Conveniently Wed to the Viking

by Michelle Styles

  ‘Aunt, what say you?’

  ‘I hadn’t realised the danger,’ the old woman admitted, her body crumpling. ‘I was fooled by his devout prayer and his charm. I was so worried about you and I wanted the boys to be elsewhere. They were very noisy, you see. I missed the peace and quiet.’

  Ceanna rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘It is well that I am leaving, Aunt. You would discover I enjoy talking far too much.’

  Sandulf firmed his mouth. Ceanna made it sound as if she was going off with him, hunting Lugh. ‘I’ll travel much more swiftly on my own. You should remain here.’

  The hurt in Ceanna’s eyes made his insides twist. It was for the best. Her safety above all things. What could he offer her really? Until he’d made peace with his brothers, he could not consider anyone or anything else. He’d been fooling himself earlier.

  ‘I will go with you,’ Ceanna said. ‘I know Dun Ollaigh and its ways.’

  ‘You will be safer here. Your aunt understands that now.’

  ‘Are you already disobeying an order from your husband, Niece?’

  ‘Aunt, will you excuse us for a brief time? I need to speak with my husband alone. He can be pig-headed at times.’

  ‘You are the one who was insistent on marrying him.’

  ‘I know and I have no regrets about that.’

  ‘Take as long as you like.’

  She ushered the sisters and guards out of the scriptorium.

  In the silence which followed her aunt’s departure, Ceanna struggled to hang on to her temper. Her insides felt as if they had been torn out. She knew he worried for her safety, but she felt as though he was abandoning her at the first opportunity. Her husband did not think she would be able to contribute anything in the hunt for the assassin.

  She firmed her mouth. He wasn’t thinking straight. Seeing that golden Valkyrie had upset him. The terrible look he’d given it had showed her all she needed to know about the state of his heart. He cared for the dead woman far more than he could ever care for her. He’d never made any sort of promises about that. He had promised to be her husband, but he had only ever promised her friendship. She was emphatically not someone he was in love with. The knowledge made her chest ache all the harder because she knew she was rapidly falling in love with him.

  ‘See the matter from my perspective. I have a duty towards you as your husband.’ He put his hands behind his back. ‘Knowing you remain safe will enable me to fight harder. If you return to Dun Ollaigh, then you put yourself into danger. You wanted to be at the monastery before we arrived here.’

  A small part of her knew she had to fight the temptation to remain safe and secure behind the high walls of the monastery. It was what she had set out to do—find sanctuary from her stepmother. She would be safe here, if there was safety in being a prisoner. In the past few days she’d felt more alive than she had done since long before her mother and brother had died.

  Ceanna the Indispensable. The words rolled about in her brain again. Sandulf didn’t see her as such yet, but she’d make him see it. ‘You need me, Sandulf. More than ever, you need me.’

  A muscle jumped in his jaw and his brows lowered. ‘I don’t need anyone, particularly not you. I’m perfectly capable of dealing with Lugh on my own. When I was growing up, my brothers always told me I was incapable of handling things by myself, even when it was easy to see that I could. You need to remain here and stay safe. It is the best way you can help.’

  His words stabbed her, but she kept her back straight.

  ‘You have only a limited knowledge of Dun Ollaigh or its inhabitants. I have all the knowledge you will need. However, we won’t know what you need until you need it. It is why I must go with you.’

  He put a heavy hand under her elbow, but she shook it off with an impatient gesture. ‘I want to keep you safe. Safe means remaining here in this monastery.’

  She raised herself up on her tiptoes and brushed his lips with hers. ‘You protected me all the way here. Why shouldn’t I put my trust in your sword arm?’

  ‘Because—because I am looking out for your welfare.’ He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up on end. ‘For once in my life, I am attempting to do the right thing. Be reasonable, Skadi.’

  ‘I know you are trying to protect me, but you will need to be with me to provide that protection. I don’t trust anyone but you.’

  He made a face. ‘And if I am useless at it?’

