The Warrior's Viking Bride (Harlequin Historical)

by Michelle Styles

  Sweat poured from the man’s face as he gulped twice. ‘You...you keep the sword, Shield Maiden. It’d be an honour to escort you to the hall.’

  Dagmar stuck the sword in her belt. It had felt good to give vent to her anger, but Aedan was right. She had to be careful. This lumbering oaf would no doubt have friends. She was not at war with her father or his ultimate master, Ketil. All she needed to do was to impress. ‘Anyone else wish to challenge my name or parentage? Or shall we permit my father to make good his wager with Aedan mac Connall?’

  As suddenly as it had appeared, the crowd melted away. The various warriors and thralls who had stared at her and Aedan with wide eyes appeared to have something very pressing to do.

  ‘I will accompany Dagmar the Shield Maiden to Kolbeinn’s hall,’ Aedan said as he motioned to Mor to stay and guard the boat. His face had settled into the hard planes that she recalled from the first days of their friendship.

  Dagmar nodded, understanding the precaution. If her father refused to recognise her, then they might have to fight their way out.

  ‘I trust there will be no repetition of these accusations or jests,’ Aedan roared to the departing people. ‘You all saw what Dagmar Kolbeinn is capable of.’ His voice quietened. ‘I will get the hostages returned and the gold promised rather than Kolbeinn resorting to Northman tricks. No one will be declaring me a wolf’s head.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Dagmar mouthed, but Aedan did not give an answering smile, instead he appeared grimly resolute.

  ‘If you try anything to jeopardise this situation, Dagmar, you will lose. Do you understand that? This is far too important to me. Without the hostages secured, we remain here battling until our last breath.’

  ‘That would be a very poor option indeed and not my favoured one at all.’

  Dagmar made sure her face appeared completely innocent. Inwardly she seethed. They had worked well together in the past, but now it was clearly at an end. As if she’d repay him by behaving badly. Her father was going to try to cheat him. If that warrior had had his way, they would not have seen him until after All Hallows dawned.

  This time her father would fail. And it had the bonus that after word spread about her little display, her father would be amenable to her suggestion of commandeering one of his boats. But that would happen after Aedan received his full measure.

  Her heart sank as she stared at the gabled hall. Besting that fat warrior had been the easy part. Now she had to confront her father.

  * * *

  The compound teemed with people, but everyone stopped to stare as they processed towards the large hall. Aedan heard the ripples of whispered exclamations and subtle wagering as they passed. While the crowd agreed Dagmar was a shield maiden, opinion was divided about whether she was actually Kolbeinn’s daughter, the fabled Dagmar Kolbeinndottar.

  The missing tattoos and loosely plaited hair were the problem. Aedan silently cursed. He hadn’t even considered that they were Dagmar’s most identifiable features. He should have suggested reinstating them, but then she’d have stopped being the woman he’d held in his arms.

  The double wooden doors creaked open to reveal a more than spacious hall. Even Sigurd Sigmundson’s new hall was not that luxurious. Gold-shot tapestries lined the walls to keep the heat in. Several furs lay scattered on the floor. At the end on a raised dais sat Kolbeinn the Blood-Axe, dressed in his robes and wearing a fierce scowl.

  His blond goatee beard was shot with silver and his face lined with wrinkles, but now that Aedan saw father and daughter together, the resemblance shone out. They shared the same stubborn jawline, shape of the face and fierce expression when they wanted to frighten the world, precisely the expression her face currently wore.

  Aedan laughed softly to himself. Father and daughter might be more alike than she cared to admit. He suspected Dagmar would hold her own.

  ‘Who goes there?’ Kolbeinn’s voice boomed out as he shaded his eyes. ‘I understand that someone has attacked one of my warriors. Normally I would consider such an act war, but today I’m in an agreeable temper. Explain yourselves and be prepared to accept my punishment.’

  ‘Your warrior was careless, Father,’ Dagmar called out. ‘Next time he should show more respect when your daughter comes to call. Like you, I take a dim view of such treatment.’ She inclined her head. ‘And like you, today I am in an agreeable mood. I return your man’s sword and will say no more about the insult that he offered me.’

