Sent as the Viking's Bride

by Michelle Styles

  She clapped her hands and her face became wreathed in smiles. ‘Thank you. Svana will be pleased.’

  ‘I don’t want to be inconvenienced. No using Jul ale as an excuse for failing to do things like making porridge in the morning.’

  She watched him from under her lashes. ‘And the arrangements for the rest of Jul? For my sister? It would show her that life will continue even though we live somewhere else.’

  He closed his eyes. Asa’s words echoed round and round his brain.

  ‘If you don’t return on time I will know it is because you are making your way in the world, my dearest brother. When you celebrate Jul, think of me. Always.’

  He hadn’t. He’d tried to forget. Neither Asa nor Brita deserved to be forgotten. ‘I want a good Jul ale, one which warms straight to the toes.’

  Her eyes sparkled with silver lights, the sort that made him want to believe that things such as curses were made for lifting. And he knew he wanted to keep on seeing that sparkle. ‘The rest when the time comes? For Svana? To erase the horrible?’

  Erase the horrible.

  His selfishness stuck in his throat. For the child who had lost much and deserved a proper Jul, he’d brave the festivities. ‘Do what you have to. Make the ale. Get the servants. Make the blasted flaming wheel. Light the Jul log. Just don’t bother me with the detail. Or expect me to sing any of the songs.’

  The silvery lights deepened in her eyes. ‘I will bear that in mind.’

  * * *

  Ragn balanced the overladen basket on her hip as she walked through the yard. Thanks to Svana and her quizzing of Gunnar’s men, she had some idea of what the people on the estate needed. There was food for Lars’s wife who was suffering from a fever, a new spindle for Coll’s woman who had lost hers and some of her grandmother’s special herbal remedy for burns amongst the items.

  ‘Where are you going with all of that?’ Gunnar asked.

  ‘To visit with the people on the estate. It is part of the lady’s job to ensure everyone is well and it gives me an excuse to find women to help in the hall.’

  ‘You want to do this?’

  ‘My grandmother impressed on me that it had to be done by the lady of the estate. She knew of families who starved to death because the lady of the estate failed in her duty. A lady must keep the community together. A good woman trusts her own eyes, rather than employing a steward.’

  Gunnar drew his brows together. ‘Your grandmother used to do this?’

  ‘Every week when she came to live with us. My father used to say it was the only time the house was quiet when she was away on her visits.’

  ‘If she was anything like you, I can understand how he must have valued the silence.’ His eyes crinkled at the corners.

  ‘Do you think I talk too much?’

  ‘You talk more than I do.’

  ‘That is not difficult.’

  He gave a half-smile. ‘I have grown used to it.’

  Ragn shifted the basket to her other hip. ‘Then it is all right...what I am doing?’

  He nodded. ‘If people do not think you care, why should they care about you? Why should they trust you when it matters? I wish I had considered it before.’

  Her heart thudded. Hamthur had always told she was an idiot for giving things away to those in need rather than keeping them for the hungry times, but she had still done it. It had saved her life when she was running from Vargr. An elderly couple whom she had given grain to had hidden her and Svana in their barn, giving her time to recover. ‘You understand.’

  ‘It is a good idea. I wish I had thought of it.’ His eyes grew troubled. ‘Years ago.’

  ‘You can only change the future.’

  * * *

  ‘Ragn, Ragn! You need to come quick! Ever so quick!’ Svana banged the door to the ale house open and tugged at Ragn’s sleeve just as Ragn tipped the malted barley into the spring water to begin the process of fermentation for the Jul ale. Ragn jumped and narrowly managed to miss spilling the grain on the brew-house floor.

  ‘Svana, what did I say about coming in here? We agreed you wouldn’t!’

  Svana dipped her head. ‘I forgot.’

  Ragn put the bucket down and went over to the downcast child. She gave her a hug. ‘I don’t want you to take poorly again, sweetling. The fumes are always strong when the fermentation starts. What have those dogs done now?’

  ‘There is a ship coming into the bay. I saw its sails from the bluff. It is a longboat and...and everything.’

