The Warrior's Viking Bride

by Michelle Styles

  Her father nodded towards the soothsayer who read the runes and mumbled the words of the north marriage rite.

  ‘You are now married according to our custom,’ her father said. ‘It is the turn of your priest, Gael.’

  Aedan lifted a brow. ‘My priest?’

  ‘I make a present of him to you. Do what you like with him as long as he says the words making you one with my daughter.’

  ‘I’m honoured, my lord,’ the priest said with a nervous bow.

  ‘He will do that,’ Aedan assured her father. ‘I doubt he wants to be here one heartbeat longer than absolutely necessary.’ He nodded to the priest. ‘Begin.’

  The priest’s throat worked up and down, but no sound emerged. Several of the assembled throng made catcalls while others yelled ribald encouragement. Dagmar ground her teeth and willed him to get on with it.

  ‘Do you know what is required of you?’ he blurted out in a high squeak. ‘Do you come here with a free heart?’

  ‘I’ve witnessed such things before,’ Dagmar said. ‘I was at Constantine’s court. My mother felt it best that we attend various services. I understand the enormity of what I undertake and do so willingly.’

  She held her tongue and did not say that she had considered the services at court pathetic mumbling and overly stylised, not like the simple prayers the priest in the hamlet had said. That man had clearly been a holy man. Certain things were best kept private.

  The priest visibly relaxed. ‘You’re ready to accept our saviour into your heart and soul?’

  Dagmar glanced about her. There was no going back. If she stayed here, she’d be married off in a fashion she did not care for. Her gods had not answered her prayers—not today or any time before. There was no escape and what she hated was that her heart kept whispering that she did want this, she wanted to be Aedan’s wife and share her life with his. She ignored it. It was listening to her heart that had led to this trouble in the first place. ‘Yes.’

  The cold water hit her face as he intoned the words of baptism. Several of her father’s warriors laughed, but her father held up his hand, silencing them.

  ‘This is my daughter’s choice. I respect it. It is how my grandsons will be brought up. All my men will respect this faith as well.’

  Dagmar was proud that her only outward sign of annoyance was a tapping foot. If she had anything to do with it, he’d only have granddaughters.

  However, after her father’s intervention, the hall was wreathed in respectful silence.

  The priest took out a cord and wrapped it about their hands. At her father’s questioning frown, the priest hurriedly explained. ‘This is called a bann and it is the custom among my people to ensure the couple are bound together.’

  Aedan confirmed the custom and her father gave a half-nod. ‘I will have my daughter married correctly. Proceed.’

  The rest of the marriage ceremony passed in a blur as she heard Aedan’s firm answers and her own as if she was watching from a great way away.

  ‘You may kiss the bride,’ the priest said.

  She lifted her mouth, expecting a passionate kiss, but Aedan merely brushed her lips. A cool and impersonal kiss, unlike the ones they had shared on the journey.

  She fingered her mouth. Had she killed everything between them? Was there a way forward for them? Had there ever been a possibility of a way? Or did he think of her as other men had done—someone to be ridiculed and pitied? Had it truly all been a sham? Her knees trembled and she put a hand on Aedan’s arm to keep her balance.

  ‘Shall we go? There is no need to stay for the bridal feast.’

  Dagmar stared at the fur rugs which dotted the floor. His voice held no warmth. She had hoped he might return to the man who had held her for so long last night, just listening to their breathing which rose and fell in unison.

  ‘Yes, if we stay, they will put us to bed,’ Dagmar said to the floor as the priest began to intone his final blessing. ‘I’m in no mood for my father and his jokes. He appears far too pleased with this.’

  Aedan put a hand against the middle of her back. ‘The wind is in the right direction. It will serve as an excuse.’

  The priest finished the blessing and stepped back behind her father.

  Her father cleared his throat. ‘Now to the feasting and then the bedding. I’ve dealt with the problem as we discussed, Aedan.’

  ‘What problem?’ Dagmar asked, glancing between the two men.

