Книга - Return of the Viking Warrior

Return of the Viking Warrior
Michelle Styles


THE VIKING CLAIMS HIS WIFEKara Olofdottar thanked the gods when she married her childhood hero Ash Hringson. But this fearless raider has been gone so long his proud arrogance is the only memory she retains of him. Now she must remarry to protect her lands for her son.But then, on her wedding day, the conquering warrior returns – to gasps of horror and surprise! After all, Ash was supposed to be dead…though to Kara’s starved gaze he seems very much flesh and blood…and less than impressed to find his beautiful wife intent on marrying someone else!









‘What is mine stays mine.’


A muscle jumped in Ash’s jaw as he continued. ‘I trust Valdar the Steady and everyone else understand that now.’

Kara’s mouth went dry. ‘Does that include people?’

‘I look after my own.’

Kara straightened her back and dug her heels into her horse’s flank. ‘Then I was never yours. Seven years you’ve been gone, Ash—seven long years.’




AUTHOR NOTE


For many years one of the stories I wanted to write was a ‘returned from the dead’ story. It has always intrigued me, the way people cope when a person has been through a life-changing experience and has to go back home—only to discover home is not the unchanging place he or she thought it was.

I thought about writing it as a Roman-set novel, then a Regency, and finally knew I had to write it as a Viking story. The characters and their situation really came alive in my mind and it was a relief finally to do justice to a story which I have wanted to write for a long time. Sometimes ideas scream to be written, and sometimes you have to wait until the moment is right to write an idea.

I do hope you enjoy Kara and Ash’s story.

As ever, I love hearing from readers. You can contact me through my website www.michellestyles.co.uk (https://www.michellestyles.co.uk), my blog www.michellestyles.blogspot.com (https://www.michellestyles.blogspot.com) or my publisher. I also have a page on Facebook—Michelle Styles Romance Author—where I regularly post my news.


Return of the

Viking Warrior

Michelle Styles






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


DEDICATION

For my eldest son, William


Born and raised near San Francisco, California, MICHELLE STYLES currently lives a few miles south of Hadrian’s Wall, with her husband, three children, two dogs, cats, assorted ducks, hens and beehives. An avid reader, she became hooked on historical romance when she discovered Georgette Heyer, Anya Seton and Victoria Holt one rainy lunchtime at school. And, for her, a historical romance still represents the perfect way to escape.

Although Michelle loves reading about history, she also enjoys a more hands-on approach to her research. She has experimented with a variety of old recipes and cookery methods (some more successfully than others), climbed down Roman sewers, and fallen off horses in Iceland—all in the name of discovering more about how people went about their daily lives. When she is not writing, reading or doing research, Michelle tends her rather overgrown garden or does needlework—in particular counted cross-stitch.

Michelle maintains a website, www.michellestyles.co.uk (https://www.michellestyles.co.uk), and a blog: www.michellestyles.blogspot.com (http://www.michellestyles.blogspot.com). She would be delighted to hear from you.

Previous novels by the same author:

THE GLADIATOR’S HONOUR

A NOBLE CAPTIVE

SOLD AND SEDUCED

THE ROMAN’S VIRGIN MISTRESS

TAKEN BY THE VIKING

A CHRISTMAS WEDDING WAGER

(part of Christmas By Candlelight) VIKING WARRIOR, UNWILLING WIFE AN IMPULSIVE DEBUTANTE A QUESTION OF IMPROPRIETY IMPOVERISHED MISS, CONVENIENT WIFE COMPROMISING MISS MILTON* (#ulink_94166d91-4b6d-5535-b2d9-770edaf32127) THE VIKING’S CAPTIVE PRINCESS BREAKING THE GOVERNESS’S RULES* (#ulink_94166d91-4b6d-5535-b2d9-770edaf32127) TO MARRY A MATCHMAKER HIS UNSUITABLE VISCOUNTESS HATTIE WILKINSON MEETS HER MATCH AN IDEAL HUSBAND? PAYING THE VIKING’S PRICE

* (#ulink_b50a82be-e4aa-520b-b5fd-79a039242aea)linked by character

And in Mills & Boon® HistoricalUndone!eBooks:

THE PERFECT CONCUBINE

Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Contents

Chapter One (#u3fc1d30c-0058-5227-94f0-bbdac9ad2224)

Chapter Two (#u7a0ed460-3a3d-5035-9468-23ee6ec360b3)

Chapter Three (#u0b00e5fa-0fa8-5e9e-9513-ffc33cf524a1)

Chapter Four (#u22dca8d3-d615-5fb3-b863-e3486c6a7df4)

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)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Author’s Historical Note (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

Early autumn, AD 793—Sand, Raumerike,

south-eastern Norway

Seven years and Ash Hringson refused to think about how many thousands of miles it had been since he last set foot in Sand, the capital of Raumerike. He would have preferred to go straight home to Jaarlshiem, but he had a duty to inform the king of his travels and his plans for the future.

