Vikings' Brides 4 Book Box Set

by Jessica Knight

  “It would look better if you were not in it,” he growls.

  Grim takes a step forward, but I hold up my hand. I want to take care of this for myself. “You must really love your daughter to give her all this. The fabrics hanging from the wall, the cake, the drinks. I’m impressed.”

  “I could care less what you are. I want you gone before she realizes you are here. Do you understand me?”

  “Why? Afraid that out of all these pitiful saps you call men, she will want to leave with me? A real man?” I take a step forward. “That is exactly what will happen.”

  “Grim, you have five seconds to get him out of my face before I kill him.”

  The slip in authority makes Grim stand to his full height. He puts his hand on Troy’s shoulder where it meets his neck and tightens the hold until he coughs.

  “You forget your station, Lord Troy. It is Lord Grimkael. Only my brother and closest friends call me Grim. And the last I checked, I do not take orders from you. Einarr and his men stay. He has a right to be here, just as the others.”

  “He has no rights here. Not when it comes to my daughter. No Scot—”

  Grim wraps his full hand around Troy’s neck, lowering his voice even further. It’s the same voice he used on me just outside. “You better watch what you say next, Troy. Sassa’s father adored you. I’m starting to wonder if the man may have been ill for longer than he led on because you are nothing but disrespectful.”

  “The Scottish are just as bad as the Jackals who took my wife from me. His kind,” Troy spits, “will never be welcome.”

  “It’s a good thing you aren’t Lord, then. And it is a good thing he is Viking.” Grim bends down and whispers, “And you realize the Vikings are much more savage than the Scottish?”

  “Let’s play nice,” I say, breaking the two apart. I truly believe Grim would burn the entire world down for me. “Now, don’t we have a party to get to?”

  “Troy, leave us,” Grim orders.

  But he does not move an inch.

  Grim lowers his voice. “Troy.”

  “Einarr, may I talk with you in private?” Grim asks, pushing me to where the doors are.

  Thyra’s father hasn’t moved. Another order he has denied. I think someone may have issues with the new Lord in town.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” Grim asks.

  “What are you talking about, brother?” Genuinely, I’m confused.

  “I’m just saying. If you do this, you might have a constant enemy with Lord Troy. He will never accept you. Sassa told me of his hatred for the Scottish, and I’m afraid it will kill you. I’m not warning you away from Thyra, but I am asking you, are you sure you want this life?”

  I slap my hand on his shoulder and give it a good shake and meet his gaze. “Brother, we have been through much together. I wouldn’t be the man I am today if not for you. I wouldn’t be alive if not for you. I would still be living in the cave. You took me as I am, a child from nowhere. I had no idea where I belonged. And you took me in. I understand your worry and your fear. I appreciate your hesitation, but Grim, when I am with her, all the noise I hear in me head fades. She makes me want to be better. You understand that?”

  He nods.

  “Would I prefer if her father didn’t hate me because of the blood I cannot change? Aye, of course.”

  “Your blood is my blood.” He takes my hand in a strong hold, the same hold we did all those years ago. Our scars on our palms are lined up from the deep cut we made when he gave me the blood oath. “If I must, I shall do this blood oath again to prove it to you.”

  “I know, but I know who I am. I am Viking.”

  “Perhaps, we need to change your last name from Thor to Hohlt. It’s been a long time coming, aye? We are family. And family has each other’s backs. And if you choose this life, please know, I have your back.”

  My throat gets dry from emotion. I cannot find my voice.

  “Aye, I’d like that very much.”

  Grim pulls me in for a hug and slaps my back, helping me clear the tears in my eyes. “Let’s go get that lady of yours.”

  “I’ve never heard you say better words.”

  When we start walking back, Grim’s words play in my mind. It feels good. Sometimes I forget how much family I really have with him. And he never lets me forget it.

  We step back into the ballroom, Wulf and Trident block Lord Troy’s path to me. Damn, this fool just won’t let go. And he shall have to because I’m not leaving this fucking room without my future wife.

