Blind Allegiance (Viking Romance) (The Blind Series)

by Rand, Violetta

  Too late.

  The door burst open. With her back facing the entrance, she was at a disadvantage, but she recognized the bestial sounds of Randvior. She flinched at each heavy footstep she heard.

  “Hva faen gjør du?”

  “Hva enhver mann ville gjort i nærvær av en slik skjønnhet,” Ovesen shot back.

  Roughly shoved aside, Noelle turned just in time to see Randvior’s fist connect with the younger man’s face. Oh, God. Reminiscent of a Greek epic, she ran for cover and ducked behind a set of shelves. Noelle peeked around the corner, heart pounding. Ovesen shook his head and hurled his weight at Randvior. They crashed to the floor, a tangled mass of fists and curses.

  Randvior rolled onto his side and sprang to his feet. He landed a solid kick to the man’s head, reached down, and let out a ferocious growl, lifting him by the front of his shirt. Randvior shook him and hurled him across the room. A pile of firewood broke his fall.

  Randvior turned away from the scene and looked at her.

  Shaking like a leaf, her life flashed before her eyes. He’s going to kill me.

  Perhaps if she confessed, explained why she chose to wear the dress and flirt with another man, it would put an end to this misunderstanding. Surely, he couldn’t blame her. Self-preservation demanded action, nothing more. Rage uncoiled inside her, too. Lauga acted the cold-blooded bitch at every turn and Randvior continuously isolated her. The indomitable Viking never provided her a means to keep her mind or hands occupied. She felt useless. Bravely, she stepped out and went his way. Randvior’s eyes swelled from silvery half-moons to spitting flames.

  The truth must be revealed, and now.

  “Before you punish me,” she said, attempting to take control of the situation. “Answer one question. What do you want from me?”

  His body shook convulsively as he laughed. Rage and bitterness distorted his face. He glanced over his shoulder at his rival, who remained unconscious on the floor.

  “Answer me!” she demanded.

  He fanned his fingers and cracked his knuckles. His usually bright eyes were lackluster and red. Her fascination with him deepened because of his fierce possessiveness of her. But she deserved to hear him express his feelings; at least hear what he wanted.

  “Tell me or I’ll be forced to take matters into my own hands. The good Lord doesn’t cease his labors above to give a man time to catch his breath to muster the courage to speak plainly with a lady. Much time has been wasted—on both of us.”

  Randvior resumed his preoccupation with his hands.

  “Tell me!” She jabbed a finger in his chest.

  He trapped her arms. “Tell you?” he repeated incredulously. His voice fell to a whisper. “Perplexing wench.” He looked at his hands, then straight back at her. “Making demands of me when it is I who should make them. See the damage you’ve reaped by taking matters into your own hands—attracting the attention of a man who risked his life by following you into the shadows.” He dug his fingernails into her tender flesh. “I’ll answer, but I warn that you may not like what I have to say.”

  “Tell me.”

  He shook his head, burdened by something she didn’t understand. “First, you’re confined to your rooms after the feast. Your quick departure has sparked a new round of damaging gossip. Do you know how many throats I’d have to cut to stop wagging tongues from weaving wicked lies about you throughout the Trondelag? I haven’t the time or resources to do it. But consider this while you stew in your icy pot. It has been my intention, since the moment I set eyes on you in Durham, to bring you home as my bride.”

  Her heart liquefied. By Jesus, what have I done?

  “You will yield to me.”

  Her heart fluttered as his hands locked around her waist like a tight chain.

  “I want you, goddamn it,” he lowered his mouth and kissed her violently. “And by Odin, I’ll have you.”

  He raked his lips across her tender mouth.

  Forgive me, she thought.

  They returned to the hall and Randvior escorted her to her seat. “Stay here.”

  “No.” He still hadn’t convinced her of anything. “I find my circumstances too awkward to bear.”

  The creases around Randvior’s mouth deepened. “What is this about, Noelle? Are you purposely challenging my authority to prove something to my guests?”