  ‘I’ve sent word to Thorsten. Your quest for vengeance is now mine. No one attacks my daughter and lives long,’ her father said, spreading his hands like the priest had done. ‘Think of it as a wedding gift. You can get down to the important business of giving me a grandson.’

  ‘Aedan needs to return to his lands,’ Dagmar said, fixing her father with her gaze. Aedan had convinced her father to deal with Olafr? Part of her rejoiced, but the other part knew it was because he feared for his people, rather than because he understood her need to punish the man. ‘He has been away from them for too long. The wind is in the right direction. I must think of such things now.’

  Her father shook his head. ‘I know these Christian marriages. The woman must be properly bedded or she can claim that the marriage is not valid. It is precisely the sort of trick Helga would play. You remind me too much of her and her sly ways, Dagmar.’

  ‘We’ve agreed it is valid...’ Dagmar began.

  ‘No, your father is correct, Dagmar,’ Aedan said with a grim mouth. ‘A wise precaution. We stay here for the feast and we will be properly bedded tonight. Then none can question. We will have satisfied both cultures. After all he has given you a wedding present.’

  ‘Only because he requires me to breed.’

  Aedan’s hard fingers gripped her elbow. ‘I required a helpmeet.’

  ‘Say the words, renouncing your former occupation,’ her father commanded.

  ‘I pledge that I will be a peace-weaver, a woman and a wife instead of a warrior from now on,’ Dagmar said the words quickly, so they tripped out one after the other. She hated how her insides churned as if she had betrayed her mother and everything her mother had worked so hard to achieve. And yet she knew deep down she wanted more than endless battles and war. She wished there was a way to have both, but...

  ‘This isn’t an execution, Dagmar. It is the start of a new life.’ Aedan put his face close to hers. ‘It can be a wonderful life.’

  Dagmar turned her face away. ‘That is easy for you to say. It feels like my life has just ended.’

  Chapter Eleven

  The room where Dagmar had to spend her wedding night, her stepmother’s former chamber, was hung with gold-shot tapestries of people coupling and the bed piled high with furs. A light repast of bread, cold meat and mead along with two goblets stood on an intricately carved chest. The overall effect made Dagmar’s stomach roil.

  Bad enough that she would have to endure this night, a night which would make a mockery of the previous nights she had spent in Aedan’s arms, but to spend it in her stepmother’s former living quarters heaped insult on injury.

  Her nurse took great delight in informing her that her father was giving her the tapestries as part of her dowry and that every year on the anniversary of her name day, at her stepmother’s insistence, he had placed a length of expensive cloth in an iron-bound trunk for when Dagmar married.

  Dagmar made a scoffing noise. Her stepmother had probably calculated that the gift would fail to reach her and would fall by default to her son and whichever woman he married.

  ‘I am as ready as I will ever be,’ she declared.

  All the women, including Mhairi, crowded around her. The Gaelic woman still wore the accusatory look as though Dagmar had ruined her life deliberately. Dagmar winced. Proof if she required it that marrying Aedan and making her home amongst the Gaels carried its own set of problems.

&
nbsp; She was going to go into a different sort of battle for the rest of her life and she needed to work out how to win allies because the prize was a home where she and her children could grow up in safety. Her children would never have to run in fear for their lives, she vowed. And she wasn’t asking for Aedan to love her, simply to respect her. Her heart called her a liar, but she refused to listen.

  ‘Mhairi,’ she said, forcing her voice to seem light and unconcerned. ‘Is there anything I should know about your customs with bedding?’

  The woman put her nose in the air. ‘What would I know about such things? I’m unmarried. I might as well become a nun now. No respectable man will make me an offer after this.’

  She had gambled everything on marrying Aedan after her stint as a hostage, Dagmar realised. She felt vaguely sorry for her, but she should have realised that she played a high-stakes game. ‘I find much depends on the dowry.’

  Mhairi sniffed. ‘And you know so much about our customs.’

  ‘Surely you have seen wedding nights in the past. Is there anything special I should know?’

