by Mary Morgan
She raised her head and placed a hand over his heart. “I shall treasure these always, though I have nothing for you.”
His blue eyes bore into hers as he placed his warm hand over hers. “Contrary to what you think, your love is the most cherished gift I could ever have hoped for, my kærr.”
Elspeth placed a kiss on their joined hands.
Her husband turned her toward the crowd. “Allow the first warrior to pledge his vow.”
Rorik stepped forward. He placed his sword on the ground in front of Elspeth and knelt on one knee. In a loud voice, he proclaimed, “From the power bestowed upon me from Odin, my sword and strength is yours to protect and defend, Elspeth MacAlpin.”
Rising, he gave a curt nod to Magnar and stepped aside for Bjorn. Soon all the Wolves of Clan Sutherland had declared their pledge to her.
Overcome with emotion, Elspeth let the tears of gratitude fall freely.
Magnar took her hands and brought her close. “My kærr, never did I deem our marriage would be one of love. You have filled a void that I did not seek to ever fill.” He brushed the back of his fingers over her cheeks, adding in a voice raw with emotion, “You are the star of each night, you are the sunlight of every morning, and you are my greatest quest. I shall be a shield to your back, and you, to mine. Until my last breath and beyond, I shall always love you, Elspeth.”
She blinked as more tears slipped down her cheeks. Her voice trembled when she spoke. “Once, I called you a heathen, not seeing beyond to witness the true character of the man. Husband, warrior, and wolf—all who possess great honor and love for me. In return, my heart opened completely, and I fell in love with you, Magnar. Each time I say the words of love out loud, I find I am unable to breathe. My love is deeper than all the oceans and as great as all the stars in the night sky. Forever I am yours, husband.”
Scooping her into his arms, his gaze roamed over her face. “I love you.”
Before she had a chance to repeat her words of love, he ravished her mouth in a fiery kiss that made her dizzy with passion.
The crowd broke out into boisterous laughter and shouts of approval.
Breaking free from her lips, he asked, “Are you ready for the feasting?”
Elspeth wrapped her arms around his neck and giggled. “I don’t believe the hall is big enough for all our guests.”
He started forward, and the crowd parted for them. “There is room for all. Many will come and go throughout the day.”
“Magnar?”
He gave a wink when he passed an elder woman. “Aye, wife?”
“Why are you carrying me? I have nae pain in my head.”
Amusement flickered over his face, and his eyes crinkled with mirth. “My men have made a wager that I do not have the strength to carry you to our home.”
She gaped at him. “You do realize how far it is, aye?”
His laughter was a full-hearted sound as he shifted her within his arms. “Aye, most definitely!”
“Then why are you agreeing to this folly?” she demanded, pulling on his earlobe with her fingers.
He looked affronted. “Because they reckon with all my attention in bedding you, my strength has weakened. I must prove them wrong.”
“Men!” Yet Magnar’s smile disarmed any ill word she wanted to spew out. She loved him far too much. She twirled his hair between her fingers. “What is the wager?”
He blew out a breath. “If I lose, I must endure another game of skinnleikr. Except this time, I have to have one arm tied around my back.”
Elspeth pursed her lips. “And if you win?”
“They must do all the chores at Steinn for one month, including cleaning all horse and human muck.”
She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I suggest you win, husband.”
“If I can manage the hill, we are bound for home, wife.”
An hour later and with sweat dripping down her husband’s face and neck, Magnar brought her to standing in front of their home.
“Someone fetch me a horn of mead for my victory!” he bellowed.
Taking her hand, he led her inside and to a wooden chair by the empty hearth. Sunlight and candlelight danced along the food-laden tables—from trenchers of cod, salmon, and dried herring to loaves of bread, pickled vegetables, and cabbages with onions. She almost swooned at the sight of so many delicious berries.
Elspeth licked her lips as a woman placed a horn of mead into her hands and gave another to her husband.
Magnar remained standing while draining the entire contents.
Smiling, she took a few sips, relishing the cool liquid within her parched mouth.
As the hall continued to fill with more people, she spied Rorik making his way to them.
Lifting his horn, he proclaimed, “Long life to you both!”
“You need to shift, Rorik, so you can completely heal,” suggested Ragna. She approached from the side, lifting her horn of mead at Elspeth and Magnar.
Rorik glanced over the rim of his horn at her. “Nae. Nae need.”
She shook her head and gave Magnar a pleading look.
“I will not order him, Ragna,” he stated.
Shrugging, she turned to Rorik. “You are stubborn to not let your wolf aid in your healing. I noticed your shoulder plagues you.”
Rorik glared at her. “Hold your tongue, witch,” he hissed out.
She tossed the remainder of her mead into his face. “You forget who I am, wolf!”
Elspeth watched as Ragna’s fury and hurt reflected over the woman’s features before she stormed from the hall.
“You have forgotten your manners,” scoffed Magnar. “Given Ragna is a healer, she was only offering her thoughts to you.”
“Loki’s balls,” snapped Rorik, wiping the mead from his face with his hand. “She need not concern herself with me.” He gave a slight bow. “Forgive me.”
