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Summer Of The Viking
Michelle Styles


‘We have the summer, Alwynn. It will have to be enough.’Washed up alone on the Northumbrian shore, Valdar Nerison is a stranger in a foreign land. He has unfinished business in Raumerike, but first he owes his rescuer, the beautiful Lady Alwynn, a life debt.Alwynn is wary of Valdar’s promise to protect her – after all, she has known only betrayal at the hands of men. And as summer’s end approaches Valdar must choose whether to return home and fight for his honour or to stay and fight for Alwynn’s heart…







‘I would defend you to my dying breath,’ he said.

‘Our people are enemies, Valdar. Enemies,’ she replied.

‘Are we enemies, Alwynn?’

‘We are certainly not friends.’

‘We were lovers.’

‘That is in the past.’

He went over to her, magnificent in his nakedness.

‘It will never be over between us as long as I have breath in my body.’


AUTHOR NOTE (#ulink_f6dd0f38-4bf5-5aa2-ba8e-afb2eddefec3)

Having looked at the Lindisfarne raid from a Viking perspective, I became interested in looking at what it might have been like from a Northumbrian one. In particular I wanted to tell the story of how a woman might react if she accidentally fell in love with a Viking.

While I was mulling over the possibilities my fellow historical author and friend Annie Burrows asked, ‘So, when are you going to tell Valdar’s story?’ Valdar was the man left at the altar when Kara’s husband, Ash Hringson, appeared after a seven-year absence in Return of the Viking Warrior. And I knew I had found my hero.

As I did my research I was intrigued to learn about St Cuthbert’s storm, which happened in 794. When raiders appeared for a second time, apparently they were suddenly swamped by a terrific storm. The King of Northumbria managed to kill the leader and the rest either drowned or were killed. After that the raids in Northumbria decreased significantly for a time, but remained a concern.

I do hope you enjoy reading Valdar’s and Alwynn’s story as much I did writing it.

I love getting comments from readers and can be reached at michelle@michellestyles.co.uk (mailto:michelle@michellestyles.co.uk), through my publisher, on Facebook or on Twitter @MichelleLStyles


Summer of the Viking

Michelle Styles




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Born and raised near San Francisco, California, MICHELLE STYLES currently lives near Hadrian’s Wall with her husband, a menagerie of pets and occasionally one of her three university-aged children. An avid reader, she became hooked on historical romance after discovering Georgette Heyer, Anya Seton and Victoria Holt.

Her website is michellestyles.co.uk (http://michellestyles.co.uk) and she’s on Twitter and Facebook.


For Linda Fildew,

because she always likes a good Viking story


Contents

Cover (#ua8b9be9c-f36e-5b8f-ada9-5fd4a9ecd4fc)

Excerpt (#uc2dcaf8b-5359-514a-ac8e-37cf2287a7e1)

AUTHOR NOTE (#udd03039a-d92e-5d8f-a514-578c5e471e25)

Title Page (#uad7de00b-08ae-5b92-897d-dbb31ad43b66)

About the Author (#u7e642baf-c52c-5748-88e7-995c71da0b76)

Dedication (#ucf363cf9-5028-572e-9684-68f9e0c3ccf0)

Chapter One (#u0ab848b4-1b24-54ea-8d9a-7800c12974db)

Chapter Two (#ufe8c0873-8608-5aa1-ac2f-6ac6f137257b)

Chapter Three (#uc01ce337-dae9-524b-9ed1-449011bd142c)

Chapter Four (#ue0c671a8-9bbb-5873-bad2-3ef15add96ea)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_975f9c92-943f-5d14-9d62-15aa16b6062e)

June 795—off the coast of Northumbria

The possibility of returning alive to Raumerike and Sand hung by the slenderest of threads. After weighing the odds, Valdar Nerison figured he was never going to see his nephews again, never going to sit under the rafters of his hall and never going to breathe the sweet air of home again. He knew that in his heart. He’d known it ever since the mutineers had struck five nights ago, killing his friends, including the leader of the felag.

Girmir, the leader of the mutiny, would strike before the ship reached Raumerike’s shore, most likely when the familiar outlines of the houses came into view. But right now they needed Valdar alive to navigate with the sunstone. Girmir’s mistake was that he assumed Valdar believed his bland reassurance about how valuable he was.

The only question in Valdar’s mind was the timing of the escape. When should he make his move? They watched him like ravens and had taken all his weapons.

Valdar bent double over his oar as the rain and the waves lashed him, trying to reason out the best moment. Rejecting first one plan then another as unworkable. With each passing day, it became clear that the men believed Girmir when he proclaimed that they would acquire gold and slaves beyond their wildest imaginings if they followed him.

As the gale intensified, Girmir started muttering about making a sacrifice to the storm god, Ran. A human sacrifice. ‘Better one should die than the entire boat,’ he announced. It chilled Valdar’s blood.

Valdar glanced to his left as a flash of lightning lit up the sky. In the distance he spied the shadowy shape of land. For the first time since the mutiny, a glimmer of hope filled him. One long-ago summer, he and his brother had learnt to swim. Even after all this time, he reckoned that he just about remembered the strokes. One chance to get it right.

‘The storm increases. Ran and Thor are both in a terrible temper,’ he shouted as another blast from Thor’s anvil reverberated through the sky. ‘If you are serious about a sacrifice, do it before the entire boat is swamped.’

‘Do you wish to challenge for the leadership?’ Girmir came forward and put a knife against Valdar’s neck. ‘You know what happened to Horik the Younger when we fought. And to Sirgurd.’

‘Your boat now, Girmir, but I’m entitled to an opinion.’ Valdar ceased rowing and stared at the usurper, who had attacked at night, killing Horik before he could reach for his sword. Then forced Sirgurd to fight when he was clearly ravaged by fever. ‘The storm may be difficult to ride. We should put to shore.’

‘The only way which will quiet the gods in this weather is a life. I’ve seen it before.’ Girmir nodded towards where the youngest member cowered beside his oar. ‘A noble thing to give one’s life for one’s friends. Someone should volunteer.’

The boat became silent as all the men paused in their rowing.

‘Me?’ Valdar enquired as the wind howled about them.

Girmir adopted a pitying expression. ‘We have need of you and your navigational skill, Valdar Lack-Sword. I gave my word. You will see Raumerike again.’

‘If it is such a noble thing, then we should draw lots,’ Valdar said, ignoring the jibe and laying the trap. Girmir would murder him as soon as the cliffs of Raumerike were spotted. Earlier if it suited him. Once an oath-breaker, always one. ‘Let the gods decide...unless you fear their judgement.’

Even Girmir’s loyal followers muttered their agreement. Girmir’s beady eyes darted right and then left, seeking friends and finding none.

‘Which will it be?’ Valdar pressed, as another lightning bolt ripped through the sky, highlighting the men’s drenched and pinched faces. ‘Which is Ran most likely to be satisfied with—your choice or his?’

The other man blanched slightly, belatedly realising he had tumbled into a trap. ‘I will abide by the gods’ decision.’

‘You will not mind if I hold the counters,’ one of the men said.

Girmir bowed his head. ‘Go ahead and Valdar Lack-Sword can prepare them. I wouldn’t want to be accused of cheating the gods.’

Valdar retrieved a set of tafl counters from his trunk, placed them in a sealed pouch, carefully showing everyone the one black stone, and gave the pouch to the man who’d asked for it.

After days of inaction and humiliation, it felt good to be doing something. One way or another, he would regain his self-respect before he died. For too long he’d lived with this hungry animal gnawing at his belly, telling him that he should have heeded Horik’s request and sat up with him that night.

He should have woken before Horik the Younger was murdered, before his own sword was taken from him. He should have gone against his years of training, followed his instinct and become involved before things spiralled out of control.

If this boat went down, other than the boy, there was not a man he’d try to save. They had Horik’s blood on their hands. They had all stabbed Horik’s body under Girmir’s orders to prove their undying loyalty. When Valdar had made only a token stab at the lifeless body, he had seen Girmir’s face contort and had known that his fate was sealed.

‘Go first, Girmir, you are the leader!’

Sweat beaded on the man’s forehead. ‘Ha! A white counter!’

One by one each of the felag took their counter. The youngest blanched as he saw he’d drawn a counter darker than the others. Valdar put his hand over the boy’s. ‘Open your hand and turn the stone over. You only think it is black.’

The boy did as Valdar bade. ‘The stone gleams white on this side. But I thought...’

‘Funny how that works.’

Valdar regarded the cliffs on the horizon as he weighed the pouch in his hand. He could do it. He knew how to swim. His body tensed with nervous anticipation. Better to die fighting than to be slaughtered like a sheep. Cheating the gods to palm the black stone from the boy? Maybe, but they had deserted him five nights ago.

‘The gods want my hide today.’ He held the jet-black stone aloft.

He waited as the other warriors glanced between each other and muttered. But the relieved look on the boy’s face was worth it.

Girmir shrugged. ‘The gods have decided. Your arms will be bound, Nerison, but Ran prefers his victim alive so I shall not slit your throat. I’ll let him do it.’

Valdar closed his eyes. He should have expected Girmir’s sadistic twist of binding his arms. His legs would have to be strong enough if he couldn’t free his wrists. He would be able to make it to the shore. ‘As you wish. But know one day there will be a reckoning. The gods will punish those who break their oaths.’

Girmir clasped his forearm after he gave Valdar his share of the takings thus far. ‘Your sacrifice will appease the gods. You may have your sword returned. You behaved with honour. May you die with honour.’

After buckling his sword to his waist, Valdar tossed the sunstone to the young boy. ‘Have charge of the navigation now. Use it well. Like I showed you.’

Girmir’s eyes bulged. ‘He can navigate?’

‘You wouldn’t want to lose another navigator, Girmir. How else would you make it back home?’

The boy’s ears coloured pink. ‘I’ve always admired you, Valdar. I know what you did for me.’

‘Then tie my ropes.’ Valdar grasped the boy’s hand. ‘Will you do that for me?’

The boy’s eyes grew wide. ‘Aye, I will.’

‘Good lad.’

‘When you return home, the sunstone will be waiting for you. Just ask for Eirik, son of Thoren, and they will find my cottage. My mother moves about a great deal,’ the boy whispered. ‘The Norns are not finished with you. I know this in my heart.’

‘I’m to be sacrificed.’ Valdar moved his wrists, creating a gap. ‘How can they not be ready to snip my thread of life?’

‘My mother always says this.’ The boy tied the ropes with a bit of slack. ‘You have to believe that the Norns decide when your thread is snipped, not you.’

‘Get on with it!’ Girmir shouted above the rumble of thunder. ‘Thor’s anger increases.’

