Magnar (The Wolves of Clan Sutherland Book 1)

by Mary Morgan

  Smiling, the man clamped a hand on his shoulder. “And may Odin bless you with many years as well. Come and visit us again.”

  Magnar retreated to the trees, eager to be with his wife and share his decision.

  As soon as he entered the dense thicket, his wolf growled in warning. He halted his stride and withdrew his dirk from the sheath belted at his side. Inhaling sharply, he exhaled on a curse.

  “Show yourself, Thorfinn!”

  Wariness reflected across his brother’s face when he emerged from behind a huge pine tree. Magnar studied the mirror image of himself, except for the scar near his twin’s eye.

  Unable to control his anger, he shouted, “I should thrust my blade into your cold heart! Even my wolf demands justice for what you did! But a young chieftain cautioned me on my choice, if ever we would meet.”

  “As you can see, I have not drawn my weapon,” declared Thorfinn, slightly shifting his stance.

  Bitterness seeped into his words. “Yet you did to my wife. You allowed her and the chieftain to come to harm. For what? Power? Is this what you wanted?”

  “Nae!” Thorfinn pounded his chest with his fist. “’Tis what they wanted—a battle for what you possessed. Halvard for land and power, including your wife. And Ketil’s plans were unknown until he sensed Odin’s blue stone.”

  “So you are telling me you objected to this madness?”

  “If I was in agreement with them, I would not have freed Erik. By the time I realized Ketil’s plan, he already had Elspeth in the caves with him. There was nothing one wolf could have done.”

  Magnar attempted to quell the fury but held firmly onto his dirk. “Why are you here?”

  His brother stretched his arms out wide. “’Tis my home. Unlike you, and where you have chosen to serve a king not loyal to our people. Furthermore, I reckoned we needed to meet at least once before you departed.”

  Snorting in disgust, Magnar glanced upward. “We are blood to both countries, Thorfinn. And as part wolf, I am honor-bound by an ancient edict to serve the King of Scotland. Whereas, you have become the enemy.” Magnar hated the next words he would spout and returned his attention to his brother. “You ought to be with the brotherhood at the Sutherland keep. ’Tis your duty.”

  Thorfinn’s eyes darkened dangerously. “Then I should have been allowed to live with my parents and raised with my brother! You do not ken the life I was forced to live, while the deeds of the great Magnar MacAlpin were spread throughout our lands.” He spat on the ground. “Did you even think to consider what happened to me?”

  Cursing softly, Magnar sheathed his dirk and went to lean against a tree. “I only learned of you a year ago. In anger, I spoke harshly to our mother and left Kirkjuvágr for Scotland. Sadly, our parents’ reasons died with them.”

  “Despite what you have shared, I cannot undo the past or who I am. I belong here.”

  Pushing away from the tree, Magnar went to his brother. “Will you think on my words? A solitary man who is part wolf can be a lonely journey. King William is a good man and leader.”

  His brother grinned. “Ahh…but I am never alone. The wolf dwells within me. Scotland is your home, Magnar, not mine.”

  He refused to argue further. The offer to become an elite guard was there for his brother. “I once confessed the same about the Orkneyjar Isles not being my home. Recently, I have come to find peace with this land. Perchance one day you shall feel the same about Scotland.”

  Thorfinn shook his head and turned to leave. Glancing over his shoulder, his expression softened. “Long life, Magnar. Fear not, I will not plague your Scotland.”

  While Magnar watched his brother slip through the trees, an ache settled within his heart. How he yearned to speak more with Thorfinn. Aye, the anger at what he had done to Elspeth and Erik lingered but somewhere in their conversation, his bitterness lessened.

  “Long life, Thorfinn MacAlpin. I pray Odin leads your steps back to me, and to the letter that awaits you from our mother.” Placing a fist over his heart, Magnar added, “And if death takes you, may you storm proudly across the void to Valhalla where I pray we will meet again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Elspeth observed her husband from the stone path in front of what he proudly proclaimed was now their second home in Kirkjuvágr. When she first entered the wooden structure days ago, she opened all the shutters, filling the entire living area with light and warmth. It was a lovely home with two levels and a large central one for eating and preparing meals, which also served to greet guests. And then there was an upper level with several open rooms. Love had filled this home once as she touched objects not used in many moons.

