has taken to her home and her bed as if it’s his right. But never fear, she has plans to do away with him, to rid him from her life…for good.
Steinn is thankful to the gods for his good luck. His new bride Gladys is a sexy little wild cat with curves and an ass to die for. Admittedly she needs a little training, and a fair bit of discipline, but he’ll take her in hand if it’s the last thing he does. Won’t he?
Bjorn - by Jane Burrelli
A proud shield-maiden vowing never to be possessed by any man. A ruthless Viking warrior swearing to tame the bold beauty.
A battle of wills and consuming desire.
But who will conquer who?
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