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

by Michelle Willingham

  Two of the men pressed her father back while the others surrounded her. She pushed back the rising fear and forced herself to leave with the men as they retreated.

  But as they escorted her to the far end of the ringfort where Oisin was fighting Alarr, she was afraid to wonder what would happen now.

  * * *

  Alarr’s arm was numb from the sword fight, but he ignored the pain and continued to strike hard at his enemy. He could see the sweat running down Oisin’s face. The man was growing weary, and that gave Alarr an advantage. He lunged with his blade and nicked Oisin’s side before the man could dodge the blow.

  This was about more than winning a sword fight. It was about protecting Breanne from a man who wanted to possess her. Never would he allow her to marry a man like Oisin, who would subjugate her to his will.

  Without warning, Oisin changed his pace. He struck hard, swinging the sword at Alarr’s knees. He had to leap to get out of the way, and when his feet landed, he was off balance. Oisin took advantage and shoved his wounded shoulder, causing Alarr to gasp at the pain before he fell to the ground. He rolled out of the way and raised his shield just as his enemy struck a downward blow.

  His pulse thundered, and he forced himself to centre his rage. He needed to remain calm and not allow his body’s weakness to betray him. But he struggled to push back the frustration of his lack of balance. He could not doubt himself, or it would only lead to failure.

  ‘You cannot win this fight,’ Oisin taunted. ‘And when you’re dead, I’m going to claim her body. You’ll die, knowing that she will be mine to do with as I choose.’ A thin smile curved at Oisin’s mouth.

  Not if I can help it.

  Alarr knew the man was trying to incite his rage, to make him careless. He used all his strength to push back with his shield and managed to stand up from the ground. His legs were still unsteady, but he feigned a strength he didn’t feel.

  Oisin pressed back, and when Alarr stared into the man’s eyes, he saw no mercy. He had no doubt that his enemy would hurt Breanne, given the opportunity. This time, he would not stop until Oisin was dead and could no longer threaten Breanne.

  With a surge of strength, he shoved Oisin back and swung his sword. He saw a slight smile as his enemy dodged the blow, but Alarr ignored the mocking stare and continued to fight.

  Out of nowhere, a searing pain struck the back of his knees, and he crumpled to the ground. He spied another man attacking from behind, and Alarr barely avoided the killing blow. It was dishonourable, and he should have expected it from Oisin. The second man struck him with a club, and Alarr bit back a roar of pain as he tried to defend himself from both fighters.

  A soft exclamation caught his attention, and he saw Breanne being held by two men, with two others nearby. She wore a yellow gown, and when she caught sight of him on the ground, he saw the fear in her eyes.

  ‘Alarr,’ she called out, struggling to free herself from their grasp.

  It burned his pride that she had seen him like this, crouched on the ground like a wounded animal. The second man struck again, and his shield reverberated from the vicious blow as he deflected it. But Breanne’s presence renewed his resolution to win. He would do anything to defeat his enemies.

  Oisin was gloating, and he held his sword aloft. ‘Would you like to witness his death, Breanne? I could make you watch while I sink this blade into his heart.’

  Alarr struggled and nearly managed to break away. But at a signal from Oisin, two more soldiers came to restrain him. They bore their full weight upon him, and he fought to free himself from the men.

  ‘No,’ Breanne said. ‘Let him live.’ Her tone was quiet, tinged with fear. ‘I will do as you command.’

  Alarr was about to voice a protest, but he saw her give a slight shake of her head. She had done this on purpose as a distraction. And he needed to take advantage.

  Oisin seemed pleased by her response. ‘Good.’ He reached for her wrist and pulled her closer. ‘Look at him.’

  Alarr knew that his enemy was trying to demean him in her eyes. Although he ought to feel humiliated, instead he was determined to save her. At that moment, Oisin leaned in and kissed her hard. His mouth was bruising, possessive, and there was no doubt of the message he was sending. The man intended to claim Breanne, forcing her to do his will.

  At that moment, Alarr wanted nothing more than to bury his blade in the man’s heart. But first, he had to free himself from his captors to reach his weapon.

