Stolen By The Viking (Sons 0f Sigurd Series Book 1)

by Michelle Willingham

  ‘If Feann is there—’

  ‘Then I will stay with you and speak with him,’ she interrupted. ‘As you said, we will let him believe we are married.’

  He didn’t argue, but continued to love her, driving her close to the edge. If he dared to tell Feann that he had wed Breanne, the king would demand his life in return. Their battle might be this day. For all he knew, this might be the last time he could be with this woman.

  He slowed his pace again, wanting it to last. Her breathing had shifted, and she tried to urge him on, begging, ‘Alarr, please.’

  But he continued to draw out her pleasure, sliding deep within as he lowered his mouth to her breast, stroking her with his tongue. He was starting to learn what she needed, and when she arched against him, he reached down to stroke her intimately.

  She was shuddering against him, but he wanted her to remember this moment between them. Gently, he urged her higher, until she gave a keening cry and shattered in his arms. She was panting as he entered and withdrew. All around his erect length, he could feel her body spasming and embracing him.

  By the gods, he needed this woman. And if this was the last time between them, at least he knew he had glimpsed the life he would never have. He penetrated her, grasping her hips as she clenched him, and when he emptied himself inside, he held her close, breathing in the scent of her hair. His heart was racing, and he never wanted to let her go.

  But he had no choice in this. She had to face her past, just as he did. With great reluctance, he withdrew and kissed her again before he helped her put on her gown. He got dressed and they put out the fire.

  Breanne picked up the furs and folded them, and he brought them over to their horse, binding the coverlet to the saddle. He lifted her on to the animal and then mounted behind her, guiding them back on to the path leading to Dún Bolg. The green fields spread out in the distance, and he took the horse towards the fortress. A high wooden fence surrounded it, and he approached the gates slowly.

  His thoughts were troubled, for he was only waiting to learn if Feann was still here. He had made a promise to Breanne not to kill him, and yet, he still wanted justice for his father’s death. The question was whether that could happen without bloodshed. He doubted if that was possible.

  When they reached the entrance, two guards called out for him to halt. Every sense went on alert as Alarr dismounted, holding the reins of their horse. He kept his hand near his weapon to protect Breanne.

  ‘Who are you, and why are you here?’ one guard asked.

  ‘I am here to bring my wife, Breanne Ó Callahan, home to see her mother.’

  The guard spoke to the other and answered, ‘We have no Ó Callahans here.’

  Breanne muttered beneath her breath, ‘He’s lying.’

  Alarr suspected as much, since the woman had gone into hiding. ‘May we speak with your king or your chief?’

  ‘Wait here.’

  One of the guards departed to ask, and Breanne kept her voice low. ‘Why do you think she was exiled in this place?’

  ‘I don’t know. But Feann may have the answers if he’s here.’ Inwardly, the tension was stretched tight within him, making him suspicious of everyone.

  A little while later, the guard returned and opened the gates to him. ‘Follow me.’

  They did, and Alarr saw that the fortress was organised and neat, with the thatched roundhouses evenly spaced. Outdoor hearths burned with bricks of peat, and an iron pot hung over another fire, redolent with the succulent aroma of stew. There was an air of peace and contentment here, not one of war or imprisonment. He didn’t know what to think of that.

  When they reached the largest dwelling, the guard stopped. ‘Our chief will speak with your wife alone.’

  ‘I will not leave Breanne alone with a stranger,’ Alarr countered. ‘I will remain with her at all times.’ He pressed his hand to her waist to emphasise it.

  ‘Iasan does not wish to welcome a Lochlannach in our midst,’ the guard said.

  He didn’t care what the chief wanted. Breanne’s safety came above all else. But then, she turned to him and touched a hand to his shoulder. ‘The chief may know something about what happened to my mother. Let us compromise.’ She regarded the guard and said, ‘Tell Iasan that I will speak with him, but only if my husband can be present at the door or closer.’

  The guard inclined his head. ‘I will ask.’

