Twin Passions

by Miriam Minger

  A wooden gangplank was brought to the side of the long-ship and set roughly against the railing. Hakon watched in silence as the line of men moved back, forming a path for a tall, broad-shouldered warrior striding purposefully toward the longship. So, this was Wulfgar Ragnarson, Hakon thought fleetingly, shrewdly appraising the other man as he walked swiftly up the gangplank and jumped to the wooden deck, followed by several of his warriors.

  "Are you Hakon Magnuson?" Wulfgar demanded, his hand resting on the polished hilt of his sword. Hakon nodded grimly. For a long moment the two men eyed each other coldly. Though one was Norwegian and the other a Dane, the same fierce Viking blood ran in their veins. Yet on this day they could have been no further apart. The tension in the air was thick and palpable.

  "Wulfgar!" Anora's joyful cry broke the brooding silence. She rushed across the deck and threw herself in his arms. He embraced her tightly, though his steel blue eyes never left Hakon's face.

  "You are well?" he asked her, his softly spoken words belying the near-blinding rage and hatred that were tearing at him, threatening to overwhelm him. He knew he was facing the man who had abducted her, the Viking dog who had wrenched her from him on the eve of their marriage. The emissaries sent from Haarek Jarl had told him as much before they had been put to death. Wulfgar wanted nothing more than to run his sword through this blond Viking's heart, but he stayed his hand . . . for the moment.

  "Aye, my lord," Anora murmured, lifting her face to look at him. His grim expression frightened her. She had never seen him like this before. He was not the Wulfgar she remembered from their one night of passion, but a battle-hardened warrior, resolute, unflinching, determined to exact his measure of blood vengeance. "Wulfgar . . . please, there is something I must tell—"

  "Karl will take you to your father, Anora," Wulfgar interrupted her abruptly. "I will be with you shortly." He led her to a huge warrior, who gently took her arm. Before she could utter another word, she was hustled down the gangplank.

  Wulfgar turned back to face Hakon. His eyes flickered over to where Gwendolyn stood by the rear deck. Good, she was well out of the way, he thought fleetingly, as his voice rang out across the beach. "Seize them!"

  At his command, dozens of screaming warriors suddenly rushed the longship, their battle cries shattering the eerie stillness that had settled over the beach. Some of them ran swiftly up the gangplank, their glinting swords poised in front of them, while others used crude wooden ladders propped against the hull to climb over the sides of the ship.

  Stunned, Gwendolyn watched in horror as Hakon was overwhelmed by four of Wulfgar's men before he could draw his broadsword. He struggled mightily and managed to knock three of them aside, but others were quick to take the places of those who had fallen. Suddenly a cudgel flew through the air, hitting Hakon on the side of the head. He fell heavily to his knees, but still he fought on, his powerful fists hitting home time and time again. But another heavy blow sent him sprawling to the deck. Seizing their chance,

  Wulfgar's men grabbed his arms and legs and began to drag him from the ship.

  "Nay, please stop!" Gwendolyn cried out, tears streaking her face. But her anguished cries were drowned out as bloodthirsty shouts of "Death to the Vikings!" tore through the air.

  Gwendolyn looked wildly about her, cold terror striking her heart at the vengeful bloodlust written on the faces of Wulfgar's warriors and her father's thanes. She knew there was not a moment to lose before they would wreak their own brand of justice upon the captured Vikings. She caught a fleeting glimpse of her father standing on a nearby hill. She knew he was her only hope.

  Nay, they will not take Hakon from me! she thought defiantly, wiping her useless tears away with the back of her hand. Drawing courage from the power of her love, she ran to the side of the ship and climbed onto the railing. Without hesitation she jumped into the cold water below, sinking almost up to her waist. She hoisted her soaked chemise and tunic above her knees and waded quickly to shore. Dodging the arms of the warriors who sought only to protect her from the dangerous melee, she rushed along the beach and up the hill, straight into her father's arms.

  "Gwendolyn!" Earl Godric cried out, a catch in his voice as he embraced her. But she pulled away from him.

  "Please, Father, you must stop them!" Gwendolyn shouted breathlessly, struggling to be heard above the deafening din. "Stay their hands . . . you must . . . you must!"

  At that moment Anora broke free of Karl's protective grasp and ran the rest of the way up the hill until she stood side by side with Gwendolyn. Her chest was heaving, and desperate tears streaked her face. "I—I tried to tell Wulfgar t-to stop . . . but he would not hear me!" She choked, trying to catch her breath. "Spare the Vikings, Father . . . please!"

  Earl Godric stared in total confusion at his twin daughters. This indeed was not the welcome he had expected! Suddenly he raised his arm for silence. It took a few moments, but gradually the vengeful shouting died out across the beach as all eyes turned toward him.

  Gwendolyn looked down the hill, frantically searching for a sign of Hakon. Then she saw him, dangling limply between two burly thanes. He had clearly been beaten, but he was alive. She felt a surge of overwhelming relief as he weakly raised his head, meeting her tear-dimmed gaze over the distance that separated them. She turned back to her father just as Wulfgar quickly strode over to them with his sword in his hand.