  ‘Oisin!’ came a man’s voice. It was Feann. His face was swollen, his lip bleeding as he held out his sword. ‘Let her go.’

  Oisin turned, and Alarr used the moment to push back against the men holding him down. He rolled away and managed to rise to his feet, though his knees were burning from the pain. He refused to give up and would willingly sacrifice his life for hers. Never would he allow Oisin to claim her.

  Despite the pain, Alarr held his weapon and charged forwards, heedless of the soldiers. His only concern was reaching her before his enemy could harm her. Before he got very far, the other fighters flanked him. King Feann rushed forward with his sword and joined at Alarr’s side. It was strange to realise that the man he’d tried to kill was now defending him and fighting alongside him. The clanging sound of iron resounded as the king blocked an enemy’s sword. They moved back to back, facing off against their common foes. Breanne’s face still held worry, yet she appeared startled by the sight of them together.

  Oisin’s mouth tightened, and he gripped her arm, moving towards the back of the ringfort. Alarr doubled his efforts against his opponents. He wasn’t about to let him take Breanne.

  ‘Go after her,’ Feann commanded. ‘I’ll hold them off with our men.’ Just as he’d predicted, several of the Killcobar soldiers joined in. And then, to his surprise, some of the Clonagh men joined at Feann’s side.

  Alarr didn’t argue but hurried towards Breanne. Oisin stopped in the centre of the ringfort in a silent challenge. He held Breanne around the waist, and with his left hand, he reached under her skirt.

  No. He would not stand by and let his enemy defile Breanne. Alarr raced towards them, but Oisin withdrew a hidden blade that had been strapped to Breanne’s thigh. He held it against her throat and gave a mocking smile. ‘Let her go, Lochlannach. And I might let you live.’

  He pressed the blade against Breanne’s skin until blood welled. The sight of her suffering ignited Alarr’s fury, but he didn’t dare move again for fear that Oisin would cut her throat.

  ‘I don’t think you want to come any closer,’ his enemy continued. ‘Or it will be your fault she died. Just like your first wife, wasn’t it?’

  Alarr didn’t know how Oisin had any knowledge of Gilla, but he remained motionless. His mind tried to think of another way to save her, and he glanced back at Feann. The king and their men had pushed back the other fighters, but he held his sword and shield in readiness.

  ‘If you harm Breanne, you will lose Clonagh,’ Alarr warned. ‘Her people will defend her.’ He had already witnessed that, when the men of Clonagh had joined Feann in the fight.

  ‘These people have never seen her before,’ Oisin scoffed. ‘They care nothing for her fate.’

  ‘And what of me?’ came a voice. Treasa emerged from one of the dwellings, and she pulled her hood back to reveal her face. ‘Do you not think my people would defend me?’

  Oisin’s gaze turned mocking. ‘If they cared, they would have brought you out of exile.’ He surveyed the lands and added, ‘They need a strong leader to guide them.’

  ‘They don’t need a tyrant,’ Breanne countered. She stared at Alarr in a silent message of her own. She appeared poised and courageous in the face of danger. But he worried that she would fight back. He didn’t want to risk her being hurt.

  ‘Oisin, do not do this,’ Treasa pleaded. ‘There is no need for fighting.’ She stepped between them
and pleaded, ‘Put down the blade. Breanne has already agreed to wed you.’

  Alarr tightened his grip on his weapon. He knew the woman was lying, but he couldn’t guess what she was trying to accomplish.

  Yet Oisin did not lower the knife. Instead, he addressed the crowd. ‘I want everyone to know that I will always guard Clonagh from outsiders.’ He stared at the people, and many looked away, out of fear. ‘No one will threaten me or those I protect.’

  ‘This isn’t protection,’ Breanne said quietly. ‘This is cowardice. You are using me as a shield because you know this is a fight you cannot win.’ She tried to pull his hand back, but his grip remained firm.

  Alarr studied the man closely, wondering if he could somehow disarm him without hurting Breanne.

  Oisin called out to his men and ordered them, ‘Take her to my dwelling and bind her. I will come to her later.’