Valdar nodded and balanced on the snarling bear post on the prow of the ship. The wind whipped fiercely about him. He tried to think of all that he had done and had left undone, but all he could think about was the low white cliffs he spied on the horizon. There was a slim possibility that he could make it. That the gods wanted him to live. That with his sword arm and the gold in his pouch, he could get justice for the dead.

He listened to the ritual words, then jumped. The water hit him, stinging with its bone-chilling cold. He went down and down with blackness swirling about until his lungs wanted to burst. Then he began to kick his legs. Up and up until his head breached the waves. He wriggled his arms until the knot gave way and they were freed.

The ship had already disappeared from view and all about him was dark grey. Valdar spun around until he spied what appeared to be a white sandy beach and started towards it. With each kick of his legs, more about the technique of swimming came back to him.

Some day there would be a reckoning. And Girmir would pay dearly, he silently promised. It was as good a reason to live as any.

* * *

Alwynn shielded her eyes against the bright sun which now sparkled on the calm blue sea and surveyed the coastline. Last night’s storm had brought in more than its fair share of seaweed, wood and sea coal. But there was little sign of bodies or wrecked ships as there had been at this time last year after St Cuthbert’s storm had saved them all from invasion.

This time, there was plenty to be had for the scavenging instead of bodies being strewn everywhere.

She gave a small shake of her head. She hated to think what her mother would have said about her daughter, a woman with royal Idling blood in her veins, actually scavenging bits of flotsam and jetsam up from a beach. In her mother’s world, high-born women stitched fine tapestries for the home or church and ran well-ordered estates. They most definitely did not dirty their hands with sea coal.

Her mother had never had to survive after her husband died suddenly, leaving a mass of unpaid debts. But Alwynn had—selling off all that she could while still managing to retain the hall and some of the estate.

‘I do what I have to do! How can I ask others if I refuse to do it myself?’ Alwynn bent down, defiantly picked up a lump of sea coal and held it aloft before placing it in a basket.

If the harvest proved profitable and everyone paid their rents on time, her trouble would be behind her and she could leave the sea coal to others. In due course Merri might even be able to have a decent dowry and the chance of finding a worthy husband. For herself, she simply wanted to be left in peace to cultivate her garden. She wanted the freedom to choose whom she would marry or even whether she would marry. Or if she should enter a convent or not. But for now, she needed every lump.

‘You see, I was right!’ Merewynn ran up and plopped a double handful of sea coal into the basket. Her blonde curls escaped from the couvre-chef that Alwynn had insisted her stepdaughter wear. Merewynn would be ten in the autumn. It was time she started to act like a young woman, instead of a wild thing who roamed the moors. ‘Lots of pickings after a summer storm. We might even find treasure and then you wouldn’t have to worry so much about the render you owe the king. It is a wonder we never came down here before. Such fun!’

‘Mind you keep close, Merri. And no animals rescued. Our new hall is overcrowded as it is.’

Merewynn pulled a face. ‘If we look, I’m sure we can find a little space. A mouse wouldn’t take up much room. Or maybe a raven. I’ve always wanted a pet raven. And there is no Father Freodwald to complain about the mess now.’

Alwynn schooled her features. Their current priest had complained a great deal and it had been a relief when he departed for another longhouse. Someone else would have to provide the large amounts of ale, sweetmeats and blazing fires to warm his bones that the priest demanded as his due. It had been a shock because the old priest had been entirely different. ‘The bishop holds him in high esteem.’

‘But he dislikes ravens. St Oswald’s bird. Can you believe it? He said they nip fingers and make a mess everywhere.’

‘Just so we are clear.’ Alwynn put her hand on her hip and gave Merri a hard stare. ‘We are here to find things to put to practical use, not more animals for your menagerie. I’ll not have more land taken from us. You need to have a decent dowry when the time comes. On my wedding day, I promised to look after you as if you were my own.’

Merri gave a deep sigh. ‘I liked it better when you didn’t have to be practical, Stepmother. Sometimes it takes a little while before you realise you need something and then...’ She snapped her fingers. ‘A raven could be trained to send messages. If the Northmen attempt to attack, we could release it and it’d fly straight away to King Athelfred and he could pray to St Cuthbert to send another storm and...’

‘You are asking a lot of this unknown raven.’

‘Ravens are like that and I want to be prepared in case the Northmen come to murder us in our beds.’ Merri gave a mock shiver.

‘After last year’s storm, it will be a while before they try to attack again. They lost a number of ships and their leader. Remember what the king said.’

‘Or maybe we could find a falcon with a hurt wing,’ Merri continued on. ‘It could belong to an atheling who would fall instantly in love with you and we will all live happily ever after. You could even become queen.’

‘You listen to far too many tales, Merri. The king is my distant cousin. I wish him a long life.’

‘The atheling could come from another kingdom. One without a good king.’

‘Merri!’

‘Well...’ The girl gave an impudent smile. ‘It could happen.’

Alwynn glanced down at her woollen dress. With three patches and a stained lower skirt, it had definitely seen better days. And she wasn’t going to think about Edwin’s disreputable offer to become his mistress after the king confirmed him as the new overlord in this area. He was from the same sort of mould as her late husband—more interested in his advancement than the welfare of others. She shuddered to think that as a girl she’d begged her father to allow her to marry Theodbald. He’d seemed so kind and handsome with his little daughter cradled in his arms.

‘What do I have to offer anyone, let alone a king-in-waiting?’

‘You have dark hair and eyes like spring grass. And you are intelligent. You know lots about herbs and healing and your voice sounds like an angel when you sing. Why don’t you sing now, Stepmother?’

‘A prince needs more than a pretty face for a wife. Athelings need wives who can play politics and bring them the throne. I’d rather be in my garden than at court.’ Alwynn pointedly ignored the question about singing. Ever since she had discovered her late husband Theodbald’s treachery, she’d taken no pleasure in music. Her voice tightened every time she tried. Of all the things she’d lost, that one hurt the most.

Merri balled her fists. ‘Sometimes you have to believe in better days. You told me that. After my father died and all went wrong. And I do believe. One day, everything will come right for the both of us.’

Alwynn forced her lips to turn up. Perhaps Merri was right. Perhaps she had been far too serious for the past few months, but it was hard to be joyful when you had lost nearly everything. It had begun with Theodbald’s death from a hunting accident. He’d been drunk and had ended up being gored by a wild boar. There had been nothing she or any monk could do to save him. It was then that the true extent of the debts were revealed and she’d had to take charge. ‘Your father’s death...altered things.’

The girl gave a solemn nod, her golden curls bobbing in the sunshine. ‘I know. But there are times that I wish we still lived in the great hall with a stable full of horses.’

‘There is nothing wrong with our new hall. It is where my grandmother grew up and it does have things to recommend it. A large herb garden.’

Merri wrinkled her nose. ‘If you like plants...’

‘We have no need of princes. I will be able to hold this hall.’

‘I know my real mother watches over us from heaven, but my father?’ Merri asked in a low voice. ‘Where does he watch us from?’

Alwynn stared out at where the early-morning sun played on the sea-weathered rocks. Tiny waves licked at the shore, nothing like the gigantic ones which must have hit the beach last night. ‘He watches from somewhere else. We need to pick an entire basket of the sea coal before the sun rises much further. There is a list as long as my arm of things which need to be done today. Gode has gone to see her niece and the farmhands are out helping to shear the sheep. Plus, there is the new wheel at the gristmill that needs to be seen to.’

Alwynn didn’t add that she had no idea how to repair the gristmill properly or do a thousand other practical things. And there was no gold for a steward, even if she could find one she could trust. But they would survive. Somehow.

Merri nodded. ‘It is easier now that Gode has her own cottage. She always tries to stop me from doing the truly interesting things just because she used to be your nurse and you listen to her.’

‘And we will find something to add to your collection—maybe a shell or a feather. But no raven or falcon. We have too many mouths to feed.’

Merri tugged at her sleeve. ‘What is that over there, Stepmother? Is it a man?’

Alwynn stifled a scream. A man’s body lay on the high-tide mark. A length of rope dangled from one arm and his hair gleamed gold in the morning sunlight. But it was his physique—broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist—which held her attention.

For a heartbeat, she wondered what he’d been like in life. He was the sort of man to make a heart stand still.

She shook her head. Really, she was becoming worse than Merri. After Theodbald, she should know a handsome face was no guarantor of a good heart. She had to be practical and hard-hearted, instead of the dreamy soul she used to be. There could be gold or silver, something useful on his person. Anyone else would have no hesitation in searching for it. The poor soul would have no use for it if he was dead.

‘The body will have come in on the storm.’

Merri gulped. ‘Is he...?’

‘Could anyone have survived that storm? In the sea? You know about the rocks.’

‘What shall we do? Get Lord Edwin? You know what he said—no one should remain alive if they wash up on the shore.’

Alwynn tightened her grip on the basket. The last person she wanted to encounter was Edwin and his sneer. He’d claim any treasure on the body as his own.

She’d vowed to starve before she gave in to that man. And while they were not starving, raising the required gold had taken just about everything she possessed.

‘Not yet. There will be time enough for that later. He’d only ask questions...questions about...about the basket of sea coal.’

Merri nodded. ‘Good. I don’t like him.’

‘Few do.’

Alwynn swallowed hard. She hated that she’d come to this—robbing the dead. She took a deep breath and clenched her fists. She could do it. She repeated the promise she had made when she discovered the extent of Theodbald’s treachery—she would survive and Merri would marry well. One man’s debauchery would not ruin any more lives.

‘You remain here, Merri,’ she said, tucking an errant strand of black hair behind her ear. Silently she willed her stomach to stop heaving. She had tended the dead before. ‘Then you can truthfully say you had nothing to do with the body.’

‘Day by day you become more like Gode.’

‘Trust me. You want to keep away.’ Alwynn knelt down so her eyes were level with Merri’s. ‘If anyone says anything, you are blameless.’

‘I’m involved.’ Merri twisted away and kicked a stone, sending it clattering along the beach. ‘I know what my father did. If anything, I should be protecting you. He is the one who cheated you and left you with a mountain of debts. Everyone says it when your back is turned.’

Alwynn put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. Silently she prayed Merri remained in ignorance of most of it—the bullying, the whoring and the gambling which had racked up the debts. ‘The past, Merewynn. I’m concentrating on the present.’

‘If the warrior is alive, will you save him? Or will you hit him on the head like Lord Edwin commanded everyone to do?’

‘He will be dead,’ Alwynn stated flatly.

‘Lord Edwin is wrong. Surely you should know if a man is guilty before you kill him. Otherwise you become a murderer. You become like the Northmen.’