  Dagmar stepped forward and slid the warrior’s sword toward where her father sat. Only the faintest tremble of her hands betrayed her nerves.

  Aedan doubted that anyone else had seen it. They were far too busy staring at the sword which quivered in front of Kolbeinn. Silently he willed Kolbeinn to get out of his chair, walk over to his daughter and enfold her in his embrace. Dagmar deserved a loving father.

  The ignorant pig remained seated. If anything his scowl deepened. Aedan glanced behind him. The ranks of warriors had closed behind them. There was no more room in the hall.

  Had Dagmar been correct when she said that her stepmother had poisoned her father’s mind against her? That the only reason she lived was because of her mother’s precautions? In saving the hostages, had he brought her to her death?

  Aedan put his hand on the hilt of his sword and prepared himself for a fight. Dagmar would not have to face this alone.

  ‘What is this? Why do I have need of a sword?’ Kolbeinn waved a hand. ‘What insult did my man offer you?’

  ‘He denied that I was your daughter. I had to teach him his manners.’

  ‘Why should he have cause to think you were?’

  Dagmar stared at her father. She could feel the prick of tears gathering. She never cried and right now she wanted to weep at the injustice of it all. She’d gone over and over the meeting in her mind, but she’d never considered that her father might not believe who she was. She racked her brain for proof.

  ‘Father, it is I, Dagmar, your only daughter.’ Her voice trembled far too much. Her mother would have been ashamed of her. Dagmar swallowed hard and tried again. ‘Aedan mac Connall has brought me to you as you commanded. He discovered me at the battle of Dollar where I commanded a felag in service to Constantine. He has fulfilled his quest. You must release the hostages you held against his return with me. I wait to hear your message. Then I’ll act accordingly.’

  ‘That remains to be seen. Come closer. Go into the light. All I can see is your silhouette and your voice is no longer that of a ten-year-old girl. If you are truly my daughter, then I will know.’

  Her father looked smaller, a bit greyer and more careworn, but he was still her father, the man she had never thought to see alive again. Against all expectations, memories assaulted her—how he’d tossed her in the air when she was small so high that she could touch the roof, how he’d always saved something special from his travels for her, how at her bedtime, he’d come in and tell her story after story about frost giants and great deeds until her nurse declared that she must sleep and how he’d always called her his little warrior, his shield maiden in the making.

  Once she’d begged for a doll, but her mother had said that it had to be a wooden sword. He brought both the doll and the sword. She frowned and tried to hold on to the memory of the last time she’d seen him when he’d only had eyes for his pregnant mistress and her promise of sons.

  Her father would acknowledge her and her rights. He was not going to cheat her the way he had cheated her mother. And he was not going to cheat Aedan out of what was rightfully his. Not as long as she had breath in her body.

  She strode over so that she went nearly nose to nose with her father and stuck her chin in the air. ‘Is this better for your weakened eyes? Do you know me now? Or do you, like that slow warrior, need a reminder of what I can do?’

  Hard fingers captured her face, twisting her from side to side. She held her b
reath, willing him to simply know it was her.

  Suddenly her father gave a huge sigh and released her. The colour leached from his face. ‘How came you by the half-moon scar over your eye?’

  She heard the tremor of hope in his voice as if he were afraid to allow himself to believe.

  ‘I was running to see my father when I was about three. I had escaped from my nurse. I fell and caught the edge of his hunting knife. Blood went everywhere, but I kept silent. My father gathered me in his arms and called me his little shield maiden,’ Dagmar replied without hesitation. ‘It is one of my first memories and the only people who were there were me and my father. It was our secret. He told my mother that I’d fallen on a stone rather than admit his carelessness, but it was his knife that cut me.’

  Her father gave a trembling smile. ‘I remember how scared I was that something I’d done had torn my daughter’s flesh and how your mother yelled at me. Helga never believed me about the stone.’

  ‘My mother was like that.’