  I love you, husband.

  And I you, my kærr.

  She found she enjoyed this new connection of speaking to one another within their minds. Magnar confessed that it was part of the magic when a wolf truly fell in love and gave his heart to another. However, most days she jumped when he intruded on her thoughts.

  “I must learn to shield my mind, or I will never get anything done,” she uttered softly.

  Never, kærr!

  She grinned.

  A cool breeze swept over her, and Elspeth drew her cloak more firmly around her. Though they would be leaving soon for Scotland, peace had settled within her on this isle.

  “Are you sure you have chopped enough wood?” she asked, strolling down the path toward Magnar. She admired the view he presented—his brawn back flexed with each swing of his axe.

  He turned and wiped a hand over his brow, slick with sweat. “I ken Ragna leaves the comforts of her small home to tend to the garden here. Many a time, she has spent the night.”

  “Aye, aye, the Seer.” Elspeth bent and fingered a flower petal. “’Tis a flourishing herb and vegetable garden in the back.”

  Magnar thrust the axe into the wood block. “She was a good friend to my mother.”

  “And you?” she inquired, bridging the gap between them.

  Magnar laughed. “Do I sense jealousy, wife?”

  Elspeth arched a brow in challenge. “I am nae fool. You have had others.”

  Her husband let out a low growl and wrapped his arms around her waist. “True. But when I took you as my wife, I made a silent vow to never take another to my bed.” He tipped her chin up with his finger. “Now I make this pledge out loud. Never did I fathom the love or pleasure you give me, Elspeth. Each day, my love grows for you.”

  She cupped his cheek. “When I was taken, I feared to never tell you what was in my heart. My love for you kept me alive, Magnar. Strange how we started our marriage, aye?”

  He pulled at a loose tendril of her hair. “For a brief time, I despised the king for forcing us into this marriage.”

  “I barely recall the words I mumbled at the ceremony,” confessed Elspeth, shuddering at the memory.

  “At least there were words spoken by a priest for you. Did you think your God would condemn you for marrying a heathen?”

  Dropping her hand, she reflected on that time. “I cannot lie, husband. I worried for my soul. However, God has shown me the power of love with you. Perchance your Gods and mine destined for us to be together.” She smiled wistfully. “My grandmother would have adored you.”

  His mood appeared pensive. “I am sorry your pendant is gone—returned to Odin. I ken it was a gift from your grandmother. The only true item she bestowed to you.”

  Elspeth’s gaze roamed over her husband’s face. “There is nae need. When you spoke of the immense power days ago, I became frightened. The stone was nae longer mine. I gave it to you and in truth, I am happy ’tis gone. My grandmother had the gift of sight and possibly she knew the day would come when a true warrior would claim the stone. She did stress that I wear it on my wedding day, though.”

  Magnar sighed and leaned his chin on the top of her head. “To answer your earlier question, Ragna and I quarreled most of the time. She judges the wolves are mere beasts, and we should make an effort to control them. In
truth, she has feelings for another.”

  They stood silently in the warm sun for several moments until Magnar spoke quietly. “And here he comes now.”

  Elspeth drew back and glanced over her shoulder and then back at him. “Rorik is the one?”

  Placing a finger over her lips, he whispered, “Our secret.”

  She smiled against his warm skin.

  Magnar released her and went to greet his friend. He smacked him on the shoulder. “What brings you to our home?”

  The man grimaced, though he gave her a broad smile. “Now that Elspeth has healed, the men and I have come to an agreement and wish to discuss it with you.”

  Magnar pointed to his shoulder. “Knife wound still bothering you? You should have Ragna tend to the injury.”

  “Knife wound?” echoed Elspeth, coming to his side. Concerned, she asked, “When did this happen? Magnar mentioned nothing about one of the men getting injured in the battle. Goodness, you should have said something earlier.”