Alwynn put her hand on Merri’s shoulder. Her sentiments exactly. ‘That’s right. If he is alive, we nurse him back to health.’

‘Promise?’

‘I promise, sweetling.’ Alwynn knelt beside Merri and gathered her hands within hers. ‘But don’t get your hopes up.’

‘If he is dead, can I have his sword? I can see it gleaming in the sunlight next to him. I could start learning how to use it. I’ve no desire to be a nun!’

‘Merri!’

With her cheeky smile, the girl appeared unrepentant. Alwynn sighed. Merri knew precisely how to wrap her around her little finger, always had...from the very first time they met. She had been the one bright light in her marriage and she could not have loved her more if she’d been her own.

‘If you want me to stay away from the body, you have to promise me something.’ Merri tapped her fingers against her mouth. ‘I’m not good without a cause.’

‘Be good for me and we will have a decent meal tonight.’

Merri’s eyes lit up. ‘Something other than yesterday’s pottage?’

‘I promise. I will make some of the singing cakes you love so much.’

Merri screwed up her face. ‘But I want the sword as well. You sold all my father’s swords. How can we hope to hold the estate without a sword? People want a strong lord or otherwise they might not pay what they owe us.’

‘Which people are you talking about?’

‘You know...I hear rumours.’

‘You shouldn’t listen to servants’ gossip.’

Alwynn hugged her arms about her waist and turned her mind away from the problems which had plagued her for the past few months. They could wait until she’d investigated the body.

No man could have survive that storm. And she hated the thought of robbing the dead but she was certain she could see the dull gleam of gold on one of his fingers. Anyone else would have no hesitation. And once she had searched the body, she’d arrange for a decent burial. It was more than most would do. But it didn’t make her any easier. A distinct feeling of being unclean crept over her.

‘If he has a sword, we sell it. Swords are not for young ladies from a good family. Ladies become peace-weavers and woo with gentleness.’

Merri squatted down, resting her chin on her knees. ‘Then you’d best hope he is alive as I’m never going to be a peace-weaver. I’m going to learn how to fight and regain the fortune my father lost.’

Rather than answering, Alwynn made her way to the body. Up close, he was even more magnificent. The seawater had moulded his tunic to his torso and she could see the muscles of his back. A man to take your breath away. Or break your heart.

‘Right, I’m going to turn you over.’

She reached down and touched his sun-warmed shoulder.

His hand shot out and grabbed her ankle. Alwynn stifled a scream as she broke free and retreated a step.

The man was no corpse. He was alive!

Everything altered. She might be willing to rob a dead man, but not someone who lived and breathed. And she knew she could not do as Lord Edwin commanded. She was a healer at heart, not a murderer.

‘Easy now, I mean you no harm.’ She placed a firm hand on his shoulder. The muscles rippled under her palm, but they eased.

He gave a slight groan as she pushed him until he lay on his back.

‘Do you understand? I want to help you.’

She looked directly into his face. The face of a rugged warrior, one which had been tempered by time, but remained attractive. She hated to think what he’d been through out on the rough sea last night. His face sported several bruises and his arms were scraped raw where he had been dashed against the rocks. There were no obvious signs of internal injuries, but his blue-tinged lips revealed that he must be close to death.

His startling brown eyes held a mute appeal. Her heart twisted. She wanted to save him and not just because she’d promised Merri. She could spend days staring into those eyes. She shook her head to clear it. It made little sense. This man was a complete stranger.

‘I want to help,’ she said softly. ‘I want to get you somewhere where you’ll be safe. If you stay here, you will die and I think you want to live.’


Chapter Two (#ulink_1c5ffb15-78b4-5877-8714-7f0e5f99e1c2)

Alwynn sat back on her heels. A light breeze blew across her face and the clouds skittered across the blue sky. The warrior was alive and in need of urgent help, but not here. Not on this beach, not ever.

She and Merri were alone on the stretch of sand, but other beachcombers would arrive soon. And they would follow Edwin’s orders, rather than help her save the life of an unknown warrior. She knew that instinctively.

A cold shiver went down Alwynn’s spine. They would be here at any moment. And once he was discovered, someone would act...unless she acted first.

‘Merri, I need your help. You must be very brave, sweetling, and obey me without question.’

Merri reached her side in a heartbeat. ‘He is alive? Is he a prince?’

‘Barely.’ Alwynn automatically straightened Merri’s couvre-chef. ‘And I think he is a warrior of some sort, probably foreign. But well-to-do. The sword is silver encrusted and he wears arm rings.’

Merri’s eyes grew wide. ‘A Northman? You aren’t going to tell me to leave so you can run him through with his sword, are you? You promised to save his life. You can’t be like all the other adults.’

Alwynn slowly shook her head. Perhaps she should be, but something deep within her revolted at the thought of killing an innocent man. ‘There isn’t any sign of a boat. Or other people. Northmen travel in packs. We learnt that from Lindisfarne and the raid last year.’

‘Or any other corpses!’ There was no mistaking the ghoulish delight in Merri’s voice. ‘If it was a boat, there would be more bodies on the beach. They said dozens were washed up last year and those who had not drowned had their heads cut off.’

‘Merri! Who have you been talking to? Neither of us were on the beach then! I sent the steward!’

‘Oswald, Oswy the Gristmiller’s son. He knows these things.’ Merri tapped a finger against her lips. ‘Why did this warrior fall off his ship?’

Alwynn swallowed hard and tried to control the knot in her stomach. Her parents would have told her to tell the authorities. Lord Edwin was the new authority in this part of Northumbria and she knew what his answer would be. But when had following the rules ever brought her any happiness? The last thing she wanted was this man’s death on her conscience.

‘Since when do Northmen travel alone? Or fall from ships?’ Alwynn dusted her hands on her apron. She knew all about Northmen and their ways. One of her cousins had survived the Lindisfarne raid. She had heard all about how the Northmen attacked without warning or provocation. And the butchery. How they had no pity for anyone else, let alone God’s servants. If this man was a Northman, innocent or not, she’d have no hesitation, but...

‘No, he’ll be from somewhere else. Until we know for certain, we give him the benefit of the doubt.’

Merri nodded, accepting her word. ‘I’m not frightened of him. He has a kind chin.’

‘Kindness comes from deeds not looks.’ The instant the words left her throat, Alwynn heard her mother’s voice. She’d always vowed she’d be different and here she was spouting meaningless phrases. Her mother had been a master of that—say something witty and seemingly profound while expecting everyone else to do the hard work.

Merri’s face adopted her stubborn look. ‘I still think he is one of the most beautiful warriors I have ever seen.’

Alwynn gave Merri a no-nonsense look. ‘Right now, we save his life. And we keep quiet about it. We take him to Gode’s cottage. With any luck, he’ll be gone before she returns.’

‘Who do you think he is? Could he be a prince?’

‘I’ve no idea, but he is a person of consequence. A simple seafarer would not be wearing gold rings.’

‘If you save his life, he’ll reward you and then we won’t have to worry any more about the debts my father built up. He’ll fall instantly in love with you, too.’

‘I’ve little time for your stories today, Merri.’ Alwynn glanced over her shoulder. The sun had risen higher in the sky, warming her back and neck. Soon the beach would be flooded with treasure seekers and other scavengers. ‘The sooner we’re off this beach, the better.’

‘What about our basket of sea coal? We can’t carry both.’

‘People are more important than things. Always.’

Alwynn put one arm about the warrior’s shoulders and pulled him to standing. His body buckled and a deal of seawater spewed out.

‘Better out than in,’ she muttered as her knees threatened to give way from the sheer weight of him. ‘Get on the other side. Help me to balance. Dropping him would not do either of us any good.’

Merri ran quickly to the other side and wrapped an arm about his waist. ‘I’m stronger than I look.’

Giving a nod, Alwynn started forward. The man’s feet dragged a bit, but the movement seemed to rouse him. His deep brown gaze held her again.

‘Walk,’ she commanded. ‘Walk or die.’

* * *

Valdar jolted from the comfort of swirling blackness into piercing light. The sunlight on the yellow sand hurt his eyes, nearly blinding him.

The woman’s insistent tone had called him from the cocoon of darkness which had held him in its embrace since he had heaved his body on to the sand.

He knew a few things.

First, he was alive and intended to stay that way. The lad’s mother had been right about the Norns deciding when men died.

Second, his lungs were on fire and his belly was heaving from the amount of salt water he’d drunk in that desperate swim. As it was, a few more feet of water and he’d never have made it out of the surf alive. But he knew the perils of half-drowning. His elder brother had died of it. Dragged from the harbour after his boat overturned, seemingly fine, only to collapse a few hours later. He needed fresh water to replace the seawater which he’d inhaled.

Third, and potentially most troubling, he knew that he was in Northumbria. The accent was incredibly distinctive. He’d heard it several times in various markets over the years. And Northumbria was the last place he wanted to be. The Northumbrian king had declared that all Northmen were to be killed. No Northumbrian was supposed to trade with a Northman.

The Lindisfarne raid might have garnered gold for the detested Viken, but it had made trading more difficult for everyone else.

In fact, it had been partly responsible for the mutiny. Frozen out of their usual markets, Girmir had demanded they raid Northumbria and get gold like the Viken. Horik had objected as he had no quarrel with the Northumbrians and he’d heard of what had happened to another Viken raiding party last year—butchered.

Horik had wanted to find new markets to the south, something Valdar agreed with, but Girmir feared travelling off the end of the earth.

He needed to be north of here. His friend and fellow countryman Ash Hringson had planned to attend the market in Orkney this autumn with his young son. He would be able to get passage home from there. Then he could expose Girmir as an oath-breaker.

But before that, he had to recover and recuperate away from danger. The Picts, or possibly the Gaels, might be more amenable than the Northumbrians...if he could make it there.

He glanced at the older of the women who now held him upright. She was not in the first blush of youth but there was something about the way her green eyes flashed and her chin was set which took his breath away. She was the personification of a Valkyrie.

The floral scent of her hair filled his nostrils, replacing the fishy tang of the shore. He knew that her shaking him earlier had wakened him from the shadowlands. But beauty could turn treacherous and he had no reason to think she’d protect him, particularly once she knew his true identity. No, she was off limits. He’d learnt his lesson about women along ago and Kara had proved herself no different.

He had loved her too much and she had used him. He was never going to be used again. And he was never going to be the one to love more than the woman again.

‘Water?’ he asked, but the word came out as a guttural groan. He tried again. ‘Water. I need water. Please.’

His stomach heaved again and he knew that the sands of time were slipping away from him. The memory of his brother’s drowned face haunted him.

‘You understand? Water?’

The woman cocked her head to one side, resembling an inquisitive bird. Her brow knitted. He tried to mimic drinking.

