Married To The Cowboy (Love In Collin's Ranch 3)

by Veronica Wilson

  Bored and wanting someone to entertain her, Aila went in search of other kids to play with. She left her house and ran to the top of the nearby hill to marvel at the crystal-clear waters of the Norwegian Sea. Surrounded by beautiful mountains, her home was nestled in Stavanger and had been for as long as she could remember.

  “Hey,” Dagmar Stalson said, stepping up next to her. “What are you doing?” For a boy of ten Dagmar wasn’t so bad. Most of the time he was nice, unless he had something on his mind. Then he was like a mountain, totally immovable.

  “I’m looking at the sea,” Aila replied. “Don’t you ever wonder what’s out there, if there’s other lands, other people?”

  “Sometimes,” Dagmar said.

  “The elders are talking about something serious.”

  Dagmar said, “What do you think they’re talking about?”

  “Don’t know for sure. I heard something about boats and a land that’s not far away. I don’t know what they’re planning exactly, but whatever it is, I want in on it.”

  “Me too,” Dagmar agreed. “You keep an ear out, Aila, and I will too. If you hear anything about when they’re leaving, you tell me. I’ll do the same for you, okay?”

  “Okay,” she agreed. She didn’t reach out and touch his fiery red hair, even though she often wondered if it’d burn like fire if she did. Turning, she ran back into her home, eager to hear more information. She once more took up her paper and her seat in the corner, and began listening.

  “We must leave,” Danga said, glancing at Aila.

  “We can’t. Not until we know more about these Romans,” said Strad, Dagmar’s father.

  “Who are the Romans to us?” Briddick asked. “We are stronger than any that would come against us. The land is ours for the taking, why shouldn’t we have a piece of it?”

  “Fine,” Strad said, clearly outvoted. “I’ll send what I can with you, but I’ll not risk my family on such a journey.”

  “That’s all we can ask,” Briddick accepted. “Thank you.”

  Aila, knowing now that they would leave, ran out to find Dagmar. Sighting his red hair blowing in the wind, Aila waved and ran toward him. At full speed, Aila tripped over a stone in the field and went tumbling right into Dagmar, knocking him down. When she looked up it was into laughing blue eyes that nearly took her breath away. They probably would have if she hadn’t been breathing so hard from running.

  “We’re leaving!” she squealed, her laughter bubbling out.

  “When?”

  “I don’t know yet, but your father isn’t going. He was angry at my parents. He said he wouldn’t risk his family.”

  “I’m going,” Dagmar said, those once-laughing eyes now stone cold serious. “You have to tell me as soon as you know when your parents are leaving. I’m coming with you.”

  “Okay,” Aila said, a grin creasing her lips. Most girls didn’t like Dagmar because he was so intensely serious, especially for a boy of ten. But she liked him specifically for that reason. He would protect what was his with a fierceness that none of the other boys their age seemed to possess. One day she had no doubt that he would rule their people; it was in his blood to do so.

  Pictland, 819 B.C.

  Aila pulled her line out of the water, smiling when she saw fish after wriggling fish hanging from it. Her people would have dinner tonight, no thanks to Dagmar. Grabbing the fish and quickly gutting them, she took them to the older woman in her camp.

  “Is this enough, Dragna?”

  “Ah, yes Aila. Thank you. Our people will eat well tonight.”

  “Good.” She patted the older woman’s cheek and smiled before she went out to find Dagmar.

  Searching everywhere, Aila was about to give up when she caught site of his tunic blowing in the wind. Odd that he wasn’t wearing it. Aila picked it up and looked around for him. Hearing his voice, she followed it to a small and secluded clearing she often used to meditate when the world became too loud. She didn’t realize until it was too late that Dagmar Stalson wasn’t alone.

  “Who is that?” asked a young woman in a state of undress. Aila tried to run, but Dagmar was much faster, and too strong for her to resist.

  “Aila? What are you doing here?” Looking up into icy, serious blue eyes, Aila ground her teeth.

