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

by Lexy Timms

  "I don't want your heart, great king." She pressed her hand to his chest and tilted her head to the side as her eyes narrowed. "I want your body."

  They barely got into his room and shut the door before she was clawing at his clothes, the little tart far needier than any women he had been with in quite some time. It was something about Highland girls. He loved it.

  He leaned against the wall and pushed the girl back a little, his stomach turning as it worked to process the massive amount of liquor he had taken in.

  "Come here and let me show you what it means to be taken by a woman."

  Her voice was wrong, but Linzi stood in front of him, her body bare and beautiful before him. He moved toward her, not wanting to waste another minute.

  "You came?" he growled, pressing his face into the crook of her neck and breathing in deeply. He pulled back, blinking a few times as he tried to clear his vision. Had he been drugged? Surely the mead hadn't caused him to feel so out of it.

  "Not yet, love, but I'm going to." Linzi laughed, but it wasn't her laugh.

  Erik shook his head as he walked with the lass to the bed. She tore at his clothing and pointed to the bed behind him as she licked at his lips. How badly he wanted to taste her, to watch her indulge his dark fantasies, but she was impatient. He understood. It had been too long since he took the lass. Tonight would be fast and furious. Tomorrow they could spend time reconnecting and enjoying the most private of spots on one another.

  "Get on the bed, handsome."

  He grunted and moved up on the bed, his inking catching his attention. He moved his arm into the air and let his eyes move down the detailed designs on his skin. Linzi moved into his view as she straddled him, sliding along his body until it was buried deep within her.

  He closed his eyes and lifted his chin to the ceiling as he let out a low groan. She wasn't as tight as the first time, but he didn't care. He wanted to drown in her, to hear her screaming his name and know that his nightmare of losing her to another was gone.

  "So good, King Erik." Fingers dug into his chest as her hips began to move. He reached up and took ahold of her, working himself into her as far as he could. She moaned and panted, the sounds sexy and enticing, but wrong somehow. He narrowed his eyes, trying to make out her face, but couldn't.

  He reached up and pressed his fingers into her left shoulder as he forced her to work him faster. "Where is your inking, baby?"

  "I don't have one." She leaned forward and dug her nails deeply in his chest, the pleasure-pain so good it took him over the edge. He let himself go, his hips bucking as her breasts bounced in front of his face.

  They slowed and she leaned down to kiss him, her face coming into view. He jerked back, and pushed at her shoulders, pulling himself out of her.

  "Who are you?" He moved to his knees, looking down at her as she sat up.

  "I'm the woman you were dancing with a few minutes ago."

  "You're not Linzi."

  "I'm not sure who that is, but maybe you should lay down and let's get some sleep. We'll find her in the morning." The girl moved toward him and Erik slapped her hand away from him.

  "Get out!” Erik growled. “Don't come back, or I'll have your life."

  "For sleeping with you?" The girl moved off the bed, her face flushing with pink as she gathered her clothes. "You're an arse. A monster. It's funny these people think you'll be such a great king."

  "Hush lass.” He covered his eyes with his hand, sure he was going to spill the contents of his guts any moment. “I don't give a shite what you think. Get out and find some other man to sleep next to. I'm not interested."

  He waited until she left to get up. He wrapped a robe around his naked body, the smell of their sex still sitting on him. He pressed his fingers to his mouth and stumbled into the washroom, making it to the empty bucket before hitting his knees and losing his dinner.

  What had he done? It had been forever since he’d been in the Britians. He’d gone and drunk himself into oblivion to ease the pain? Who was the tart in his bed? She had looked so much like his woman, but she wasn't.

  No one was.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Linzi

  "Do you have everything?" Sara asked, messing with Linzi's hair as they stood in the dirt just in front of the house.

  "I don't need anything. Luke has his mother's ring and I don't need one for him." Linzi shrugged, the thought of the upcoming events setting her on edge and leaving her raw to the truth. The life that she had once hoped for was nothing more than the wistful dream of an ignorant girl. She would be exactly what her mother was and nothing more. Hopefully her mother had passion... a fire with her Da’ that left everything else secondary.