She gave a slow nod. ‘When we get somewhere safe, I’ll get you something to drink. But now we walk.’

He tried to form the words to explain and the effort caused the skin about his mouth to crack. The dried salt caused it to sting as if it had been attacked by a thousand needles.

Valdar’s body ached as if a thousand frost giants had stomped on it. His mouth tasted of the sea. He tentatively risked a breath. Another splutter of air mixed with seawater. Valdar attempted to ignore it, but his chest continued to heave.

‘I need water now or I die.’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t understand what you are saying.’

‘Water or death,’ he yelled. ‘Your choice.’

She cringed. ‘There is no need to shout.’

He put up his hands in a gesture of supplication. ‘My throat. Too much seawater. Fresh water or I die.’

She nodded and said something to the young girl, who quickly went and fetched a large jug of water from beside a basket. The woman held it out. ‘Here you go. Drink. Then walk.’

‘Thank you.’

Valdar downed it, revelling in the sweet taste. Not water, but cooled mint tea. ‘More.’

She shook her head. ‘You’ll be sick. Soon.’

He swallowed. Some of the sea taste had gone, but he still felt parched. ‘Need more. You will get me more.’

‘Soon, first you walk.’

He shrugged off her arm. ‘I will try.’

She gave him a questioning look, but he stood straighter. She moved away from him. Cool air rushed in where her warm body had been. ‘Merri, let him stand.’

He attempted to move forward, but his knees threatened to buckle. He was weaker than a newborn colt. He took a step and the world swayed and the enveloping darkness beckoned once again. ‘Please.’

She came and put her arm about his waist. Her dark head barely reached his shoulder. And she had green eyes shot with silver. ‘Next time, maybe you listen.’

He shrugged her off, put his hands on his knees and tried to draw in deep breaths. Each time he tried, he found himself gasping for air. ‘Leave me. Let me breathe. Bring water.’

‘Time is running out. We need to get off this beach.’ She used her fingers to mimic walking.

Valdar shook his head. Her accent was pleasant and he found if he concentrated, he could understand her well enough. However, the effort made his head spin. ‘Where there is more to drink.’

‘You do speak my language.’

‘I have travelled far. Across many seas.’ He grabbed his throat. ‘After the drink, my mind clears. I can speak best...better.’

Her brow furrowed. ‘And you are from...?’

‘A place so tiny and far from here you will not have heard of it. Trust me.’

He waited to see if she’d accept his word. If he said from a North country, she might get the wrong idea. Northumbrians didn’t distinguish between the North countries. He hated that he was dependant on her. But the gods had spared him for a purpose.

‘Where?’

‘Sand, Raumerike.’

‘You are right.’ A smile hovered on her mouth. ‘I’ve no idea where that is.’

‘How far do you need me to walk?’

Her neat teeth worried her bottom lip, turning it deep red. ‘Off the beach and into the long grass. We can shelter there until all danger is passed.’

The long grass was a lifetime away. ‘What are you afraid of? What is on this beach?’

She glanced over her shoulder, watching shadows. ‘I have my reasons. Trust me.’

Their gazes locked. What choice did he have but to trust her? He hated relying on anyone.

‘After that water and shelter,’ he said. Instantly her brow darkened so he added, ‘Not for long. I...I wish to go home in peace. Peace, you understand?’

She tapped her fingers together.

‘Please.’

Her brow cleared. ‘I know of a vacant cottage where you can rest...before you continue your journey.’

Relief washed over him. His luck had changed. The gods had spared him for a reason. ‘You won’t regret it.’

‘I had better not.’

The sun had dried his sea-soaked tunic to complete stiffness. It rubbed salt into his raw back with every move he made, but that was nothing to the way his legs ached. About the best he could say was that they remained attached to his body. He did not know how long he had swum for and how far the tide had carried him. Then there were the rocks where the waves had dashed him. He could hear them pounding, pounding, pounding and knew he had barely got out alive.

A great shaking racked his body.

He put out an arm, trying to balance, trying to keep the life-giving liquid down.

‘Help me...please.’

She sighed and grabbed him about the waist. The simple touch did much to steady him. ‘People are coming to scavenge for sea coal. Neither of us wants to meet them.’

‘Slow, yes.’ Even though some of the words were unfamiliar, he understood the urgency in her voice.

He nodded and started to shuffle forward, forcing his feet to lift and his body to stay upright. The third step sent him tumbling to his knees. A cry escaped his lips.

Silently he cursed for showing weakness to a woman.

The girl made a face and grabbed his arm, steadying him. ‘Stumbling will make things worse.’

‘Your daughter?’ he asked.

‘Stepdaughter. Merewynn. I’m Alwynn of Yoden.’ She paused and frowned with intense concentration. ‘A place so tiny that you will not have heard of it either.’

He stared at the grass-covered dunes. What sort of man sent a woman out on the beach, where he knew danger was? Where these scavengers lurked?

‘Your husband?’

‘Dead,’ she answered, keeping her gaze away from him.

Her answer explained everything and nothing. Widows must find it as difficult to keep property in Northumbria as they did in Raumerike. Someone had turned her out of the hall. And now they were forced to search for washed-up items on the beach. The Northumbrians bleated that the Northmen were barbarians for attacking Lindisfarne, but they were barbarians not to look after their women better.

‘But you must live somewhere,’ he persisted. Women this lovely were not without a protector for long.

‘Keep going. Don’t stop. We’re nearly to a spot where we can shelter. I mean to keep you alive.’

He stopped and looked down at her face. A faint sheen of sweat shone on her forehead. She appeared as if a strong wind might blow her over, but he could sense the steel underneath.

‘Why?’

‘Because I don’t kill creatures who wash up on these shores. I wait to see if they are innocent or not first.’

* * *

Alwynn concentrated on putting her feet down, rather than looking up at the dune. Every time she looked, it seemed they had barely gone a few steps, but her gown was now plastered to her back from the exertion. The warrior had closed his eyes and once again appeared insensible to their surroundings. With each step they took, he leant more on Merri and her. Typically male. She’d learnt the hard way.

‘He’s very heavy,’ Merri complained, stopping for the third time in as many steps. ‘Can’t we rest?’

‘He requires more liquid. Small beer might be best,’ she said instead. ‘He has had too much salt water. You saw how the fisherman’s youngest recovered once he had small beer last March. It will be easier to fetch some when we are at Gode’s.’

‘Where do you think he is from? I’d never heard of the place he said. Raume, was that what he said? Is it north or south of here?’

‘Does it truly matter? Right now he is alive.’

‘What if he were an exiled prince?’ The girl gave a little shiver. ‘Or a Northman? Do Northmen come from every country to the north or from just one country? What if they were not all like the monsters who attacked Lindisfarne?’

There were times when Merri’s questions made Alwynn’s head spin. What did she know about the politics? Or where countries were? Or how people behaved? All she knew was that Northmen were monsters who had no respect for anything or anyone.

‘He is a stranger, that’s all I know. His accent is unlike any I’ve heard before but he can speak our language. Goodness knows where Raumerike is. Somewhere.’ Alwynn adjusted her hold on the man’s waist. ‘Once we know who he is in truth, then we can decide what to do. But first we save his life.’

She gazed back at the beach where she’d found him. The morning sun sparkled on the waves. Nothing to show the power of last night’s storm beyond the debris which littered the high-tide mark.

She couldn’t abandon the man, but she wished she knew where Raumerike was. She’d have to wait until the priest in the next parish returned. He knew things like that. And the question would have to be asked carefully. The last thing she wanted was for Lord Edwin to start wondering why she wanted to know.

His accent was very strange and she had never seen the markings on his clothes before. True, the garments were fine, far finer than any around here, but the gold embroidery was different.

There were many countries besides Northumbria. She used to ask about going on pilgrimage and seeing other places, but Theodbald had always refused. He had visited the Franks before his first marriage and after that had seen no reason to go anywhere. So she’d remained by his side, managing the garden and being blissfully ignorant about his mismanagement of the estate.

There was something about the storm-tossed man’s gaze which reassured her that he had no intention of harming them. But whatever the risk, she had to take it. Leaving someone to die on this beach made every fibre in her body revolt, no matter what Lord Edwin had ordered.

Time to stop obeying people blindly and take charge of her life.

She’d made that vow on the day she discovered her late husband’s debts and she intended to keep it. This was the first test of her resolve. She no longer blindly followed the rules.

‘Here you were saying how strong you were,’ she said briskly. ‘You wanted to take over the feeding of Purebright. Are you saying you aren’t strong enough to manage the pony now?’

‘If I don’t complain, does that mean...?’ Merri’s eyes gleamed.

Alwynn shook her head slightly. Only Merri could think looking after that cantankerous pony was a privilege, rather than a chore. Merri was ready for added responsibility. She’d shown that over the past few turbulent months. ‘I was going to tell you when we arrived home after collecting the sea coal. But, yes, provided you help me now, you may look after Purebright.’

The man mumbled something incoherent, plucking at her sleeve. Alwynn cocked her head to one side, listening.

The sound of rough voices travelled on the wind.

‘Shall we move forward? One step at a time? We are nearly in the tussocks of grass. We can stop there and rest out of sight. Wait until everyone has gone.’

Merri squared her too-thin shoulders. ‘I believe I can make that. Purebright would want me to.’

They reached the cover of the grass-topped dunes just as several people arrived at the beach. They were armed with a variety of cudgels, sticks and a pitchfork as well as baskets for gathering sea coal.

Alwynn’s heart knocked against her chest. It pained her that this place had come to this. Before the Northmen attacked Lindisfarne, they had welcomed seafarers and looked after anyone who might be stranded. Not now. They had lost too much.

The men started laughing and joking about the dead and what treasure they might find on the beach. Silently Alwynn wished them to hell along with the Northmen who had caused this change. Her Northumbria was hospitable rather than murderous.

‘Alwynn?’ Merri whispered. ‘This feels wrong. We are going to get in trouble. Big trouble. Can we go?’

‘Keep down, Merri. Keep quiet.’ Alwynn forced Merri’s head down lower and put her hand over the girl’s mouth.

‘Should we get help?’ Merri whispered against the barrier. ‘Maybe I could get Oswy. He has a strong back from lifting grain sacks.’

Alwynn put her fingers to her lips and shook her head. Merri’s off-and-on friendship with the miller’s son was going to have to end soon. ‘We shall manage, you and I. In a little while. Right now, he must rest. Understand?’

Merri gave a slight nod and Alwynn removed her hand.

‘And once we start again?’ Merri asked in an urgent whisper. ‘Carrying him all the way to the hall will be impossible.’

‘As I said, we’re going to Gode’s. That isn’t far. Think about Purebright and how much he loves your grooming. That fat pony has a lot to answer for. I should have kept a carthorse.’