  Alarr wasn’t convinced it was a good idea to let her speak to the chief alone, particularly if Feann was here. But he was starting to believe that his enemy was already gone, for there was no sign of visitors.

  Breanne’s mother might have answers about Feann, since she had chosen to foster her daughter with him. But when Alarr glanced at his wife, he saw her twisting her fingers together.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked gently.

  She shook her head. ‘Nothing, really. It’s just that I’m nervous about seeing my mother for the first time in so long. I haven’t seen her since I was a young child.’

  Their upbringing had been vastly different, so it seemed. He had been part of a large family with many kinsmen in the tribe whereas she had been more isolated.

  ‘Do you still want to see her, if she is here?’ he asked. ‘She might not have told them her real name.’

  Breanne nodded slowly. ‘Even if I don’t know her, I would like to speak to her.’

  The guard returned and said, ‘Our chief has agreed to come and meet you here.’

  Alarr understood that the leader wanted to ensure that there was no risk of an attack. He agreed, and within a few minutes, a man emerged from the roundhouse, leaning against a walking stick. His hair was a blend of grey and red, and though he was past his fighting years, there was no doubting the razor-sharp awareness in his eyes. When he studied Breanne, there was a visible discomfort, as if he recognised her somehow. He motioned for the guard to come closer and murmured a command in the man’s ear.

  ‘I understand you came in search of a Ó Callahan woman,’ the chief said. ‘Why?’

  Breanne took a step closer. ‘I was told that my parents were killed, years ago, and I lived with my foster father ever since. I learned only recently that my mother, Treasa, was exiled here. I was hoping to find her.’

  The older warrior stared at her for a time, as if discerning something. Alarr met the man’s gaze, and added, ‘We mean no harm to her or to anyone of your tribe.’

  The chief seemed full of distrust, and he said, ‘That remains to be seen.’ Then he added, ‘You may stay the night with us. A few of our men are going hunting now, and you may join them if you wish. Your wife can stay with the women.’

  Alarr was about to refuse, for he didn’t like the idea of being separated from her. But then, Breanne leaned in close. ‘I think he wants to learn if we truly are a threat. Go with them, and I will stay here. I have your knife, if there is a need.’

  He was about to argue with her, when abruptly, he heard an audible gasp. A woman broke free from the others and hurried towards Breanne. Her hair was reddish gold, like Breanne’s, and her face was an older version. There could be no doubt this was her mother.

  Breanne stood motionless, in shock. For a moment, the two women stared at one another, until the older woman said, ‘Breanne?’

  When she gave a nod, the woman embraced her, openly weeping. Though Breanne did not push her away, it was obvious that she knew not what to do. She appeared startled by the woman’s presence and could not quite return the affection.

  ‘I think I should remain with my wife,’ Alarr said to the chief, ‘while she becomes reacquainted with her mother.’

  * * *

  Breanne followed her mother across the fortress to another roundhouse. Treasa gripped her hand as if she never wanted to let go. There was no denying that her joy was real. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and her smile spread across her face.
/>   As for herself, Breanne felt only confusion. She couldn’t force herself to be happy at seeing Treasa, for she didn’t know her at all. It almost made her feel guilty that she couldn’t return her mother’s happiness. All she could think of was how Feann had never once spoken of Treasa. Breanne had always believed that she was alone, never knowing that she had a surviving family member. More than anything, she had wanted to have that kinship bond with another person. Instead, she could hardly bring herself to feel anything. There was no sense of connection with her mother, and a slight flare of guilt troubled her. She ought to be overjoyed, instead of mistrustful.

  Alarr followed her, and he appeared to be searching for any signs of danger. She was grateful for his presence, for she believed he would keep her safe. His hand remained at her waist in a silent warning to others, and the gentle touch brought her comfort.

  Ever since she had given herself to him, he had remained close. Though she wanted to believe that he would keep his promise, she remained cautious. It did not seem that there was any trace of her foster father, and she was grateful that she had more time before the two men confronted one another.