  Linzi walked to Luke, her cotton dress white to match the small flowers Sara had woven into her hair. He smiled and took her hand, before glancing over his shoulder. "We'll be back later this afternoon."

  "Be careful son. Did you take a knife with you?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  Linzi turned and waved to her father and Sara before swallowing the hot burn of sadness that washed over her wave after wave. She wasn't being true to herself at all and yet there was no other way to move forward but without Erik. He hadn't left her a choice in the matter. How much harder should she have begged that day? Maybe she should have just followed him on foot, forcing him to take her with him, but her pride... her damn pride wouldn't allow it.

  If he wasn't willing to fight for them, then she couldn't do it alone. She wouldn't.

  "Can I ask you something?" Luke's voice stole into her thoughts.

  She squeezed his hand as she held it tightly and glanced up at him as they walked toward the village. "Of course."

  "Why did you get the marking on your back and shoulder? I've never seen another woman who has one."

  "Martha did it for me. It was before Er—before the Vikings came. I wanted to rebel to be honest. Life seemed dull and boring." She turned her gaze back to the canopy of trees above them. Crimson and burnt orange danced together in the fall of leaves as a breeze pushed through the forest. "Being a girl isn't all it's chopped up to be."

  "Did Martha push you to get it?"

  "Not really. I wanted to feel free. She said getting a tattoo or sleeping with a boy was the best way to do that." Linzi shrugged, her cheeks burning at having such a conversation with Luke. He wasn't crude or straightforward like Erik. Things needed to be handled in a more proper manner with him.

  "So you did both? You naught girl." He laughed as Linzi pulled her hand from him and swatted at him. "I'm kidding, lass."

  "I did do both, but honestly, I wish like hell I would have just stopped with the marking. It should have been enough."

  He reached for her hand, taking it into his and lifting her fingers to his lips as he kissed each one softly. "Well, I love children and I'm excited for what we have ahead of us. The past is the past. Let's make the future exactly what we want it to be."

  "I don't deserve your kindness, Luke."

  "And I don't deserve your beauty." He stopped and pulled her toward him, his hands spanning down her sides and stopping before reaching her rear. She wished he would touch her, grab her with greed and leave the part of her that wanted carnality aware that their relationship would – could – develop into something more than two friends pretending to be more.

  "I'll get old and ugly." She winked before pulling from him and starting down the path once more.

  "Somehow I don't see that happening, but either way... as long as you’re mine, I could care less." They continued walking in silence.

  The village had taken quite a hit from the Vikings and soldiers moving through. There was a lot of rebuilding going on, various people working on different spots together. Linzi let her eyes scan over the rubble, a lot of the small fruit and vegetable stands nothing more than broken wood and burnt signs of what was. That’s why Sara seldom left to run the bakery. It was gone to fire. Now being rebuilt, but it would take time.

  "Wow," she wh
ispered and moved closer to Luke. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and leaned toward her, kissing the top of her head.

  "I know, right? This isn't even the worst of it. Deeper into the village where the homes lay, is where you can really see the brutality of the Vikings." He stopped, pulling her to still beside him. "I'm going to go in search of the preacher-man. You want to come with me or do you want to look in a few of the storefronts that are back together?"

  "I'd like to look around. I'll be careful and stay out here in the open where everyone is working together."

  "All right. No running off and I'll be back here shortly. Look for me?" He touched her face, leaning down and kissing her cheek as she agreed to his wishes.

  Linzi watched him go, the sinking feeling of forever seeming like far longer than she would want to experience. Maybe they could make a good enough life together until the baby was old enough to have his own family. Then she could die in peace knowing that the child was grown and cared for. A life without love seemed too long to live, if even for a moment.