‘But...’ Merri’s forehead wrinkled. ‘Father always said...’

‘The area around here was very different when your father was in charge.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘We’re doing nothing wrong.’ Alwynn made a fist. ‘Finders of flotsam on the beach have the first say as to the disposal. Custom from a time beyond our minds. And he did wash up on the beach, our beach. You remember what your father used to say. The beach has always belonged to your family.’

Merri nodded, accepting her word.

‘And the mint tea?’ Merri’s brow knitted. ‘Does he need more? Can we get it without...?’

‘When we can...’ Alwynn gauged the distance from where they lay to the small stream. The lack of cover was too great to risk any movement. ‘It will not take them long to strip the beach of anything valuable. Once they have what they want, they will go. Your warrior will survive until then.’

Merri’s eyes widened. ‘My warrior?’

‘You were the one who saw him first.’

Alwynn refused to think about the warrior’s eyes and how they had held her. That connection to him she’d felt deep within her gut was nothing. She could not afford to be attracted to any man. And yet... She shook her head. Truly she was becoming worse than Merri for wool-gathering.

‘But...but...but...’

‘He can hardly be mine. Your father has not been dead that long. We shouldn’t have come in any case. Collecting sea coal was a poor idea.’

Merri curled her fingers about Alwynn’s. ‘I don’t blame you. I thought it exciting.’

She snuggled up next to Alwynn and lay very still.

Alwynn lay listening to the man’s steady breathing and the banter between the reeve’s men who seemed to stay at the other end of the beach. Apparently they’d found nothing of interest.

‘Almost gone,’ she muttered.

‘Oh, no,’ Merri cried and darted forward.

‘Merri, where are you going?’

Merri grabbed the basket with sea coal and returned, dropping to the ground. ‘I couldn’t allow them to take that! It belongs to us. We collected it. We need it for our fire.’

‘Next time leave it.’ Alwynn patted the sand next to her. ‘Over here and stay by my side until I tell you otherwise. Do you want everyone to know where we are?’

Merri hung her head. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think... We need the sea coal, though. No one saw me.’

‘Tempting fate is never a good idea. How many times, Merri?’

‘But I’m quick,’ Merri muttered. ‘Quicker than you.’

‘Hush now. Lord Edwin’s steward is headed towards us.’

Alwynn glanced at the warrior. Thankfully he appeared to understand the situation and had gone completely still. She moved closer to him to give Merri some space. Her breast hit his chest as Merri wriggled in.

The steward stooped down and picked something up from the beach. He looked directly at them. Alwynn sank further down in the hollow, half-covering the man with her cloak.

As the steward’s gaze intensified, she lowered her head and breathed in the warrior’s salty scent.

Footsteps seemed to come closer. The sound of heavy breathing hung in the air.

In another few steps, he’d be on them and she’d have to explain the unexplainable. If she was lucky, he’d take her to Lord Edwin. And if unlucky... A small shiver ran down her back. It didn’t bear thinking about.

Her heart thudded. She’d rescued a stranger for no good reason except that she refused to allow him to die. The woman who kept all the rules was truly gone.

Giving up was not an option. She tried to think about what she’d say when they were discovered and how she’d have to emulate her mother at her imperious best.

She lay there with the sun warming her back, until she thought the steward must surely see them. She prepared herself to stand and started to rise. The warrior’s hand tugged her down.

‘Stay!’ he commanded against her ear. ‘I will protect you with my sword arm, but he may yet pass us by.’

For someone who had just survived drowning, his grip was like iron. Alwynn had no choice but to lie still, beside him. With each breath she took, she found she was aware of him and the way his muscles were hard.

Just when she thought they were sure to be discovered, she heard a shout from one of the man’s companions and the man headed off in another direction at a quick trot.

‘They are going, Alwynn. They’re going.’ Merri squeezed her hand. ‘We will be fine. Our warrior is safe. Everything will be fine. You will see this warrior will bring good luck. He isn’t a Northman. He doesn’t have pointy teeth like Father Freodwald said they had.’

Alwynn shifted her position and wished she retained the easy assurance of a nine-year-old. Long ago, she’d learnt that most things were far from easily solved. ‘Of course, sweetling.’

* * *

Valdar lay utterly still as the woman Alwynn huddled next to him with her stepdaughter on the other side of her.

He concentrated on breathing and trying not to think about the woman and her problems. She’d rescued him, but for how long? How long did he have before she betrayed him?

For some reason the men on the beach frightened her. Normally such creatures wouldn’t worry his sword arm, but every muscle in his body ached and he knew he couldn’t protect her beyond a few token swipes with his sword. The storm had battered him against rocks before spewing him up on the shore.

He heard the men depart the beach, cursing their lack of spoils and joking about what they would do to any Northman they discovered.

His hand fell back to his side, releasing Alwynn. A thousand questions buzzed about his head. He hated not knowing why she’d rescued him. Why had she taken the chance? Asking was out of the question. He needed her help to escape so he could fulfil the gods’ plan for him and bring vengeance against Girmir and all who followed him.

‘More drink,’ he groaned through parched lips.

She instantly rolled off him. Her cheeks glowed pink, highlighting her eyes and the way a few tendrils of black hair escaped from her head covering.

‘You are awake.’

‘Can we move yet?’ He tried to stretch, ignoring the screaming pain in his shoulder. ‘Do you deem it safe?’

‘Lord Edwin’s men have left the beach.’ She absently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Now is an excellent time to move.’

‘You know who they were.’

‘Yes, I know.’ Her mouth held a bitter twist. ‘If I’d had any doubt about this particular order to kill strangers being fulfilled, today—the first time I’ve been out gathering sea coal on the shore—has quashed it.’

‘But you disapprove of the order.’

‘We are a Christian country. Hospitality should be given to those who don’t abuse it.’ She shrugged. ‘And there are some who take far too much pleasure in changing the custom for the worse.’

He nodded. Her words confirmed what he suspected. She had suffered a recent setback and was unhappy with the new regime in the area.

He fought back the urge to protect her. Alwynn’s problems were none of his business. He needed to concentrate on returning home and bringing Girmir to justice. But he found it impossible to completely silence it.

‘Do you think you can walk without assistance?’ she asked, tilting her head to one side and revealing the sweep of her neck.

‘What man ever refuses a beautiful lady when she is offering him her arm?’

Her green eyes darted everywhere but at his face and her cheeks became a delightful pink. ‘You speak with a silver tongue.’

‘I speak the truth.’ He tried to rise and stumbled to his knees. ‘My time in the sea took more out of me than I thought possible. It feels like I have fought several battles and yet I’ve not lifted my sword today.’

‘You fought the sea and won. It is enough for one day.’

‘That is one way to put it, but until a battle is won, I don’t give up.’

She put her arm about his shoulders. Their breath interlaced and their gazes locked. Valdar forgot everything but the curve of her upper lip. His mouth ached to drink from hers.

He leant forward and slowly traced the curve with his forefinger. Her flesh trembled, but she didn’t move away from him.

‘And that was for?’ Her husky voice broke the spell.

‘Luck.’


Chapter Three (#ulink_85458390-5503-5eb2-8c6f-7a2903fa0504)

By the time they reached the small cottage where her old nurse lived, Alwynn’s back was screaming from her exertions and her nerves were in tatters. Alwynn was pleased that Gode was off visiting her niece helping with the latest child in that brood. She’d encouraged it because Gode rarely had anything to do with her niece. Proof that her nurse was mellowing in her old age.

Right now the fewer people who knew about this half-drowned warrior, the better. Any whisper and Lord Edwin could be down on them, demanding to know why this man wasn’t dead.

She knew what his wrath could be like. She had faced it when she refused his unseemly offer of becoming his mistress.

A small sigh escaped her throat. She had to face facts. She’d very nearly kissed a stranger. What sort of woman did that make her?

Thankfully the half-drowned man had behaved impeccably about it.

But her body felt alive in a way that it never had when Theodbald had touched her. Then she’d recoiled from his damp touch and had wanted everything over as quickly as possible. The marriage bed had been a duty rather than a pleasure.

One single touch to her lips from this man, from this stranger, and she was ready to melt in his arms.

Alwynn wrenched her thoughts away.

She had to give Merri credit. The girl had stuck with her side of the bargain and helped, rather than finding an excuse to scamper off. Now Merri stood, shifting from one foot to the other. ‘Is Purebright mine now?’

‘Purebright will be happy to have you combing him.’

‘It means you can’t sell him if we need more gold. Like you did with the other horses.’

Alwynn shrugged. There was little point in saying how much it had pained her to sell off the good horses and Purebright was far too old and cantankerous to be sold. ‘We need at least one pony.’

‘Can I go now and tell him the good news?’

‘Go. And you can tell any who asks that I’m helping Gode out with the garden.’

Merri gave a nod. ‘Don’t worry, I can keep a secret...even from you.’

‘And that is supposed to inspire me with confidence?’

Merri gave a cheeky smile. ‘Shall I get you some more water? Gode lets me do it when I visit her. When I return in the morning, he will be all better, you’ll see.’

The man seemed to go in and out of consciousness, sometimes helping to walk and sometimes needing to be dragged. She had serious doubts if he would last the night, but one glance at Merri’s earnest face told her that she could not confide that piece of information.

‘Get the water before you go.’

‘I could stay...if you needed help.’

‘I’m the one who takes the risk, Merri, not you. Remember, you weren’t with me this morning. And I wanted to tend Gode’s garden. No one will find that unusual.’

In the months before Theodbald’s death, Alwynn had often taken herself away to Gode’s cottage. She had created a garden there which no one could destroy in a fit of temper as Theodbald had done when she had lost the baby she’d been carrying.

‘But he is my warrior.’

‘Now he is my responsibility.’ Alwynn gestured with her free hand. ‘Off with you. Sooner I have the water, the sooner you can tell Purebright the good news. And later you may return and see for yourself how he fares.’

‘As long as he doesn’t leave before I can say goodbye...’ Merri called as she ran to get a bucket from the well.

Alwynn unceremoniously placed the man on the narrow bench outside. Leave before Merri could say goodbye? Alwynn shook her head. She had no idea if he would last the night. But she knew she wanted him to.

Sweat poured down her face and her gown stuck to her back as she tried to get the feeling back into her arm. The sun hadn’t even reached noon and she was exhausted.

Her mind reeled from thinking about him dying. She had to do everything she could to save his life. And it didn’t have to do with him; she’d do it for anyone. A small piece of her heart called her a liar—there had been something in his eyes which touched her heart. And when his finger pressed against her lips, she had felt as if she was made of precious glass.

