Conveniently Wed to the Viking

by Michelle Styles

  ‘Lady Ceanna and I intend to marry today,’ Sandulf said in a commanding voice when a faint strangled squeak emerged from Ceanna’s throat. ‘Her wish. My desire. My only question for you is—do we marry with the blessing of her church or do we marry in the fashion of my people?’

  ‘What say you, Ceanna?’ her aunt asked pointedly. ‘I thought this man was a stranger you picked up on the road. That this foolishness about marrying him was a ruse to compel me to keep you here as one of my flock. What evidence do you have of his ability to defend Dun Ollaigh in its time of need? Can he even use a sword?’

  Her aunt made it sound as though Sandulf was akin to the dirt under her shoe.

  Ceanna leant against Sandulf and drew strength. As far as marriage proposals went, it had not been softened by fine words and noble sentiments. He was doing this to protect her and because her tongue had forced this on him, not because he had any depth of feeling for her and she had no idea about his plans or prospects. But she could either take a chance on him or return to certain death at her stepmother’s hands, and that was no choice at all. Her girlish dreams of a hero who worshipped the ground she walked on and saved Dun Ollaigh from all its enemies were never going to happen.

  She moved out of the protective circle of his arms.

  ‘I intend to marry the man I’ve chosen, Aunt. You can either help me or our family will lose control of Dun Ollaigh. You haven’t visited the estate in some time and are relying on a person who has every reason to lie to you. Dun Ollaigh has been in our family for many generations. Why do you wish to surrender it?’

  Her aunt’s face contorted. ‘You know I will always do everything in my power to ensure that Dun Ollaigh remains in our family. It must. You will do as your stepmother commands.’

  ‘My stepmother is not blood kin. She seeks to manipulate for her own ends. Why were you not invited to the wedding ceremony? Could it be because my stepmother wished to keep the news from you until it was too late?’

  Her aunt was silent for a long moment. ‘She is married to your father and owes him her loyalty.’

  ‘Yes, she does. But he does not have it. Trust my judgement. Allow me to marry Sandulf Sigurdsson today in your church with your blessing.’

  Her aunt sighed. ‘You look exactly like my dear sister with that determined thrust of your jaw. I could never refuse her anything. Too headstrong for your own good, the pair of you.’

  Ceanna threw her arms about her aunt. ‘Thank you.’

  Her aunt gave her an awkward hug back before putting Ceanna away from her. Her lip curled. ‘But I warn you, child, do not come crying to me, begging for a place in my monastery, when this man abandons you.’

  A muscle twitched in Sandulf’s cheek. ‘I have no intention of doing such a thing.’

  Her aunt cleared her throat. ‘I give my reluctant blessing to this match, Ceanna. Now, may I speak to you alone?’

  ‘After we are married,’ Sandulf said, eyeing the guards. ‘Until then, Ceanna remains at my side. I won’t have her spirited away.’

  ‘You distrust me.’

  Sandulf shrugged. ‘I have heard of such things happening.’

  Her aunt turned a faint crimson colour. Ceanna wondered when anyone had last successfully defied her. Her late mother, most likely.

  ‘I agree with Sandulf’s caution, Aunt. I will not be returning to Dun Ollaigh to do my stepmother’s bidding. I will be getting married. Today.’

  Her aunt’s mouth became a thin white line. ‘Very well.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘Get me the priest. Get it done. Then we speak, Ceanna, and you will see what I was trying to say about Northmen and their ways. I hope you know what you are doing.’

  Chapter Ten

  The church at St Fillans had a distinct and forbidding chill to it, reminding Sandulf why he actively tried to avoid such places. He had first gone to one when he arrived in Constantinople and had not enjoyed the experience, but the man he’d been guarding at the time had insisted. Its lingering smell of incense and stale air reminded him of death and the many failings that had dogged him in his life and for which he felt great responsibility.

  Going to church never became any easier, but he was willing to endure this for his Skadi and that very fact unnerved him. Lady Ceanna had become important to him in a way that he hadn’t anticipated. Somewhere between Dun Ollaigh and here he had begun to think of her as his and he wasn’t prepared to see her suffer.