  “This isn’t about you.” Noelle stood. “It’s about honor—my honor.” In a huff of tears, Noelle ran upstairs.

  Chapter 13

  Odin’s Altar

  Randvior watched her climatic retreat, along with his guests. What else did she want? Hadn’t he made his feelings remarkably clear? He’d admitted his desire for her from the moment he’d set eyes upon her. Flippant female, she goaded the devil playing around with Sveinn in the great hall. Even worse, she was prone to disobedience and emotional outbursts, had complete disregard for protocol, and no respect for her elders. And now everyone knew how undisciplined his little vixen truly was.

  But in truth, Noelle wreaked havoc on his heart. She infuriated, delighted, and branded the deepest regions of his soul in the process.

  By Odin, he loved her. Everything inside him went hot and still.

  He swallowed a bit of wine before he stalked upstairs. Her door sat ajar and he went inside. The sound of her tears stabbed him. He squinted and had the misfortune of imagining Sveinn’s hands all over her body. With this agonizing picture inside his head, it was hard to control himself. He swaggered closer, more intoxicated by bitterness than spirits.

  If he must choose—here and now—he knew she was constituted of the most charitable nature and loyalty he’d ever seen in a woman. And those damnable eyes ignited his libido in a second. Her slow smile rivaled the glory of any sunrise. And those delicate colored cheeks and lips begged for an endless supply of kisses. She breathed sensuality, intentionally or not. And that arse, the gods cracked the mold. She rolled onto her side.

  He cursed himself for being an infernal beast.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  She smoothed her hair and sat up, sniffled, and addressed him unchallenging for the first time in days. “I know your duty lies with your tenants and countrymen. Yet, I dared to hope to be a small part of your life, especially after what we have shared.” Noelle swung her legs over the bed, feet dangling. “I realize I have no right to make any demands. But if you feel anything for me, or possess an ounce of mercy where I’m concerned, I beg if you find it necessary to seek pleasure in the arms of another woman, give me warning so I don’t have to see it ever again.”

  She loves me . . .

  More than he had anticipated. She looked so helpless gazing up at him. And hot enough to melt the cold fury that still ravaged his body.

  “Have I not proven myself worthy of your trust and protection? I’m no longer the gullible maid you abducted from Durham after experiencing the pleasure of your bed. At least I fully understand now why men seek out women. I apologize for my reprehensible behavior. I didn’t want another man, Randvior. I only seek what any woman in my position would—a way home—or a husband to shield me from humiliation. Grant me protection and I will work my fingers to the bone to earn my keep in your household. No task too menial, no position too humble.” A new round of tears began to fall.

  He didn’t like her behavior one bit. But if he walked in her shoes . . . “What safeguards did you employ to protect your reputation when I found you in the bathhouse with Sveinn Ovesen?” He inched closer. “I declared my feelings and you still defied me.”

  “My brother made it abundantly clear what you intended. And I’d sooner serve Lauga than be attached to a man who doesn’t love me.”

  “Before you act too rashly and choose spinsterhood over my bed, come with me. I want to show you something.”

  “W
here are we going?”

  He didn’t answer, but unlocked the door connecting their chambers. She’d never been invited to his rooms before; this was his sanctuary. Noelle seemed amazed by the lavishness of the décor. He opened a wardrobe and picked a cloak and boots for her to wear. Gracefully, she didn’t comment on the fact that he kept an array of women’s garments in his bedroom. He wrapped the fur around her shoulders and pinned it with one of his own gold brooches. Next, he knelt, proffering the boots, and she slipped her feet inside; he laced them tight.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He in turn dressed warmly, and then led her to double doors that opened onto a small balcony. She walked slowly down the stairs. No one would see them slip away.

  Inches of fresh, icy snow covered the ground and crunched noisily beneath them as they walked. Randvior stopped to check her, fingered her chin, and looked into her eyes. Truth always lingered on her delicate features—her eyes were red and swollen. He rewarded her stubbornness with a smile and continued into the woods along the northern boundary of his steading.