Merri rushed back with the water and a jug of small beer and then ran off again, chattering about how beautiful Purebright was.

Alwynn smiled. Only Merri could think that stubborn grass-munching fiend on four hooves beautiful. She poured a wooden beaker of small beer and handed it to the warrior, who immediately opened his eyes. The creases about his mouth were less pronounced. And his skin now no longer had a blue tinge to it. Alwynn tried to look at him with a dispassionate healer’s eye, but somehow she couldn’t.

She had no problems growing the herbs, but when it came to people, she found it impossible to keep her emotions out.

‘Drink. You are safe now. You can rest and regain your strength. No one comes here.’

‘Thank you.’ His brows drew together. ‘I don’t want to put other people in danger, particularly not you or your stepdaughter. I appreciate the risk you took for me back there on the beach.’

Something eased in her neck. Unlike many of the warriors she’d encountered, this one noticed people beyond the end of his nose. She had originally thought warriors held special place and that was why they were arrogant. It was good to meet one who wasn’t.

‘It is only strangers from the sea who are feared,’ she explained. ‘Not strangers from other lands. The men from the North...they come from the sea.’

His eyes became more shadowed and she wondered if the Northmen plagued his country as well. Silently she repeated everything she knew about Northmen and their ways. This man wasn’t one of them. She was sure of it.

‘I know how the Northmen travel.’

‘Then you understand why it is necessary to be careful.’

As he took the wooden beaker, their hands briefly brushed. Another distinct tremor of attraction went through her. She withdrew her hand too quickly and spilled the beer down his front.

All those years with Theodbald’s damp hands and crude manner and she’d felt nothing. She’d been convinced that there was something wrong with her. She couldn’t even do as Gode had suggested—to think of some handsome saint and pretend. Instead she had felt like a lump of wood and lain completely still, hoping against hope that it would soon be over. Now it was like that lump of wood was covered in little flames.

It should frighten her, but somehow it was also exciting.

After years of being the good daughter and the good wife, she was finally doing something forbidden.

‘I will get you some more.’ She hurriedly refilled the wooden beaker. ‘And something to mop up the spill. Clumsy of me.’

This time she kept her fingers well away from his.

His deep brown gaze held hers. He made a slight bow. ‘Thank you. And you are right. I need to wash the salt off.’

Unbidden, her mind supplied a picture of his muscular torso. She turned away, aware that her cheeks blazed like an unwed maiden, rather than the woman who had endured more than five years of marriage and who knew what passed between a man and a woman, even if she couldn’t understand why anyone would get excited about it. ‘It can wait...until you have recovered. I will go and prepare a place for you to sleep.’

‘Your cottage?’

‘My old nurse’s. No one except me or Merri comes here these days.’ She knew she spoke far too fast, a bad habit from when she was small. She paused and took a deep breath. ‘You will be able to heal in peace.’

He nodded. ‘If anyone does come here, I didn’t come from the sea.’

‘Yes, you understand my meaning.’ She pressed her hands together. ‘There is something about lying which sticks in my throat.’

‘You found me on the shore, not bobbing in the sea. Therefore you have no real idea how I arrived there.’

‘It doesn’t take much imagination to guess.’

‘You are not breaking any law if you don’t actually know,’ he said quietly.

‘Is it better not to know?’

‘Sometimes.’

She caught a faint twinkle in his eye. His eyes were not just brown, but full of many colours. And they had come alive after his drink. She heaved a sigh of relief. He wasn’t going to die after all. ‘Is your country Raumerike at war with mine?’

‘I have never made war on your country.’ He pressed his hand to his chest. ‘I, Valdar, son of Neri, swear this. My solemn oath I give you.’

‘That isn’t what I asked...Valdar.’ The name sounded strange to her ears, but not unpleasant.

He pursed his lips. ‘My country has no quarrel with yours. Why would it? We have a sea separating us.’

The back of her neck prickled. He had come across the sea like the raiders, but he had come in peace. ‘And the attack on Lindisfarne by the heathen Northmen?’

His face instantly sobered. ‘I have heard of it. The whole world has heard about it. They took the gold and gave nothing but destruction in return. I have always believed it is wrong to make war on people who are not your enemies and have not harmed you. A simple creed, but I believe the right one.’

Something eased in her heart. She was doing the right thing—keeping his existence hidden and giving him a chance to heal.

He might be a foreigner, but he hadn’t come to make war against her people or to raid. Merri was right—he wasn’t a Northman. He was something else entirely. She released a breath. She wasn’t going to save him just to have Lord Edwin kill him. He was innocent and therefore he deserved a chance to return to his country.

‘Thank you for that creed.’

‘I need the beer-sodden shirt and the salt off me. It itches like you wouldn’t believe.’

‘Are you capable of doing it?’

‘I want to do it. I will find the strength to do it.’

She retreated two steps. ‘Surely it can wait. You were near death. You haven’t recovered enough.’

His face took on a look of grim determination. ‘I remain alive.’

Moving very slowly as if every muscle screamed in pain, he took the tunic off and discarded it along with his sword and belt. Alwynn discovered her feet were rooted to the spot. The sunlight hit his golden chest. It was muscular but not overly so. There were several scars criss-crossing his torso, but it was a warrior’s body and used to hard work, not soft and pudgy as her husband’s had become.

A dimple flashed in his cheek when he saw she remained there. ‘I will keep my trousers on, I think.’

She feigned an air of indifference. ‘You must do as you like. It makes no difference to me.’

He picked up the bucket and poured the remaining water over him. The droplets trickled down over his long hair, making him gleam. ‘You see, the salt goes when washed away.’

Her cheeks burnt, but she forced her chin high. ‘You took a battering in the sea. I wanted to see if I need to get you a poultice for the bruising.’

All colour fled from his face. ‘Are you a healer?’

‘I can do a bit, not as much as Gode or the monks, but I’m learning. I’ve an interest in herbs.’ She stared at the rough plaster wall of the cottage. Her troubles were none of his business, but she had found solace in gardening. Of all the things, the garden at Theodbald’s hall had been the hardest to leave. Her new garden was smaller, but she had brought a number of plants with her. When she was out there, amongst the perfumed flowers and gentle humming of the bees, all her cares slipped away. ‘I love my garden. I like to put it to good use and I like coming to Gode’s as well.’

He nodded, but pain flashed through his eyes. ‘I once knew a woman who healed.’

‘What happened to her, the healer?’

‘She married someone else and grows big with his child.’

‘And where does she live, this healer of yours?’

‘In the estate next to mine.’ His brown gaze held hers.

He reached down and withdrew his sword from the scabbard. It gleamed dangerously in the sunlight, reminding her that, injured or not, he was still a warrior.

‘Here, take it,’ he said with his strange accent which caused his voice to sound more like a purr than a command. ‘Keep it safe while you get whatever herbs you need. When I go from here, I will take it with me. Until then...a gesture of my peaceful intent.’

She gingerly took the sword. It was Frankish made with gold-and-silver inlay. She could imagine how her husband would have drooled over such a sword. Surely a Northman would not have such an expensive weapon?

‘How did you get this sword?’

‘I bought it in a market.’ A dimple showed at the corner of his mouth. ‘How else would I have acquired it?’

‘Off the battlefield? Taken from an opponent?’

The colours in his eyes shifted as she amused him. ‘I had it made for me. I wanted the right balance for my arm. Not exciting at all. Are all Northumbrians as bloodthirsty as you?’

Alwynn breathed a little easier. The barbarians who attacked the holy island of Lindisfarne surely could not have dealings with the Franks. The Franks were part of the Holy Roman Empire and forbidden from dealing with pagans. She could remember Theodbald explaining this fact with great disdain after the raid happened. One more reason why this stranger deserved to stay alive.

‘What do you expect me to do with it?’

‘Keep it safe until I leave. A token of my goodwill while I heal. You will be well rewarded.’

‘You wish me to keep silent about you being here.’

‘The authorities in any country ask too many questions.’ He put a hand to his head. ‘Right now, I need no questions and much sleep. You understand?’

Alwynn hesitated. ‘Do you pledge to protect this household while you shelter within its walls?’

He placed his hand to his chest, displaying his arm rings. ‘I swear.’

She stood with the sword in her hands. Her mother would have said that she should go straight away and report this man. Her mother would never have even saved him. Alwynn straightened her back. She wasn’t her mother and she made her own way in the world now.

‘I will put it beyond use until then. And I accept your pledge, Valdar.’ She inclined her head. ‘Not that it will be needed. Nothing ever happens here.’

‘Then it is lucky you found me.’ A smile transformed his face from handsome to stunning. ‘A good omen in a sea of bad luck. Perhaps my life changes now. Perhaps I am reborn.’

A good omen for him. Alwynn took a deep breath. She wished she knew whether it would be the same for her—the woman who had obeyed all the rules had lost everything. Maybe it was time she started breaking a few. Maybe it was time for her to be reborn.

* * *

Valdar circled his shoulders, trying to focus on working the aches and pains out of his body, rather than think about the way the sunlight had shone on Alwynn’s hair or the shadows in her eyes when she evaded his questions about why she’d saved him.

But he knew what he faced here if his true origins were discovered. To the Northumbrians, one Northman would be very like another. It made no difference that he was from Raumerike and the raiders were Viken. Or the fact that he had always considered the raid to be a grave error. Something which had far more consequences than simply taking gold and a few slaves captive.

He hated the slight deception, but having survived the sea, he wanted to live. He wanted to live more than he thought possible.

Silently he pledged that while he was here, he’d do all in his power to protect Alwynn and to return the favour of giving him his life back.

There were many reasons why Alwynn was out of bounds. He wasn’t staying, but more than that she reminded him far too much of Kara and that wound in his soul was far from healed.

No one since Kara had intrigued him. It had hurt to discover that Kara had only wanted to marry him for the protection he could give her and her young son. He’d let her into his heart, the first woman he’d truly cared about, and she had only wanted him for a friend and bulwark to keep the estate intact.

He had spent the time since then feeling as if he was encased in ice and ignoring his sister-in-law’s pointed remarks about how he needed to marry. Valdar shook his head. His near-drowning had addled his wits.

‘I’ve lit a fire and made a simple poultice for your ribs. They need to be bound before you sleep,’ Alwynn said, appearing in the doorway. She’d shed her head covering and shawl and acquired an all-enveloping apron. But it was the way her dark hair escaped its braid that held his attention. ‘By rights I should call a monk.’

‘No!’ Valdar struggled to breathe. ‘You promised to keep my presence quiet.’

She lowered her brows. ‘I retain the right to call in a monk if you require it.’

