‘Right now, I want to go to the service of thanksgiving in my mother’s gown. Later, after the feast, we can retire to bed and you can demonstrate precisely how much you cherish me and my invaluable counsel.’
‘I could not have put it better myself!’
Epilogue
One year later—Kintra, Ile
‘Almost there.’
‘Is the blindfold truly necessary, Aedan?’ Dagmar asked. ‘It is fairly easy to work out that you are leading me up to the hut. It will be good to be back. I only hope there is not too much to do as it has been a while.’
‘Feast your eyes on this.’ Aedan whipped the cloth from her eyes and revealed a brand-new hall standing where the stone hut had been. Its wood gleamed golden in the afternoon sunshine.
Dagmar stood for a moment astonished. It was the sort of hall she had often dreamed about having when she was being a sell-sword with her mother—spacious and welcoming. She spied the raven gables and knew Aedan had used the design from the sketch in her boot. He had recreated her dream house. ‘When was this done? It is absolute perfection.’
‘I thought we needed something larger now that we have twin boys. The wind whistles through the hall far too fiercely for little babies to thrive.’ He gave a crooked smile. ‘I needed to do something while you were in confinement. Your father lent me some craftsmen so that the gables were like your childhood home.’
‘My father was in on the surprise?’ Dagmar tapped her finger against her mouth. ‘I thought he seemed entirely too pleased when he was here to meet the twins. I thought it was because he had finally achieved his dream of having grandsons.’
‘The raven gables were a more appropriate present than the bodies of the men who had betrayed you.’
Dagmar gave a small shudder as she recalled what happened last November. ‘When that happened, I knew I had to be pregnant. It was the only explanation for my shameful behaviour when I discovered what he had done to those men who had conspired with Olafr to bring about my downfall.’
‘How like my wife to still be embarrassed about fainting. It merely gave me the excuse I wanted to cosset you.’ Aedan gave a laugh which warmed her. He had done more than that, demanding the heads be removed immediately from the spikes. But he had allowed her to continue teaching the women various self-defence moves as long as she was careful.
‘I take it that everyone knew about the hall. It was why people kept asking me daft questions about the colours I’d like to have in the new tapestries during my confinement. Here I thought they considered me a bit simple.’
‘Hardly that.’ He laced his fingers with hers. ‘But you need to give me your verdict. Do you approve of your surprise?’
She flung her arms about his neck. ‘I love it. When can we move in?’
Aedan lifted her up and carried her over the threshold. ‘Now.’
Dagmar looked about her. The reason for the long and circuitous route became clear. He had had their trunks moved from the old hall. Tapestries did hang from the walls. And in two cradles lay their baby boys. Mor gave a sharp bark and the young girl who had been watching over them made a small curtsy before vanishing. Suddenly she was left alone with her family in her house.
Dagmar’s heart expanded. She knew some day she and Aedan might go raiding again, but for now, they had their family to raise. She had finally discovered the one place in the world where she truly belonged and she meant to stay there for as long as possible. Some people like her mother thrived on change, but she had discovered how much she valued putting roots down and watching the seasons slowly roll around.
She raised herself up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against Aedan’s. ‘My luck certainly changed the day you kidnapped me.’
He raised a brow. ‘Kidnapped? I saved your life, but you restored mine. I know who bears the greater debt, my love, and I plan to spend the rest of my life showing you my gratitude and undying devotion.’
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this story you won’t want to miss
these other Viking novels by Michelle Styles
SOLD TO THE VIKING WARRIOR
SUMMER OF THE VIKING
TAMING HIS VIKING WOMAN
SAVED BY THE VIKING WARRIOR
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE TON’S MOST NOTORIOUS RAKE by Sarah Mallory.
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Historical Note
Traditionally the battle of Dollar in 875 is held to be between Constantine of the Picts and Halfdan, King of the York-based Vikings, in which Halfdan won a great victory, beating Constantine and taking control of the entire north of Scotland. The only trouble with this view is that, according to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, in 876 Halfdan had settled his warriors on land south of the Tyne. Between him and the north of Scotland lay the client kingdom of Bernicia. It does make much more sense, as some accounts have it, that the Vikings from Dublin came over and won. In 877, legend has it that Constantine was beheaded by a Viking on a Fife beach.