  She turned, looking for the small shack the town healer inhabited. She wanted to question the woman on her false prophecy. The entire reason she had let Erik live that day was simply because of the words the old woman whispered. To have Erik repeat them as she sat poised above him, ready to bury his sword in his chest.

  The small hut was nowhere to be found, nor was the woman. Resigning herself to waiting, she slipped under a large tent, the sides of the spaces filled with hand-spun clothing. An older woman approached her as she walked in, the smile on her face kind.

  "Don't you look beautiful? Like a young bride just returning from her wedding."

  Linzi reached up and touched the small spray of flowers in her hair. "I had almost forgotten about these."

  "They're lovely."

  "My wedding is later today. My boyfriend went in search of the town preacher."

  "Oh how fun! I have nightgowns that I've made that would look lovely on you. There's a cream-colored one that is feminine and not too much, but would accent the color of your hair beautifully."

  "Sure. I'd like to see it." Linzi followed the woman to the back of the small area as she tugged on the top of the dress she wore. The shoulders were a little too big and continued to fall down. She wouldn't have minded much if the inking wasn’t put on display each time. Luke didn’t seem to like her ink. No one in the village would find the stunt amusing and she would be quickly labeled either a troublemaker or a harlot.

  One was closer to the truth than the other.

  "Here we go." The woman held it up and turned to hand it to Linzi. She took it and put it up against her, loving the silkiness of the fabric. "Your man will love it. Like a second skin when you put it on."

  "It feels lovely." She smiled and handed it back to the woman. "I didn't bring any means of exchange with me. Luke probably did, but he's not with me. We'll return and get it in a bit."

  "I'll buy it for you." The deep sound of a male voice caused her to jump. She turned and had to look up at the large man that stood behind her. His body honed and muscular, much like Erik's. His head was shaved and various markings ran down his throat and into the top of his blue cotton shirt.

  Linzi took a step back as her breath caught. He was not only a Viking, but had a strong resemblance to Erik. Were they related? The subtle turn of his lip, his dark eyes and strong facial features. She shook her head. The man wasn’t related. Only because he looked like a Viking had she put Erik as a relation. He seemed to be trying to hide the fact he was one. She wondered if he had fallen for a woman and stayed back when most of the Vikings had left. “I can’t accept your offer.” Luke would be furious if he found out a strange man had bought her a nightgown.

  "But, it's a gift." The woman tugged on Linzi's arms. The movement caused her dress to fall off her shoulder again, her disgrace on complete view for the stranger.

  The stranger’s eyes moved down over her ink, his smile lifting in a wicked manner.

  "Apologies, but I can’t accept it." Linzi turned from the man, chill bumps breaking out on her skin. She handed the nightgown back to the older woman.

  Turning, she watched the back of the large male as he moved out of the tent. Who was he? What if he had word of Erik? She rushed to catch up to him, reaching up and pulling him to a stop as her heart pounded in her chest.

  He turned and smiled down at her. "Are you marrying today?"

  "I am," she whispered, unable to find the strength in her voice. He was breathtaking, but horribly intimidating. It was as if all of the good parts of Erik were stripped away and darkness filled his insides.

  "Congratulations. Lucky man, for sure."

  "Are you a Viking?"

  "I am." He reached out and touched her shoulder, pushing the dress softly as it fell from her shoulder again. "That's intriguing. Did you get it done here in town? I would rather like to see all of it."

  Linzi pulled the dress up to cover her shoulder. This man had no word on Erik. She was a fool. "No. A friend did it. It's not a set pattern."

  "Only belongs to you, then?"

  "I suppose.” She swallowed. “Do you know the prince of Denmark?"

  "There is no prince of Denmark."

  Linzi pulled at the dress and glanced around before looking back at the handsome stranger. "His name was Erik. I'm almost certain I heard someone mention it not long ago."

  "Ahhh... you refer to the king.”

  "King?" The wind swept around her and suddenly the world seemed far too big. "Does he have a queen?"

