Blind Redemption (Viking Romance) (Blind Series)

by Rand, Violetta

  Tyr stood. “I didn’t expect to see you back so soon.”

  “My plans changed.” Aaron threw her a fleeting look. “Blame this vixen’s irreverent disobedience.”

  Tyr chuckled. “Not all defiance should be seen as bad.”

  “I’ll leave that to your excellent discretion.” Aaron made a sweeping bow.

  “Tell me,” Tyr addressed Kara. “What carelessness are you guilty of?”

  Uncomfortable that all attention was focused on her, Kara shuffled her feet. Curious people started to gather around them. She should have never insulted Aaron publicly or sought an audience with his cousin without a proper introduction. Once again, her heedless temperament had gotten her into trouble. Instead of answering right away, she stared at the high windows overlooking Tyr’s throne. Sunlight spilled across the floor. The apertures were fashioned after sacred runes.

  “Have you lost your voice?” Aaron asked.

  “No,” she said. “I’m sorry, milord.” She gazed at Tyr. “Your cousin has done nothing wrong, except lure me north under false pretenses without a chaperone.”

  “A serious grievance, if I’ve ever heard one.” Tyr eyeballed his cousin.

  “The lass is unharmed.”

  “I see no bruises,” Tyr observed. “But some wounds are invisible to the eye.”

  His words were spoken softly, but the closest spectators snickered. Tyr must think it nothing more than a lover’s quarrel.

  “Come, lass,” Aaron urged. “We’ll talk privately.”

  If she agreed to go somewhere quiet, he’d smother her with kisses. Although she didn’t want to be away from Aaron, she needed time to sort out her feelings. Looking directly at him, she knew she must decide what she wanted to do. She missed her family and didn’t appreciate how Aaron had brought her here. With a sigh, she chose. If her father sent for her, she’d be forced to go unless . . . “Jarl Sigurdsson,” she said. “I request sanctuary.”

  “Sanctuary?” Aaron repeated, clearly puzzled. “Do you know what you’re asking, lass?”

  Butterflies filled her midsection.

  Before she could explain, Tyr spoke. “I’ll grant your request.”

  “Don’t interfere, cousin,” Aaron warned through gritted teeth. “This is a personal matter.”

  “Then I pray you find quick resolution. Until that time.” Tyr gestured to a female thrall. “The lady will remain under my roof. Take this woman to my wife.”

  Aaron wanted to punch the arrogant smile off his cousin’s face. He refused to look at him any longer, too afraid he’d say something he’d later regret. Peace between them was fragile. If he let his feelings for Kara cloud his judgment, the very thing his captain voiced concern about, he’d lose everything he’d fought so hard to gain. Patience—acceptance—forgiveness—tolerance—he focused on the higher attributes that linked men to the gods.

  “Put aside your anger,” Tyr suggested. “Come and sit beside me.”

  Aaron climbed the steps, then plopped down on the chair next to his cousin. The delicate wood frame creaked under his weight. “Is this what a man of leisure does all day? Sit lazily and find ways to make men in desperate situations more miserable?”

  “Desperate?” Tyr arched a brow. “Inconvenienced perhaps, but not desperate. The girl doesn’t realize she’s trapped herself.”

  “I cannot be sure of what she does or doesn’t know. She’s too clever.”

  “What—”

  “I’m in love with her,” he professed. “But she’s impossible to reason with when she’s mad.”

  Tyr placed his hand on his shoulder. “Why did you bring her here?”

  Aaron explained.

  “You’ve done the right thing. Erling Solheim is well known in the Trondelag—he’s an unscrupulous bastard. There’s more honor in a wild pig.”

  “I’ve yet to discover why the misbegotten fool wants her.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Tyr queried.

  Aaron had deliberated the subject until near exhaustion and still couldn’t settle on a reason. Her father’s wealth and close proximity to Erling’s camp made Eric the Bald’s home a likely target. Yet, the steading hadn’t been attacked. Perhaps the lass witnessed something she refused to admit. Or was there a darker purpose?