Ash rubbed a hand over his chin, fingering the small half-moon scar there. He had seen over thirty battles and minor skirmishes since he’d left. His face might be clear of all but the most minor scars, but he walked with a distinct limp, the legacy of a battle three years ago, which aggravated the injury he had received in a Frankish dungeon. He knew that he was not the same carefree youth who had left Raumerike’s shores, with a thirst for adventure and the certainty of a glorious future. In his mind, Raumerike and all he’d left behind remained the same.

A great unexpected feeling of long-awaited belonging rose up in his throat. He was in his home country. On his native soil. A foreigner no longer.

Ash gave a wry smile. He must have done enough to regain some measure of his father’s respect. Hanging his head in shame or walking in the shadows of life was no longer his destiny. He’d become a leader of men rather than a coward who left others to die in a fiery inferno.

The town had seen a few changes over the seven years he’d been gone, expanded with an air of bustling prosperity, but the streets were laid out the same. The blacksmith where he’d purchased his first sword looked to be under different management and the king’s hall appeared to have been rebuilt. The market by the quayside was larger with a broader range of fabric and fur, but the fishmonger still traded in the right-hand corner, calling about fresh herring and salted cod.

Several market dwellers gave him sideways glances, paled slightly and turned away the closer he came, hurriedly pulling the shutters down. Ash’s hand tightened instinctively on his sword’s hilt. He forced it to relax.

Did they remember the shame he had brought to his father and the country? The brothers, friends and cousins who had died because of his recklessness on that fateful night? Was that why they looked at him as if he were one of the walking dead? Or was it the typical Raumerike distrust of an outsider?

He might be dressed in Viken clothes, but his heart beat with a love for Raumerike. He’d always remembered where he came from. It was why he’d returned—to make peace with his father if he could and to offer young Raumerike warriors true opportunity for advancement, rather than facing likely death on an unfriendly sea.

A temptation filled him to shout to the curious, doubters and naysayers that shame and coward were no longer carved on his chest. The youth who had run his ship aground in a storm because he was far too eager for wealth had learnt his lesson. A man’s life was more precious than objects or gold. He kept his mouth shut, his hand firmly at his side and strode silently on.

Ash set his jaw and turned his feet towards the king’s hall. First the king, then his father and finally his wife. He knew the proper order of things. Now.

Kara would understand. He remembered that about her, even if he could not conjure up the exact tenor of her quiet voice or the precise colour of her golden hair. She’d always been his most loyal supporter since they had first met when they were children and she’d bound his falcon’s broken wing. His last memory of her was her head held proudly aloft and a single tear trickling down her cheek as she begged him to return a hero.

Ash pushed the thoughts about Kara away, just as he had done for the last seven years. Soon, soon he’d be able to remember. First he had to do his duty to king and country.

‘Why are you walking amongst the living, Ghost?’ an elderly voice called out from a stall hung with cooking pots. ‘Today of all days?’

Ash winced as he mistimed his step, and put all of his weight on his bad leg. Of all the people to greet him first, it would have to be this woman. He forced himself to recall each of her sons’ deaths before answering. The elder two had died in the storm, but the youngest had endured captivity with him, keeping him alive with his tales of long-ago bravery. He had wept when his last friend died. For a day and a night, he had lived in that hell hole with the body. Eventually, he’d been able to overpower the Frankish guard who had been sent to check on them and escaped through the narrow stinking drain. Even now, after more than six years, he found it impossible to sleep inside or to go underground.

For the first time in that cursed journey, the gods had been with him. After he’d pulled himself from the drain, he had found a Viken ship in the harbour, signed on and had begun life as a sell-sword.

‘No ghost walking. I am real, Hildi, the mother of warriors and a pearl amongst women.’ Ash named her three sons who had sailed with him and all of whom had perished. ‘I have come to give you the tribute for the lives of your valiant sons. All three sup with Odin. Feel my hand. I am real.’

She poked him with a bony finger. ‘Bah. Your tongue still runs with silver, Ash Hringson. Let’s hope there is some truth in your words this time. Alive and not drowned. This is indeed something new.’