Evidence exists of the High King of Ireland, who happened to be married to Constantine’s sister, burning longships’ enclosures which belonged to the Irish-based Vikings in the years before the battle of Dollar. This could explain why the Irish-based Vikings decided to attack Pict-controlled Alba.
We also know that during this period the Western Isles were controlled from Manx by Ketil, who is mentioned in the Laxdaela Saga. While they raided Ireland, they do not seem to have been as aggressive towards Alba as they were in charge of the sea roads with the Western fleet based mainly on Colbhasa or—to give its modern English name—Colonsay, a word which means Kolbeinn’s Island in Old Norse. Islay was known as Ile or Il in the writings from the time.
There is some evidence that shield maidens were real. According to the sagas, once a shield maiden married she put away her male clothes and settled down to the business of bearing children. In a saga or two, a former shield maiden does divorce her husband and take up her weapons again. Unlike in the Christian world, divorce was possible in the pagan Viking world. Indeed, a number of sagas including Njall’s Saga use divorce as a turning point in the story.
My primary sources for Scotland in this period are the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, the Chronicle of the Kings of Alba as well as some Irish annals. However, actual evidence is very scanty and in some cases nothing was written down until hundreds of years after the events.
It is doubtful that anyone can ever know the full truth, but it is fun to speculate.
If you are interested in learning more about the Vikings in Scotland, Ireland or even shield maidens—these books might prove useful:
Ferguson, Robert The Hammer and the Cross: A New History of the Vikings (2010 Penguin Books)
Jesch, Judith Women in the Viking Age (2005 Boydell & Brewer)
Magnusson, Magnus KBE The Vikings (2003 The History Press)
Marsden, John Somerled and the Emergence of Gaelic Scotland (2008 Tuckwell Press)
Oliver, Neil Vikings, a History (2012 Orion Books)
Parker, Philip The Northmen’s Fury, A History of the Viking World (2014 Jonathan Cape)
Roesdahl, Else The Vikings: revised edition translated by Susan M. Margeson and Kirsten Williams (1998 Penguin Books)
Williams, Gareth ed. Vikings: Life and Legend (2014 British Museum Press)
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The Ton’s Most Notorious Rake
by Sarah Mallory
Chapter One
‘Molly! Molly!’
She held her breath, balanced in her leafy eyrie and peeping down at the path below her. Edwin would never think to look up into a tree. Her brother did not think girls could climb trees. He was four years older and at school now and he did not think girls could do anything. True, her skirts had been a hindrance in scrambling up into the branches and Mama would be sure to scold her when she saw the tear, and Papa might beat her for it, too, and make her learn another tract from the Scriptures, but it would be worth it. She would wait until her brother had passed beneath her, then jump down behind him. That would give him a scare.
‘Molly, where are you?’
‘Where the devil are you?’
The voice had changed. It was no longer Edwin and suddenly she was no longer six years old and hiding in a tree. She was in a dark place, bruised and bleeding, and waiting for the next blow.
‘Molly. Molly!’
It was a dream. Only a dream. She shook off the fear and panic, clinging to the fact that it was her brother’s voice dragging her from sleep. She opened her eyes, but remained still for a moment to gather her thoughts. She was safe here. It was the vicarage garden and she was lying on a rug beneath the shady branches of the beech tree.
‘So there you are, sleepyhead.’
She sat up, rubbing her eyes. ‘I beg your pardon, Edwin. I came out here to do some sketching and I must have fallen asleep.’
‘Well, if you will go off at the crack of dawn to help out at Prospect House.’ He threw himself down beside her on the rug, grinning at her and looking far more like the errant elder brother she had grown up with than the sober Reverend Edwin Frayne, vicar of the parish. ‘There is no need for you to visit more than once a week, you know. Nancy and Fleur are very capable of running the place.’
‘But I like to help when I can and today is market day when they sell the surplus from the dairy and the kitchen garden. There is always so much for them to do to pack up the dog cart, deciding on a price for the eggs and butter, and—’
He threw up a hand, laughing. ‘Enough, enough, Molly. You do not need to convince me. You are a grown woman and may do as you please.’
‘I know they could cope without me,’ she conceded, smiling. ‘However, today will be the last of those early mornings. With the days growing shorter I shall go to the house on a Tuesday. We will prepare all we can in advance so that Fleur and the others have only to pack up the cart in the morning.’