  “She’s beautiful. Does a man need more justification?” Tyr pointed out.

  Disappointed by his own ineptness, Aaron’s whole body tensed. His rage was expressed with a growl. Jealousy washed over him. He’d been disgraced before, endured every sort of indignity in the past and survived, but imagining Kara with another man made him crazy. He shot up and started to pace. “If the mongrel survived, I’ll hunt him down and kill him.”

  “Because you love her or your ego is bruised?”

  “I can think of many reasons to kill the bastard.”

  “What do you want with Erik the Bald’s daughter?”

  Aaron swung around, then stared at his cousin. “You know her?”

  Tyr nodded. “I consider her father a friend.”

  The old jarl hadn’t lied. Why shouldn’t they be allies? “Erik voiced the same opinion about you when I visited his home weeks ago.”

  “And from the way you’re acting, I’m guessing he didn’t like you.”

  “I can think of a few words that would better describe his feelings for me.”

  “Aye,” Tyr said. “He’s known to be blunt.”

  Aaron scratched his chin. “Why didn’t you tell the lass you knew her father?”

  “She seemed determined to have her way. Who am I to deny a lovely girl?”

  Aaron’s anger vanished. “She’s safer here.”

  “I’m glad you can still admit it. Now answer my question, cousin, what do you want with the girl?”

  “Everything.”

  Kara gazed admiringly at the beautiful woman lounging on the couch in front of her. Rachelle Sigurdsson possessed all the finer qualities her father admired in women. Dressed as she was, Kara not only felt awkward, but now inferior.

  “You must be tired after such a long trip,” Rachelle said.

  “Aye.” She scanned the room. The bedchamber was even more lavish than the great hall. Several archways opened into numerous subchambers.

  “You’re not the first woman to notice. After I married the jarl, he redesigned our suite. He knocked down a few walls. Now it resembles a queen’s apartment, rather than a functional chamber.”

  Kara laughed. She’d love to live here. The furniture was large enough to accommodate Tyr’s size, yet feminine enough to appeal to a woman’s taste. The chairs and couch Rachelle reclined on were upholstered in blue linen. She ran her fingers over the nearest chair, so soft. “It’s lovely.”

  “Please, sit with me,” Rachelle pointed to a seat.

  “I’d prefer to take a bath first, I’m dirty from the voyage.”

  “Nonsense.” Rachelle turned to her chambermaid. “Katherine, bring us some refreshments.”

  The maid curtsied, then left.

  “I overheard some of the commotion downstairs,” Rachelle continued. “You must have made a dramatic entrance.”

  “Not by choice,” she assured her. “Aaron McNally tricked me into coming here.”

  “I see.” A soft smile spread across her pretty face. “Sigurdsson men aren’t known for diplomacy where women are concerned.”

  “But he’s a McNally.”

  “I assure you there’s little difference between a McNally and Sigurdsson. Our bloodlines are forever linked.”

  Warm sunlight glowed through the high windows. Somehow, Kara wished she was still swimming at the lake with Amelia, that none of this had happened. “Aaron is often unreasonable—angry.”

  “If I may be frank.” Rachelle looked her
over. “You’re a formidable opponent.”

  The half-compliment lightened her spirit. Maybe she could be comfortable here, actually make a lasting friendship. As long as she didn’t have to face Aaron again today, she’d try to be more pleasant. Admittedly, this was her fault. She’d chased the wind—set out to find Aaron without making plans.

  “What troubles you?” Rachelle patted her hand.

  “I made a terrible mistake.”

  “Would discussing it help?”

  All the feelings tethered inside of her broke free. Kara didn’t hold anything back. She started with her father’s deception and ended with the confrontation downstairs.

  “Men often resort to trickery or violence to protect the people they care most about.”

  “You mean lies.”