  Ragn’s heart thudded. Vargr couldn’t have discovered them this quickly. Trana would never have betrayed them.

  ‘You went up to the bluffs? On your own?’ she asked, seeking to divert Svana.

  ‘The dogs were with me. Gunnar said I might as long as I stayed away from the edge.’ Her sister gave a careless shrug. ‘I’ve been searching for the nisser’s hiding hole as it isn’t in the woodpile. Only a mouse lives there.’

  Ragn put a hand over her mouth and hid her astonishment. Svana had barely ventured from her side for weeks but within a few days, she was running about on her own.

  ‘Who am I to go against Gunnar? Particularly as he has agreed to sing us one of his Jul songs.’

  ‘That was all your doing, Ragn. He wanted to make you smile.’

  Ragn’s cheeks burned and she hoped Svana put it down to the temperature in the brew house. ‘My singing made his ears ache.’

  ‘Is that what you want to believe?’

  ‘His hands were over his ears.’ Ragn smiled at the memory of Gunnar’s pained expression.

  Svana laughed. ‘Do you think he will really go north when the light returns? He could stay and...he likes your porridge.’

  Ragn winced. Despite everything she’d told her, Svana clung to the forlorn hope that Gunnar was falling in love with Ragn. They had become friends after a fashion. She was not about to jeopardise that.

  ‘And this ship? What does he say about that?’

  ‘Nothing. I came to find you first.’

  ‘We should tell him. Were its shields up or down?’

  ‘The shields are down,’ Gunnar said, coming in the brew house. ‘Your little helper scurries on quicker feet than I do.’

  Svana beamed up at him. ‘I try to be Ragn’s eyes and ears when she is busy with the ale since neither of you will allow me to properly help.’

  ‘What you are doing is a big help,’ Ragn said. ‘Now out of here. We have had enough funny turns for one year.’

  Gunnar’s glance flickered over her and she was aware that her hair was slick with sweat and her dress had damp splotches. She probably had a stain on her right cheek if Svana’s pointed look and quick brushing of her own was anything to go by. She inwardly rolled her eyes. She’d give Svana another talking to at bedtime—seeing romance where there was none would lead to disappointment.

  ‘Are you going to get ready for the visitors, Ragn? Gunnar has.’

  Little droplets were caught in Gunnar’s hair and beard and shone like diamonds. He wore a thick pelt about his shoulders and an intricately engraved gold ring in the middle of his beard. Two arm rings and an ornate-handled sword completed the ensemble.

  A warm curl circled about her innards and took her breath away. She forced herself to keep breathing normally. Being attracted to him was not the same as acting on that attraction. She made her gaze focus on a spot above his right shoulder.

  ‘Excellent news.’ She managed to sound brisk and no nonsense. ‘You never know when raiders might appear.’

  ‘Late in the season for raiders. Njord is unforgiving of travellers on his roads in this season. He dislikes it when the Sun Maiden is in the wolf’s belly.’

  She wiped her hands on her apron and hoped he wouldn’t notice the sweat which flowed down her back. Late in the season for visitors as well. Until the Sun Maiden had eme
rged from the wolf’s belly, few would follow the sea roads. And those that did would stay close to the shore so as to avoid becoming food for the Midgaard serpent. ‘How long have you known about the ship?’

  ‘Long enough.’ His brows drew together. ‘Are you saying that you truly remained in ignorance of it until now? You who proudly proclaim the need for hospitality at this time of year? The standards these days. No true Jul spirit.’

  Svana laughed and clapped her hands as she spied the twinkling in Gunnar’s eyes.

  ‘The Jul ale required my attention and the other women are busy spinning wool. There remains a pressing need for woollen cloth. I know about the ship now. My little helper should check and see if the women need any more wool.’ She gave a pointed cough and Svana reluctantly left the room. ‘Everything is in hand in case of unexpected guests. Although, nothing can be done about the ale. The last lot of barley was badly malted by someone other than me and I had to throw most of it out.’

  ‘I look forward to drinking your fabled ale if it is ever ready.’ He gave a soft cough. ‘Until then, I make do with my inferior one.’