  “I came to tell you that my people will have dinner tonight because I saw fit to catch some fish from the sea. I can see, though,” Aila said, looking around his body at the woman who sat on the ground, “that it isn’t a concern to you whether our people eat or starve.”

  “The hell it isn’t,” Dagmar said, his blue eyes holding that edge of iciness. “I gave Dragna a whole half of a boar just this afternoon.”

  “Terrific. And how far do you think half a boar is going to go when feeding our people?”

  Irritation raced over his face, turning his eyes to shards that pointed right at her. “Our people will eat tonight, Aila. All you need to concern yourself with is keeping a man’s bed warm.”

  The slap to his face was so easy. Her hand reached out and stung against the rough texture of his two-day beard.

  “You’re an asshole,” Aila spat.

  “And you’re a prying bitch,” Dagmar spewed. “Concern yourself with womanly tasks, Aila, and leave the fate of our people to me.”

  The moment ruined, Dagmar tossed the woman her clothes and walked away. Frustration drove him after Aila before he could stop himself, straight into her quarters. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  “That’s easy. I’m the rightful ruler of our people, not that you’ll ever admit it.”

  “You’re right about that. I don’t care if you’re a Forsberg, we both know that our people need a leader. No offense Aila, but you’re not a leader. Not by a long shot.”

  “Why? Because I don’t scratch myself in public and beat my chest like an idiot?”

  “No, because leading sometimes takes coldhearted calculations, something you’ve never been good at.”

  “You’re a pompous prick,” Aila said, planting a smirk on his face.

  “How long has it been for you, Aila?”

  “How long has what been?”

  “How long has it been since a man’s had his hands on you? By my estimation, it’s been too long. You could use a good romping, if you ask me.”

  “No one’s asking you.”

  “Come on, Aila. We’re friends. We’ve been friends since before your parents brought us here. Why is it that we have to be at each other this way?”

  “Because I am the rightful ruler of our people, Dagmar.” Aila said, her eyes turning opaque as power surged through her. Sighing she added. “I understand that you want to lead, but my parents settled this land and I am their only heir.”

  Dagmar couldn’t keep the grin off his face. The first time he’d witnessed Aila’s powers was right after her parent’s deaths. New to them and their effects, she’d grown a tree instantly from a sapling, only to twist and deform it in her grief. He was probably the only one who understood that they weren’t just a part of her, they were as much of her as her heart and soul. “And I’m standing here telling you that you don’t have what it takes to lead our people.”

  “And who are you to say so?”

  “The only other person who can.”

  Dagmar watched Aila as she paced around her quarters. She had grown up nicely during the time they’d been in Pictland. Her parents had led the way in the siege of the region from the Romans. He could see why she felt she should lead. Just as he could see that she wasn’t built to lead, at least not alone.

  “Aila, you’re a beautiful, capable woman. Why is it that no man has claimed you?”

  “Because I’m not a cow to be bought. I don’t have any interest in being some man’s idea of the perfect little wife. If I ever marry, it’ll be because the man and I know that we are equals.”

  “Well, good luck to the man that captures your heart. He’ll need it.”

  Before he said more, Dagmar turned a
nd stepped out into the sunshine. Bright and beautiful, the sun was high in the sky though still the temperatures were more than adequate to chill a man to the bone, especially if he wasn’t involved in rigorous activity.

  “Dragna, when will supper be ready?”

  “Four hours, Dagmar. We’ll eat well thanks to you and Aila.”

  Grunting his displeasure, Dagmar wondered if he’d ever go a day without hearing Aila’s name. Probably not, especially when everyone knew it was the fortitude of her parentage that had seen them claim this land as their own.

  ***

  Aila wondered now how she and Dagmar could have ever considered each other friends. Remembering him as a young man brought a grin to her face. They had ridden in the underbelly of the boat halfway to Pictland before anyone noticed them. Her parents would have whipped her for certain if Dagmar hadn’t taken the blame for her. It had been as much her idea as his, but he’d stepped up and taken her punishment as his own.