  Mhairi gave a reluctant nod. ‘I have. The first time was when Aedan’s brother married his lady. She was white-faced and petrified as she stood there in her shift with her hair all about her shoulders just like you are now. Brandon, Aedan’s brother, threw open the door and she practically fainted at his nakedness. How it went I couldn’t say, but they displayed the bloodied sheet the next day even though everyone knew he left her bed in the middle of the night to go to his mistress. Everyone knew he never graced his wife’s bed after that. Once is all it took. They had twins.’

  Once. Dagmar put her hand on her flat stomach. She was not going think about having a child, but hope sprang in her breast. She’d not used any of the simple precautions her mother took to prevent pregnancy. In a hostile world, a child to hold was a good thing. A child would help bind Aedan and her together, but she could understand how it might have the potential to divide them, too. Her birth had certainly caused things to change between her parents.

  ‘Aedan explained to me about his brother’s boat and how his children died.’

  The woman blinked in surprise. Dagmar took some small satisfaction from that. ‘Did he? Everyone loved Brandon. He was the bravest king we could ever hope for. Aedan is...’

  ‘The King who saved Kintra from the Northmen.’ Dagmar forced a smile. ‘Aedan spoke of his brother on the journey here.’

  ‘Did he say how deluded Liddy had been about Brandon? She actually thought he wanted to marry her, that he was hot for her, her with the birthmark on her face. They married and pfft...’

  ‘What happened?’

  Mhairi gave a malicious smile. ‘She discovered the truth. He had only married her for her dowry, for what she could bring to Kintra. He was a tomcat, prowling amongst women. They say that he would lie with any woman with a pulse except his wife. Did Aedan also confide about Brigid, my cousin, his fiancée who died and the reason he stayed unmarried against the wishes of his people?’ Her gaze raked Dagmar and seemed to highlight every flaw. ‘Interesting that he chose you after so long. Everyone knows how alike the brothers were. Two peas in a pod.’

  Mhairi’s words thudded through her. Brandon lay with every woman except his wife. Then Aedan refusing to marry until now. A small piece of her protested that Aedan was not like that. Simply because his brother had behaved in that fashion, it did not mean he would do so, too. ‘I knew she had died.’

  ‘Aedan was consumed with grief at her loss and left to be a sell-sword under Ketil’s command. Some doubted that he would ever marry. They said he buried his heart with her body.’

  ‘Enough gossiping. There are more important considerations.’ Her nurse pulled at her sleeve and made a fuss of plucking a remaining red berry from her hair.

  ‘What is it, Sif?’ Dagmar asked, pulling away. ‘My hair was fine as it was.’

  ‘Don’t you believe everything that one tells you,’ she murmured. ‘She has an axe to grind. She kept telling anyone who would listen that she was going to be the next lady of Kintra while Aedan was gone and now you are. People’s hearts can hold more than one person. I saw how he looked at you when you appeared in your bridal finery. Lance the boil of suspicion before it festers in your mind and poisons your marriage.’

  ‘Do you think...?’

  ‘I suspect, despite that woman’s words, she is no virgin and that she is breeding.’ Her nurse made a little clicking noise of disapproval in the back of her throat. ‘If I’m right, Aedan mac Connall will have had nothing to do with the making of that bairn. I saw how they parted when he left to find you. I wouldn’t have given him your father’s sword, if I thought... Anyway, there will be more to her story. I can feel it in my bones.’ Sif patted her backside. ‘And my bones rarely steer me wrong, even if they are more padded these days than they used to be.’

  Dagmar squeezed her nurse’s hand. Her nurse obviously had attempted to matchmake between them and keep Aedan alive. ‘You’ve a soft spot for him. Who does he remind you of? Your brother? The one who died before you were kidnapped?’

  ‘You will always be my little girl. You’re far more striking than Helga ever was.’ Her nurse examined her handiwork. ‘Tonight, you glow. He won’t be able to keep his hands off you. I know men, my dear, and your warrior is definitely a man.’