  ‘Whose ship is it? I presume you know it is friendly as you have not ordered Svana and me to hide.’

  He assessed her from under his lashes. Ragn resisted the temptation to scrub her cheek again. ‘One of Lord Ketil’s, but stationed at Colbhasa so it will be from Kolbeinn, my old commander and now my overlord.’

  ‘Did you part on friendly terms?’ The words spilled from her throat before she thought. She silently kicked herself. How to proclaim her fears about friends who become enemies.

  The corner of his mouth twitched and he flexed his arms so that the muscles bulged. ‘I gave my oath to Ketil and Kolbeinn last Jul and took part in the wrestling. And those who had bet on me had cause to cheer as their purses became heavier. Those who had bet wrongly cheered because I proclaimed I was giving up, having reached the pinnacle of my career. Eylir’s winnings were so heavy, he swore he’d send me a Jul present I’d never forget. And then you arrived.’

  ‘You are attempting to change the subject.’

  He put a hand on her shoulder. Warmth radiated out through her. ‘What do you fear?’

  ‘Every felag has factions.’ Ragn crossed her arms about her waist. Gunnar was treating this far too lightly. ‘Did Kolbeinn send someone you can trust? Or is it someone who had cause to hate you?’

  The semi-indulgent smile vanished. He stroked his beard with a watchful expression. ‘The sail belongs to a warrior whom I barely know—Maurr the Forkbeard. He was the favourite to win at last Jul’s wrestling.’

  ‘Have you counted the shields? Should it come to a fight, do you have enough men?’

  ‘More shields than I’d like, but that means little. He could be making one last tour of the sea roads before Jul. Kolbeinn normally sends a messenger inviting all his men to attend the swearing ceremony.’

  ‘Kolbeinn has sent someone who would not be swayed by you or any past dealings you may have had. Only you will know if this is a good or bad thing.’ She dried her hands on her apron as her brain raced. ‘We must proceed with caution and ensure he is fully welcomed. He could blacken your name to your commander.’

  The arrogance vanished from his face. He tilted his head and examined her from under his lashes. ‘Kolbeinn always chooses his messengers with care. He wants to ensure that ultimately he wins whatever happens.’ He blew out a breath. ‘You are making me see shadows where there are none, a bad habit of yours, Ragnhild.’

  ‘Has he sent allies in the past?’ Ragn filled her lungs with air and held it.

  ‘Before he sent close friends to inspect the hall as he wanted to ensure it was not the same size as his.’ He tugged at his beard. ‘You are right. There will be a hidden purpose to the visit.’

  Ragn allowed the air to leave her body. Gunnar understood the need for caution—something Hamthur never had. And she trusted he was speaking the truth. There was nothing about his demeanour which screamed worry or concern. ‘An opportunity for you to prove your loyalty.’

  ‘How?’

  Ragn pressed her hands against her apron dress. Gunnar was listening to her, instead of rejecting her ideas out of hand like Hamthur had often done. ‘Greet him as if he was Kolbeinn himself. He comes from Kolbeinn and therefore deserves respect.’

  ‘What do you intend to do?’ he asked. ‘I distrust that gleam in your eye. I want these warriors gone as quickly as possible.’

  Ragn gave a half-smile. That sounded more like the old Gunnar who preferred his solitude rather than the new and dangerous-to-her-heart Gunnar, the one who gently teased her and found reasons to make her smile.

  ‘Provide hospitality and demonstrate that all is running smoothly at this farm.’ Ragn raised her chin. ‘Lack of hospitality is a convenient excuse to behave badly in my experience.’

  Gunnar’s blue gaze seemed to pierce all the way to the hidden recesses of her soul. ‘And you believe a few horns of ale will be enough to avoid bloodshed?’

  ‘My grandmother used to say how a man presents himself at the waterfront makes a difference if he lives or dies, if his hall prospers or not.’

  A lesson her husband had never quite mastered.

  ‘Your grandmother had a lot of sayings.’

  ‘One for every occasion. Once I wondered out loud if she made them up and my father boxed my ears for being forward. My ears rang for a week.’