  So how had they gone from that, to this bickering all the time? Stepping out of her room and looking at the sun, she realized she was going to be late for supper if she didn’t hurry. The sun was already dipping low in the sky and, as the interim leaders, both she and Dagmar were expected to gather everyone together before the last meal of the day.

  “You ready?” he asked, clearly impatient.

  “Yes,” she replied, choosing not to justify her tardiness with an excuse. “We need to talk afterward.”

  “Understood,” he said, cutting off any further comment.

  Some time later, Aila stepped out of the supper tent and breathed deep of the cool, crisp night air. Stars were just starting to twinkle in the sky and Aila felt free until Dagmar approached. “You wanted to talk?”

  “Yes. We need to find a more permanent solution to our little problem.”

  “That’s easy enough to do. Concede the throne to me and we can get on with living.”

  “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

  “Certainly you don’t expect me to concede do you?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Aila said. “I’m thinking more along the lines of split ownership, if you will. You rule your people and I’ll rule mine all under the Pictland name. Or I can rule for spring and summer and give you winter and autumn.”

  “Give me the harder months to see if I can hack it? That’s extremely clever of you Aila. Not that I expect anything less,” Dagmar scoffed. “How about you rule by my side. I’ll leave you rightfully in charge when I take out hunting parties. And, if luck has it that I die out there, you’ll have your rule and reign with no one to challenge you.”

  “Absolutely not,” she groaned. “I won’t be second to you, Dagmar.”

  “What really bothers you? The fact that I would be a better ruler than you? Or maybe it’s that you don’t know nearly as much as you think you do, and it grates on your nerves knowing you’d have to ask for help, especially from the likes of me.”

  Without so much as lifting a finger, Aila had not only called thunder to crash through the sky with a vengeance, she’d also managed to make it rain, soaking through the fabric of only Dagmar’s tent, not that it made her feel any better. “I always knew you were full of yourself. I just didn’t know until now that you were also full of shit. Curse you, Dagmar.”

  Aila was so frustrated; she didn’t even see the hunting parties off the next morning. She assumed that everyone would forgive her, and while Dagmar was away on his first long hunt, he just might have time to see how right she was. It was one thing to have your people wonder exactly who was making the decisions. It was another to undermine the rightful ruler just because you had a craw in your ass. If Dagmar didn’t get his attitude right and let her become the official ruler of the Pict people, she’d have to leave.

  ***

  Dagmar watched a herd of red deer pass by and took aim at a beautiful stag. If this trip was successful, they’d have enough meat to last the winter through. But right now, he just wanted this one kill. Taking a steady breath, he pulled his arrow back to his cheek, his eyes squinting in the sunlight. As if sensing his presence, the stag stopped moving, his head lifting to sniff the air. Dagmar let his arrow fly, watching it sail through the air and sink into the large deer, just beyond the left shoulder. The stag bucked wildly, stumbling as it tried to run.

  Similar arrows flew, and as the herd cleared twenty deer lay dead, waiting to be processed. Dagmar delegated men to strip the deer of their pelts and clean and wrap them. Dragna and the other women would break them down into boots, mittens, tunics and other clothing the group needed. The meat was quickly quartered and wrapped as well. Everything was packed and they were off after the next quarry.

  Four days later, the men returned from their very successful trip.

  “About time you brought home something besides a lady,” one man joked, slapping Dagmar on the back.

  “We’ll eat well now, for sure.” Dagmar dropped the canoe, letting others in the camp deal with the meat and pelts. He was tired and wanted the peace and quiet of his quarters.

  “You did well.” Sighing, Dagmar turned to see Aila standing in the doorway.

  “Thank you,” he said, absorbing the shock of her beauty after the long absence. Never having been much more than an arm’s length from each other, he’d taken it for granted that she’d always be there. “Do you think it’s enough?”

  “I’m sure Dragna and the other women will be able to make do with what you brought in.”

  “The pelts sure will help.”