  ‘What happened to Ingrid was not your fault. It was the fault of the assassin, the man you are trying to prevent from murdering again.’ She put her hands against his chest. ‘You will have to accept that I am going to return to Dun Ollaigh and bring this man and his brother to justice. I will not be left behind to wonder and worry.’

  His arms went around her and held her tight. He rested his chin on top of her head. ‘Goodness knows what sort of mischief you and Vanora would discover without me guiding your steps.’

  ‘Perish the thought.’

  He laughed. The muscles in Ceanna’s neck eased. The storm had passed, after a fashion. ‘If there is any fighting to be done, you make sure you are far away.’

  ‘I will do my best.’

  ‘I mean it, Skadi. I will not have the death of another innocent woman on my conscience.’

  Ceanna knew from the tone of his voice that she’d won. Her heart squeezed. It scared her how much she cared for this man and she knew that she had to be willing to let him run headlong into danger to complete his mission. He had saved her by marrying her and now she must do all she could to help him find the assassin. It was the terms of their deal.

  She marched to the door and pulled it open. Her aunt tumbled in. ‘I think my father’s messengers had best remain here with you, Aunt. The element of surprise will be key to discovering the truth about Lugh.’

  Sandulf stroked his chin. ‘My wife speaks true. The messengers can remain a while longer under your excellent hospitality.’

  The guards protested loudly, but Ceanna was relieved when her aunt smiled, the first genuine smile Ceanna had seen. ‘I think my niece makes an excellent suggestion.’

  ‘Aunt, when we find the boys, I will ensure they go to their relations in Éireann. I give you my word.’

  ‘You hate travelling over water, they tell me. Ever since your mother and brother died.’

  Ceanna glanced at Sandulf, who nodded. ‘Some things are more important than my irrational fears. This is one of them. Watch for my message.’

  ‘Despite my reservations, marriage appears to be good for you, Niece.’

  Ceanna firmed her mouth. She would be a widow before long if Sandulf did not succeed. But she could not bear to be abandoned, even though she would finally be safe. She only wanted to be by his side, to be his Skadi in truth, even if it meant watching her beloved husband die at the hands of the treacherous assassin who had massacred his family, or dying alongside him.

  Chapter Twelve

  They made the bridge by the River Orchy by the time the summer glimmer had started to light the insects who danced in the sky, making brief glints of gold appear. The blackbirds and thrushes chattered in the bushes which lined the track while the wind rustled the pines. Everything was at peace. Ceanna glanced over to Sandulf. Everything was at peace except him.

  He had barely spoken a word since they had departed and the ease which had been between them on the journey to Nrurim seemed to have vanished.

  ‘Shall we stop here for the night?’ she asked, injecting a determined cheerfulness in her voice as she gestured to where a small hut stood nestled in a wooded glade. ‘It would provide shelter.’

  ‘If you wish.’ Sandulf swung down from his mount. ‘No one is here.’

  ‘We should be safe, then.’ Ceanna dismounted and inspected the panniers which were attached to her pony. ‘My aunt packed us a good supply of food. She was concerned about our wel
fare.’

  He raised a brow upwards.

  She pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Her cheeks burnt. ‘What’s wrong? We have pies, cheese, cold meat and even several pieces of the honey sweetmeat that my aunt adores.’

  ‘Trust you to think of food.’

  ‘And you are thinking of something else?’

  ‘Yes.’ He came over to her and gathered her into his arms. ‘This.’

  His kiss was fierce and untamed, banishing all the worries and concerns she had had earlier. He took her hand and put it against the front of his trousers. She felt him, hard and firm.

  ‘See what you do to me?’ he growled in her ear. ‘What appetites you unleash?’

  The heat grew within her, flaming higher. Last night had been more than some misplaced sense of duty. She knew she didn’t want to be the way her aunt suggested—quiet, obedient, dutiful. She wanted fire and passion and love. ‘Food can wait.’

  His smile transformed his face. ‘Good.’