  “Whatever you call it doesn’t change his motivation,” Rachelle spoke more earnestly. “I’m sure you’ve been dishonest with him, too. Don’t waste your time worrying about something you cannot change. Consider the future—how you’ll proceed from this moment onward.”

  “You speak from experience?”

  “I do. There was a time I considered my husband the devil himself. How else do you imagine a Saxon came to be mistress here? Tyr kidnapped me.”

  Kara gasped. “Kidnapped you?”

  “Aye,” she confirmed. “We met under very sad conditions, in the aftermath of the Battle of Stamford Bridge. He survived and was waiting for the right time to escape, hiding amongst the dead. I happened upon him, in search of my uncle. I’d never met a more arrogant creature. But he saved my life and I don’t believe in coincidences. God placed him in my life. Weeks after I came here, the Normans conquered my homeland. I might have been raped or killed. Do you see providence in this?”

  Her remarkable story didn’t absolve Aaron. Escaping death justified Tyr’s actions. So did the glow of love on Rachelle’s face. “I’m happy for you,” she finally said.

  Jarl McNally had captured her attention at first glance. And their first kiss . . . it still made her breathless. What happened now depended on whether Aaron would apologize and open up to her the way she had with him.

  The maid returned with a tray of food.

  “Eat,” Rachelle urged. “Then I’ll escort you to the bathhouse.”

  Two nights later, wearing a borrowed gown and slippers, Kara felt immensely better as she followed Rachelle to the great hall for the eventide meal. Her friend had generously shared her wardrobe. And after picking through a dozen gowns, she’d chosen a coral-colored silk with a scooped neckline. Tiny pearls were sewn along the bodice.

  The moment Aaron saw her, his steely gaze swept her from head to toe. She smiled when he rose and pulled out the chair beside him. “You’re beautiful.”

  Their arms brushed; the slightest contact making her skin tingle. After she sat, Kara reached for the wine, but he caught her hand midair. “Aren’t you too young for fermented drink?” he asked, displaying a wide grin.

  “If I am, you can never make love to me again.”

  He lifted her hand to his lips. “Your tongue is as sharp as this knife.” He held up his blade. “But I prefer my women to be a little feisty—a little mean spirited.”

  “Women?” Kara frowned.

  “I’m sorry,” Aaron said. “You didn’t mistake me for a virgin, did you?”

  Not after all the naughty things he’d done to her. She closed her eyes and chewed on her bottom lip. Hopeless. She couldn’t stay mad at him if she wanted to. She opened her eyes.

  “Rachelle is known for her feasts—there’s not a better mistress in the north.”

  “She’s generous and kind.”

  “Tis easy to be that way with you, Kara.” He simpered, running his fingers up her arm. “See how vulnerable you are to my touch? Primed for loving me.” Then he tugged at the lace on her bodice.

  She slapped his hand away, intent on keeping a respectable distance between them. “I dislike your presumptuousness. I would sit and speak with you as a lady should in public.”

  He grunted. “You cannot undo what we shared in private.”

  “Jarl McNally,” she said leaning in. “I have no regrets. But I won’t give these people something to gossip about.”

  “I think it’s too late to worry about that.” He grinned and straightened his posture. “That little fight we had—”

  “You upset me.”

  “For good reason.”

  “I disagree.”

  She’d been forced time and again to do her father’s bidding without explanation. She refused to have the same kind of relationship with her lover. “Promise never to mislead me again.”

  “Only if you agree to cooperate with me in the future.”

  “What you ask is impossible. If I dislike something you say—”

  “Attention everyone . . .” Tyr unexpectedly introduced them to the guests.

  Although the gathering was small, the conversation and food was pleasant. Generous portions of roasted duck and marinated carrot salad were served. Kara reached for a loaf of bread, but was sidetracked by a platter of honeyed pears.

  “Skipping the main course for dessert?” Aaron teased.

  “A habit you seem oddly familiar with.”

  Aaron rubbed his hands together, then stared over her head. “Is that an accusation, milady? Don’t you know how important honor is to me?”

