Celtic Mann: A Historical Viking Scottish Romance (Heart of the Battle Series Book 3)

by Lexy Timms

  "Why don't I remember any of this?"

  "He got you pretty good, Sir. He punched you and you fell like a gir—” Paul cleared his throat and straightened. “You took a direct hit after your argument with him. We're lucky it was me who knifed you and not the prince. He wasn't raised in the castle, you know. He was there beside all of us as we got our arses handed to us in training day in and day out."

  "He believed you intended to kill me?" Marcus reached up with his hand and ran his fingers over his bald head as he worked to remain focused on the soldier before him. He hadn’t missed the man’s comment and planned to remind him of it one day when he had his strength and wits about him.

  "Yes, Sir. I pretended to switch sides, taking you out as an honor to the crown."

  "Where’s he now? Does he know you're with me?" His head hurt but he pushed on. A good king knew everything before others did.

  "He believes we’re finishing you off and burying you in a shallow grave. He checked you himself before leaving. Not sure if you meant to play the part so well, but between the blood on your lips and the non-responsible position of your body... he believes you were already dead or soon to be. It was quite a show." Paul smirked as Marcus narrowed his eyes on the oaf.

  "Have you reported back to him yet?"

  "No, Captain. We weren't going to go back to him."

  "Yes, you are.” Anger made his mind clear for the moment. “You’re loyal to me because you know I’m looking out for what's best for our great country.” He rested his head and closed his eyes. He blinked quickly, not sure if he’d fallen asleep but determined to finish his train of thought. “The crown’ll be mine one day soon and when it is, I’ll repay you for your loyalty."

  "What would you have of me?"

  "I want you to take several of the men and catch up with our crowned prince. Stay by his side and work to tear him down as best you can."

  "Physically?"

  "No, you idiot.” If he didn’t hurt so badly, Marcus would have sat up and slapped the side of the man’s head. “He's a dreamer. He doesn't want the crown. He wants a wife and a farm, a house and a gaggle of children. Tear down his dreams."

  "He's going home. Why would that matter?"

  "Because he's in love with a Scottish whore!” Had the man not been listening to Erik earlier? Hell, Marcus had been hit and stabbed and he remembered! “You heard me make mention of her, did you not?"

  "Aye. I heard ya. How did you know of the girl?"

  "I have my ways of finding out what I need to know and though I haven't the slightest of who the girl is, I will find her."

  "So you're asking that we tell him that you're going after the girl?"

  "No!” The man was an idiot! “I'm telling you to go with him and remind him every chance you get that he's a lonely man stuck in a prison of gold. Talk about the fresh air in England and the beautiful copper-headed lasses. The farmlands for miles and the ocean just outside of their reach. Make him crumble as most men do when they are forbidden to be with the things they love. He will die inside." It would kill him faster than a sword. Marcus closed his eyes again, exhausted with the stupid soldier.

  He must have fallen asleep because he heard Paul ask him the same question several times.

  "How does that help you, Sir?" Paul coughed loudly. “Sir, how will that help you?”

  Marcus sighed and forced his eyes to open. "Get me a writing utensil and parchment."

  Paul nodded and left the small room, three or four candles lighting the area around Marcus. He pulled the covers up higher, his torso aching, but his resolve set. He would take his time and play his strategy out slowly. There was no reason to rush things. Erik believed him dead and that was for the best until the time came when they would meet again.

  Paul hurried back in, handing Marcus the items he requested. "Help me sit so that I might pen a note for my dear cousin."

  "Do you want us to give it to him when we see him? How would we explain you writing something after you died?" Paul's brow lifted as Marcus scoffed.

  "Don't be an idiot! I want the letter given to him in two spring’s time. That’s not next spring, but the following. Not a moment before that and certainly not after. Stay close to his side and when he returns from Denmark to Scotland, make sure you and several others follow him like a second skin."

  "What will happen at that time?"

  "He’ll board one of the Viking ships and return here."

  "How do you know that for sure, Captain?"

  "Because in that time I’ll have found his girl and he's going to want her back. Leave the letter in his room one night and play ignorant of how it got there. Do not give yourself away. Do you understand? Kill another man to make him look guilty."

  "I do. I will."

  "Good, and if you ruin this in any way for me, I’ll repay you harshly for stabbing me tonight and your stupidity."

  "I was trying to save your life, Sir."

  Marcus waved his hand as he lay on the bed. "Aye, and you were successful, but mess this up and I’ll be collecting yours."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Erik

  By the looks of things, the rest of the men had joined them in the pub. Erik made a quick mental note of who had come with him from the battle in Scotland and who had joined forces with him that morning when Marcus stupidly arrived. There wasn't any room for error where his family was concerned. He would keep a close watch on these new arrivals.

  What irked him was how Marcus had approached so confident and then died so easily. His cousin was a coward. Maybe he believed he would get at Erik by surprise and throw him off. Or he was desperate. And stupid.

  "Sire, my name’s Paul. I’ve been waiting to speak with you."

  The tall giant of a man stood beside his table. "Paul. If I recall correctly, you've been nothing but a royal pain in my ass." Erik lifted his eyebrow as he shook the large man's hand. "Always in opposition to everything I do. I'm surprised to see you here now."