  Breanne met Alarr’s gaze with a quiet steadiness. He didn’t know what her plan was, but it was clear that she had no intention of behaving like a meek woman. There was an aura of determination about her, and he questioned what she would do now.

  Without warning, Breanne slumped forward, her body going slack.

  * * *

  It was easy to behave like a helpless woman, for Breanne had behaved as such for all her life. But she’d had her fill of being a man’s victim. It was time to act, time to free herself from this prison. The blade was still pressed close to her throat, but Oisin had lightened the pressure after she had let herself fall into a dead weight. Distraction was her aim, and the moment he pulled back the weapon, she shoved him backwards. She regained her footing and ran hard towards Alarr. He caught her in his arms and asked, ‘Are you all right?’

  She nodded, and he pressed her back. ‘Go to Feann. He will get you out.’

  ‘I’m not leaving you.’ She knew, without a doubt, that he would stay and fight—even at the cost of his life. But this time, she had no intention of running away. Not any more. She would rather stand by his side and face the worst than abandon him to his enemies.

  ‘Breanne, no.’

  Before he could stop her, she turned and addressed the people of Clonagh. ‘These men do not belong in your fortress. They have no right to lay claim to your land or your homes.’

  She saw her mother take a step forward, as if she wanted to say something. But then, she faltered. Breanne stood at Alarr’s back, heedless of the danger. There were dozens of men surrounding her father’s meagre forces. Yet, she didn’t believe that they wanted to live like this.

  ‘Oisin is not your ruler. Stand together, and drive him out.’

  The men of Clonagh appeared uncertain. It was a grave risk, but one worth taking if it meant saving the man she loved.

  ‘These men are not fighters,’ Treasa intervened. ‘They know they cannot succeed against his forces. They know what will happen if they betray King Cerball and his son.’ She returned to the centre of the ringfort and faced all of them. ‘Is it not better to be protected by Oisin than to be his enemy? He will guard you and defend you.’

  ‘He will imprison you,’ Breanne countered. ‘And I have no intention of wedding him.’ She turned to stare at Oisin. ‘You have no place here. I want you to leave.’

  ‘You may want to reconsider that,’ Oisin responded. Then he looked up towards the guard tower and gave a signal.

  Within an instant, arrows descended upon Alarr and Feann.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Alarr barely reacted in time. He pushed Breanne out of range and raised his shield. ‘Stay back!’ he warned. One arrow grazed his leg, leaving a line of blood on his calf. Feann took an arrow in his shoulder and grunted with pain.

  But in that moment, Alarr’s rage erupted. Oisin had threatened the woman he loved, and intended to kill anyone who stood in his way. He moved back from his enemy, out of range of the arrows. But instead of running away, Breanne joined him.

  ‘This isn’t your fight,’ he cautioned. ‘It’s not safe.’

  ‘It is my fight more than yours,’ she shot back. ‘Oisin threatened me, my foster father, and the man I love.’

  He reached out to take her hand and squeezed it in silent reassurance. ‘I will not let anything happen to you, Breanne.’

  ‘No,’ she agreed. ‘But Oisin is not going to live.’ Her tone was hardened, as if she had nothing to lose. But she had no experience in fighting, and if she tried to face Oisin, she could die.

  ‘Let me fight this battle on your behalf,’ he said. ‘Let me be your champion and defend your honour.’

  She hesitated, as if she did not want to risk his life. Her eyes gleamed with unshed tears, and she squeezed his hand again. ‘All right. But after you win, I am staying at your side. Wherever you go, I will go.’

  Alarr leaned in and kissed her hard. ‘So be it.’

  The battle wounds of the past might have weakened his strength, but he would not stand down in this fight. She was his reason for fighting, but more than that, she was his reason to live.

  No longer was his life shadowed by the need for revenge. Instead, he would fight to protect the woman he loved.

  He moved back towards Oisin, and two of Feann’s men joined Breanne to bring her to her father’s side. The others were with the king, tending his injury. He embraced his foster daughter and spoke quietly to her.

  When Alarr glanced back at the archers, he saw that the men of Clonagh had disarmed them, tossing the weapons aside. It surprised him, for it revealed that the people had no interest in Oisin winning this fight.