  He picked her up, went into the small hut and set her down on the table.

  ‘Here?’

  ‘I intend to feast on your body.’ His hands roamed over the contours of her legs, sending little prickles of heat radiating outwards. He leant forward so that his lips nuzzled her earlobe. ‘And invite you to feast on mine.’

  ‘You want us to join? In the daylight?’

  His eyes danced. She knew she could spend a lifetime studying those eyes and never fully discern their many colours. ‘Why wait for the cover of darkness when we are alone?’

  Her response was to wrap her arms about his neck and pull him down into her embrace.

  * * *

  Sandulf watched Ceanna sleep. Her lashes made half-moons on her pale cheeks. He ran a finger down one of them.

  She might be tiny, but she was fierce. She’d firmly woven herself into his heartstrings. She’d given him her body and allowed him those blissful moments of peace in her arms.

  He knew beyond everything that he had to keep her safe. She had become important to him, almost as important as his heart beating. But he hadn’t done enough to deserve her.

  He stared up at the darkened beams. This time he wouldn’t fail. He had to prove his worth as a husband and that meant finding Lugh before he realised Sandulf was on his trail. And the thought frightened him to the core of his being.

  * * *

  An unnatural hush clung to the entire village which perched between the sea and the great fortress of Dun Ollaigh, the sort Ceanna struggled to remember hearing except after the death of her mother.

  The familiarity of the buildings and its scents washed over Ceanna. She’d missed it in ways she hadn’t quite been aware of until she returned. Everywhere her gaze brought on the rush of another memory, but as long as her stepmother and Feradach remained in control, this place was dangerous for her. For them both.

  ‘Where to now?’ Sandulf asked in a quiet voice.

  Ceanna adjusted the hood of her cloak, keeping her face concealed. ‘The tavern is impossible. My stepmother is sure to have spies there. Shall we try Urist?’

  ‘He tried to betray you.’

  ‘Did he? Do we really know that?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘No one came after us. He acquired that corpse which he pretended was me. And the messengers left before the ambush, but...’ At Sandulf’s gentle cough, she paused. ‘What?’

  ‘I thought you were the one who hated taking risks.’

  ‘I’m learning that I’m rather better at this than I could have imagined.’ She cocked her head to one side. The air was far too still. She couldn’t even hear the fishwives calling out their wares besides the harbour as they always did at this time of day. ‘Something is wrong. I can’t quite put my finger on it. There seems to be a certain sadness hanging over the village.’ A shiver ran down her spine. ‘Probably my over-active imagination. I hope it isn’t anything to do with my father. I hope he remains alive...’ Tears stung at the back of her throat. ‘I want to see him again, Sandulf. I want him to meet you and bless our union.’

  He gave her a sideways glance. ‘I know what your imagination is like.’

  A warm bubble of happiness filled Ceanna, banishing her fears for her father. When he said things like that, she could almost believe that their marriage stood a chance of being a happy one.

  Sandulf shaded his eyes. ‘I can hear shouting. Can you make out what they are saying?’

  ‘Kill the heathen who murdered Our Lady.’ Ceanna wrinkled her nose. ‘Which lady? Do you think someone tried to steal the statue of Mary from the church? It will surely be drunk lads from the fishing boats. They are always doing daft things like that. At least it is not about my father’s death.’

  Sandulf gave her a look. ‘Since when can anyone kill a statue? Who else is their lady?’

  She placed a hand on her stomach. The full horror of it washed over her. ‘They are blaming some poor innocent for my death. How could this be? Did Urist pass that body off as me? Could he do that? Why would he? I should—’

  His fingers closed tight about her arm. ‘Should what? Show yourself? Ruin any hope of surprising your stepmother and this Feradach? Alert Lugh? You’ve no idea what trick Urist played, but it was certainly not designed to assist you escape. You might as well march into the middle of Dun Ollaigh begging for your death at the top of your voice.’