  Rorik gave her husband a scornful look and took her hand. “Please do not worry. ’Tis an injury not fought in any battle.” He glanced sideways at Magnar. “And I would never let that witch tend to anything on my body. She would inflame the wound or curse me.”

  Rubbing a hand over his chin, Magnar explained, “He wagered he could take down all the wolves with one hand tied behind his back.”

  Dropping the man’s hand, she asked, “As wolves or men?”

  Magnar leaned near her ear. “We do not fight each other as wolves.”

  “And how would I ken this?” she scoffed and returned her attention to Rorik. “You fought and lost?”

  A faint glint of humor shone in his eyes. “I was winning until Ivar challenged me with a knife. Unprepared, I slipped and the blade caught me in the shoulder.”

  “Too much mead made you stumble,” interjected Magnar.

  “Oh, for the love of Mother Mary! You are all savages!” She turned to leave, adding, “When we have a son, Magnar, he will not be allowed such folly.” Trying to keep the smile from forming on her mouth, she failed miserably.

  “Are you with child?” asked Rorik, his tone one of shock.

  Elspeth observed the man. He appeared eager to hear some kind of news. She clasped her hands in front of her, finding it odd to discuss this openly with another man. “Nae.”

  “Yet,” added Magnar, once again.

  “As I was saying earlier,” mentioned Rorik, “the men and I have agreed that before we depart Kirkjuvágr, we would consider it an honor to recite our vow of protection to your wife.”

  Elspeth smiled at his kind offer. “You do not need to profess your vow, Rorik. I ken you already have shown me your loyalty when you came to rescue Erik and me.”

  Magnar came and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I reckon it a wise choice, Elspeth. As with our custom, during a wedding feast the men state their vows of loyalty and protection when their leader takes a wife.” He gazed with love at her. “I would like to restate my vows here on the isles to seal the bond between our two lands and to each other, as well.”

  Tears misted her eyes, and her voice trembled when she spoke. “With true wedding vows spoken with love.”

  “Aye, my kærr.” His smile broadened with affection.

  Elspeth kept her sight focused on her husband. “Rorik, go tell the men to plan for a wedding feast.”

  “When can I say it shall happen and where?” he asked.

  She shrugged, waiting for a decision from Magnar.

  He lowered his forehead against hers. “In two days. We can speak our vows by the cliffs and hold the feast in the hall of our home.”

  “But we do not have plenty of food and drink for everyone,” protested Elspeth. “Nor do I have anything to wear.”

  “Do not fear, all can be supplied by the others!” shouted Rorik as he took off running.

  Placing her hands on the back of Magnar’s head, Elspeth brought his lips near hers and whispered, “Then I agree.”

  And when he took her mouth in possession, Elspeth surrendered to the passion of his kiss.

  ****

  Elspeth fingered the soft ivory gown with golden threads sewn on the edges of the sleeves and hem—a simple garment but a treasured one. Ragna had told her it belonged to Magnar’s mother. She lifted her gaze above the hilltop overlooking the ocean. Not a cloud blemished the sky on this warm day. Her husband leaned against a tree, laughing and talking with his men. It was a day of surprises, beginning with the arrival of Berulf and the barrels of mead. Though she had never met the man, Elspeth had this immediate connection with the elder. He recalled tales of her grandmother and filled her with added memories to cherish.

  Then there were the others who came with food and more drink. Thinking this was going to be a small feast, she was mistaken. Many had come to witness the great leader of the wolves marrying a woman from across the seas. They came to offer their own blessings with many of the women touching her womb and asking the Goddess to provide many sons and daughters. She embraced the prayers and the women in return.

  And if she thought to walk the journey to meet her husband alone, she was wrong. The women kept her company, singing songs and asking about her life in Scotland. Even some of the younger women asked about the young chieftain, Erik. Had he been promised to another? How large were his holdings? Did he own many ships?

  Elspeth responded to each one.

  Smiling, she sought out her nephew amongst the group of men. He had proven to be a warrior many times during his short time as the new chieftain of Gunn. “I ken you are proud of him, Thomas, as am I,” she expressed softly.