‘If you must.’
She reached for his hand. ‘I like to do it, Edwin. I like to help. It makes me feel necessary.’
‘You are very necessary, my dear. You are necessary to my comfort, keeping house for me here.’
She took his hand and squeezed it, wanting to say how grateful she was that he had taken her in when she was so suddenly widowed, but the memories that stirred up brought an unwelcome lump to her throat and she did not wish to embarrass either of them with her tears, so she pinned on a bright smile and asked him where he had been.
‘I called upon our new neighbours at Newlands.’
‘Oh.’
Edwin spread his hands, ‘I could not ignore them, Molly, you must see that. And I admit I was pleasantly surprised. Sir Gerald is really most gentleman-like. He was most accommodating.’
‘One would expect him to be, to a man of the cloth.’ Molly bit her lip. ‘I beg your pardon, Edwin, I know one should never listen to gossip, but from everything I have heard, Sir Gerald Kilburn and his friends are everything I most despise...’
She tailed off and Edwin looked at her with some amusement.
‘You must learn not to attach too much importance to the gossip our sister writes to you. She has inherited our father’s abhorrence of anything frivolous. Sir Gerald and his guests all seemed very pleasant. He introduced me to his sister, too. Miss Kilburn is to keep house for him here. She has with her an elderly lady who is her companion. Their presence and that of other ladies suggests this is not a party of rakish bucks intent upon setting the neighbourhood by the ears.’
‘Not all of them, perhaps,’ said Molly darkly. ‘But Louisa wrote to warn me that one of the party is sure to be Sir Gerald’s oldest and closest friend, Charles Russington. Even you will have heard of his reputation, Edwin. Louisa says the gossip about the man is no exaggeration. He is the most attractive man imaginable and no lady in town is safe.’
‘If the fellow is so attractive, perhaps it is he who is not safe from the ladies.’
‘Edwin!’
‘I beg your pardon, I did not mean to be flippant, but I think you are making too much of this. Yes, I have certainly heard of Beau Russington, but I did not see him today.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘If t
he fellow is as rakish as they say, then perhaps he is coming into the country for a rest! No, no, do not rip up at me for that, my dear. Forgive me, but I think you are too quick to judge. It is our Christian duty to give these people the benefit of the doubt, at least until we are a little better acquainted with them. And we shall soon know what our neighbours think of the newcomers. Sir Gerald told me they plan to attend Friday’s assembly at the King’s Head. His party comprises five ladies, excluding the elderly companion, and six gentlemen, so just think how that will liven things up!’
Molly was still digesting this news when Edwin coughed.
‘I thought we might go this time. Just so that you might meet the Newlands party, you understand. Miss Agnes Kilburn is a quiet, well-mannered young lady, about your age, and your situations are quite similar. I think you might get on very well.’
Molly said nothing, but her doubts must have been plain in her face, for Edwin said earnestly, ‘I really should like you to meet her, my dear.’
She narrowed her eyes, a sudden smile tugging at her mouth. ‘Why, Edwin, I do believe you are blushing. Have you taken a liking to Miss Kilburn?’
‘No, no, of course not, we have only met the once.’ His ears had turned quite red, which only increased Molly’s suspicions. He said, ‘I am merely concerned that we do not appear unfriendly. And I thought you would prefer that to my inviting them here.’
‘There is that,’ she agreed. ‘Very well, we shall go. I admit my interest has been piqued. In meeting Miss Kilburn, at least.’
‘Molly.’ Edwin tried to look stern but failed miserably. ‘I will not have you making Miss Kilburn feel awkward.’
‘No, of course not,’ said Molly, her grey eyes twinkling. ‘I shall be the very soul of discretion!’
* * *
Molly decided that if she was going to attend the assembly then she would need some new gloves, since she had noticed at their last outing that her old ones were looking decidedly shabby. Thus, on the morning of the assembly, she sallied forth to the high street to make her purchases. Hebden’s was by far the most popular shop for the ladies of Compton Parva. The business had begun as a haberdasher, selling everything one might require for sewing such as ribbons, thread and needles, but as the number of families in the area increased, the business had expanded to include such necessary items as ladies’ bonnets, scarves, reticules, stockings and gloves. The shop was now run by Miss Hebden, who had inherited the business from her parents, and when she saw Molly, she came immediately to serve her.
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