  And I’d hate to kill my future father-in-law.

  Eh, maybe.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Thyra

  My attention is finally taken away from the Serbian Prince when raised voices capture my attention. I glance around the room, wondering where in the world it is coming from when my eyes land on my father speaking with Einarr.

  I gasp. Einarr is here. And he looks so handsome. My heart warms when I see that his hair is in a braid, cascading to the middle of his back. It’s so long, red, and shiny. It’s so beautiful. I feel my cheeks blush when the thought creeps into my mind that he got groomed for me.

  “I must say, you are a very beautiful woman,” the Serbian Prince sips his drink. “When your father sent the messenger about this party, I was hesitant at first.”

  I do not take my eyes off Einarr. I’m spellbound by his appearance, but another reason I refuse to look away is because of my father. Grim seems to be getting very angry. I know my father is walking on thin ice with the Lord right now.

  I bring my mead to my lips. “And why is that?” I ask.

  “You aren’t the typical woman I would usually be interested in; if I am being completely honest.”

  “Yes, let us be honest, shall we? You would not be the typical man I would be interested in, either.”

  The statement makes him smile. “Perfect, so we are on the same page. If we align, we can be a very strong force. You have ties here.” He wraps his hands around my wrist, rubbing his thumb on the inside of my palm. “We can learn to give each other pleasure, still.”

  I yank my wrist free of his hold, speechless at his audacity. “You are more than welcome to leave. I refuse to settle. And I shall never be with a man who feels as though he is settling for me. You can show yourself out, Prince.”

  “You have a sharp tongue for a Lady.” He steps forward, almost threateningly. “My Lady will never talk to me in such a manner.”

  I pull my shoulders back and keep my chin up. “I am not your Lady. I will never be your Lady.”

  “You little.” He takes a step forward, but a large palm stops his chest. When I look up, it is Einarr.

  I breathe easier as his warmth seeps into my body. I’ve missed him. I just want to wrap my arms around him.

  “If I were you, I’d watch the next words that fall off that tongue before I cut it out,” Einarr growls.

  “And who are you to think you can put your hands on me?” the Serbian Prince spits. I cannot even remember his name. He said it, but all my attention was averted to Einarr.

  Einarr takes a step forward, invading the man’s personal space even more. The Prince’s Adam’s apple bobs from fear. I’m sure he has never seen a scar a day in his life.

  Einarr can be very intimidating. I dare say, Einarr makes me very wet between my legs when he shows his power. It’s riveting.

  “I’m Warlord Einarr Hohlt. And just who the fuck are you?”

  “Warlord?” The Prince’s eyes widen. “You are Viking. I thought only the Lord was Viking.”

  Einarr gives a dangerous grin. “Oh, the entire kingdom has an army of Vikings. This is our home now. And I refuse to let a man like you talk to our women in such a way. You heard the lady. Leave, before I kill you meself.”

  He takes another step forward, and the Prince takes another step back. “And if you haven’t noticed, I have no problem with killing.” Einarr taps a small blade to the scar on his face.

  “I
do not want someone of her size, anyway.”

  The Prince’s words make me gasp, and they shouldn’t, but the words cut me deep. I have to hold back the tears. He flags his guards to signal his departure, but Einarr grips him by the neck and lifts him off his two feet, cocking his head. “What did you just say?”

  “No—nothing,” the Prince stutters, grabbing at the hands around his throat. His face starts to turn red, and his breaths are coming out in rapid pants.

  “I should kill you,” Einarr says.

  “You’ll do no such thing,” my father says. “Let him go.”

  “I don’t take orders from you,” Einarr replies.

  “You’ll start a war we are not ready to fight,” Grim says. “Put him down.”

  Einarr releases the Prince, but not before kneeing him in the face, sending him flying back until he is knocked out cold. “There. I didn’t kill him.”

  I want Einarr so much right now.

  “That is why I do not want you near my daughter,” my father huffs.

