Blind Allegiance (Viking Romance) (The Blind Series)

by Rand, Violetta

  Noelle clutched her husband’s hand. He spread his feet wide, dropped her hand, and folded his hands behind his back, looking as impenetrable as a fortress. His threatening stance elicited murmurs from the crowd.

  “You will never see the next generation of Sigurdssons grow and prosper. Be gone from me before I change my mind and have you hung beside your fellow traitors.”

  Those were his final words. He turned his back on Lauga and so did every man, woman, and child in the room. Only Noelle faced her. So this is what it feels like to have your life erased. Despite Lauga’s horrendous crimes, Noelle’s heart ached for her.

  “Why do you gawk at me girl?” Lauga hissed.

  She sucked in a breath and held it before she could bring herself to answer.

  “I pity you,” she said at last. Lauga’s eyes revealed the immeasurable depth of her hatred.

  “I don’t need your pity, nor want it. I am free now.”

  Chapter 22

  Tidings

  The atmosphere inside the great hall changed once Lauga Sigurdsson vacated the premises. For the first time since she had arrived in Norway, hope colored Noelle’s world. Gratitude crept into her heart—Randvior had made the ultimate sacrifice.

  Pleasurable aromas from the kitchen drifted into the room and made her mouth water. She didn’t understand how everyone could return to their duties so easily. Thralls brought food and drink. Happiness surrounded her. A tragedy had occurred here today, not something to be taken lightly in her opinion.

  Once again, Unnr tried to comfort her. The woman could read her almost as well as Randvior.

  “Norsemen rarely show emotion. It took a great amount of courage for Jarl Randvior to punish his mother. He has gained immeasurable respect by rejecting his own kinswoman. Only a man guided by Odin’s hand can find the courage to do such a thing. Wisdom is a divine attribute.”

  “So is mercy.”

  “Aye,” Unnr agreed. “But did Lauga show any?”

  “No.”

  “Odin has. See how loved and admired you are.”

  “Odin?” Noelle looked surprised. She was stunned an English woman felt anything for a pagan god. “Why would you attest to Odin’s charitable character?”

  “Because, I too, worship him.”

  As amusing as it had been watching Noelle struggle after Unnr made the unexpected announcement about her pregnancy, Randvior decided it was time to set things right between them. He took her to Odin’s altar to pray for their unborn child’s life. Promises had been made there weeks ago and he believed his patron would protect his family.

  “Why did you wait to tell me?” he asked.

  “I have hardly seen you over the last few days. And between the attack and Lauga’s trial . . . I didn’t want to share such wonderful news at such an unfortunate moment in our lives.”

  A plausible excuse.

  He stared at his wife. All this time he had carried doubt in his heart. Jealousy had eaten away at his flesh and darkened his soul. No longer, he would learn patience and dedicate his life to mercy.

  “Mercy on your enemies, too?” a voice interrupted.

  He drew his weapon and tucked Noelle behind him. “Who is speaking to me?”

  His pulse accelerated. Hadn’t there been enough surprises for one day? Noelle stared at him, then they both searched the clearing. He shifted his gaze toward Noelle again and she started to say something. He held a finger to his lips.

  “A man without children has no purpose. Your sons and daughters are your future,” the voice continued. “Carve out a new existence for yourself. You are not meant to die. I have plans for you yet, Randvior Sigurdsson.”

  Whose voice dared invade his head? His wife couldn’t hear it; he pushed her protectively behind the altar stone. His eyes swept the area again. Not a blasted thing seemed out of place. And his slaves and guards remained where they belonged.

  He sheathed his weapon, scratched his head.

  “What troubles you?” Noelle asked.

  He rubbed his chin and started to question his own sanity.

  “Sometimes . . .” he started. It is impossible to put this delicately. “It’s rumored the gods may speak directly to you if you listen with your heart.”

  “Aye, the saints were blessed by intimate conversations with God.”

  She didn’t need convincing, he did.

  “Why deny me?” There it was again. “Enjoy the pleasures I give you, Norseman. Hear me. Soon these lands will be obliterated by martyrs’ blood. You aren’t meant for this battle. Leave. Take your family and sail the North Sea to a new land. I will follow. Wherever you erect an altar in my name, I will come.”

  Randvior ran his fingers over the peak of the stone. He never doubted Odin’s spirit resided in this place, but to hear his god’s voice . . . to experience something so incredible had never been in the realm of possibility. Such a privilege should only be reserved for the greatest warriors. The warning—command ignited a spark in him. His steely faith and willingness to protect the religious rights of his brethren had always captured the respect of his peers. Apparently the gods had taken notice, too.

  The only hitch: abandon the lands he had poured his life’s blood into over the last eight years. Of course, Randvior admitted ruefully to himself, starting a new life in a new place appealed to him after everything he and his young wife had been through. If they could settle in a place closer to England, where Noelle might have an opportunity to visit Margaret and worship her god without fear of reprisal, he knew his family would flourish. Especially now that Brian was dead.

  “I will heed your warning, Odin,” he said aloud. He took Noelle’s hand and kissed her fingers. It was time to make this dream a reality. They started for the house.

  “Where are you going, Viking?”

  Randvior swung around and flashed a smile. Staring at a hunk of rock didn’t bring him any closer to Allfather.

  “I’ve paid a great price, honored my departed friends, disenfranchised my family, executed a dozen of my men, and killed my wife’s only brother. I need peace and maybe a bit of pleasure before I lay plans to leave this place.”

  Noelle was his greatest hope, and their unborn child his future. He would appease Odin . . . in time. Sometimes his patron played games. Allfather possessed many countenances, a god of war and poetry, and a skilled prankster.

  Together, they entered the great hall. Women surrounded Anundr, and he drank from two ale horns. One gripped in each hand. Randvior laughed. His father was making up for lost time, happy to be free of a woman who had dominated and destroyed his spirit. Their eyes met, and Anundr’s face lit up. Did Odin want him to take the old man along?

  “I said your family.”

  Guiding his bride to their suite, they stopped at the top of the stairs and embraced. Too many diversions had kept him away from her. And all this death. He opened the door and went straight to the hearth. By the time he finished building the fire, she was stripped half-naked. Her lovely, full breasts rose and fell in a hypnotic rhythm. Her gown bunched around her knees. The soft thatch of hair between her thighs glistened and she touched the special spot in the middle.

  “I love you,” he choked. “Immeasurably.”

  Noelle stepped out of her dress. Her pulse skated as he kissed her neck, his fingers caressing her belly. The world was ripe with opportunity now, and Randvior Sigurdsson would never allow anyone to interfere with their lives again.

 

 

 
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