Sold to the Viking Warrior

by Michelle Styles

  Sigurd lay in bed with Liddy next to him. He struggled to remember when he had last felt this content. He ran his hand down her flank and knew he wanted her again. But he wanted all of her. His hand strayed to her stomach. Suddenly he noticed little telltale marks that in his passion, he’d missed earlier.

  Sudden anger swept through him—at her, at the situation and his own blindness for not noticing before and for not thinking about why people had dropped their eyes and mumbled about Liddy and the curse.

  ‘When were you going to tell me?’ he asked, curling his fingers about her belly and dragging her back against him.

  ‘Tell you what?’

  ‘That you have children.’ He raised himself up on one elbow. ‘How could you abandon them to try to save your father and brother? Surely your first duty was to them.’

  She struggled against his arm and he allowed her to break free.

  ‘Because I don’t have them.’

  Sigurd struggled to control his anger—at her, at himself for not guessing earlier, for not paying more attention to the rumours about her. No one had mentioned children. He had made her a slave and her children had lost a mother. ‘Your belly has a network of little indents, scars. I traced the indentations with my fingers. I don’t believe you’ve ever been in battle. I ask again—where have you hidden your child? Why have you kept the child hidden from me?’

  ‘On a hillside overlooking Kintra bay. There is nothing I can do for them now. The angels watch over them.’

  All of Sigurd’s anger evaporated. Something clenched inside him. He had never considered the possibility. Her child was dead. It was why she considered herself cursed. ‘Your child is dead?’

  ‘Two—twins,’ she said, sitting up and hiding her face with her hair. ‘Keita and Gilbreath. I became pregnant shortly after my marriage. Possibly even the night of my marriage. They were the light in my life and then they died in the second spring after their birth. It is why I never go on the sea. I had taken them and the nurse on a picnic on a small island. In those days, I sailed and I even swam. It was the only thing Brandon admired about me—my skill at sailing. I sailed too close to the wind and the boat which Brandon had designed capsized. I thought I had saved them all, but Keita died of secondary drowning hours later and Gilbreath caught a fever from the chill he suffered. He died a week later.’

  The stark words hit him in the stomach. ‘And the nursemaid?’

  ‘She, too, caught a chill and nearly died, but survived and tells a different story to mine.’ She gathered her knees to her chest. ‘Now you see why I am cursed. Brandon swore that the boat would never capsize. He swore it in church at their funeral. The nursemaid said that I was behaving recklessly, pushing the boat to go faster. Of course she had reason to lie—she was enthralled with my husband.’

  ‘And you planned on keeping your children and their horrible death a secret?’ he asked, trying to puzzle it out. Liddy had acted heroically in attempting to save the children and the servant. And accidents happened with boats. He’d seen many men die. He silently cursed her husband for heaping the guilt on her when she was obviously grieving.

  ‘They are in the past. No matter what I do, I can’t bring them back. I’ve accepted that. Talking about them makes my heart ache far too much.’ She made a hopeless gesture. ‘I planned to confess this morning, but I wanted one night of feeling special before you regarded me with horror.’

  Sigurd’s chest tightened. This woman’s past should not mean anything to him, but it did. He hated that she had experienced a moment of pain. Here he’d taken her and had never considered what her life had been before. He had never thought to ask about children. And he knew in his heart of hearts that it wouldn’t have made a difference. He would have wanted her still, but he wouldn’t have made her his slave. He had thought for a heartbeat that he’d have to let her go back to that child, but selfishly he was glad, he would be able to keep her for a while longer.

  ‘How was the accident your fault?’ Sigurd asked, trying to understand.

  ‘I was angry at Brandon. The nursemaid said something about him and I knew he was sleeping with her. I sailed too close to the wind and the boat turned over. It should never have done that. Brandon swore that I did it deliberately as he designed the boat so it wouldn’t tip.’

  Sigurd wished he could murder Liddy’s late husband for his selfishness. The man had been a pig of the highest order. He turned her over and drew her unresisting into the circle of his arms. ‘You would never have done that deliberately. What actually happened?’