  The door banged opened and Aedan was pushed in with plenty of ribald comments about the need for rest, huge appetites and lying comfortably. Even though Dagmar had heard the jokes before, they’d never been about her.

  Before the door closed completely, his dog slipped in.

  ‘You can’t bring that dog in here. You risk extreme bad luck.’ Mhairi made a shooing motion with her hands.

  Mor gave a low rumble in the back of her throat and Mhairi retreated.

  Dagmar clicked her fingers and the dog came over to her, licking her fingers. The tight knot in her stomach relaxed. Aedan would never have married that woman despite her earlier claims. Mor disliked her and Aedan listened to his dog.

  ‘Mor can stay. Where else would she sleep on a night like this?’ Dagmar fondled Mor’s ears. ‘She has only ever brought me good luck.’

  Mhairi rolled her eyes. ‘Dirty beasts, dogs.’

  She flounced from the room. The rest of the women slipped from the room until they were standing alone. Outside the air rang with drums and shields being beaten to ward off bad luck.

  ‘You are sure that you don’t mind having Mor in with us?’ Aedan asked.

  She occupied herself with pouring some mead so that she wouldn’t stare at his chest. ‘Mind? Why would I mind? Mor is my travelling companion.’

  ‘Some people would.’ He took the goblet from her fingers.

  ‘I’m me. I’ve reason to be grateful to her.’

  ‘Eat. You barely touched anything at the feast. Your father keeps an excellent table.’

  Dagmar obediently took a piece of bread from the plate. Part of her had hoped that he would simply hold her, but he made no move to do so. If he had done what Mhairi suggested and had deliberately seduced her, then she refused to make it easy for him.

  ‘Why did my father send a crew out to take vengeance against Olafr?’

  ‘Because I asked him to.’

  She pressed her lips together. ‘He certainly dismissed me when I tried to speak to him about such things.’

  ‘I put it in terms he understood.’ He shrugged. ‘You and your father are more alike than you might care to admit.’

  ‘My father values your opinion more.’ Dagmar fought against the urge to throw something. ‘You’re a man and now his son-in-law. It is the way of the world, even if I wish it was different.’

  ‘I merely made the point that if he wanted grandsons, taking over your vow would be one way of ensuring it would happen. Only you can give him what he desires.’ He looked at her over
the rim of his goblet. ‘You don’t have to face Olafr alone. You don’t have to be the one to administer the final blow. You just need to know it was done.’

  ‘Logically you are right, it doesn’t have to be me. Knowing it is done will be enough.’ She forced a light note into to her voice, but she knew she’d convinced no one. What Aedan said had merit, but it still felt a failure. ‘But why did you convince him?’

  ‘Because I want to keep Kintra safe,’ he said too smoothly. ‘Far better to have your father risk his men than have one hair from the head of my people harmed.’

  ‘If they don’t find Olafr?’

  ‘Then Thorsten learns Kolbeinn the Blood-Axe is my ally and he raids me at his peril. Either way, my people are safe.’

  Dagmar gave an unhappy nod as his words extinguished any slim hope she had that he’d done it to help her. This was all about protecting Kintra. It always had been. She’d been naive in the extreme to think he had feelings for her. She’d been played by a master, the poor pathetic fool that she was. She wrapped her pride about the wound and stood up straight. Her mother had taught her to keep such considerations hidden from those who would exploit the weakness.

  ‘What happens next?’ she asked after she had nibbled at the food and sipped at the mead and had regained some semblance of balance.

  ‘We go to bed, to sleep. You look half-dead.’ He took the goblet of mead from her nerveless fingers. So much for her nurse’s confident prediction of her glowing beauty making Aedan’s blood rise to a boil. His was an impersonal touch and perfunctory.

  ‘That is because I spent most of last night awake.’ She forced what she hoped was a husky laugh. One last try, something to remind Aedan that they had shared something special.

  She waited with bated breath to see what he’d do. Outside the noise increased with catcalls telling him to get on with it and other coarse comments about what they should be doing.

  ‘My father is giving us some encouragement. He is trying to be helpful.’