  At this point, the entire party has stopped. Everyone is muttering, whispering to one another under their breath. I’m only embarrassed because my father stopped Einarr from defending my name. Does my father not care for me at all anymore?

  “Everyone is here for an equal chance at winning Thyra’s hand. Einarr has the same right just as any of these other men,” Grim points out.

  I look over my shoulder to see Sassa standing up, placing her hand on her round belly. She looks worried, but I’m not. I know Einarr is holding back. If he wanted, he could kill the men around him with a snap of his fingers. My Viking is deadly.

  “He is not worthy. Just look at his face. I will not allow—”

  “You won’t allow your daughter to be with a real warrior? Is that what you are saying?” Grim’s voice takes a wicked turn. “I’ve held my tongue and punishment due to Thyra’s wishes. I do not wish to upset my wife, but you seem to wish for me to take your head.”

  “No!” I scream, practically begging Grim to let my father go. “Please, he is all I have left.”

  Einarr leans down and whispers in my ear, placing his lower hand on my back, “He isn’t. Not anymore.”

  My heart melts, but my father is still my father.

  “Fine, but you will meet with the warrior last, do you understand me?” My father hisses, before taking a goblet off the table and chugging the ale.

  “I understand,” I say, but the hope in my voice is wistful and dreamlike. No one else in this room matters. I just must pretend. I can do that.

  My father turns away, but before he can get too far, Grim’s hand grabs his shoulder and turns him around. “You are sentenced to five lashings for your continued disobedience. I’ll let you enjoy your daughter’s birthday, but tomorrow, you will receive your punishment at noon. Is that understood, Troy?”

  My father doesn’t seem to care. He does not look scared or disappointed in himself, but I can’t help but to feel disappointment for him. If he could just set aside his prejudiced ways, this would not be happening.

  I meet my father’s eyes, sad for him. He turns away, curling his lip with pure disdain before heading back to the main table, no doubt embarrassed that Lord Grimkael made a fool of him in front of everyone.

  “Please, let us not stop the party. Wulf, Trident. Take the Serbian Prince outside.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” they say in unison, grabbing the groaning wimp of a man that calls himself a Prince.

  He mumbles incoherent things as they drag him away, leaving me with Grim and Einarr, who sigh at the same time.

  Grim signals the people playing the string instruments to tell them to continue on. Soon the beautiful sounds fill the acoustics of the ballroom, and Grim slaps Einarr’s shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, brother. You must wait until the end if that is her father’s wish.”

  “I can wait,” Einarr reaches up and touches my chin before backing away. “I have waited my entire life for her; I can wait a few more hours.”

  My cheeks blush, and I glance down, grinning.

  “You look ravishing.” Einarr takes a step forward, whispering in my ear, “I want to lay you down in that dress and make love to you all night.” When he pulls away, not only does the timbre of his voice make my nipples bead, but he places a chaste kiss on my cheek before turning away.

  I can’t take my eyes off his back as he walks to a nearby wall, grabs a drink, and just watches me. He puts one, thick leg against the stone and crosses his arms, as if he is the most patient man in the world.

  All while never taking those eyes off me.

  “He is smitten with you,” Grim chuckles with a smile before walking away.

  I clear my throat when my cheeks blush and run my hands down my dress… “I sure hope so.”

  After last night, if he was not interested, not only would he be a real arse, but then my future husband would not have a virgin as a wife.

  The harp, a customary instrument in the Viking heritage, starts to play a beautiful, light tune. One that makes it easy for me to float around from each man. None of whom I am interested in.

  As I drift around, all I think about is how much closer I am to Einarr. The last man before him is Alexie, the Kievan Rus’ Prince.

  “Lady Thyra,” he grabs my hand and kisses it.

  I glance toward Einarr, who is watching, and his eyes are murderous, but he sips his drink, controlling himself, awaiting his turn. It is his turn that matters most. Because he is forever my first and last decision.

  “May I say you look more beautiful than the colors the sun paints the sky.”