  She gave a sad smile. ‘There was a sudden wave and the boat went over despite what the nurse said. But Brandon was right—I should never have set sail. I wanted to be out on the sea, feeling the wind in my hair, feeling alive and then this happened.’

  Sigurd tightened his hold of her. ‘Freak waves have been known to happen. In the right condition, any boat can capsize.’

  ‘Kintra bay is normally as smooth as a freshly hammered sword.’

  Sigurd thought about how his father had died after he had fallen from a cart and how he’d been blamed when his only crime was that he was the nearest person to him. ‘Sometimes, there is no one to blame. It is just an accident and somehow that makes it harder, but hate eats you up.’

  Liddy wriggled out of his arms. ‘You were right about one thing earlier—Brandon blamed me for being cold in bed. He never returned to my bed after the twins were born. Perhaps in time he would have, but...it was easier to let him find solace in the arms of other women. Before he died, he suggested that I go into a convent. He’d gone to Ireland to find a suitable one. He said that we would both be happier. The thought of travelling by sea terrified me then and it still does.’

  ‘Brandon was a fool,’ he said, reaching out for her.

  ‘He was well respected.’ She shook her head. ‘Everyone loved him. He was the life of every gathering. His boat-building skills were famous. That design had never capsized...except for the one time when I was at the helm.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘He swore this in church at their funeral. He offered to carry hot iron to prove the truth of it. The priest accepted his word and pronounced me cursed.’

  ‘He was still a fool. He didn’t know how to look after his wife and blamed her for his faults.’ He smoothed the hair from her forehead. He knew he had to get the words right and he often made mistakes. And just because he wanted to make things better for Liddy, it didn’t mean he cared for her. He was doing this for selfish reasons—he wanted a responsive partner. ‘He had everything he could want in a woman and more and chose to ignore it. His fault, not yours. He wanted to blame someone for a tragedy. Again his fault, not yours. It is not your fault if your late husband made mistakes and blamed you for them. It is your fault if you decide you are cursed and refuse to live. One tragedy does not mean the rest of your life is cursed. Would your children have wanted that for you?’

  ‘You know how to make me feel special.’ She laid her head against his chest. ‘I could almost believe you.’

  ‘That is because you are special. Passionate and giving. And you have brought luck into my life.’

  Sigurd gathered her to his chest and held her until the trembling stopped. All the while he kept thinking about how right she felt there and how much that frightened him. After all this time his heart seemed to be waking up. His mother had died because of his false declaration of love for Beyla. He was never going to make that mistake again.

  He found with Liddy in his arms, he didn’t want to think about the future, he simply wanted to exist in the present.

  Liddy allowed her face to rest against Sigurd’s chest for another heartbeat. It was all too easy to believe that he might care. For the first time she wanted to believe that it had all been a terrible tragedy and that she should not bear all the responsibility.

 
One kind gesture and she was ready to believe it was love. How pathetic. She should have learnt by now. In time Sigurd would discover that he needed another woman, someone who could advance his career. He had no heart, he’d proclaimed. She could not expect any kindness from him and yet she had found it. She pushed against his chest and his arms fell away.

  ‘It is fine. I’ve accepted it. I just wanted to let you know why I don’t speak of it. Why I prefer it to be dark.’

  ‘Do you visit your children’s graves often?’

  Liddy hated how her throat tightened again. The hardest thing for her had been leaving those two graves, knowing that no one would tend them. Aedan only saw his brother as a hero to worship and took Brandon’s side in blaming her for the accident. It had hurt because she had considered him her friend before. It had been easier to go than to face him and his judgements after she learned of Brandon’s death.

  ‘Hardly ever,’ she said, focusing on a spot behind Sigurd’s shoulder. ‘My brother-in-law inherited the hall when Brandon died. It is best for all of us that I stay away. My curse...’

  ‘Some day I will take you there. Aedan mac Connall will be made to see you have been wronged. You should be able to visit the graves whenever you wish.’