  The marriage would offer her immediate protection from the threat of being forcibly returned, married to her stepmother’s lover and then murdered in her sleep. He refused to allow her to be dragged back to her old life. He knew the fate which waited if she should ever seek to return to Dun Ollaigh. And the future?

  He’d given up trying to see the future.

  Sandulf forced his words to be calm and measured in answer to the priest. The man raised a brow at discovering Sandulf could speak a rudimentary Latin. Sandulf did not bother to enlighten him about his time in the east. It simply amused him that he could confound expectations.

  Married. A state he’d never looked for since the massacre, and to Ceanna, the woman he counted as a friend. He wanted to shout that she deserved better, that she deserved someone who could truly protect her instead of him—the man who had frozen when the need arose.

  As he mouthed the words, he knew he had not told her the full truth—he had no right to such a woman as her. But he desired her with every fibre of his being.

  ‘I will,’ Ceanna said, finishing her vows.

  She looked up at him with a luminous expectation and absolute sincerity. Every instinct told him to gather her into his arms. He forced his hands to remain at his sides.

  A tiny frown puckered her brows and she started to turn away. Less than a heartbeat and he’d already disappointed her.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered, capturing her chin with his fingers and lowering his mouth.

  The kiss was supposed to be a brush of his lips against hers, but one brief touch proved impossible. The desire to linger and sample the delight of her mouth nearly overwhelmed him. Too soon she’d look at him with eyes of disappointment and loathing. For what he had to do. For what he’d failed to do. And he hated that he wanted to be better than his father as a husband and very much feared that he would end up being worse.

  How could he protect her from the assassin he was pretty sure had been hired to kill to her when he didn’t even know where he was? How could he rescue her people when he was committed to finding Lugh and demanding justice for an innocent woman?

  For now, he drank in her mouth, welcomed her touch and tried to forget the future he must face.

  * * *

  ‘Sandulf Sigurdsson keeps secrets, you know. I can always tell,’ Ceanna’s aunt said to her when they were alone together after the brief marriage ceremony. She had lent them a bedchamber for the night and had insisted on preparing Ceanna for the marriage bed. ‘He knew every word in the ceremony. An oddity for a heathen warrior, don’t you think?’

  ‘He did travel to Constantinople and served the emperor. He will have learned it there. I thought you’d be pleased that he was willing to go through a baptism as well.’

  Her aunt shook herself like a disgruntled hen. ‘Were you convinced of his sincerity? Only time will tell. He twists the truth about other matters, so why not in this, too?’

  ‘It’s impressive that you know his secrets within an afternoon of meeting him.’ Ceanna forced her voice to be light.

  ‘I know his type, Ceanna. Don’t be impudent. And keep still. Your hair is in a terrible tangle. Unless you braid it carefully, you’ll never be presentable.’

  ‘Maybe I like it wild and free.’

  ‘Allow me to do this for you, Ceanna. Your mother should have been the one. I can honour her in this way.’

  Her aunt combed out Ceanna’s hair until it shone and fell about
her in a silken cloud. The tenderness with which her aunt did this surprised Ceanna. It was almost as if she cared.

  Ceanna stared at the bed and tried not to think of the night which lay before her. It was entirely possible that Sandulf would treat her as he had always done—as a friend rather than a lover. She remembered the agreement they made about friendship the night they spent in the hayloft. ‘Twists the truth about what? What other secrets has he kept hidden? What have you uncovered?’

  ‘His reason for coming here. I fear a much darker purpose.’ Her aunt put down the comb with a sigh. ‘You are so like your dear departed mother. You will not listen to reason, but please know that should you ever require it, a place can be found for you here, despite what I said earlier. I’ll look past your indiscretions provided you do proper penance. When Brother Mattios returns from his travels, he’ll be able to advise me.’

  Ceanna silently vowed that she’d starve first. Her aunt simply wanted to unnerve her. Ceanna remembered how her mother had often dissolved into tears after one of her aunt’s more pointed barbs. She wondered how she’d forgotten that little fact, in her haste to find a refuge here. No, she hadn’t really forgotten it; she’d just had nowhere else to go.