  As if he heard her, Erik darted out from the men and ran to greet her. “Aunt Elspeth!”

  She bent and opened her arms to him. Wrapping him in a warm embrace, she closed her eyes.

  “’Tis a fine day,” he proclaimed, squirming to be free.

  Elspeth straightened. “One I feared we would never witness.”

  Erik stared at her closely. “You love Magnar.”

  “With all my heart,” she confessed. Yet she noted her nephew had already concluded this for himself.

  “My father would have been happy with his friend marrying you, Aunt Elspeth.”

  Her mouth twitched in humor. “More shocked, I believe, to ken I found love with the leader of the Wolves of Clan Sutherland.”

  “’Tis a good match, he would state.”

  Elspeth nodded in agreement. “Aye, he would.”

  One of the young girls started to approach them.

  Erik gave her hand a quick squeeze. “I must return to the men.”

  “Do you not wish to speak with the young lass?” she teased.

  His face twisted as if he had drunk sour goat’s milk, and Elspeth fought the laughter bubbling within her.

  “Nae, nae!” Without giving her a chance to speak more with him, Erik took off running.

  Halting her progress, the girl sighed heavily, and her grin faded.

  Shrugging, Elspeth gave her a smile to ease her displeasure.

  “Are you ready?” asked Ragna approaching from behind her, holding a bunch of wildflowers fastened together with a thin blue cord.

  “Aye!” she beamed.

  “These are for you.” Ragna offered the flowers to her. “Magnar confessed how you have a fondness for the wildflowers. Since I ken the hills where they flourish, he asked if I would gather them for you.”

  Elspeth gathered them into her arms. “Thank you.”

  “You have tamed the barbarian wolf of the Orkneyjar Isles,” the Seer declared, glancing toward the group of men.

  “Nae.” Elspeth disagreed. “All I did was open his heart to love.”

  The woman shielded her eyes from the sun. “Then a perfect match. One should not have to change for love, aye?”

  “I agree,” added Elspeth, though she pondered if the woman was speaking about another wolf.

  Ragna dropped her hand and linked her arm with Elspe
th’s. “Allow me to walk with you to your husband?”

  “I would be honored.”

  “Do you still suffer pain in the head?” asked the woman.

  “Slightly. They tend to come later in the day.” Though Magnar had a way of easing the tension and pain with his fingers before he made love to her.

  “Before you leave, I shall give you some herbs to mix with wine. It will aid in the pain and healing.”

  As they wandered through the lush grass, Elspeth’s heart started to beat wildly. Her husband’s appearance made her knees go weak. He wore a simple ivory tunic and matching trews. Drawing closer, she observed the same stitching around the bottom of his tunic as hers.

  She glanced at Ragna. “Did you stitch the pattern on Magnar’s tunic?”

  Her gentle laughter rippled through the air. “You would not want to see my stitching. I am not fond of the task. He must have come upon his father’s clothing in his parents’ trunk. Both—your gown and the tunic were made for them by one of the elder Seers long ago.” She paused, releasing her hold on Elspeth. “May your marriage be blessed with the love of not only our Gods and Goddesses, but your God as well. Go to your husband.”

  Elspeth embraced the woman and crossed the distance to meet Magnar.

  His arm encircled her waist, bringing her to stand near a towering ash tree. She inhaled the scent of her husband along with the salty sea breeze.

  He lowered his head next to her ear. “You are a beauty, Elspeth MacAlpin, and you must wear your hair unbound in this fashion more often.” With a low growl, he rubbed his cheek against hers.

  She melted into his strong embrace. “Always eager to please you.”

  Chuckling softly, Magnar drew back. “Before we state our vows, I would like to present you with a gift.” He brought forth a pouch tucked inside his leather belt. Removing two silver cuffs, he placed one on each of her wrists. “These were my mother’s, given to her from my father. Now ’tis my gift to you.”

  Elspeth gasped with joy at the wonderful gesture. “Are the stones amber?” She brushed her fingers over the smooth stones gracing across each of the cuffs.

  “Aye,” he affirmed.