‘I’ve been injured worse and haven’t required a monk.’ There were no monks in Raumerike, precious few healers for that matter. Kara was the only one who possessed some skill. Most seemed to prefer making sacrifices to various gods. There was little point in explaining how he had cheated the gods by palming the black counter and no god would be interested in intervening on his behalf. Things worked differently with Northumbrians.

‘And you know best?’

‘In this case—yes.’ He deliberately closed his eyes. ‘The sun’s heat is wonderful. Warms my bones. There were moments in the water when I feared I’d never see the sun again.’

‘Do you need help getting into the cottage?’

Confirmation if he needed it that he must look like death.

He began to rise and immediately wished he hadn’t. In the brief time he’d been sitting, his muscles had seized and refused to obey him. He concentrated and tried again, forcing his muscles to move. Every single one protested as he stood.

‘If you have a stick I can lean on, I will go in.’

She hurried to him and grabbed his arm. Her scent acted as a balm, banishing the ache. ‘Are you always this stubborn? Is that why you ended up in the sea?’

‘I jumped,’ he said.

‘Why? Was the boat going down? Will more bodies wash up?’

‘The rest stayed on the boat.’

‘You jumped of your own accord?’ Her voice rose an octave. ‘During a storm?’

Alwynn would not understand about his gods and their demands. The Northumbrians, like the Franks, followed a different religion. He shook his head. His gods had turned their backs on him. Who was he to judge which god was right? From now on he concentrated on living, rather than thinking about things beyond his comprehension.

He glared at her. ‘When the time came, I welcomed it. I wanted to be doing something, rather than waiting for death.’

‘Jumping into the ocean during a storm seems extreme.’

‘There are many ways to die. I took the way which offered me the most hope of surviving.’ He made an impatient gesture. ‘I’ve no idea what happened to my shipmates but they will not be near here. They will have continued on their journey back home, assuming I died. There will be much shedding of false tears when they arrive back in Raumerike.’

‘What had you done?’

‘Nothing except to attempt to keep an oath I gave.’ He ran his hand through his hair. On that dreadful morning when he had stood over Horik’s body and Girmir had demanded he show his loyalty to the new leader, Valdar had vowed to avenge his friend’s death.

She lifted a brow. ‘You keep oaths by jumping into the stormy sea?’

‘I don’t expect you to understand the ways of my people. Simply trust me that it had to be done and that I broke no laws. I follow a code. The same as my father did and his father before him.’

She rolled her eyes upwards. ‘God preserve me from warriors and their honour. But rather than using a stick, take my arm.’

He opened his mouth to ask how a slight person like her could assist him, but then swallowed the words as he remembered how her soft breasts had felt against his side during the journey from the beach. The only reason he had escaped the scavengers was down to her. And he always paid his life debts.

‘I will only trouble you a day or two.’ He ignored the screaming pain in his ribs. ‘Once I am rested, I will move on. I understand what risks you have taken. You will be rewarded. I promise.’

‘No reward is necessary. My code demanded it.’ Her full lips gave a bitter twist. ‘Or don’t you think a woman can have a code?’

‘I know a great number of honourable women.’

‘You want to return to your home and your loved ones. Your honourable women.’

Home. The word left a bitter taste in his mouth. A place of dashed dreams and unfulfilled promises. He had no idea how people would react when he told his tale of Girmir’s betrayal and what had happened afterwards. Would they believe him or Girmir? Girmir was his jaarl’s distant cousin and there had been bad blood between Horik and the jaarl. Valdar shook his head. That was a problem for another day. Right now was about survival.

‘Everyone wants a home, a place where they can feel safe.’

‘For now, consider this your place of safety.’

‘A refuge, rather than a home.’

She draped his arm over her shoulders and glanced up at him. A gentle breeze blew hair across her face. Her eyes were sea green underlain with silver and her lips softly parted. Desire stirred deep within him.

It had been far too long since he’d lain with a woman. Since before Kara. Perhaps it was as his sister-in-law counselled him before he left—a question of time. She hadn’t liked it when he asked her about why she remained unmarried, though. His brother had been gone a long time and she needed protection.

Maybe the queer hold Kara had over him was lessening and he could get on with his life. After he wreaked his revenge on Girmir, then he would inform his sister-in-law that she could start the search for his bride.

Quickly he removed his arm. Alwynn gave him a questioning glance.

‘I am able to walk on my own. I don’t want to crush you with my weight.’

‘You are without a doubt the most stubborn man I’ve met.’ She put her hand on her hip. ‘How do you think you arrived at this cottage in the first place?’

‘Calling someone stubborn is a compliment where I come from.’

He deliberately walked into the cottage, setting his feet down hard and not glancing at her again even though he sensed she hovered at his elbow, ready to catch him if he fell.

On the threshold, he stood and allowed his eyes to adjust to the gloom. The cottage was larger than many in Raumerike and boasted three tapestries on the walls as well as a decent hearth in the centre of the room. A long table dominated one end of the room while a simple pallet of straw lay close to the newly started fire.

‘When will the owner return?’

‘My old nurse uses it. She retired here a few years ago.’ Alwynn turned her back and began to fiddle with the pots on the table. ‘She and my late husband were less than good friends.’

‘Was this nurse a good judge of character?’

She turned her back on him and began smoothing the coverlet. ‘A long time ago she gave me permission to use the cottage whenever I wish.’

‘You are high-born. I know enough about the customs of these lands.’

Her hand stilled. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Why did you try to hide it from me? I’ve no wish to harm you.’

He captured her hand and raised her palm to his lips. She trembled slightly. She quickly withdrew her hand as her cheeks flamed.

She tilted her chin upwards and her eyes blazed green fire. Every inch the imperious lady.

‘There was no hiding. I may have been the lady of a great estate, but no longer. Now I’m simply a woman who tends her garden. My mother would be appalled, but I paid my late husband’s debts without losing my honour or turning away any of our old servants from their homes, including my nurse. So, yes, my nurse is a good judge of character.’

‘Honour is important to you.’

Her eyes flashed fire. ‘Without my honour, I am nothing.’

He kept his face impassive. A deep primitive urge to protect her filled him. Angrily he dampened it down. He had no business here. His business was elsewhere. The people of this land meant nothing to him.

‘I, too, have honour,’ he said instead, seeking to put his debt to her on more formal terms. ‘I owe you a life debt...Lady Alwynn. I always pay my debts. Know this and keep it in your heart.’

Her brows drew together. ‘What does that mean? A life debt?’

‘You saved me. I owe you something for that, regardless of what your code demands.’ He allowed a smile to touch his lips. His debt to this woman was no different from the ones he’d owed to various warriors who had saved his back. ‘My life is very precious to me.’

‘Not jumping off any more boats would do for a start.’ She moved away from him. ‘I’ve not done anything special. I am simply the person who happened upon you. Any other decent person would have done no less.’

‘And yet I believe you are not supposed to save strangers on a beach.’ He made a correct bow. The muscles in his back screamed. ‘Ask what you will and if it is in my power, I will do it. You do not need to decide right away.’

‘And if I decide after you have gone?’

He twisted his mother’s ring off his little finger. ‘Send this and I will come.’

Her fingers closed around it. ‘And how will I find you?’

‘When I go, we will speak of it.’

Her tongue absently traced the outline of her lower lip. ‘There is no need. As I said, I am merely a woman who tends her garden.’

‘You saved my life.’

They stood looking at each other until a wood pigeon called in the woods. The spell was broken.

‘I’ve made up a bed and you need to drink this,’ she said, suddenly all businesslike. She picked a wooden beaker up from the table. ‘I made it earlier when...when you were resting outside.’

He took a taste of the strangely sweet liquid. ‘And it is?’

‘Valerian mixed with mead. To make you sleep.’

‘I will rest and then depart.’ A great sneeze racked his body, making his ribs hurt anew. ‘I don’t want to put you in danger.’

‘You may go when you are fit to travel.’ She placed her hands on her hips. ‘And you will catch your death if you continue to stand there partially unclothed.’ She gestured towards the bed. ‘There is a nightshirt. Put it on. I would have your clothes to lay before the fire.’

‘Only half-drowned.’

‘When you are finished, call me.’

‘You are not going to stay to watch me disrobe completely?’

She quirked a brow upwards. ‘I doubt there will be anything interesting to see.’

She turned on her heel and went out of the room.

Valdar gave a half-smile. It felt good to bait her. Something to do which did not involve fighting for his survival or nursing the black place in his soul.

‘I will find a way to repay her before I leave,’ Valdar vowed under his breath as a wave of tiredness hit him. He breathed in the dusty pleasant smell. For the first time in a long while, despite being on enemy territory, he knew he was safe.

* * *

The faint embers of the fire flickered, throwing strange lights on the plaster walls. Alwynn sat in Gode’s only chair and listened to the sound of Valdar’s uneven breathing.

The warrior hadn’t woken since he fell into the valerian-induced sleep, but he had had nightmares. Merri had returned after exercising Purebright. She was uncharacteristically quiet, but Alwynn put it down to the morning’s excitement. She also readily agreed to help keep Valdar’s presence a secret before she left.

Alwynn had occupied herself by washing the salt out of his clothes and generally tidying the cottage. When her old nurse returned, she would have to have the talk about Gode living alone that she’d been postponing for a few months. Perhaps now that Theodbald was dead and they lived in a different hall, Gode would be more willing. Alwynn made a face. Gode was a law unto herself.

Valdar began thrashing about on the makeshift pallet, moaning in his sleep, calling on all manner of people for assistance.

Alwynn went over and laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Hush, you are safe. But continue to yell this loudly and they will hear you in the next kingdom.’

His eyes flew open and he raised his fist. The embers from the fire were reflected in the depths of his eyes. She couldn’t say if he saw her or someone else, but his hand slowly lowered.

He mumbled something indistinct and his fingers picked at the bed covering.

‘Pardon?’

‘Kiss me. Kiss me like you mean it.’ His face became tortured. ‘Please.’

She stared at him. Did he mean her? Or some other woman?

‘You must lie still. Rest.’ She paused. ‘Later, I will kiss you.’

‘Please! Now! Once before I die.’

The ragged plea tore at her heart. One kiss would not change anything. But it might mean something to him. What if he didn’t last the night? What if she never knew what his mouth felt like against hers?

She knelt down beside him and took his face in her hands. His skin was hot to the touch and his eyes fever-bright.

What harm could it do? He’d never remember it.

She lowered her mouth and tasted. His lips parted and she was drawn into a kiss which was unlike any she had experienced before—gently persuading, but intense at the same time. His hand came around her head and held her in place while he coaxed and nibbled. Her entire being became flame and she wanted it to continue.

Then suddenly it was over. His hand, which had held her head in place, fell back. His eyes fluttered shut.

‘Kara never kissed me like that. Ever.’