  They halted at a clearing. A massive, whitewashed stone rested at the center. She stared curiously ahead, then turned to him with a questioning look. He patted her arm reassuringly. Randvior knelt and wrapped his arms around the stone.

  He called on the gods, “Come Odin, Hlin, Eir, Frigg, Baldr, Magni, and Tyr . . .” Inscriptions were carved into the face of the rock.

  Noelle reached hesitantly, and he nodded approval as she ran her fingers along the surface. He watched as she examined the ancient altar.

  “What is this place?”

  “Odin’s altar. We’re on hallowed ground, the most sacred on this steading. The place we invoke the favor of the gods, plead our causes, and beg forgiveness. And pray for you,” he added softly. “The words inscribed on this stone,” he ran his fingers over the carving, “are a message the Valkyries delivered on behalf of father Odin, wisdom to sustain my people.” The warrior inside him sparked to life again. The spirits of his ancestors inhabited his body now. “Stay with me, min lille dukke, and someday I’ll reveal the secrets behind these words.”

  “Why did you bring me here?”

  Before he answered, something flashed overhead. “Look!” Randvior pointed skyward.

  She followed his gaze. Colored ribbons of dazzling light were suspended high above, pulsing, and oscillating. Terrified, she covered her face.

  Randvior pulled her hand away. “It’s a blessing. Don’t be afraid, my little one, ’tis a good omen.”

  They watched the celestial dance in awe as color spanned the breadth of the sky. And as the mystery slowly faded, moving farther north and altogether out of sight, they stared at each other in wonderment.

  Once Noelle recovered and could speak again, she said, “I’ve never seen anything so phenomenal before.”

  “Nororljos—the northern lights. The Valkyries favored you this eventide and donned their armor, a guarantee there will be a place for you at Odin’s table.”

  He fell to his knees again. Only this time, he clasped her hand over his heart.

  Her shoulders were rigid. “I can’t deny the way I feel when you touch me—kiss me—hold me. In your arms the world I knew before never really existed . . .” She clenched her left hand into a tight fist. Randvior knew she had revealed more than she ever intended.

  “I want you,” he said as he got to his feet. “I’ve brought you here to swear an oath before the gods.” He reached inside his cloak and produced a small dagger. “You speak so poorly of love, min lille dukke, as if it will never find its way into your heart.” He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “The time has come for our love to take root.”

  Randvior held his left hand over the altar, and with his right, scraped the blade across his palm. Blood slowly dripped onto the stone. “Odin is my master and witness. I offer this troth as an everlasting pledge of my love. Noelle Sinclair, you are now and forever blood of my blood. If the world should crumble around us, reduced to ash and dust, my promise shall endure.”

  She rocked back on her heels in trance. Randvior pulled her closer to the stone. “Will you take this oath with me?”

  She stared beyond the trees, focusing on something in the distance. He wondered what she saw through the darkness, regrets or maybe her future with him. He had spoken from the heart, as plainly and truthfully as he could. If she did not accept him now, he’d send her away. To a convent or to Brandon’s family in Scotland. But never back to Durham where her brother could hurt her.

  She offered her hand and dagger quickly met flesh.

  His shoulders rose and fell in contentment and triumph. Because he hadn’t coerced her into taking this oath, the gods would consider it legitimate. The act of volunteering her hand was enough. Randvior set the dagger aside and removed a piece of linen from his pocket. He doctored her wound tenderly, blotting the blood, and tied the bandage tightly around her wrist.

  “I love you.”

  He could see the surprise on her face and she swallowed. His heart burned and his loins ached for relief. She’s too afraid to give herself away.

  Randvior covered her mouth and cheeks with fervent kisses. She returned them with equal ardor. All this time she begged him to respond, to confess his undying love, and reiterate it over and over again. Still the girl refused to admit her own feelings. O my sweet little hypocrite. He swept her off her feet.