  ‘Northmen do not go to Kintra.’

  He thumped his fists against the bedstead. ‘Is Kintra not part of this island?’

  ‘Kintra is on a headland with a very narrow strip of land connecting it to the island,’ Liddy tried to explain. The last thing she wanted was Sigurd fighting Aedan. It was a battle neither would win and totally unnecessary. ‘It is easy to defend. Ketil saw fit to pay for the service of my husband and now my brother-in-law, rather than trying to conquer them. Thorbin honoured the arrangement.’

  ‘You are counselling against the move?’ His low voice held a note of barely suppressed anger. ‘Do you doubt my sword arm?’

  Liddy winced and tried to move away from his encircling arm, but the arm had become like iron. ‘My brother-in-law is away in Ireland, fighting the Northmen who follow Ivar the Boneless and who raided his farms earlier this spring. There will be nothing there. You don’t want to give him an excuse to break the truce when he returns.’

  ‘He fails to worry me.’

  ‘Still, Kintra holds nothing for me. My life has started afresh.’

  ‘Nothing except your children’s untended graves and they have been denied to you for too long.’ He caught her hand and raised it to his lips. Her heart did a flip. It would be easy to care about him and to start believing that he cared about her.

  ‘They will be there for a long time, looking out to the bay.’

  ‘You should visit. Soon. I will make it happen.’

  ‘You will let me go on my own?’

  He laughed. ‘You will have proper protection, something the men in your life should have given you long before now. You will be allowed to visit those graves whenever you desire when I am finished.’ His breath tickled her ear. ‘And some day you will see that there is nothing to be ashamed about. You will let me gaze on your body.’

  ‘I can’t see that happening.’

  ‘And until then, I will wait.’

  Liddy lay completely still. It bothered her that he could play her body like a harp. But she wasn’t ready to allow him to see her fully. It was one thing for him to imagine. Another for him to actually see. Brandon’s look of disgust remained seared on her soul. What she had shared with Sigurd was too new and precious. She didn’t want to take any risks with it.

  Chapter Ten

  Sigurd surveyed the men with their petitions and requests for delays. Nothing out of the ordinary. He’d been surprised to hear how lax Thorbin had been about demanding proof, but everyone did comment how poor the growing season was.

  ‘This man insists on seeing you.’ One of the guards dragged Liddy’s brother forward. ‘He wasn’t polite about it.

  Sigurd snapped his fingers. ‘Release him.’

  Malcolm adjusted his cloak. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You should be helping your father. There remains tribute to be paid and from what I understand the season is not a good one.’

  A soft leather pouch landed at Sigurd’s feet. Sigurd left the pouch where it was. ‘You should learn some manners.’

  ‘Go on, pick it up,’ Malcolm jeered. ‘See what it contains.’

  ‘I can guess. The balance of the tribute.’ He leant forward. ‘Why the drama? Why wait until all could see you?’

  Malcolm lifted his chin. ‘More than that!’

  ‘So you can pay. Interesting.’

  Malcolm’s face went red. ‘Aedan has returned. He wants Liddy free. He provided the gold. You let her go. The full tribute will be paid.’

  Sigurd stared at the leather pouch like it was a venomous snake. If he accepted the gold, he’d never see Liddy again. She’d be out of his life and he wasn’t ready for that.

  ‘Eilidith is not a hostage. She is my slave.’ Sigurd looked at Malcolm. ‘Why would Aedan mac Connall do that?’

  ‘He dislikes the thought of any of his family being a slave. He has the gold from his summer in Ireland. He wants to buy her for the same price you paid for her.’

  Sigurd struggled to contain his temper at Malcolm and the brother-in-law, the one who had stood by while Liddy had been abused. The brother-in-law who intended to send Liddy to a convent in Ireland simply because he was doing her late husband’s bidding. Liddy had made her choice when she left Kintra to return to her family. And he would not give Aedan, the so-called king of cennell Loairn, power over her.

  ‘It was your father who offered her up for sale. I merely bought her, rather than allowing her to go on the open market. Or did you give him a different version of events?’