  "What is the meaning of this, Earl Godric?" he demanded. "I thought 'twas agreed between us that the Vikings were to be put to death at once!"

  Earl Godric waved his hand for silence. His expression was hard as he studied his daughters. "Why do you ask me to spare the men who abducted you?" he queried harshly. Truly, he had never been more perplexed!

  Anora squeezed Gwendolyn's arm reassuringly, then walked over and stood beside Wulfgar. She looked up at him, a plaintive plea in her eyes. "Please, my lord, if you will only listen." A surge of relief coursed through her when he nodded, though his expression remained grim.

  Gwendolyn stepped forward, her emerald eyes flashing with impassioned defiance. She stood straight and proud before her father. Her voice rang out boldly for all to hear. "If you have these men killed, Father, then you will have the blood of the man I love on your hands!"

  Earl Godric almost choked, his piercing eyes widening in surprise. Angry mutterings of disbelief rippled through the assembled warriors, threatening to erupt once again into shouts for violence. But Godric raised his arm and they fell silent, albeit begrudgingly. Was this his Gwendolyn? he wondered, bewildered. His rebellious Gwendolyn, who had never granted a suitor a second glance?

  "Show me this man," Earl Godric ordered tersely. Gwendolyn turned and pointed at Hakon. "That is him, there!"

  Earl Godric's eyes raked shrewdly over the tall, blond Viking, noting well his proud bearing, even though he had been badly abused by Wulfgar's men. "Bring him to me!" he commanded.

  Wincing painfully, Hakon tried to shrug off the two burly warriors and walk up the hill on his own, but he could not. He had to limp between them, leaning on them for support. Gwendolyn met them near the top, and insisted on taking the place of one of the warriors. The tallest one grunted, then stepped aside as she gladly shouldered Hakon's weight.

  "You are a brave one," Hakon murmured, a faint smile curving his lips. Then he groaned, a flicker of pain crossing his handsome features.

  Earl Godric watched all this without a word. It was only when they were standing before him that he spoke again. "What is your name, man?"

  "Hakon Magnuson, my lord."

  It was the very man who had abducted them, Earl Godric thought in horror. He turned to Gwendolyn, his eyes registering his disbelief. "How can you say you love this man, Gwendolyn? He has committed a grave crime, not only against yourself, but against your sister as well." His expression was as cold as the tone of his voice. "The punishment he deserves is death."

  Gwendolyn's eyes flared indignantly. "Then you punish me as well, Father, for I ca
nnot live without him. It is true that he and his men abducted us, but they have also brought us back to our homeland. Anora has been returned, safe and unharmed. 'Tis a long story, and one I would prefer to tell you at leisure. But I fear that now is neither the time nor the place."

  Wulfgar turned to Anora, his face inscrutable. Only his eyes betrayed the depth of the gut-wrenching turmoil raging inside him. "This Viking did not touch you?" he demanded tersely. "Any Viking?" The arm holding his sword was tense, and sweat broke out upon his wide brow. Surely if this man had touched her, he swore vehemently to himself, even Gwendolyn's love would not save him.

  "Nay, my lord," Anora replied simply, the truth in her gaze adding credence to her words. She watched the incredible play of emotions across his handsome face, as the vengeful facade of the battle-hardened warrior relaxed into the face of the man she knew and loved.

  Wulfgar let out his breath sharply, the white-knuckled grip on his sword slowly relaxing. It was so hard to let go of the bitter rage that had fueled him these long months, yet gradually he could feel the gripping tension, the awful torment, subsiding within him. What he had feared most had not taken place. Anora had not been harmed. He shook his head gravely. Nay, he could no longer justify taking this Viking's life. Suddenly he sheathed his sword, then looked at Earl Godric. "I would not object to sparing this man and his crew, my lord," he said evenly. With that, he gathered Anora into his arms, hugging her fiercely.

  Gwendolyn sighed with relief. If Wulfgar was appeased, surely her father would not deny her.

  "But what of you, daughter?" Earl Godric asked, his eyes studying her expression carefully. "Do you return the same as you left us?"

  Gwendolyn swallowed hard, but she met his gaze evenly. "Nay, Father, I do not." Her eyes widened in alarm as his hand went to the hilt of his sword. "Stay your hand . . . please, hear me out," she said steadily. "'Tis true I am not the same. But that cannot be undone, nor would I wish it to be so. I was taken from my homeland as a selfish, spoiled child-woman whose most fervent regret was that I had been born a female. Though I stand before you now as a woman who has known the love of a man, I could never wish for it to be otherwise. I love Hakon, Father, more than life itself. 'Tis his child I carry proudly within me."

  "Why did you not tell me?" Hakon gasped in astonishment, his eyes searching hers.

  "I had not found the right time," she murmured, a faint smile curving her lips, "until this day." She turned back to her father. "You gave Anora the right to choose, Father, and now I demand the same right. It is my wish to remain with Hakon as his wife."