  An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach as she wondered if Alarr had been right about Feann. She had never seen a darker side to the king before. Had he exiled her mother as a means of controlling her lands at Clonagh? Or had he tried to save Treasa’s life after her husband was executed? She couldn’t understand why her mother would be a threat to anyone. But Feann’s purpose remained unclear. Breanne didn’t know what to think about a man who would lie about Treasa’s existence for so long.

  Her mother led her inside and bade her to sit down. Alarr joined them but remained near the doorway to give them a measure of privacy.

  She braved a smile. ‘I cannot tell you how glad I am that you came to visit me, Breanne. I’ve been in hiding for so long, I never imagined I would see you again.’

  ‘Feann told me you were dead,’ Breanne answered honestly. She hardly knew what to say or where to begin.

  Treasa’s expression grew pained. ‘Sometimes I wished I were dead.’ She took a steady breath and admitted, ‘I lost everything. My home...my husband...even you.’

  Breanne felt as if her emotions were in turmoil right now. She needed to put together the pieces of the past. ‘I need to understand what happened to you and my father. Will you tell me how you came to Dún Bolg?’

  And why you remained hidden for so long.

  Even as a prisoner, someone could have told her that Treasa was still alive. But they didn’t want her to know the truth, and she couldn’t guess the reasons why.

  Treasa rested her hands in her lap and glanced at Alarr. Breanne reassured her, ‘Alarr can be trusted.’

  Her mother hesitated for a moment as if trying to decide whether to believe it. Finally, she said, ‘Your father, Dal, was a good friend and an ally of King Cerball MacDúnlainge. He is a powerful ruler, and there was a time when we thought of marrying you to one of Cerball’s sons.’

  Then her expression hardened at the memory. ‘Dal thought we should send you to him for fostering, but I wasn’t so certain. I knew Feann would protect you, and he was not as ambitious as Cerball.’

  Against her spine, Breanne felt the light touch of Alarr’s hand. Then he spoke, ‘Where is Feann now?’

  Treasa shrugged. ‘He was here a few days ago. I suppose he returned to Killcobar.’ Her expression revealed nothing about her failed attempts at escape. In fact, from her demeanour, Breanne questioned whether Darin had been telling the truth. Was she truly a prisoner in exile? Or were there more lies?

  From the tension in his hand, Breanne knew that Alarr wanted to ask more, but he held back the questions.

  ‘What happened to my father?’ she asked Treasa.

  Her mother’s face tightened with emotion. ‘Dal wanted to raise his own status by fighting Cerball’s battles with our own men. I told him we should stay at Clonagh, but he refused. Instead, he went into battle against the Lochlannach, time and again, while he left me with Cerball. He believed I would be safe there, as an honoured guest in the household.’

  Her face tightened, and she lowered her gaze, gripping her hands together. ‘But I was Cerball’s prisoner.’

  Breanne sensed there was more that her mother did not wish to reveal. She turned to Alarr. ‘Will you leave us alone for a moment?’

  He drew his hand to her nape and nodded. ‘If you feel safe here. I can guard the door.’

  She nodded. Before he left, he pulled her close and kissed her. It was likely a mark of possession, to show her mother that they were bound together. But even so, the brief kiss made her savour the light pressure of his mouth. Breanne gathered her composure and after he left, she regarded her mother. ‘How long were you his prisoner?’

  ‘For three years,’ Treasa answered. There was hatred within her voice, and Breanne suspected what else had happened.

  ‘Were you his prisoner...in all ways?’

  Her mother closed her eyes. ‘Cerball told me he would send Dal to fight at the front of the battle lines if I did not give myself to him. I despised what he did to me, but I had no choice, if I wanted to keep your father alive. In the end, it didn’t matter.’

  ‘I’m so sorry for what you endured,’ she whispered to her mother. The thought of being a king’s prisoner, and being forced to share his bed, was horrifying. It evoked memories of Oisin and his attempt to take her into captivity. She could not even imagine her mother’s pain—even worse because Cerball had still ordered Dal’s execution. Breanne could see the suffering in Treasa’s face, and she took the woman’s hand, squeezing it.