Alwynn sat back on her heels and touched her aching lips. What had she done? Who was Kara? His wife? His mistress? The woman he loved? It shouldn’t matter, but it did. She hugged her arms about her waist, trying to prevent a great hollow from opening and swallowing her up. He wouldn’t remember it in the morning, but she knew she’d remember it for the rest of her life.

It had been the moment when she’d proved that she was made of more than ice, that it had been her husband at fault. Another ghost laid to rest. She sighed. But there were plenty more ghosts where that one came from. She might not be made of ice, but she had never borne a live child. Ever.

The familiar but bittersweet longing to hold her own child swept over her. She pushed it away. She had Merri. She was contented in her life. She knew what she wanted.

Valdar thrashed his head about on the pallet and muttered several words. Alwynn froze. She knew deep in her heart what he was and where he was from. Across the sea. From the North. But he wasn’t a raider. He’d come in peace.

She smoothed Valdar’s damp hair from his forehead and knew she would make the same choice. This man deserved to live. ‘What have I done?’


Chapter Four (#ulink_78e553ad-2188-585d-8db8-526fff341c3e)

Alwynn paused in the weeding of Gode’s garden the next morning. Sitting still and watching Valdar only kept the thoughts about the kiss they’d shared circling about her brain. She had ventured outside at first light, determined to do something productive.

Thankfully Gode wouldn’t mind. More than anything Gode would welcome the weeds being pulled and the action always made Alwynn think more clearly.

The day’s hot sun had dried all the damp from the flowers and the hum of bees made the garden alive with noise. Everyday noises which should reassure her that everything was normal and nothing was going to happen as a result of her impulsive behaviour last night. All she had to do was to forget it had ever happened.

Trusting a stranger, particularly a warrior like Valdar, was madness. She could have put everyone in danger. And she had kissed him. Properly kissed him. The only other man she’d ever kissed was Theodbald. She needed to go back into the cottage and inform him that it was time to leave.

Alwynn stayed where she was. Sending an injured man away wasn’t in her nature. The words he had spoken in another language last night had been caused by his injuries. They were fevered nonsense, meaning nothing. It was simply the language of his homeland, and the lateness of the hour and the darkness of the night had made her own foolish mind read far too much into them. Valdar was not a Northman. Not like the kind that had attacked Lindisfarne and butchered the monks anyway. In the bright light of day she was sure of it. He’d given his word and she believed him.

She dug her trowel into the warm earth. After Valdar had departed, then she’d inform Edwin. Maybe give him a day’s head start. Northumbria and Raumerike were not at war. How can you be at war with a country you have never heard of?

The last thing she wanted was trouble. As reeve, Edwin needed to know about a stranger in their midst, but exactly when he discovered it was another matter.

She shook her head. Finally she was becoming pragmatic. There was something to be said for her recently widowed state after all.

‘My lady.’ Oswy the Blount raised his hand in greeting. ‘Here I discover you.’

Alwynn nodded towards the grizzled miller, but her heart pounded. The tension in her neck eased slightly when she saw the empty doorway. Silently she prayed Valdar had enough sense to stay hidden.

‘Oswy the Blount,’ she said in an overloud voice, hoping Valdar would understand the impending danger and hide. ‘What brings you to this desolate place? You surely can’t be looking for Gode and one of her potions, not after your wife proclaimed that the monks’ potions were far superior.’

She gave a studied laugh. Oswy and her old nurse’s enmity was the standing joke of the village.

‘No, my lady, I came to see you, not that old crone.’ Oswy gave a shiver and then a hearty laugh. Once his hair had indeed been blond like his nickname, but now it was streaked with white.

Although he had loyally served under her father and was considered the best gristmiller in this part of Northumbria, lately he always had an excuse to explain why his sacks of flour were light or delayed. The excuses were plausible, but Alwynn wondered—was he really that loyal to her?

The current delay had been part of the reason why she’d been forced to scavenge sea coal.

Alwynn carefully kept her head turned away from the cottage where Valdar lay.

‘What brings you here, then?’ She forced a light laugh. ‘Does your wife require another tablet-weaving pattern?’

He shook his head. ‘She is well supplied at the moment, thank you kindly. I wanted to let you know that I’ve delivered the flour you require. Only the best for my lady. I know how you like the fine flour for your honey cakes.’

She schooled her features ‘Fine flour? But only two days ago you told me that there was no possibility of it before the autumn harvest.’

She had thought then that she needed a steward, someone to enforce her will with the point of a sword. But if she provoked Oswy, there was always a possibility that the others would follow his lead. The last thing she wanted was a rebellion. It would play straight into Edwin’s hands. The fine lady who could not adequately protect her tenants did not deserve any estate.

Oswy and others saw her as a soft touch, Gode often proclaimed. Theodbald had been far too interested in his own pleasure to pursue the rents and Alwynn wasn’t altogether sure if Oswy respected her.

The older man rubbed the back of his neck. ‘My son had put the wheat in the wrong place, which is why I thought I had none, you see. Once I discovered the mistake, I thought it best to let you know straight away. We wish to stay on at the mill, if all can be resolved, my lady. I have paid my next quarter’s rent before time as well.’

Alwynn stood up. There was far more to this than simply mislaying flour sacks and rediscovering them a few days later. But a non-direct approach was best. She’d learnt that Oswy dug in his heels and became stubborn if directly accused of not being entirely honest.

‘It is good to know. I am grateful you discovered the missing wheat. And that you paid your rent so early.’ She paused and then invited him to tell her the true reason for the sudden discovery. ‘Is there any other news?’

Oswy wrung his cap between his hands. ‘Lord Edwin departs this afternoon. Tomorrow morning at the very latest.’

She fought against the urge to clap her hands together in jubilation. The answer to her problem. If Lord Edwin was gone, she could hardly report Valdar’s presence and the manner in which he was discovered. It had to be done in person. She could not risk the message becoming jumbled and she knew that Lord Edwin could neither read nor write.

And Valdar would be long gone before Lord Edwin returned.

Her jubilation rapidly faded. Lord Edwin’s departure also opened other more intractable problems. Without warriors, the people in this area would be prime prey for any outlaw who happened past, even if no Northmen came raiding.

Silently she cursed her husband’s feckless ways and her own inability to see it until it was far too late. If she had taken charge, she might have been able to prevent all the wealth being spent.

‘He was supposed to stay here all summer because of the Northmen threat,’ she said when she trusted her voice. ‘He promised protection, particularly after last year’s attempted raid on the River Don. We mustn’t be left vulnerable!’

She hated how her voice rose and risked a hurried glance at the cottage. She wasn’t going to ask Valdar for help. It would be wrong of her.

‘During last night’s visit he said that people should stop seeing shadows. The Northmen will not return. They fear us now. St Cuthbert’s storm last year shattered their ships and killed their leader. His interests are better served near the king and he is going right away.’

Alwynn tilted her head to one side. Edwin had visited Oswy? Interesting. It explained much about why the flour had gone missing. Edwin had been annoyed that she retained the title to the few remaining hides of land around her hall, including the gristmill. ‘And his prohibition against rescuing any who are washed up from a shipwreck? Lord Edwin blows in the wind.’

‘That still stands. It is for our safety. Them Northmen would murder us in our beds, they would.’

‘If he truly feels we aren’t safe, he should stay and do his duty. A strong sword arm deters much.’

Oswy flushed. ‘He has his reasons for seeking the king. There are many who remember that Athelfred once had his kingship taken from him.’

Alwynn made a face. Edwin put his own interests first, not the interests of his people. And it only spoke of one thing—a return to the civil war which had plagued Northumbria on and off for the past few generations. But she couldn’t worry about matters of state, she had enough to worry about here.

‘He stopped the Northmen last year, killing their leader in a sword fight,’ she reminded him.

‘He had St Cuthbert’s help then. Without the storm, their boats would not have been wrecked. What if he goes back to his wicked ways and God turns his back on all of us?’

‘Athelfred is still the king.’ She held up her hand. ‘I never held with the making and unmaking of kings. Far too many warriors have spent time in banishment. Half the well born had to leave when Athelfred regained the throne. Is it any wonder that the Northmen or the Picts and Gaels or indeed Mercia attack us?’

Oswy screwed up his face. ‘My Oswald told me a story this morning when he returned from your hall. You are to marry again. A true warrior. There is no need to worry about outlaws or Northmen attacking any more. You are going to keep us safe. Abbe said that I should have trusted you to begin with.’

Marriage? How did that rumour get started? The back of Alwynn’s neck prickled and she had the horrible suspicion that Merri had been unable to resist telling stories. Again. The child was going to be the death of her.

‘Where did he get this idea from?’ She forced the words from her throat while she did combat with the panic that threatened to engulf her.

‘Lady Merewynn and the entire hall buzzes about the possibility. My son could not stop grinning from ear to ear when he returned.’ Oswy thumped his fists together. ‘It will be like the old days when your father was alive. There will be a warrior to protect us and our crops.’

Alwynn’s heart pounded so hard in her chest that she was certain Oswy would hear it. She should have known Merri would find it impossible to keep a secret. No wonder the girl had looked sheepish when she’d asked her to keep the secret.

‘He heard this from Lady Merewynn?’

‘Yes. She wanted to show off Purebright.’ Oswy twisted his cap. ‘Please, my lady. If you know a warrior who might protect us, have pity and marry him. I can’t afford to lose any more grain. The bandits have attacked me three times this spring. They even threw the grinding stone into the mill race the last time.’

Alwynn firmed her mouth. She knew all about the millstone and had taken steps to deal with it. In her opinion, it had been mischief by Oswald and his friends rather than outlaws, but she had lacked proof.

‘Lady Merewynn should not be telling tales,’ she said crisply. ‘And you should not be believing them. You know what she is like.’

‘Rumour is that you refused Lord Edwin’s offer because there was someone else and that is why he married that Frankish woman. Is this the man Lady Merewynn was speaking of?’

‘The two are entirely unconnected.’ She pinched the bridge of her nose. There was little point in explaining about Edwin and his disreputable offer. He hadn’t wanted her as a wife, but as a mistress. The marriage to the Frankish noblewoman had been arranged long before he had weaselled his way into the king’s affections.

She clamped her lips together. Long experience had taught her that the gossips around here believed what they wanted, even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

‘I’ve no plans to wed again. Ever.’

Oswy’s face went red. ‘You mean to go into a convent and leave us, then? Have I wasted a betrothal gift?’

‘No, not that!’ The words rang out over the garden as Alwynn spied Gode returning via the lower path. In another few heartbeats she’d be at the cottage and scream. The last thing Gode expected to see was a man in her house. She checked her impulse to run over and greet Gode. Oswy would think it strange if she abandoned him.




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