  ‘You don’t trust my judgement of him,’ she said instead.

  ‘No man by the name he gave resides at this place. Never has done. Why did your new husband want to come here so badly? Why does he lie? The obvious reason is that he seeks some holy treasure. It is what Brother Mattios predicted.’ Her aunt coughed pointedly. ‘There is still time to get the marriage annulled before the bedding. Think about it, child.’

  Ceanna stilled. Someone had given Sandulf the wrong information. His coming here had all been a wild goose chase, most likely concocted by his new sister-in-law, this Annis of Glannoventa. She might have reasons why she had wanted to send Sandulf on a fruitless and time-consuming quest. Her heart sank. She’d had a half-formed plan of getting Sandulf to fight for Dun Ollaigh. Now, it would appear, his quest would have to continue in a different direction.

  ‘No man by that name. Are you certain?’

  ‘My scribes checked the rolls three times. The only man who could possibly even fit the description your husband gave is Brother Mattios, a man with an impeccable reputation and who is beyond reproach. You should have seen the scrolls he brought from the Jarrow monastery.’

  ‘Perhaps this Lugh took a different name before he arrived.’

  Her aunt frowned. ‘So you prefer to believe your Northman’s pretty words. Some day you will be wiser about men and their ways, my dear. I’ve had Brother Malcolm inform him about the lack of any evidence in the records. Your Northman may very well decide to leave before ever gracing your bed or seeing you. At least, that was what Brother Malcolm predicted.’

  A hard knot formed in the base of Ceanna’s stomach. Sandulf wouldn’t abandon her, would he? ‘Brother Malcolm doesn’t know my husband.’

  ‘It would be a blessing in many ways if it happened. An unconsummated marriage and a deserted bride...an annulment would be merely a formality.’

  ‘If you are so against him, why did you allow us to marry?’

  ‘I don’t know, child. You looked at me like your mother used to and I found I couldn’t refuse. But I thought you ought to know my disquiet despite your obvious enthralment with this man.’

  Ceanna rolled her eyes. Enthralled. She had to hope that Sandulf hadn’t noticed. And that he paid no attention to Brother Malcolm’s helpful suggestion of abandoning her.

  ‘Has anyone come here lately asking to join the order? Anyone whose motives were questionable, anyone who was refused?’

  Her aunt started to shake her head when her assistant, who had been preparing the bed with fresh linens, gave a squeak. ‘There was a man several weeks ago who was refused.’

  ‘Out with it, Sister. What man?’

  ‘Brother Mattios was speaking to him in the yard when you had that bad headache. He swore me to secrecy. He spoke of dire things happening if anyone knew. Could this be the man your new husband is looking for?’

  Her aunt sighed. ‘Sister, Brother Mattios would have told me if there was anyone untoward who came here while I was indisposed.’

  The nun made a curtsy and mumbled that Mother Abbe must be right.

  ‘Where is this Brother Mattios, Aunt? You’ve spoken of him several times. I should like to meet him, this man who would tell you if a stranger visited, who arrived about the time my husband was told this Lugh the assassin would have arrived.’

  ‘He is away on some business for the monastery. Nothing for you to be concerned about.’ She tapped the comb against her teeth. ‘I had thought he was being overly cautious about something, but...he may have been right. Secrets can harm, my dear, and your new husband has far too many.’

  Ceanna could scarcely contain her frustration. ‘What was this Brother Mattios right about? You are the one keeping secrets, Aunt, not Sandulf.’

  Her aunt cleared her throat. ‘Brother Mattios predicted an assassin, a Northman, would come to harm some people I care about.’

  ‘Whom do you fear he wishes to kill? You?’

  ‘The royal children, the ones who have been here since King Aed’s murder,’ the young nun burst out and then clapped her hands over her mouth.

  ‘There are reasons why I enforce the rule of silence, Sister. You gave your oath on the relics.’

