[GOD08] The Lost Gentleman

by Margaret McPhee

  The bride price was slightly steeper than he would have wished, but Bloodaxe’s daughter had a number of suitors, according to the mother. Taking a bride from this area would demonstrate to Kettil that he was serious about their alliance—these shores would be protected from the menace that was his rival sea king, Lavrans. Unlike Lavrans, who continually demanded more tribute if he felt an ally was weak, Hrolf prided himself on honouring agreements to the best of his ability.

  He had spied Blodvin looking after some children when he disembarked from his ship. She was pretty enough, with a vague look of Inga’s mother about her, and had responded to his query with a sweet smile. When he learnt her name and that she was unmarried, it seemed the Norns had blessed him. Bloodaxe and his father had been close once in the old days before his father lost his lands and his title... Hrolf gripped the drinking horn tighter.

  He had righted old wrongs and paid off the debts he owed. He was now a sea king who ruled the waves. And Bloodaxe was right—what more did he want? His daughter was the correct woman to mother his Inga.

  ‘Blodvin is the proper sort of woman to be on a sea king and future jaarl’s arm!’ the mother said with a loud sniff. ‘I knew the Norns had a special future marked out for her.’

  Hrolf took another draught of the indifferent ale. ‘Your daughter has no objections? We’ve barely spoken.’

  The man and his wife exchanged quick glances.

  ‘Blodvin is quite shy.’ Bloodaxe slapped his chest and emitted a loud belch. ‘But she will make the ideal wife. She has spent years stocking her wedding chest. She knows all there is to know about housekeeping. Children adore her. Once she knows the match has been finalised, she’ll be more than eager to have her wedding night.’

  Every sinew of his body urged caution, but there was no reason to suspect anything was amiss with the woman.

  ‘You, of course, know your daughter best.’

  The faint sound of a creaking door caused Hrolf to stiffen. Instinctively he grasped the hilt of his knife. But neither Bloodaxe nor his wife appeared to take any notice of the sound. Hrolf forced his shoulders to relax. He’d lived for too long amongst warriors and raiders where any unusual sound could mean an enemy attack.

  ‘I’d like to meet your daughter formally before we finalise the agreement.’ He inclined his head. ‘For courtesy. I’m sure she is as you describe her.’

  ‘Get her, Wife. The time is right.’ Bloodaxe’s smile widened. ‘You’ll see that I speak the truth, Hrolf the Sea-Rider. Tomorrow night, you’ll have your bride warming your bed.’

  Bloodaxe’s wife made a quick curtsy, but there was a nervous tic in her right eye. ‘Blodvin has longed for this day.’

  She scurried from the room. Deciding he’d exhausted Bloodaxe’s limited range of small talk, Hrolf wandered over to the small window. In the fading light, he spied two cloaked figures entering the yard.

  An owl hooted and the first figure hurried off. The other cloaked figure stood still in the shadows, listening, clearly up to no good.

  Three heartbeats later, a woman’s scream echoed around the room. Hrolf drew his sword.

  ‘Husband! Blodvin has escaped from her room!’

  ‘I locked her in the barn myself after she heard about the rumoured match,’ Bloodaxe thundered. ‘This is the last time she behaves in this fashion! She will obey me.’

  ‘Shall I go and check the barn and see if my bride is still there?’ Hrolf enquired in a silken tone.

  * * *

  The gods were with her on this venture. Sayrid released the breath she’d been holding all the way from the river as the entire farm yard was bathed in silence except for the noise coming out of the barn.

  Bloodaxe was utterly predictable in his hiding places. Blodvin was locked in the barn, loudly bemoaning her fate.

  ‘Blodvin, it’s Sayrid. Can you be quiet while I get this door open? You are making it impossible to think.’

  ‘Sayrid! Why are you here?’

  ‘Your maid delivered a message to Regin, begging for help.’ Sayrid struggled with the bolt. ‘Your prayers have been answered.’