  Her father got up and enfolded her in his embrace. ‘Daughter.’

  He smelt of wood smoke and hair oil, just the way she remembered him smelling. Dagmar stood stiffly for as long as she dared, then she relaxed into it. ‘Father. It has been over ten years.’

  He released her and sat back down. ‘Forgive me for my doubts, but I was given to understand that my daughter sported facial tattoos and wore her hair in tight plaits which hissed like snakes when she walked. And this Gael—he would stop at nothing to get his people back. I couldn’t risk an imposter.’

  ‘He is like you then, Father. Determined to have his own way. Far too determined. I’d no choice but to agree to his wishes or be lost for ever in the mist marshes.’

  Her father gave a hearty laugh, but his eyes were speculative. ‘I’d not thought of it in that fashion, but you are right. He is very like I was as a young warrior.’

  Aedan made a disgusted noise, but Dagmar ignored him. This was about ensuring her father paid out on the wager. After that, her obligations ended and she restarted her life and walked the new path she’d chosen. The prospect held even less appeal than last night.

  She bit her bottom lip. Once Aedan was truly gone from her life, war would send out its familiar lure. This unsettled feeling would vanish in time. He’d made it clear at the start there was no future for them. It was her fault that her heart had tried to rewrite the rules and had asked him to join her. He had refused and there it ended.

  ‘Where have your tattoos gone?’ her father asked, stroking his chin. ‘I clearly remember the message arriving saying that your mother had marred your lovely skin. Ingebord complained about my temper for days.’

  ‘Paint. My mother refused to allow me the tattoos. She was the one who spread the rumour to make deception easier should the need arise.’ Dagmar shrugged. ‘I was going to get it done after this season’s campaign, but events overtook me and here I am. It made travelling to see you easier in a way.’

  Silently she vowed that she would not paint her face in that fashion again. That Dagmar had gone for good. She would create a new improved version.

  Her father slapped his hand against his knee. ‘That sounds like Helga. How she must have chortled. She knew how to make me angry. Such a simple precaution. I should’ve made closer enquiries.’

  ‘If you’d done so, you’d have saved your man today.’

  Her father’s brows drew together. ‘I can see Helga in you.’

  ‘I take that as a compliment. I admired my mother greatly. She made me who I am. Her funeral pyre blazed long in the night and there was much lamenting at her passing.’

  Her father stroked his beard. ‘How fares my old friend Alf? I bade him stay with you on pain of death, to fulfil his life debt to me. He was to keep you safe until I required him. I find it incredible that he allowed you to travel alone with this Gael.’

  Dagmar stood straight and kept her chin up. Old Alf was her father’s friend. Had her mother guessed at his reasons for accompanying them?

  ‘He feasts with Odin. He gave his life that this Gael might rescue me. My former deputy betrayed me to Thorsten of the Dubh Linn Northmen. Olafr Rolfson deserves to be shunned by all honourable men as he is an oath-breaker.’

  Her father made a temple with his fingers. ‘And what did you need rescuing from? How was Olafr Rolfson able to betray you, Daughter?’

  Dagmar rapidly gave an edited version of Olafr’s treachery and how he’d made a secret alliance with Thorsten. A muscle in her father’s cheek twitched when she mentioned that Olafr was her mother’s lover.

  ‘I know all about Thorsten and his twisted schemes for power,’ her father said with a frown. ‘He is no friend to Ketil or me, but we did allow him passage to Alba this summer. It made for a quiet life. He will overreach himself. His men are too few to hold Alba for long. Halfdan wants more than Eoforwic. I warned him, but he chose to ignore my advice. In time, he will beg me for help to escape. I plan to exact a high price for my assistance.’

  The assembled throng gave a few hoots of laughter and a few called out about the rich pickings in Ireland this past year.

  ‘Halfdan has settled his warriors on lands south of the Tyne,’ Dagmar stated. ‘He will not seek Alba. He is content to keep Bernicia as a buffer.’

  Her father tilted his head to one side. ‘You know this how?’