They watched as he swiftly departed the hall.
Magnar shook his head solemnly as he took a seat beside Elspeth. He held his horn outward when a woman came by with a jug of mead.
“Thank you,” he offered quietly as she filled it.
Concerned, Elspeth placed a hand on her husband’s arm. “Let us worry about your friend in the morn.”
Magnar snorted. “’Tis not worry for the man, nae. Only how long it will take for him to see what he refuses to acknowledge.”
“I love you, husband.”
He kissed her soundly and then stood. Magnar lifted his gaze to those gathered near them, and he smiled. “You have honored Elspeth and me in sharing this day with us—one filled with love. May the Gods and Goddesses continue to favor you and your families.”
A rousing cheer echoed all around Magnar and Elspeth.
Epilogue
Steinn Castle ~ Late September 1206
Magnar gazed upon his wife’s lush form within the solar. “I have bolted the door, my kærr. Why are you backing away from me?”
“You ken we are expecting guests,” she replied dryly, fingering a quill on his desk.
“Sutherland and the king will not be here for another week,” he countered, stalking toward her. “And to answer your unspoken question, he is not sending me on any commissions. My time shall be spent traveling between Steinn and Vargr. With Steinn as another stronghold for the wolves, this will expand our strength. Erik has also given his consent for this to be a training keep. Despite what I stated in the beginning of our marriage, I have nae plans on leaving for other areas of Scotland. Rorik is my second in command and capable of taking over some of my duties for the king.”
Her hand stilled. “What of Thorfinn? What will you tell the king?”
“Unsure.” He paused in his pursuit. “My brother is now an enemy of the king, and I must tread carefully in my account to him.”
Elspeth tapped a finger to the side of her head. “I sense they will be arriving sooner.”
Concern filled him, and Magnar closed the distance between them in two strides. “Are you now gifted
with the sight? The healers say any shock to the head can cause visions.”
Her brows furrowed, and she took a step back. “Nae, nae.”
Magnar took advantage of her waving hand and grasped it firmly. He silenced her protest with a smoldering kiss, thrusting his tongue into her warm mouth. She tasted of apples, and he ached for a bite. With his other hand, he started to unravel her loose braid, eliciting a moan from his wife.
Elspeth broke free, and then nipped along his chin with her teeth. “You will have to take me hard and swift.”
“Touch me,” he encouraged, yearning for more. Nuzzling her neck, he could smell her desire for him. His need so fierce, he craved to lick the scent from her skin.
Elspeth drew back with a beguiling smile. He watched in a lust-filled haze as she slowly undid his lacings and slipped her hand inside his trews.
“Aye,” he muttered, trying not to spill himself into her hand. He enjoyed watching the play of emotions across her face, especially the way her tongue darted out along her lower lip. As if she wanted to devour him.
When her hand slipped lower to cup his balls, he groaned. “Enough,” he rasped out.
She pouted in protest.
“Turn around and place your hands in the middle of the desk.
Her eyes darkened with desire, and she slowly complied.
Magnar freed his throbbing cock and with the other hand, he bunched up her gown to reveal her heart-shaped bottom. His eyes feasted on the soft ivory flesh. Bending over her body, he whispered into her ear while his hand caressed the bare skin, “Now spread your legs.”
Loud voices within the bailey halted the pleasuring of his wife’s body and his.
Barking out a curse, he retied his laces and went to the arched window. He pounded a fist on the side of the stone wall. “By the hounds!”
Elspeth’s soothing laughter floated by him.
He glared at her. “You are correct, wife. Sutherland and the king have arrived.”
“And you will be with them for many days, aye? I heard there was a hunt planned.” She straightened from the desk and smoothed the folds of her gown.
“Aye,” he bit out tersely returning his gaze to the men gathered below.
He heard her sigh heavily. “’Tis a pity. I shall go attend to the kitchens and see to the preparations.”
Magnar refused to be discouraged, even for his king.
His smile came slowly as he made his way back to Elspeth. Her fingers were deftly plaiting the hair he was overly fond of, and he reached out to stop her movements. “There is plenty of mead, bread, and cheese in the hall, aye?”
She tried to pull free. “You ken the hall is never empty with so many men—I mean wolves in attendance.”
He shrugged. “They are always hungry. As I am for you, wife.”
“The king is here. Stop,” she protested, though desire still flared within her emerald depths.
“Do you trust me?” He breathed the words against her full lips.
Her mouth parted. “Always, husband.”
“Come with me to the stream. Everyone will be busy tending to our guests.”
Elspeth wrapped her arms around his neck. “And what shall we be doing by the stream?”
His blood burned with need to bury himself deep into her. Magnar’s love for her consumed him—filled the hollow emptiness, and he reveled in the powerful sensations.
Letting his fingers slip free from her tresses, he replied, “I will remove your gown, taking care not to rip it from your body.”
“And then?” She trembled within his arms.
“I will take your body swiftly on the grasses by the cool water. And then slowly by the ancient oak.”