  She nodded, then he grasped her hand under the table. “When I told you I’d return for you, I meant it. And now—”

  “Now that you’ve bedded me, I belong to you?”

  His hand slid down her hand and onto her thigh. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  The world grew uncomfortably smaller whenever he looked at her so intensely. “I, too, respect the sanctity of our union, Jarl McNally. Only I don’t need you dictating my future. I also have dreams.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  “Important ones.”

  “I understand.”

  “If you want to be a part of my life, there’s things I want to know—need to know about you.”

  “I’m prepared to answer your questions, Kara. But if you hear something you don’t like, will you stand by me? Forgive my past? Accept the man you know now, instead of condemning who I used to be?”

  The force of his words surprised her. She’d prepared herself for the worst, but hearing him speak this way left her confused and afraid. Did she want to know? Before she could say anything, a woman with a young child in tow burst into the hall.

  “I demand an audience with Jarl Sigurdsson.”

  Guards blocked her path, but she shouldered her way deeper inside.

  Tyr immediately stood. “Let her approach.”

  All conversation ceased. Aaron’s face went stone cold the moment he saw her. Releasing Kara’s hand, he met his cousin’s troubled gaze.

  Whoever she was, Kara sensed it didn’t feel right to anyone.

  Chapter 14

  Unwelcome

  By everything holy in the world, the last person Aaron ever expected to see again was Frieda. Bile burned his throat. That woman reminded him of everything he’d tried to forget. And right now, he knew the past and present were about to collide, violently.

  “Who is that woman?” Kara asked.

  “A spirit I’d long forgotten.”

  “Spirit, milord?” Kara’s eyes narrowed. “She appears as real as the boy she holds.”

  The child. Aaron studied the lad with a sinking feeling.

  “Why are you here?” Tyr’s voice halted Aaron’s thoughts. “I asked you never to return.”

  Lifting her head boldly, the blonde stared at Tyr. “I mean no disrespect.” She pointed at Aaron. “The purpose of my visit has nothing to do with yo
u or your wife, milord. My complaint is against your kinsman, a man who sired a son out of wedlock and refuses to meet his obligation of support.”

  Aaron rose slowly. She dared accuse him of fathering a child? He’d never received word—hadn’t been in contact with the bitch in four years.

  “Could this not have been handled in a more appropriate setting?” Tyr asked.

  “I’ve waited for Jarl McNally’s return long enough,” Frieda said. “Why should I give him the courtesy of time, when he’s shunned us for so long?”

  Tyr turned to his cousin. “Does she speak the truth?”

  Aaron only cared about one person at the moment. Kara. He wanted to hug her close and explain everything in private. She remained calm, but looked inevitably disappointed, embarrassed. The past had finally caught up with him—neatly clothed in wool skirts, with a triumphant smile on her face. And the child . . . He bore no resemblance to Aaron, but favored his mother with blond curls and a round face. Any man would be proud to claim him.

  Instead of responding to his cousin’s question, he glared at Frieda. “How did you find me?”

  “Word of your return to the Trondelag reached me weeks ago. I came here too late the first time, so I waited, hoping you’d come back.”

  “Have I been hard to find all these years?” Surely the wench knew his whereabouts.

  Why now? He didn’t trust her. What memories he’d suppressed came rushing back. Bitterness crept up his spine. Their affair had continued for a few months after they were both expelled from Tyr’s household. It was doomed from the start. Revenge and spite had driven them together, and guilt had torn them apart. Rejected for the second time in the span of a year, Frieda had been only too willing to spread her legs for the next best man she could find, a soldier from a nearby steading.

  When she’d realized he didn’t have the wealth and influence she had grown accustomed to as Tyr’s mistress, she left the Trondelag. And no promises had been made between Aaron and her. He knew she wasn’t pregnant when they parted. If she had been, he would have found a way to mend their relationship. He’d been the worst kind of fool most of his life. Dipped his wick in treacherous water and now he’d drown for it.