  "Opposition is subjective. I support the crown and therefore you, and your son after you." Paul bowed his head slightly as Erik studied him. "I’ve my own opinions and am bull-headed thanks to my mother’s mother, but I don't think you've ever seen me act in a manner unbefitting a follower of our great country, right?"

  "This is true. Enough talk.” He waved his mug at a tavern wench and pointed at Paul so she’d bring them two pints of ale. “John,” Erik called out, “this man’s returned. Ready the ships." Their strong Viking boats were on the water, ready to leave at Erik’s command.

  John nodded and left as Erik turned and took the mug from a young woman. Her lips trembled as she kept her eyes adverted, the scar on her left cheek causing Erik to wonder about things that were not of his concern. He cleared his throat and turned back to the men as they lifted their mugs in the air.

  "To King and Country. Aye!"

  "Where are our ships, Captain?" one of the men asked before lifting his glass to his ruddy beard and drinking it dry.

  "I assumed some were destroyed by the English. We have three boats. Near ready for us. We’ll send another fleet to reinforce our boys in Scotland and provide safe passage to get everyone back home." Erik took a long drink of his mead before finding a seat and leaning back.

  Paul nodded to the seat next to him. "Mind if I join you, Captain?"

  "Not at all." Erik moved his feet from the extra seat and turned his attention on the behemoth. "Tell me Marcus is truly dead."

  "Aye. He was already lifeless in the forest when you surveyed him yourself. Bled out from the puncture to his heart."

  "The knife looked a little too high for the heart. I wanted to make sure."

  "He's dead, Sire.” Paul sucked back his ale. “We took his head from his body and buried them in two different locations. Valhalla will not find Marcus." Paul smirked and lifted his mug in the air, his voice loud and commanding. "More."

  The girl scampered over quickly, glancing up at Erik for only a moment before tucking her head down and
moving quickly to refill their drinks. His eyes followed her until he turned his attention back to Paul, who was watching him much too intently.

  "Do you have a woman, Prince Erik?"

  "I do not. I'm not interested in domesticated things. Ruling a country and conquering others is all that makes my heart burn." Erik straightened his shoulders, the tension of Linzi still here burning inside of him.

  "What was Marcus making reference to with his comments about a lass?" Paul pressed, his expression softening, as if he were trying to have a sudden heart-to-heart.

  Erik set his mug down and wiped the back of his mouth with his hand. "I’ve no idea. I took a few women for pleasure in the north, but being at death’s door was perfect reason to do so. Funny how open women are with their bodies when they believe you to be dead soon."

  Paul laughed loudly and nodded eagerly. "I would imagine so. I haven't had a woman that wasn't forced beneath me in years. I'll have to try your tricks."

  "No, you bastard! Get 'yer own!" someone shouted near the entrance of the tavern.

  Erik jumped up as John hurried into the small pub, lifting his arms and motioning for them to come. "The ships leave now. Drink your mead quickly and let's get the hell out of here."

  "Who's paying for all you've drunk?" An older woman walked out from the back, her hands on her large hips. The look on her face should have pinned them in place, but they moved toward the door as she continued to bark at them. Erik realized then the opportunity to show his men that he hadn't fallen in love or lost himself to a woman. He was the same rowdy bastard he had always been – or so he hoped.

  "Stand back woman, or I'll take your daughter and make an example of her. You give us drink because we are thirsty. Shut your mouth and find your place back in the kitchen. Speak again and I’ll take your tongue as a treasure for my trip." He moved toward the woman, hating like hell the show he would have to leave on display if she uttered a word. He had respect before the events in Scotland. He needed to ensure it went with him back to Denmark.

  His gaze shifted to the younger woman as tears dripped down her pretty face. How he hated his lot in life, but reprieve was not his to take hold of. He turned when the woman grabbed her daughter and hurried to the back room. Erik walked out the door as the men joked loudly about his threats, their excitement over seeing the fire in him rare up again, refreshing, if not all together disturbing as well.

  Erik waited until all of the men were on their ships before he boarded a vessel himself. John sat in front of him, his long-time friend glancing over his shoulder as if wanting to ask a question of the Prince. The men on his ship looked weary and apprehensive.

  Erik ignored the heavy emotion sitting on their features and pulled John close to him. "Keep an eye on Paul. Something doesn't sit right with me."

  "I’ll keep my eyes on him. Just rest for the evening of travelling. I know you didn't sleep last night. At all." John gave him a knowing look.

  "Aye. I'm going to stay up here for a while. I need to clear my head."

  "Are you going to tell me about her?"

  "Who?"

  "The wench who’s wrapped you in knots."

  "No. I'm not."

  "All right. I'll be below, near the front, should you need me."

  The rest of the men made their way to the seats to row as Erik stayed near the back, his short conversation with John sitting ill on him. He needed to rest but knew it would not come. The view of the land behind him was breathtaking, everything he wanted in his life laying before him. A beautiful woman had stolen his heart just north of these lands. A red-haired lass he would tell about for generations to come. Once the threat had passed and he had rescinded the troops to come home... Linzi would be part of the story as to how his life was spared. He might never see her again, but she would live forever in his memory.