‘I survived, but know I will atone for their deaths. I give my promise, Hildi, as I once promised all those who followed me.’ He looked into Hildi’s eyes. ‘Your sons now reside in Valhalla, instead of sharing the deep with Ran. What more could you ask for?’

‘That I never doubted.’ The woman barked an order and came out from behind the market stall.

Slightly more bent and a few more wrinkles, but essentially the same woman who had wept when she waved her boys goodbye. Her three sons had gone on the journey so that their mother would not have to work at the market, selling fish. Ash bowed his head.

The familiar tang of regret filled his throat. He’d lost count of how many times he’d wished that it had been he who had died rather than worthier men like Hildi’s sons. Silently he added more to the amount he owed her. It wouldn’t bring her sons back, but it would make her life easier.

‘The king remains the same?’ he asked when he trusted his voice.

‘Aye, King Eystienn clings to the throne. His eyesight fails and his sword arm is not as strong as it once was, but his mind is as sharp as ever. It remains to be seen if he dies in his bed or with a sword in his hand.’

‘He should be the first to hear the tale before I pay the tribute. I want no one to question. Does he sit or hunt today?’

She gave him a curious glance and cackled. ‘Neither. Today he attends the wedding.’

‘Whose?’

The elderly woman looked over her shoulder and tightened the shawl about her shoulders. ‘Your wife’s. She is marrying again with the entire court in attendance.’

‘Kara Olofdottar remains my wife.’ Ash squared his jaw. ‘There has been no divorce. There will be no divorce. She is mine. What is mine stays mine. My father’s motto and therefore mine.’

‘Then you had best claim her, Ash Hringson.’ The old lady paused and gave a toothless smile. ‘Before someone else does. Next time, return sooner if you wish to keep the things which are rightfully yours.’

* * *

A prickle of unease coursed down Kara Olofdottar’s back. She wished she hadn’t given in to Valdar’s plea to marry at Sand with everyone watching their solemn oaths before Var’s high priest. Life would have been much simpler if they had married at Jaarlshiem beneath the spreading branches of the tuntreet as she’d suggested. She’d grown to love that old tree, the gnarled guardian of the estate who kept everything safe and prosperous.

Following the example of her late father-in-law, Kara told the tree all the news. Always. And thereby ensured that her undertakings benefited the estate. Her late husband had failed to tell the tree he was leaving on his ill-fated expedition and he’d also failed to return. She liked to think it made a difference.

She understood why Valdar wanted this very public declaration, but she hated crowds, always had done.

‘Are you all right, Kara?’ Auda, one of her closest friends, asked, giving her a searching look. They had met when Auda had first come to court, shortly after Ash had left on his ill-fated journey. Auda’s eldest was about the same age as Kara’s son. And her husband had died of a fever last spring shortly after Kara’s father-in-law’s funeral. ‘You appear lost in your own world. Still thinking about the horse my uncle forced you to examine when you arrived? It will recover. Horses always seem to after you have examined them. You have the knack.’

‘I’m merely about to get married in front of what feels like the entire kingdom.’ Kara smoothed her blonde hair back from her shoulder. It had been so long since she’d worn it loose that she’d forgotten what a nuisance it could be, constantly tangling and blowing in her mouth.

‘Everyone is interested in the beautiful widow from Jaarlshiem and what happens to her. It gives me hope that some day I’ll find another man.’ Auda clicked her fingers. ‘You and your bridal finery will keep the tongues wagging until it is Jul-time. No one will speak against this marriage or say that it was not done properly, if that is what you are worried about.’

Kara wet her lips. ‘Why would any speak against the marriage? We are both free to marry. Or do you know something about Valdar?’

‘My brother-in-law remained single until you came into his life.’ Auda laughed. ‘It is your uncle by marriage, Harald Haraldson, who concerns me. He plays more tricks than Loki, as my late husband used to say. He never forgave Harald for the diseased sheep he traded.’

‘Harald Haraldson is powerless to halt this marriage!’ Kara forced her hand to stay in her lap and not tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She was determined her hair would be beautiful and not hanging like a witch’s for this marriage. ‘The king approves of the marriage. I’m hopeful the king will finally confirm my son as the rightful jaarl of Jaarlshiem once he sees that Valdar will protect Rurik’s interests.’

‘How can I help you to finish your preparations? It wouldn’t do to keep your new husband waiting. These Nerisons can become impatient when they want something.’