  ‘My father is about to marry me off to Hrolf Eymundsson. I overheard them plotting the other night and just had time to send Tove off before he locked me up. Hrolf is nothing but a grizzled old sea king! Rescue me, please!’

  Sayrid put her weight into the bolt and it shot free. She opened the door with a loud creak. ‘If you want to leave, then go and find your life.’

  Blodvin rushed forward and gave Sayrid a crushing hug. ‘I’ll be your devoted follower forever, if you get me out of here unscathed. They want to marry me off before the next Storting, so Far can have the gold to pay his debts. Hrolf the Sea-Rider agreed to pay double what you were going to pay. Can you imagine?’

  Sayrid stepped out of the overly familiar embrace, feeling overgrown and awkward around the much smaller woman. ‘I sent word asking for an emergency gathering of the Assembly.’

  ‘You’re far too good to me.’ Blodvin gave a long sigh. ‘Where is my beloved? Where is Regin?’

  Sayrid stepped backwards and accidentally kicked a bucket over. Why was it that she could lead her men in battle and never put a foot wrong, but in the company of other women, she always seemed to be the one to make the mistake?

  Blodvin covered her mouth as the bucket rolled.

  ‘We go now.’ Sayrid gripped Blodvin’s arm. ‘Regin waits on the river for you. He has a rowboat and will get you to our ship. I’ll take care of any problems.’

  Blodvin tried to peer around Sayrid. ‘But Regin is with you? My beloved who pledged his life to me?’

  Sayrid fought against the urge to be sick. She had forgotten how sickly sweet Blodvin was. Love was truly a condition she never wanted to suffer from.

  ‘Regin loves you,’ she said roughly. ‘But I’ll not have his hide nailed to the barn door.’

  Blodvin nibbled her bottom lip. ‘I wanted my future husband to rescue me.’

  ‘Either you come with me and be Regin’s wife or I leave you here.’

  ‘I’ll come! I want to!’ Blodwin linked her arm with Sayrid’s. ‘We’ll be sisters and it doesn’t matter what anyone says about you. You’re saving me from a fate far worse than death.’

  Sayrid hooted like an owl. Instantly Regin returned the call. The tightness in Sayrid’s shoulders eased. Everything was going to plan. ‘There is Regin’s signal. He waits for you.’

  They had rounded the corner when a woman’s scream rent the air. Blodvin froze.

  ‘They’ve discovered I’ve gone! We’re doomed.’

  ‘Run, Blodvin, run!’ Sayrid grabbed the woman’s arm and started to pull her along. ‘Now is not the time to have second thoughts.’

  ‘But they’ll catch us.’

  ‘Not if I’ve anything to do with it. Go to the river. Tell Regin to cast off. I can swim.’

  Sayrid shoved Blodvin forward, drew her sword and started to retreat. Each backward step was another victory. With any luck, Bloodaxe would not think to look in the river until it was far too late.

  The sound of heavy footsteps caused her to freeze.

  ‘Who goes there?’ a commanding voice called out.

  ‘A stranger going about her business.’ Sayrid winced. She should have just said nothing, but she had to give Blodvin time to reach the river and safety. And she was willing to bet that at any more than the slightest hint of trouble, Blodvin would collapse in a heap. ‘What is it to you?’

  In the dull light, an unfamiliar Northman stepped forward. His blue eyes gleamed. Hrolf Eymundsson, perhaps, or one of his men? He was far too well dressed to be one of Bloodaxe’s servants.

  ‘You have taken something which does not belong to you.’

  Sayrid shook her head to clear it. Now was not the time to notice his broa
d shoulders or the way his light brown hair flowed. Or that his height was equal to hers. Or to wonder about his name. Now was the time to save her life and to get out of there without encountering Ingvar the Bloodaxe.

  ‘Why would I have done that? I’ve every respect for those who dwell here.’

  ‘A mystery to me, but here you are on this moonlit night.’

  ‘Perhaps I fancied a stroll?’ Her voice was a bit too breathless for her liking. She gave a little cough. ‘Walking after supper is good for you.’