  Her mother tightened her lips and took a breath. ‘It’s over now, and I’ve made a new life for myself here.’

  ‘They told me that my father was executed for treason. Was it because the king wanted you?’

  Treasa stood and paced across the small dwelling. For several moments, she said nothing. Then she admitted, ‘Cerball was a proud man, and he believed that I would love him more than my husband. He wanted me to set Dal aside and become his queen.’ Her eyes gleamed with unshed tears, and she rested her hand upon one of the beams supporting the roof. ‘When I refused, he grew enraged. He accused Dal of conspiring against him.’

  ‘Do you think my father knew what was happening?’

  Treasa nodded. ‘Once Dal realised I was Cerball’s captive, he did everything in his power to get me out.’ She wiped a tear away and said, ‘He helped me escape with one of his men but paid the price with his life. Cerball executed him and stole our lands.’ She took a moment to gather control of her emotions.

  ‘And you left me with Feann,’ Breanne finished.

  Her mother nodded. ‘I was grateful that he promised to protect you until you came of age. Even if I was not allowed to see you.’

  Breanne frowned, not truly understanding the reason why Feann had not wanted her to know that her mother was alive. Was it for Treasa’s protection, or was it for his own reasons? She wanted to ask questions, but something held her back. Someone was lying, and she knew not if it was Feann or Treasa.

  ‘Are you still a prisoner here?’ she asked her mother.

  Treasa gave a weak smile and nodded. ‘This is where I have been exiled. After Cerball no longer desired me, he has kept me here all these years.’ She added, ‘I tried to visit Clonagh a time or two. Feann heard of it, and he brought me back.’ Regret tinged Treasa’s voice, but she could understand her mother’s reasons for wanting to go home.

  ‘What of our people?’ Breanne asked quietly. ‘What became of them?’

  ‘They are under Cerball’s rule. Feann was trying to arrange for you to reclaim Clonagh by wedding a man loyal to Cerball. I had hoped he would manage it.’ Her mother’s expression grew tense. ‘But you are already wedded to this Lochlannach.’ She appeared displeased by it. ‘I don’t know what can be done
about an alliance now.’

  Breanne thought about admitting to her mother that they were not truly married but decided against it. Instead, she rose from her seated position and went to the door to bring Alarr back inside. She had never thought about Clonagh in the past, always believing it was lost. But now, she wondered what to do.

  Alarr came to sit beside her, and she took strength from his presence. Treasa eyed him and asked, ‘Tell me how you came to be with my daughter.’

  ‘I am Alarr Sigurdsson of the kingdom of Maerr,’ Alarr replied. ‘Breanne was in danger, and I wed her as a means of protecting her.’ His tone remained neutral, the lie flowing easily. He slid his arm around her waist in a silent gesture to emphasise his claim.

  Treasa’s expression grew strained. ‘Was it your wish to wed him, Breanne?’ She appeared disconcerted by the idea of a union between her daughter and a Lochlannach.

  Breanne caught his gaze and recognised that Alarr was trying to gain more information for both of them. She would say nothing to dispute his claim. ‘It was my choice, yes.’

  Inwardly, she wondered if it had been the right decision to offer herself to him. She didn’t know if Alarr would keep his vow not to kill Feann. But beyond her foster father’s life, she could not bear the thought of Alarr’s death. She wanted him to live, to recognise that he had a life beyond fighting. Would he truly set aside his plans for revenge? Or was he only saying words she wanted to hear?

  His hand moved over her waist in a slight caress of reassurance. She glanced at Alarr, and in his eyes, she saw a man who would not let her go. His gaze was steadfast, and she wondered if the sudden intimacy between them would bring him out of his shadows and into a life where there was hope. For the first time in her life, it felt as if she had someone she could love. And though she was afraid to trust him, she wanted to believe that he would not betray her.

  ‘How did you learn I was at Dún Bolg?’ Treasa asked. ‘Did Feann tell you?’