She groaned and leaned her head back. “What else?”
He kissed the pulse at the base of her throat. “While I taste your sweet honey between your legs, I want to hear you scream my name as you take your pleasure.”
“What are you waiting for?” Her voice husky with need as her heated gaze met his. “If we leave now, nae one will notice. We can slip out the back entrance near the cellar.”
Magnar grasped her firmly around the waist and lowered his head. “I love you, wife.”
Before Elspeth had a chance to respond, he took fiery possession of her lips in a kiss—one that pledged a lifetime of love.
Note from the Author
As a man, Magnar MacAlpin was not prone to patience. As a wolf, he was far worse in his demands to see this story written.
On my trip three years ago to the Orkney Islands, I discovered a vast landscape steeped in ancient legends, ruins, standing stones, and my fictional world of the Wolves of Clan Sutherland. They emerged quietly before I took my journey across the northern seas and entered with force once I arrived in Kirkwall. Magnar announced his presence (and literally shocked me) in the opening chapter of Destiny of a Warrior, and again when he slipped into the ending of To Weave A Highland Tapestry. A character who constantly demanded his story be told now. I finally surrendered (on my terms), giving him a woman who would constantly challenge him. In the end, Magnar The Barbarian was tamed. However, he may disagree with me.
In addition, I have woven King William The Lion of Scotland into this brand-new story and series. I’ve always been fascinated with this king. In my research, I became drawn to his particular attempts to gain back certain lands and castles in England after they were stripped away under the reign of Henry II. The negotiations for their return with Kings Richard I and John met with no success.
I hope you’ve enjoyed Magnar and Elspeth’s love story—one that took you on an epic adventure from northern Scotland to the Orkney Islands. Who is next? I believe you might have guessed. His love conquests are many. But only one has captured the heart of this man—she is also the one woman who despises everything about Rorik MacNeil.
Until then, may your dreams be filled with Irish charm, Highland mists, and the Wolves of Clan Sutherland!
Other Books by Mary Morgan
Order of the Dragon Knights ~
Dragon Knight’s Sword, Book 1
Dragon Knight’s Medallion, Book 2
Dragon Knight’s Axe, Book 3
Dragon Knight’s Shield, Book 4
Dragon Knight’s Ring, Book 5
~*~
Legends of the Fenian Warriors ~
Quest of a Warrior, Book 1
Oath of a Warrior, Book 2
Trial of a Warrior, Book 3
Destiny of a Warrior, Book 4
~*~
Holiday Romances ~
A Magical Highland Solstice
A Highland Moon Enchantment
To Weave A Highland Tapestry
A word about the author…
Award-winning Celtic paranormal and fantasy romance author Mary Morgan resides in Northern California, with her own knight in shining armor. However, during her travels to Scotland, England, and Ireland, she left a part of her soul in one of these countries and vows to return.
Mary’s passion for books started at an early age along with an overactive imagination. Inspired by her love for history and ancient Celtic mythology, her tales are filled with powerful warriors, brave women, magic, and romance. It wasn’t until the closure of Borders Books where Mary worked that she found her true calling by writing romance. Now, the worlds she created in her mind are coming to life within her stories.
If you enjoy history, tortured heroes, and a wee bit of magic, then time-travel within the pages of her books.
Visit Mary’s website where you’ll find links to all her books, blog, and pictures of her travels:
http://www.marymorganauthor.com
Thank you for purchasing
this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
For questions or more information
contact us at
[email protected].
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
www.thewildrosepress.com
Also available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Destiny of a Warrior
by Mary Morgan
"You met him in the Order of the Dragon Knights. Now, journey to the realm of the Fae and witness their greatest legend!"
As leader of the Fenian Warriors, Aidan Kerrigan's accolades are many and his loyalty to the Fae unwavering. When an unexpected mission sends him to the human world and a chance encounter with Rose MacLaren, he's tempted for the first time in his existence to discard duty and claim what is forbidden.
Rose MacLaren, a Society of the Thistle member, yearns to expand her botanical knowledge with her love of history. After her rescue by a handsome stranger, she is compelled to look beyond what her rational mind comprehends and unravel the secret of the standing stones, as well as the man who captivates her.
In a mystical world ruled by ancient laws and edicts, can a fierce warrior choose a path destined for love? And will a woman honoring the ways of the land believe in a myth only spoken of in legends? If they do, will their love be enough to defy death's punishment?
Also Available
The Warrior's Progeny
by Jeny Heckman
Colton Stone, a newly traded tight end, arrives in his new city ready to play ball. His reputation is as beaten as his football helmet. When he receives a vacation invitation, he accepts. A decision that could be fueled by magical interference. When he meets Dr. Lillian Morgan, he isn't certain what to think.
A widow with two children, Lilly is looking forward to her friends' wedding. When she meets Colton Stone, his arrogant attitude only makes her long for the love she took for granted. She adores her work as a pediatric surgeon, but the football player reminds her of a child.
When black energy touches their world Colt and Lilly become the pawns of immortal gods. So is the love developing between them natural or part of a larger prophecy?