  Malcolm flushed scarlet. ‘I told him that. He refused to believe me. He says that she must be a hostage and therefore a ransom can be paid.’

  ‘Aedan mac Connall should come to me, rather than sending you to do his dirty work. He would learn from me that I do not sell my slaves. Ever.’ Sigurd gestured to the pouch. ‘Pick it up. Take it back to him and tell him that the lady is not for sale.’

  ‘Are you going to release her? Free her?’

  Sigurd shook his head. If he released her, she would go and he’d never see her again. Her family would ensure that. And the passion between them was growing rather than diminishing. But when it was finished, he would not be releasing her back into the custody of people who had abused her in the past. She would belong to no one but herself. The tension eased in his shoulders. When the right time came, he’d ensure she was free, but until then he protected her and his heart.

  ‘Your sister is my slave. It is up to me to decide her fate.’ He gestured towards the pouch. ‘Now take that away from here.’

  Malcolm picked up the leather pouch and backed away. ‘Fa predicted you would say something like that. It is why he sold her to you.’

  Sigurd stared at the man. ‘Your father said what?’

  Malcolm straightened his shoulders. ‘My fa advised me not to waste my breath. You didn’t look like the sort of man who’d sell a woman, particularly a woman like our Liddy. He’d made a mistake with her once, but this time he knew he had it right. Personally I think my father’s wits went when he was imprisoned.’

  ‘Did he say this?’ Sigurd frowned. There was more to Liddy’s father than he had first considered. The man had had no intention of selling Liddy to anyone else. Sigurd ground his teeth, hating that his desire had been that obvious.

  ‘I reckoned it was a try.’ Malcolm shrugged. ‘May I see her? Alone?’

  ‘You may see her with me.’

  ‘I want to see her alone.’

  Sigurd shook his head. He couldn’t take the risk. ‘Impossible.’

  ‘As I was leaving, Fa advised
me to ask if I neglected to mention Aedan’s offer to Liddy and your refusal, would you see clear to let the rest of this year’s tribute go?’

  Sigurd ground his teeth. Did they think he’d be swayed by blackmail? He had planned on letting Liddy know about the offer and that he was not prepared to release her into the custody of a man who thought her cursed. ‘Your father is incorrigible, but I want the tribute paid on time. I’d hardly like to be accused of playing favourites.’

  Malcolm touched the side of his nose. ‘I will keep it between us. Liddy’s temper can be incandescent.’

  ‘Stay there. I will send for her.’

  Malcolm’s face became like a scared rabbit’s. ‘No, no. I can’t tell her any good news. It is best that I don’t give her false hope that she will be freed any time soon.’

  ‘She is freer with me than she ever would be with Aedan mac Connall.’ Sigurd leant forward. ‘You can inform him of that from me.’

  * * *

  The feast was in full swing. One of the men had had too much to drink and had challenged Sigurd to an arm-wrestling competition. He accepted without blinking an eye and Liddy made her excuses, rather than staying to watch. Sigurd was in a strange mood tonight. Far jumpier than she’d seen him before.

  She’d experienced enough of those sorts of fights when she was Brandon’s wife. She gave the excuse of fetching more ale and escaped.

  Liddy drank in the fresh air. She gathered from the shouts that Sigurd had won in short order. She shook her head. Men. Her husband had been the same—picking a fight at every opportunity.

  A sharp pebble caught her shoulder.

  ‘Hey!’ she cried, rubbing herself. ‘Have a care!’

  Another pebble was tossed from the shadows. Liddy’s heart thumped. There was only one person who would do something like that.

  ‘Malcolm?’ She shook the jug of ale under his nose. ‘What are you playing at?’

  Malcolm took the jug from her hand and peered in. He wrinkled his nose as he realised that it was empty. ‘Liddy, if you keep up that racket, you will have the entire fort down on me. I was supposed to leave earlier, but I couldn’t go without seeing you alone. You needn’t worry. I brought some of Fa’s gold as a bribe. There is nothing these Northmen love more.’