  “Where are we going now?”

  “To announce our betrothal. A man can only endure so much. I’ll be damned if I’ll wait another minute.” For the first time in many days, Randvior laughed.

  Guards saluted as they crossed the threshold into the great hall. The crowd responded unremittingly. Noelle’s head rested against Randvior’s chest.

  “I give you the freedom to manage this household,” he whispered. “I want you to be comfortable and happy—we are family now.”

  He knew they were words she needed to hear.

  Randvior hugged her closer as he stepped onto the dais and scanned the many faces of the people standing closest. Noelle snuggled deeper into the folds of his cloak trying to hide.

  “Don’t be afraid.” His eyes penetrated hers. “Everyone wants to celebrate.”

  “No need to exaggerate, my lord.”

  Randvior chuckled at her pessimism as she slid from his arms.

  He’d hold nothing back now. “I returned from Durham a wealthier man. Of all the treasures hidden in that English fortress, I desired the lord’s youngest daughter most. I have offered Lady Sinclair the protection of my home and name. The gods revealed the pathway to my destiny in the Orkneys and I returned with my future in my arms. No man,” he paused and looked directly at his mother, “or woman, shall interfere with what the gods have mandated.”

  Pressing his lips closed, the sting of overwhelming silence both disappointed and angered him beyond words. Had he misjudged the hearts of his people so carelessly? He felt consumed by anything that pertained to her. But once Noelle gifted the assembly with a brilliant smile, they erupted into hurrahs. All they needed to see was that she willingly embraced this marriage.

  He relaxed then, savoring the sultry glint in her eyes and admiring the soft contours of her face. He kissed her forehead and called for a cup of mead. The honey taste reminded him of the sweetness of her lips. “A toast for father Odin!” He raised his cup high.

  Mugs and fists pounded the tabletops thunderous and maddening, proof of his supporters’ joy.

  Another blessing had graced his life.

  Lauga looked him over reservedly. She stood with a group of women near the main hearth. Their eyes locked. His gaze drifted beyond her and stopped on a man with a badly bruised face who stared unfalteringly at his betrothed.

  What a difference a betrothal could make. Noelle felt a
bit overwhelmed by the number of well-wishers lining up along the front of the stage to shake her hand. God, she wanted to run away. But she stayed because she wanted to enjoy every second her future mother-in-law was forced to stand by her son and greet his supporters with as much enthusiasm as him. Cunning and deceptive.

  All her life she had longed for a mother and always hoped marriage would provide one. But not this marriage, and never this woman.

  Brandon’s company lightened her mood. He grasped her hand and made a ridiculous fuss over the engagement. “I am deeply disturbed the lady chose you over me. To think you could have had my heart and spent your days with a civilized man . . .” he teased her relentlessly and grinned at Randvior.

  Randvior arched his brow. “Did she ever have a choice?”

  No. Noelle held her tongue.

  They laughed.

  Hours later, after most of the celebrants departed or passed out drunk, Noelle yawned—she wanted to go to bed. Randvior had wandered off with a group of men.

  As she walked to the stairs, someone flattened her against the wall from behind.

  “You chose life with a bloody Norse, and I warn you, I’ll use every inch of that beautiful body to my advantage.”

  Randvior’s musky scent filled her nostrils. His body was flush against hers and he hiked the back of her skirt up. Fingers trailed up her inner thigh and she sucked in an excited breath. He thumbed the sensitive nub between her legs. Within a few meager seconds, her pleasure crested and she collapsed against the wall deliriously. She reached around and caressed the rock-hard bulge between his legs.

  “Go to bed,” he commanded, and let her skirt fall.

  She turned. The muscles around his lips twitched while he stared at her. “Why did you pleasure me?” She craved intimacy.

  “So you don’t forget.”

  “What?”

  “Anything . . .” he mumbled, intoxicated. “Good wives are few, and you have the promise to be the best.”