  ‘I see. You were always determined to have your way rather than listening to the voice of reason.’

  ‘I’ve seen the consequences...when a warrior decided the offered hospitality was a deliberate snub. How do you think this one will react if you growl at him like a grumpy bear?’

  ‘When you look that fierce, Ragnhild, I know to give way.’ He put a hand on her shoulder and whispered, ‘Put on your best dress. Make these lands proud. Show me that hospitality works. And if it fails, I will growl at them.’

  His low voice in her ear made warmth curl about her insides again. She dampened it down and stepped away from him, trying to concentrate, rather speculating on what his touches might mean. Kolbeinn had sent this ship, but for what purpose? ‘Where have you hidden the mead? It will be needed.’

  ‘Hidden mead?’ He clasped a hand to his chest. ‘Why would I do such a thing?’

  ‘To prevent me from using it in such a situation. How many hogsheads, Gunnar? How many have you saved for Kolbeinn? My father always said Kolbeinn preferred mead to any other drink.’

  His eyes crinkled at the corners and her heart flipped over. ‘Would you take a man’s mead?’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Four hogsheads, in case Kolbeinn ever arrives.’

  ‘Excellent. When this man returns to Colbhasa, Kolbeinn will learn you treat his messengers as if they were himself.’

  He came to stand behind her and her body prickled with awareness of him. His breath tickled the back of her neck. ‘These warriors will not care as long as it wets their throats and fills their belly. I was one like them not so long ago.’

  ‘Mead it must be.’

  ‘I give in.’ He held up his hands. ‘I will fetch them from their hiding place. But only two hogsheads.’

  ‘It will do for a start. This Maurr may require a feast. It is lucky you had those sheep slaughtered two days ago.’

  ‘He won’t be staying. I intend to be short with him.’

  ‘The length of his visit depends on the reason for his journey, but there are things we can do to ensure he has a favourable impression of this hall.’ She quickly rattled off a list of things that would need to be done in the time they had remaining. As the respect in Gunnar’s face grew, she smiled inwardly. She looked forward to demonstrating that she could run a hall properly. She had made Hamthur’s hall the envy of the surrounding area.

  ‘Impressive. I had no idea so much went into th
e preparation.’

  ‘I want to be on the shore with you, standing shoulder to shoulder,’ she declared. ‘In case he has come to enforce the King’s decree.’

  ‘And you think by being on the shore, you will accomplish what?’ Gunnar crossed his arms, the implacable warrior. ‘Your brother-in-law might learn of your whereabouts.’

  She drew a deep breath. ‘Vargr is in Kaupang. No one will go there until long after Jul. No one will remember me or Svana by then. All anyone used to say about me was how long and lovely my hair was, like a raven’s wing. It is short and spiky now.’

  ‘Prickly like you.’

  ‘I take that as a compliment as it means I get things done. He may come about the King’s new decree.’

  ‘If he has come about this fabled marriage decree, I will tell the truth, Ragnhild. I’ll make it known that I intend to seek my bride when the time is right in the north.’

  Ragn hit her hand against her forehead. ‘Not even to save your lands? The ones you sweated blood for?’

  He frowned. ‘It won’t come to it. He will give me time. Lying never solves anything.’

  Ragn swallowed hard. She refused to lose two homes in a few months. ‘Allow them to reach their own conclusions, rather than ramming your version of the truth down their throats. Sometimes one creates a certain impression and people take what they will from it.’

  His eyes became ice cold. ‘Allow me to do the talking. Remember these lands belong to me, not you. Awkward woman.’

  ‘Awkward is another good description. I take it as a compliment.’ Ragn gave a half-curtsy. ‘I look forward to hearing your apology later.’

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. ‘If you disobey me and tell him we are married to save this farm, I will personally put you on that boat and send you off to who knows where.’

  She stepped backwards. ‘You wouldn’t dare. We have an agreement.’

  His face became carved from stone. ‘Do you truly wish to try me on this? I allowed you to have your way with the people on the estate. Now allow me to do my job.’