  Earl Godric stood for a long moment, his eyes moving from his beloved Gwendolyn's face to Hakon's, then to Wulfgar and Anora and back again. Aye, it was true, he thought. The Gwendolyn he had known was gone, and in her place was a young woman fiercely protecting the life of the man she loved. He knew he could no more deny the hopeful plea burning in her emerald eyes than he could deny the tender look of love that had passed between her and Hakon when she mentioned the child.

  "Well, and what say you to this, Lord Hakon?" Earl Godric queried loudly. His expression was inscrutable, though his gaze was not unkind.

  "It is as Gwendolyn has said, my lord," Hakon answered, summoning all of his strength to stand proudly before him. "I love her . . . and would have your daughter as my wife."

  Satisfied with the Viking's bold answer, a slow smile spread over Earl Godric's face. "Very well. So be it."

  Epilogue

  Gwendolyn glanced over her shoulder. Hakon was waiting for her aboard his longship, his blue gaze meeting hers across the sandy stretch of beach, beckoning to her. She turned back to Anora and hastily wiped the tears from her eyes.

  "I must go," she murmured, her lips trembling as she attempted a smile.

  Overcome, Anora could manage only a nod. Her emerald eyes also glistened with tears, joy and sadness all melded into one. She reached out and hugged her sister fiercely for a long, long moment. "You have my thanks, Gwendolyn," she whispered.

  Gwendolyn pulled away from Anora's arms, shaking her head. "Nay, I played only a small part," she murmured fervently. "All that has happened was meant to be." She clasped Anora's hand. "Now, I must go." She stepped back, her emerald eyes locking with her sister's in an unspoken message that only the two of them could share. They had been through so much together, yet she knew they had both found their happiness at last. She flashed a tearful smile, then turned and hurried along the beach toward the longship.

  Lifting her face to the sun, she felt the warm, morning breeze dry the tears streaking her cheeks. A flood of excitement coursed through her. She and Hakon were going home . . . to Norge!

  The past two weeks had gone by so quickly. So many wonderful things had happened. The very day after they arrived in England, Thorolf and his two warships had sailed at once for Trondheim, in his possession a signed charter from Wulfgar Ragnarson forswearing his intent to bring war upon Haarek Jarl. And he had also carried a charter from Earl Godric, stating that he had given his consent to the union between Hakon Magnuson, Jarl of Sogn, and his daughter, Gwendolyn.

  Gwendolyn smiled as she remembered the joyful reunion with her parents at the stronghold, then the flurried preparations for the marriage of Anora and Wulfgar. The candlelit ceremony in their family chapel just a few nights past had been one of poignant beauty. She knew she would never forget Anora's radiant look of happiness when she at last became Wulfgar's wife. But the evening had become even more memorable when Father Leofwine, their family priest, had blessed her own union with Hakon after he had sworn he would forsake his heathen Norse gods and adopt the Christian faith.

  "Welcome, mistress of Sogn!" Hakon laughed as she approached the longship, breaking into her happy thoughts. He held out his hand to her as she hurried up the gangplank, then drew her into his strong arms and lifted her to the deck. He crushed her to him, breathing in the familiar fragrance of her silver-blond hair. "Are you ready to sail, my love?" he asked softly, his warm lips brushing against hers.

  "Aye, my lord," Gwendolyn replied, a wave of intense happiness surging through her as she looked up into his handsome face.

  Hakon kissed her smiling lips once again, then drew her with him over to the dragon-headed prow. "Oars to water!" he shouted, his deep voice ringing out above the crashing of the waves on the shore.

  Gwendolyn turned around as the longship slid easily into deeper water, her eyes searching the sandy hillsides. She swallowed hard, tears glistening on her thick lashes as she spied first her beloved parents, then Wulfgar and Anora, standing not far from them. She waved her hand in farewell. She did not know if—or when—she would ever see them again.

  Suddenly she felt Hakon's strong arm encircle her waist. It gave her the strength she needed. She lifted her trembling chin and looked up at this man who had so captured her heart, her love, her soul . . . with his searing kiss of fire. "Take me home, my lord . . . to Norge," she whispered fiercely, as the longship glided over the waves like a mighty serpent of the sea.

  About the Author

  Miriam Minger is the award-winning, critically acclaimed author of ten historical romances. She also writes inspirational romantic thrillers as M.C. Walker, and is the co-author of the popular Little Mike and Maddie series of children’s picture books about a lovable pair of dogs and their motorcycle adventures.

  Historical Romances by Miriam Minger:

  Twin Passions

  Stolen Splendor

  A Hint of Rapture

  Captive Rose

  Defiant Impostor

  The Pagan’s Prize

  Wild Angel

  Secrets of Midnight

  My Runaway Heart (sequel to Secrets of Midnight)

  Wild Roses (sequel to Wild Angel)

  Inspirational Romantic Thrillers by M.C. Walker:

  Blood Son

  Children’s Picture Books by Miriam Aronson:

  Little Mike and Maddie’s First Motorcycle Ride

  Little Mike and Madd
ie’s Black Hills Adventure

  Little Mike and Maddie’s Christmas Book

  For information about the above titles, visit www.walkerpublishing.net or write to info@walkerpublishing.net.