  She jerked her arm away, hating that his words contained some small measure of truth. ‘I can’t have an innocent’s blood on my conscience.’

  Sandulf glared at her, obviously expecting her to back down. He gave a long sigh ‘You’re right. Something must be done. Keep in the shadows. Do not reveal yourself unless it becomes absolutely necessary.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ she asked before he could stride away.

  His glance flickered over her. ‘What makes you think I will need help? You stay here with Vanora. I will report back after I have worked out what is happening.’

  ‘We’re a partnership, Sandulf. You need me whether you like it or not. You are far from fluent in Pictish despite your practice.’

  He sighed heavily. ‘Why do you make it so difficult for me to protect you? Where has the woman gone who hated taking risks?’

  ‘She ceased to exist not long after she encountered you.’

  She gestured towards where a crowd gathered. A sort of mute rumbling roar filled the village, driving out the quiet, but it, too, was an unnatural sound.

  ‘Those are the people I grew up with. They mourn my death. But not my father. Not my father, Sandulf. He lives.’ Her heart leapt. All the way here, she’d tried not to hope that he might still breathe and that she could see him again, but even still, a faint hope about rescuing her father had taken hold inside of her. It had started as something small like a warm ember, but had since grown to a steady flame. With Sandulf’s help, she knew they could rescue him after the plotters were exposed. Then maybe her father would grow strong and they could become closer again.

  ‘They may be your people, but they can also be your undoing. You spoke true—leaving you in the shadows would be a mistake. Follow my lead. But revealing yourself to the crowd will be a last resort.’ After Ceanna’s unsteady nod, Sandulf crouched down in the dust and rapidly sketched out his plan. ‘Our main objective is to determine who is being held and if he is worth saving.’

  ‘He has been captured and abused because of me. Of course he is worth saving.’

  ‘If it were Lugh or Feradach, would you feel the same way?’

  Ceanna hugged her arms about her waist. ‘Everyone is entitled to a fair hearing, but you are right, I wouldn’t risk my life for either of those two.’

  ‘Sense from my Skadi.’ He dropped a kiss on her lips.

  Ceanna hated that her heart turned over. She knew in that heartbeat that she loved him and wanted t
o be by his side for the rest of her life. He hadn’t asked for her love and she had little idea how he’d react if he knew he had it. The marriage had been foisted on him, after all.

  Ceanna stabbed at Sandulf’s sketch with her finger. ‘You have drawn the square, but not the whipping post. Whoever this man is will be tied there, waiting for justice. We need to go there and see who this poor unfortunate is, before they tear him apart.’

  ‘I am hoping to pass unnoticed.’ He jammed a hat he’d procured from the monastery down on his head. ‘Ready to brave the howling mob?’

  ‘Try to shuffle like a peasant rather than striding like a warrior.’

  ‘Always the practical one.’

  ‘Always.’ She covered her head with a shawl and hunched her shoulders. ‘We will succeed, won’t we?’

  He regarded her for a long heartbeat. ‘We leave Vanora here. The fewer questions, the better.’

  Ceanna chucked Vanora under the chin. ‘She is rather memorable, isn’t she?’

  Ceanna motioned for Vanora to stay by where the ponies were tethered. The dog gave her a baleful look, but settled down with her head on her paws. ‘Shall we have at it, then? Find out what’s going on?’

  * * *

  Sandulf led the way through the baying throng. It seemed to part in front of him as if people sensed that he was not the sort of person to cross. Several people gave them curious stares, but no one stopped them.

  Sandulf’s muscles relaxed, but he couldn’t help keeping an eye on Ceanna’s slow progress. With her body swathed in a thick cloak and the hood pulled firmly down so her face was shielded, she walked more like a pregnant duck than a lady. A few people shoved her, buffeting her about, but she kept her lips pressed tightly together.

  When she noticed his stare, she made a little circle with her hand to tell him to turn around and concentrate. Ceanna was being sensible and there was every chance this man could be ignored until they had dealt with the true problem—Feradach and his brother.