  Then he turned back to face his enemy. ‘Only a coward would send a man to attack from behind or use archers at a distance. You’re afraid to fight me. Because you know you will lose.’

  Oisin raised his own shield and sword. ‘I am not afraid of a crippled warrior. You’re going to die, Lochlannach.’

  ‘Not by your hand.’ He swung his weapon hard, and it struck Oisin’s wooden shield. Alarr knew this was about more than defeating an enemy. It was about protecting Breanne and earning the right to wed her.

  As he circled Oisin, more of the people gathered around to watch. They appeared intrigued by the battle, and their presence kept Oisin’s men from joining in. Alarr centred his focus on his opponent. He knew not to trust Oisin if he revealed any sort of vulnerability, for it was always a trap meant to lure him closer. But the warrior’s weakness was pride. If he could somehow humiliate Oisin, his temper might erupt and bring about carelessness.

  His enemy fought like a man who had spent his entire life trying to be perfect...like one trying to please his father. And Alarr knew how to press that weakness.

  ‘Your father never noticed you, did he?’ he asked. ‘Because you were only a bastard.’

  He understood that emotion, for his father hadn’t noticed him either. He was the second-born son, hardly worthy of notice. Sigurd had given Brandt his full attention, while Alarr was an afterthought, often forgotten.

  When Oisin gave no answer, Alarr continued. ‘I suppose you thought that by wedding Treasa’s daughter, you would have your own lands and become chief.’

  ‘I will be their chief,’ Oisin answered. ‘We will become one of the strongest fortresses in Eireann.’

  Alarr lunged and tried to find a weak point, but Oisin only parried the blow. He circled again. ‘Your father never believed you would become anything, did he?’

  ‘He will soon think differently. And one day, I will have his lands as well.’ The arrogance of the statement revealed his illusions of victory. But they would never come true.

  From his peripheral vision, Alarr saw Treasa drawing nearer. She was gripping her hands together and muttering to herself. Worry creased her forehead, and he warned her, ‘Stay back, Treasa. This is our fight, not yours.’

  ‘It shouldn’t be,’ she mumbled. ‘I arranged all of it. The priest, the wedding. Breanne is su
pposed to marry him.’

  ‘Oisin will never be her husband,’ Alarr insisted. ‘Do as you will for Clonagh, but Breanne is coming with me.’

  He continued to strike out at his opponent, but Treasa’s hysteria was rising. ‘No,’ she moaned. ‘My daughter must wed the son of a king. She must restore our lands. And I will be the one to guide her. I will be queen here until I have breathed my last.’

  She took another step forward, and Alarr cursed under his breath. ‘Stay back, Treasa.’

  He increased his speed, their swords clashing again and again. Oisin was growing tired, and Alarr saw the perspiration on the man’s forehead. He continued to fight, but Oisin barely avoided a death blow when he aimed for Alarr’s legs.

  The time to finish the fight was now. Alarr moved with swiftness, and all around him, he heard the sounds of encouragement from the people. It was unnerving to feel their support, but it aided him in a way he had never expected.

  And then Treasa bolted between them, her knife raised high. ‘She will never wed a Lochlannach.’

  Alarr barely stopped his sword’s motion, but Oisin’s never ceased. It sliced through Treasa’s flesh and bone, and he stumbled backwards. The people around him inhaled with shock as Treasa fell forward, knocking Oisin to the ground. Her body lay in a pool of blood, and beneath her was Oisin. His expression held shock, and when Alarr pulled Treasa back, he realised that her blade had pierced Oisin’s heart when she had collapsed atop him. His enemy was grasping at the weapon, but he could do nothing. He was choking, blood spilling from his mouth. Within moments, both of them were dead.

  Breanne came running to him, and Alarr embraced her hard, heedless of the blood. He was dimly aware that one of the blades had cut him, but he cared not. All that mattered was being in her arms.

  ‘I love you,’ she whispered, kissing him. ‘Thank the gods you are all right.’

  Alarr held her close, and in that moment, all that mattered was holding her in his arms. It didn’t matter about the people of Clonagh or the bodies of the fallen. All that mattered was her.