Right now, she wanted to run back to the security of Jaarlshiem; she wanted the nausea to retreat back down her throat and the panic to recede. She wasn’t a naïve bride of sixteen any more. She was a widow of twenty-three. She couldn’t afford the luxury of being unwed any longer. The very public marriage would show the entire kingdom, indeed the entire North lands, that she’d chosen a strong warrior to guard the estate until her son came of age.

While her father-in-law had lived, there had been no need to remarry as he had still commanded all of Raumerike’s respect. But now that he was dead, she knew she could not hold the lands without help. She had no choice—she had to remarry or risk losing everything she had worked so hard to keep these last few years. She had promised herself on her father-in-law’s deathbed that it wouldn’t be as he predicted with his final gasp of breath—that as a lone woman, everything would slip from her grasp and Rurik would inherit nothing when he came of age. She would succeed and prove him wrong.

‘Unpack my mother’s bridal crown. I should have done it before now, I know, but I had to look at that horse and then there were the final preparations for the feast and...’

‘Old crowns are the best. I had to make do with a simple wreath of flowers when I married.’ Auda clapped her hands together. ‘In a few days’ time you will wonder why you ever hesitated, Kara. Valdar confessed how many times he asked you. Was it fifteen or twenty?’

‘Seventeen—not that I kept track.’

The marriage made sense. Valdar was kind, steady and dependable. He never had any inclination to go Viking or even on long, distant voyages for trading purposes. Her father-in-law had proclaimed Valdar to have been born under a steady star, unlike Ash’s wandering one. He would be the right sort of father for Rurik—patient and caring, present instead of risking it all many leagues away. A man to lean on.

‘A pity Rurik isn’t here.’ Auda fastened the white cloak about Kara’s shoulders. ‘He would have loved seeing his mother looking like a goddess. And his first opportunity to see the capital.’

‘Jaarlshiem is safer. Fewer opportunities for mischief. My nerves are in shreds enough as is.’ Kara firmed her mouth and ignored Auda’s remark about looking like a goddess.

If she’d been more of a woman, Ash would not have gone. Ash would have stayed and made sure that he had a healthy heir. Her father-in-law’s bitter words just after he found out about Ash’s tragic death still had the power to hurt. Kara shook her head. Her late husband was the last person she wanted to think about today of all days. It was her wedding day.

A new start. A new chapter to ensure that Rurik grew up without fear. Jaarlshiem had been without a strong warrior at its helm for far too long. Ash Hringson belonged to the unremembered past and the girl she had once been. If she had been the one to die instead, her ashes would have barely been scattered on the tuntreet’s roots before Ash found another to warm his bed.

‘What has Rurik been up to?’ Auda gave an indulgent smile. ‘Surely he learnt his lesson after being caught out in that thunderstorm with a horse he could barely control.’

‘Trust me, you don’t want to know.’ Kara held up her hand. ‘But he worships Valdar. I hope he will be a calming influence.’

She refused to think about the narrow escapes her six-year-old son specialised in recently. The incident with the horse had been enough, but he had taken to defying her at every opportunity. Leaving him with Gudrun, Ash’s old nurse, had seemed like the best option. Gudrun was used to such behaviour. She often proclaimed how like his father Rurik was, particularly around his ears and nose.

Ash’s many scrapes were the stuff of legend. They first met because he had fallen while trying to recapture his falcon. The falcon suffered a hurt wing and Ash had brought the falcon to her mother rather than wringing its neck as his father had advised.

Her mother’s skill as a healer had been second to none and it had been the first time Kara had been allowed to bind up a bird’s wing while her mother had attended to Ash’s twisted ankle. Five months later her mother had died in an accident. Ash had spoken to Kara during the funeral, taking the time to discover her hiding place behind the iron trunk and bring her a sweetmeat. Instant adoration had followed and when he’d asked her to marry him, all of her girlish dreams had come true.

Until it was too late, she had never considered that he might not feel the same way about her. Foolishly she’d failed to realise her hero was a selfish man, not a god.

A sudden shiver coursed down her back. Rurik might look like Ash, but she was the one raising him. She refused to make the mistake Ash’s father had with Ash—spoiling him when he showed prowess at being a warrior or did something which pleased him and abandoning him to his fate if the challenge proved impossible.

‘Kara, you’ve become very quiet.’

‘I’m always quiet, Auda.’

‘Only when people don’t know you or if you are upset. When you are comfortable, you talk all the time.’

‘I’m trying to get my eyeliner right. Why I have to wear it is beyond me.’