  “Yes, they will,” Aila agreed.

  “You’re dressed up today,” he said, noting her all-white ermine tunic.

  “I was asked on a walk by Svenbreck.”

  “Oh, nice.”

  “I just wanted to stop and say congratulations. I, for one, am glad to see you stepping up and showing at least an aptitude for true leadership.”

  Dagmar bit back the retort that wanted to spill from him. “Have fun with Sven, I’m going to get some rest before supper.”

  “See you later.”

  Chapter Two: Leaders

  “I can’t believe there’s only three weeks until the Solstice,” said Sven. “It seems like just yesterday we were celebrating the coming of spring.”

  “I know,” Aila said, trying desperately to keep the conversation going. “Is the Winter Solstice your favorite celebration?”

  “Yes. Aside from my birthday, of course.”

  “Well, I suppose we all like to be the center of attention on our birthdays. Makes me wonder how twins do it, always having to share their day and with a sibling.”

  “Perhaps that’s why they’re always so close, because they always have to share.”

  “Perhaps,” Aila agreed. “So Sven, if you don’t mind my asking—if you had to pick a ruler to lead our people, who would you pick?”

  “You mean between you and Dagmar?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “To be honest, and please don’t punch me for saying this, each of you has strengths that benefit our people. However, you also have weaknesses. You do the most good if you could choose to rule together, although I doubt that will happen any time soon.”

  “Why?”

  “Because both of you are strong leaders; neither one of you wants to concede to the other.”

  “Damn. And here I was, hoping you’d just acquiesce and say I was the better leader.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “It’s alright. I wanted honesty and you gave it to me. Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Svenbreck smiled. “I suppose I should get you back before supper starts without us.”

  “Yes,” Aila agreed. “Thank you for the walk. It was nice to spend some quiet time in your company.”

  “It is me who should be grateful,” Svenbreck said. Aila watched his lips descend and met his shining brown eyes with hers. She could have turned him into a braying jackass for being more forward than she’d have preferred,but
the knowledge that Dagmar might just be watching was enough to have her meeting Sven’s lips with her own. The kiss was soft and quick, a proper thank you, if she was any judge. “I hope you’ll allow me to take you on a walk again, when you have a moment.”

  “I appreciate that, Sven,” Aila smiled. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

  “Sounds good.”

  ***

  Dagmar watched Aila walk toward the food tent with Sven by her side. He’d seen her lift her face to his and had seen the kiss they shared. It was about as passionate as a turnip. He could have attributed it to the fact that they were in public, but Dagmar had a feeling that the two of them were either sending mixed signals, or one of them wasn’t as interested as the other.

  “How was the walk?” he asked when he saw Aila in the leaders circle later, alone.

  “It was nice, quiet, beautiful. I haven’t been to that part of the lands in a long time.”

  “How was Sven?”

  “He was good company, easy to talk to.”

  “You mean you two didn’t… never mind.”

  “Not everyone needs to be intimate to enjoy each other’s company, Dagmar.”

  “Why else would you go walking with him if you weren’t going to—you know.”

  “Because I like getting to know someone. I, especially if I enjoy their company, want to know the person before I ever think about doing that.”

  “Oh, please. Don’t act like you’re a God just because you haven’t slept with as many men as I have women.”

  “Not even close,” Aila said, stepping away and leaving Dagmar to his own devices. “Welcome everyone. Thanks to Dagmar and his hunting party, we not only have red deer for tonight’s supper, we also have enough to last at least the winter. Also if you’re in need of any new garment, please let Dragna or myself know. The pelts won’t last forever, so first come, first served.”

  At the mention of new pelts, the whispering started. One couple talked about a small blanket for their soon-to-be-born baby. Another mother mentioned a tunic for her son who had severely outgrown his last one during the past summer.

  “Let me also say this,” Dagmar spoke up, stepping up next to Aila. “If you have a good tunic or pair of boots that can be passed down to someone else, please bring them to Dragna. We will make use of what we have first, before anything new is taken up.”