  ‘I’m my mother’s daughter. We served Constantine. It was in our interests to know.’

  ‘I had heard rumours, but did not know precisely. Your mother kept you hidden. I wanted to be a good father to you. I wanted to be involved in your upbringing, but Helga refused.’

  Dagmar kept back the words that she wasn’t exactly hidden. How could she be? She’d served with distinction and there were very few shield maidens. It would serve no purpose. She was not going to stay here long. She would allow him some illusions. And she discovered that piece of her which loved him wanted those illusions as well. She wanted a father who cared. She wanted to go back to that easy time when she had been a child. But that was as foolish as believing Thor’s goat of plenty was real.

  ‘Aedan mac Connall brought me back,’ she said, gesturing to where Aedan stood, scowling. The scowl had only deepened during her father’s recital of his affection for her. ‘You made certain promises to him if he returned with me, although I suspect from the reception we were given you did not expect him to.’

  ‘Guessing does you little credit.’

  Dagmar gave a deliberate cough and began to tick the points off on her fingers. ‘Your warriors talk worse than old women. You failed to inform Aedan mac Connall that you suspected my face was tattooed or that I was a warrior. You sent him to what you confidently expected to be his death. You expected me to slit his throat and spare you any more trouble. How many other wretches have you sent to their deaths in that fashion? I’m not and never have been your executioner, Father.’

  Her father nodded. ‘You remain upset that I did not recognise you immediately. You women are all alike. I had not seen you since you were ten, what did you expect?’

  Dagmar drew a deep steadying breath. Losing her temper would play into his hands. She had to be more cunning. She had to use her brains and prove to him that she was worthy of being one of his warriors. She wanted a sign that he would cherish her as he had when she was little.

  ‘Father, are you going to prove your word is worth more than the spit it takes to say it,’ she said, clearing her throat. ‘Are you going to uphold your end of the bargain you made with Aedan mac Connall? Or do you intend to dishonour your oath?’

  ‘Any other person would be trembling to even think of casting such a slur.’ Her father shook his head. ‘Yet you stand here, looking precisely like my mother, and demand it. By Thor, Helga and I made a daughter with guts! Worth the spit it takes to swear!’

  Her father’s laugh resounded from the rafters.
The crowd obediently laughed after him.

  ‘But I’m your daughter and I can remember what you were like when I was little. All bark and little bite as my nurse used to say.’ Dagmar crossed her arms. Easier to concentrate on her father than to think about parting with Aedan. ‘It is something you always said to me when you finished your nightly story. “Make sure, daughter, your word is worth more than the spit it takes to say it.” I have held true to it.’ She nodded towards where Aedan glowered. ‘However, Aedan mac Connall has not had that benefit. He believes people from the north break their oaths. Prove him wrong.’

  She waited and the feeling about needing to be cherished by her father subsided. Focusing on Aedan’s needs did the trick. Once he was gone and out of her life, once her obligation had ended, then she could concentrate on more important things like fashioning her new life and trying to figure out a way to wreak revenge on Olafr. She hated that her heart protested at the idea that anything could be more important than the man standing beside her.

  ‘I did indeed promise a few things.’ Her father stroked his chin, glancing at Aedan and then back at her. She distrusted that weighing-up look.

  He couldn’t have guessed about their affair. It was over now and no business of his. She’d been careful not to make any sign of affection towards Aedan.

  ‘And you hold fast to that promise?’

  ‘Of course, my darling daughter who has now returned to me quite grown.’ He coughed. ‘We will talk of old times later, but now I must attend to my promises. My word holds as firm as it ever did. The Gael should know that!’

  ‘It is good to know that you hold fast to your promises,’ Dagmar said. ‘Over the years, I’d wondered. My mother’s gold...’

  Her father made a noise in the back of his throat. ‘Remind me, Gael, what is it that you seek?’

  Aedan made a low bow and concentrated on Kolbeinn, deliberately ignoring how fragile and utterly alone Dagmar appeared. Any claim to her had slipped from his fingers the instant they’d stepped on Colbhasa’s shore.