  "Aye. A beautiful blond-haired lass. The people always have expected a natural born citizen from one of the ruling families in Denmark to become his bride. Just like you're a lucky girl for your blissful union to come today."

  "I guess." Linzi stifled the need to bend over in pain. He had moved on… or was this guy wrong?

  "The king’s a bastard, and a womanizer, but what ruler isn't?" The man laughed and nodded. "Good day, my lady. Best of luck on all to come."

  Linzi stood in stony silence, the encounter not feeling by-chance at all. Like fate was taunting her for the mistakes she’d made.

  "Who was that?" Luke moved up beside her, his hand sliding over her lower back as he pulled her to his side.

  "Just a stranger. He tried to buy us a wedding present, but I refused.”

  "What gift?"

  “It was a gown, for later tonight.” Her face burned.

  “Show me.”

  She didn’t want to, but felt she must. She led Luke back to the tent and showed him the gown.

  "It’s beautiful. I’m glad you didn’t allow him to buy it." Luke went to the old lady helping another woman and paid for the dress.

  Linzi didn’t want it. It felt tainted from the man, but trying to explain it to Luke would only cause him to go after the large stranger.

  "Did you find the preacher?"

  "At the church three blocks from here. Come. Let's do what we came to do and get back home. I don't like the looks of some of these fellows. Damn Vikings are trying to blend in with our people as if they own the place."

  "They pretty much do, right? The ones that stayed, they think they own us now.”

  "Yeah, but please try and not bring it up again. I'd like to stay in a good mood. It's my wedding day, after all."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Erik

  Erik woke the next day to his head splitting open. He groaned loudly and crawled from the bed. He needed something to eat to settle the swirling madness in his gut. He would find sustenance and then his mother. He needed Linzi with him now. He would go crazy without her or become a damned drunk.

  He dressed in a pair of breeches and a long cotton shirt before walking into the hall. He covered the top of his eyes with his hand, the sun coming through every window in the large palace. Several of the servants moved toward him, one offering a glass of water.

  "What can we make you for breakfast, Sire?"

  "Something simple. My stomac
h is sour from the mead." He waved them off. "Get out of my face. I'm not my father or my brother. I'm a soldier turned King. I think to stab before discussing things. Keep that in mind."

  They moved back as he growled. His mother walked from the long end of the hall and slipped her arm into his. "You're going to have to work on how you talk to people, love."

  "Are these people not my servants?"

  "All of Denmark is your servant, Erik. That doesn't mean that you want one of them to rise up and stab you in the back because you're a bastard."

  He stopped and looked over at her. "I don't think I've ever heard you use a terse word."

  She laughed and shook her head. "I try not to, but life has dealt me quite a few blows lately. I seem to be learning from my son. Speaking of... the counsel of advisors to the King will be meeting this afternoon. You'll need to be there, of course."

  "I'm not a politician, mother." Erik subtly pulled from her grasp, not wanting the touch of anyone at the moment. He needed a dark corner to huddle in and find a nap within. His sleep the night before had been broken, his stomach wanting nothing to do with his rest. He’d ended up with a pail on either side of the bed.

  "You will become one, son. I'll be beside you, just know that you have a group of men who give advice, but all decisions and decrees are ultimately yours to decide. You can’t trust anyone and you have to look like you’re trusting everyone."

  Great. More conniving than the battlefield. "What’s the topic of conversation today?" he asked sarcastically.

  "One you may like, the battle for the Britains. Apparently, we can’t conquer the country as well as we’d hoped."

  The information piqued his interest. He walked down the long stairs beside his mother before moving toward the kitchen. "Do I need to go back over there and collect our men?"

  She laughed at his eagerness. "It's too dangerous, and besides, I would assume as a soldier you would want the war to continue."

  "I've seen the damage firsthand. We haven't the manpower to control these areas now under our control. Most of the men came back with me. We can't send many more men over there and without proper leadership, those countries and fiefdoms will simply resort to chaos." He walked toward the long wooden table his father had spent hours building with him.