  “Oh, Sir Alexie, you are a poet at heart, aren’t you? Such a way with words. It is surprising, but welcome.” I smile with a curtsy as I take my hand back.

  Alexie is a big man, but now that I have a closer look at him, while very frightening, loneliness seems to pour out of his soul. In a way he reminds me of Einarr.

  “My Lady, I am disappointed I am not the man that has stolen your heart, but perhaps, we can be friends?”

  I’ve been caught. “Excuse me?”

  “I see how you look at the Warlord, and I see how he looks at you. That passion is hard to miss. I am happy for you, but may I ask, why are we all here, if you have found your vozlyublennyy?”

  “I’m afraid I am not educated on the Kievan tongue. I do not know what that means.”

  “Ah, apologies, my Lady. It means beloved. You have found your beloved one.” His thick accent is hard to understand, but his voice is kind.

  I peek into my drink and see my reflection as I swirl the liquid around in the goblet. “I have, but this party was planned before he and I finally met. My father insisted on this party. He wants me to have nothing to do with Einarr, I’m afraid. It is why I am here. In this gown, pretending.”

  “You look lovely doing it,” he says.

  “Thank you. You are too kind. And the most genuine. Between you and me,” I lean in and lower my voice, “all these men seem a bit too posh for my liking anyway. Who wants a man who looks like he has never laid hands on a weapon?”

  His eyes finally light up, as if I said something that triggered happiness or some sort of emotion. “Are there any other women like you here that are single? I would love to stay for a few days and see.”

  “Are there no women in Kievan Rus’ to your liking, Sir Alexie?”

  He grunts, downing his beverage in one long swallow. “Da, there is. But you’d be surprised how many women do not find me appealing due to my dark nature.”

  I try and think of a few women here, and automatically I think of Leiva, the nurse. She is such a great healer and a beautiful person. “I’m sure Lord Grimkael would not mind you staying. He would love to be allies with you, I’m sure.”

  “Da. Thank you, my new friend.”

  “I’m sure your time will come, Sir Alexie.” I place my hand on his arm, in a meaningless gesture. I am trying to be kind, but a low growl from my right makes me lift my hand.


  Alexie smirks. “I am sure your Warlord is finding it hard to stay back with all these men lusting after you. I appreciate his protectiveness.”

  “As do I.” The song on the harp changes, signaling my time with Alexie has ended. “I look forward to seeing you around the castle. It was lovely meeting you.”

  He takes my hand again and kisses it. “The pleasure was all mine, Lady Thyra. I wish you all the best.”

  “As do I.” I curtsy again.

  My heart stammers in my chest when I turn around and see Einarr. He pushes off the wall and uncrosses his arms. Finally. It takes all I have not to rush to him, to run and leap into his strong arms. The same arms that held me as he made love to me last night.

  He descends on me, handsome as ever. His copper eyes seem to glow with anticipation. My stomach fills with so many butterflies; I swear I am lifted off my feet and float to him. I have heard Happy Birthday one thousand times today, but the one of most importance is Einarr’s wish.

  “Lady Thyra.” He grabs the same hand Alexie kissed, and places his lips over the same spot to cover the other man’s invisible mark. The caveman—no—the Viking. “I am such a blessed man to have such a woman as yourself in front of me, in my life, for me. The goddesses have been good to me. I do not know what I’ve done to deserve such a treasure,” he says, standing up straight, but never letting go of my hand. “You look finer and more beautiful than a million stars.”

  My cheeks blush. “You don’t have to seduce me with words, Warlord. I’m already yours.”

  “I’ll always try to seduce you, my Lady,” he emphasizes, giving a narrowed-eyed stare at Alexie.

  I place my hand on his chest, flattening it until my palm is against his pounding heart. “He is no threat to you or us. My heart is yours, remember?”

  “I can never forget.”

  The harp plays another song, but instead of me moving on, repeating the cycle all over again, Einarr wraps his hand around my waist. “These men obviously have no idea how to make a woman fall in love with them.”

  “And you do?” My voice is laced with humor.