  He groaned softly, closing his eyes as he pictured her naked and unashamed as she rode him that night in the tent. Her skin creamy and as silk to the touch, her hair the color of fire and her smile wicked. His body screamed for her touch again, his mind lost for a moment to the depravity of how good she felt.

  Would any woman ever leave him as breathless as the farmer's daughter had? Would he ever get over her and be able to start a new life back in Denmark?

  He slipped his hands in his bag and wrapped his fingers around Kenton's sun dial, pulling it out and kissing the small object.

  Time would only tell.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Linzi

  Sleep finally came the night before, but when it did it was filled with nightmares of death and destruction. Linzi woke in wet sheets, her heart thundering in her chest. Surely Erik was dead. There was no way with his own people after him and her people fighting to survive his country’s attack he would still be standing.

  She lifted her head and let it drop back to the damp pillow, a sound of frustration leaving her. Reaching down, she brushed her hand over her stomach, the truth of her and Erik's union yet having been confirmed. She would know in a few week’s time, but for now it was a secret best kept to herself.

  A soft knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. She yanked the covers to her chin and called out, her voice thick with sleep. "I'm up."

  Luke stuck his head in, the dark circles under his eyes a little lighter than the night before, but he was no longer a boy. He avoided meeting her gaze. "Your father said to wake you. I wasn't sure if you were violent in the mornings though. My mother and sister would have taken me to the floor should I bother them before they woke on their own." A smile played at the edge of his mouth, the sadness in his eyes taking away from the joke.

  He had lost everything because of Erik's people, and she had lost Kenton.

  "I'm up and I don't plan on wrestling anyone this morning, so you're safe."

  He chuckled. “I miss that humor of yours.” He moved back down the hall.

  Linzi lay in her bed for a few more minutes. Would it be so bad to forgive him of their fight? She had overstepped her bounds and slept with the enemy. Luke hadn't proposed or even mentioned the offer of wanting to be her husband, but somewhere inside of her she knew. She had thought of him when Erik first started to heal. Luke was too attentive and watched her far too often, his innocence and youth stopping him from taking advantage of any of the situations they had been in together. If he had stepped forward and given her affection, would her life have been different due to that shift?

  Yes. She would have killed Erik that day in the field and not thought twice about it. She sat up, stretching and working hard to push back the thoughts of her beloved Viking fighting his way across the country. He wasn't hers anymore. Perhaps he never was.

  Linzi dressed quickly in a cream-colored shirt and her breeches from the day before. They were still relatively clean seeing that she hadn't had to worry about planting in the fields now that the work was done. She would need to spend the afternoon watering everything good and well, but Luke could help with that.

  With any luck, a rainstorm would come and save her the efforts, the water from heaven always seeming to be so much more nutritious to the crops. She picked up her comb as she walked into the hall, leaning over a little and tugging the comb through her long copper locks.

  "Morning, lass." Her father moved toward her, reaching over and touching the side of her face before leaning in and kissing the side of her head. "I need you to water everything today. My old bones aren't giving me any sense that we'll be having rain anytime soon."

  "Of course, Da'." She moved into the kitchen, walking to the pantry and pulling out the bread before looking around. "Where are Luke and Sara?"

  "Sara went to the village for the day to collect a few things and make us a loaf of bread. Luke is feeding the chickens and gathering eggs for breakfast."

  "I could have done that." She shrugged and pulled the last portion of bread from the shelf. "He's a guest in our home and should be treated like one."

  "Aye." Her father took his mug and sat down at the tab
le, groaning as he pulled his legs over the bench seat. "He's a good man, lass. I want you to consider his offer of betrothal seriously."

  Linzi picked up the small paring knife and snorted. "He's not going to offer to marry me. He called me a harlot the last time."

  "He was upset. Men have a way about them, girl. They feel that something belongs to them and if it's taken or borrowed, they become wild and unruly. Luke is no different."

  She set down the knife and looked up at her father, the desire to scream out her innocence sitting heavy on her. She took a slow breath, the look on her Da's face shutting her down quickly. To be a little edgy and wish for freedoms she would never receive was one thing, but to disrespect her father was unacceptable.

  "I understand," she spoke between her teeth before finishing her task. She put the bread down in front of her father as the door opened.

  Luke walked into the house, handing a basket of eggs to her as he coughed.

  "Not feeling well?" her father asked Luke and extended his hand to motion to the boy to have a seat.

  "Just a nagging cough of sorts. Nothing of too much concern." Luke moved into the kitchen beside Linzi as she began to crack the eggs. "Let me show you something I learned while at the campsite during the war."

  "You learned to cook?"

  "No, silly woman. I've always known how to cook. I learned a new method for making eggs." He moved behind her and placed his hands on her arms, shuffling her to the right. Linzi turned to watch him as he went to work, surprise registering on her face for sure.

  "If you crack the egg directly into the pan, it comes out fried, or what the northern boys call friend." He smirked and went to work. Linzi moved toward the table and took a seat, lifting her eyebrow at her father, who returned her expression with a nod of his head.