  ‘Unlikely. I’ve no time for games.’ His gaze raked her form, making her aware of her slight curves. ‘Even with a Valkyrie such as yourself.’

  Sayrid pulled the cloak tighter about her body. Normally she never thought about such things, but the way he looked at her made her intensely aware that she was a woman.

  The faint sound of oars slapping the water gave her courage. Blodvin and Regin were safe.

  ‘No idea what you are talking about.’ Sayrid made a steady shrug, but her heart thrummed. Encountering a legendary sea king had not featured in her plan, but she could still make it work if she kept calm. ‘If you’ll forgive me, I’ve business elsewhere.’

  ‘I would speak with my intended bride. Fetch her.’

  Sayrid sucked in her breath. Blodvin definitely needed her eyesight adjusting if she thought Hrolf Eymundsson grizzled in any shape or fashion. He might not be in the first flush of youth, but he was very easy on the eye.

  ‘Find a willing bride.’

  The dimple in his cheek increased. ‘Are you offering to take her place?’

  ‘Hardly!’ She slowly curled and uncurled her hands to stop them trembling. ‘Next time, make sure the bride has not irrevocably pledged her heart to another.’

  ‘Her father claims she is free.’

  Sayrid rolled her eyes upwards. ‘Ask him who else has paid the bride price.’

  ‘Shall we ask him together? You and I, Valkyrie?’

  Time to melt into the shadows. Sayrid took another step backwards. All her muscles tensed, ready for the final piece of her escape. All she needed was one more step. ‘Another time.’

  The warrior reached out and grabbed her arm, dragging her back against him. ‘The truth...Valkyrie. Why have you kidnapped my bride? What grudge do you hold against me?’

  She matched his furious blue gaze with one of her own. ‘Ask Bloodaxe why he sought to cheat my family.’

  He looked puzzled, but then a wide smile broke out over his face, transforming it. Her heart skipped a beat and her entire being was aware of him as a man. Sayrid angrily damped down the feeling. ‘Your grievance is with Bloodaxe, not me. But you should take this to the Storting and allow the jaarl to resolve it.’

  ‘You expect him to rule in your favour, Sea King? The jaarl is a man of law who won’t rule in favour of whoever pays him the most gold.’

  Hrolf froze. The split heartbeat of hesitation allowed Sayrid to twist her arm out of his grip and start sprinting for the river.

  Behind her, she heard the pounding of his footsteps, but she kept on running.

  Five steps from the river, a heavy weight landed on her shoulder and spun her around. ‘Try that again and I won’t be responsible for the consequences.’

  His furious face was inches from hers. Their breath laced and she was aware of his muscle-bound arms imprisioning her.

  Sayrid forced her shoulders to relax as she scanned the darkened river. She spotted her brother’s rowboat, moving downstream. All she had to do was to let the current take her—the backup plan she’d worked out with Regin.

  She leant forward. Her breasts accidently brushed his chest, making her body tingle. For one long heartbeat, an intense awareness of his lips filled her. If she slanted her head slightly to the right, their mouths would meet. She checked the movement with less than a breath to spare. ‘I will take the consequences.’

  Ducking, she wriggled free from his now-slack arm and tore the few yards to the river. Wading into thigh-deep water, she executed a perfect dive.

  Hrolf stared at the dark river, willing the woman to resurface. He’d miscalculated badly. His entire being had wanted to taste her deep red lips and he’d allowed her to escape. He had no business calling himself a sea king if he behaved like an untried warrior who had never bedded a woman before.

  Then he saw her head break out of the water as she drifted towards a small rowing boat. Someone pulled her aboard. Over the water, the sounds of laughter floated back.

  Hrolf tightened his grip on his sword. ‘This is the beginning, Valkyrie, not the end. No one plays me for a fool.’

  Copyright © 2015 by Michelle Styles

  ISBN-13: 9781460375730

  The Lost Gentleman

  Copyright © 2015 by Margaret McPhee

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