  Ceanna examined the rushes. Her aunt was also keeping her share of secrets. She was hiding the late King’s sons here in the monastery! She should have seen it before—the increased guards and her aunt’s reluctance to speak. ‘You’re the one responsible for keeping the missing sons of Aed hidden.’

  ‘How could I refuse a dying kinsman’s wish?’

  ‘Where are the sons of Aed now? With this paragon of virtue who fears an assassin from the North?’

  ‘Under Brother Mattios’s care. In a place of safety. Where they should have gone in the first place, had I not listened to Giric, the Regent. He wanted them to take the tonsure in due course—a noble ambition. And I thought why not here? It would bring honour to this house. Brother Mattios agreed with me, but then...’

  Ceanna went cold. Taking the tonsure would ensure neither boy could make a claim for the kingdom. There was more to this than her aunt wanted to say. ‘He has taken them to my stepmother and his brother Feradach, hasn’t he? It is not just Dun Ollaigh they desire. They’re going to use them as counters to gain control of the entire kingdom.’

  ‘You do like to spin your fantasies, Ceanna,’ her aunt said, but Ceanna did not miss the troubled look crossing her brow.

  Her aunt then deftly turned the subject towards what Ceanna might expect during the wedding night, which was a marked change from her earlier attempts to persuade Ceanna to put aside her husband of only a few hours. What was going on?

  ‘Lie back and allow the man to have his way. It is the most practical advice I have heard on the subject,’ she said, reaching the end of her recital. ‘It worked with my late husband, not that he lasted long. He caught a chill and died a month after our marriage.’

  Ceanna forced a smile. There was little point in explaining that she had already had this lecture from her stepmother. Her aunt had made the process sound even less appealing than her stepmother had. Ceanna put her hand on her stomach and thought about the way Sandulf made her feel. His touch was very different from Feradach’s.

  The noise grew from the corridor. ‘Your bridegroom arrives. Brother Malcom’s news obviously has not sent him on his way. I can’t say I don’t wish he had left in pursuit of this phantom assassin. But if you change your mind, cry out. I shall check the sheet in the morning.’ Her aunt and the young nun swept from the room.

  Sandulf entered with Vanora at his side. The dog quickly settled in a corner and closed her eyes.

  ‘I felt it best if she remained with us.�
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  Ceanna kept her back straight and tried not to look at the bed or think about what needed to pass between them. The rush lamps her aunt had left gave off a weak flickering light, causing strange shadows to dance on the rough plastered walls. ‘You did right. Vanora frets if she is outside at night. She won’t move a muscle now until morning.’

  A warmth started in her loins, driving all thoughts about politics and the mysterious Brother Mattios from her mind. Ceanna pressed her hands against her eyes and tried to look anywhere but at him, except inevitably her gaze went back to his broad shoulders and how his chest tapered down to a trim waist.

  She had little idea of his expectations about this sudden marriage. She had to hope that he had not done this out of pity. She had to do something to make her marriage more than simply one of convenience.

  She wasn’t a prospective holy maid any longer, nor the prospective heiress to a large fortress to be married off at her stepmother’s whim, she had become someone else. She had become a wife, Sandulf’s possession, someone she hoped Sandulf would see as indispensable to his quest. She tightened her jaw. She could do it—she could become that woman. He had saved her from being murdered at Feradach’s hands after their wedding, so she could find the assassin Sandulf sought and then surely he would have to see that they could have the sort of marriage she’d dreamed of. She could twist herself into becoming that person far easier than being a holy maid.

  ‘You seem concerned about something,’ he said, breaking the silence before she had worked out her scheme of how she was going to accomplish this. ‘I take it you know about the failure to discover Lugh. Brother Malcolm took delight in informing me about it. The fool seemed to think I would want to leave and annul the marriage. I refrained from hitting him, but I came close.’

  Ceanna stifled a relieved laugh. ‘I can well imagine.’

  ‘Tomorrow I will decide on my next course. Tonight—’ he laced his fingers through hers ‘—tonight is for other things. Has your aunt said something, anything, which alters things between you and me?’