‘A bride needs to make sure she is well painted. Everyone knows that. You don’t want to risk Freya’s displeasure. You do want the goddess’s blessing for this union?’ Auda started chattering like a magpie about various weddings and how the recent brides had looked and whether or not Freya had been pleased. ‘You’ve smudged it. Start again and keep to the corner of your eye, rather than trying to draw a line under it.’

Kara picked up the small brush and started again. This time, she was going to be a bride to be admired, rather than laughed at or pitied. She shuddered, remembering how the liner had run down her cheeks at the last wedding. Ash had cleaned it off with his handkerchief with an indulgent smile.

Auda held out the gleaming crown. It was even more ghastly than Kara remembered. The last time, she had worn it with such pride, thinking Ash would want her to look radiant. But she’d heard the whispers and catcalls of ‘witch’s child’ which had followed her progress.

‘You do agree, Kara?’

Kara started and realised she was expected to say something. ‘I missed that, Auda.’

‘I merely said that the women will now have several more things to envy you for—a gorgeous bridal crown and a handsome warrior in your bed.’

‘How could anyone envy me?’ Kara forced a laugh. The thought of sharing a bed with Valdar left her cold. She’d do her duty, but ever since she had learnt of the truth about her marriage with Ash, she had felt entombed in ice. Despite his looks, Valdar’s kisses chilled her. Even the simplest touch from Ash had been enough to send her up in flames during that long-ago spring.

‘You’d be surprised. There are rumours about Valdar’s exceptional good fortune in bed. Many have hoped to capture him, but thus far he has only wanted one woman for his wife—you.’

‘The rumours failed to reach Jaarlshiem.’ Kara kept her back stiff. She knew Valdar could have had his pick of the women, but he’d chosen her. His many proposals had emphasised his growing friendship with Rurik, the nearness of their estates and the compatibility of their natures rather than her golden hair or the curves in her bottom lip as Ash’s had done. ‘The bedsport will be what it is.’

‘You should see your face, Kara. Redder than a beetroot. Anyone would think you a maid of sixteen rather than a widow.’ Auda tapped a finger against the crown. ‘Is the bedsport with Valdar not to your liking? Surely you sampled him before you agreed to this match.’

‘Auda, stop teasing. When would I have had time to enjoy Valdar? I am a mother and I run Jaarlshiem. Valdar and I have barely had an hour alone since the match was agreed.’ Kara reached for the crown and jammed it on her head.

Her doing, not his. It hadn’t felt right dishonouring Ash in that way. Once the ceremony was over and she no longer belonged in any way to Ash, everything would be different.

Seeing her friend’s increasingly troubled expression, Kara relented. ‘I just want this ceremony over and done with. The whole day, in fact.’

‘You look exquisite, you know that, Kara.’ Auda laid a gentle hand on Kara’s shoulder. ‘Anyone looking at you now will understand why one of the finest warriors in the land chose you for his bride and why he laid his heart at your feet. All you have to do is see the way his face lights up when he spies you.’

‘Sweet Auda.’ Kara gave her friend a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘But I do know my limitations. Shall we get this ceremony over with? Before Valdar realises the sort of woman he is marrying and changes his mind?’

‘He won’t. Once my brother-in-law has made up his mind, he stays the course. He is exceedingly stubborn.’

‘Steadfast, I know. You’ve said.’ Kara gave one last despairing look in the small mirror. She repeated the words she had taken to saying over the past few weeks. ‘And precisely the right man for me. Seven years married and six of them a widow. I deserve a man in my life.’

‘That’s the Kara I know and love.’

Balancing the awkward crown on her head, Kara trod a careful path to the temple. At the entrance to the temple’s grounds, she froze.

The temple overflowed with people, so many that they filled the courtyard. A great cheer and stamping of feet rose up when someone viewed her.

Kara fought the temptation to flee. She hadn’t realised there were this many people in Raumerike, let alone in the capital. Suddenly, this wedding felt wrong, as though she was making the biggest mistake of her life. A marriage should be more than simple practicality—her mother’s long-ago words welled up within her.

She firmed her mouth. Her biggest mistake had been marrying Ash in a haze of romantic dreams. This marriage promised to be different, based on mutual respect. No one was marrying under false pretences.

Towards the middle of the temple she saw Harald Haraldson, Ash’s uncle, sitting like a spider in the middle of his web, and knew why this marriage had to be so public. His very being radiated hatred and smug arrogance. Only she and Rurik stood in the way of his inheriting all that her father-in-law had acquired. The Raumerike inheritance laws were quite clear—if a man died without an heir, the estate passed first to his mother, next to her husband and only then to the remaining relatives. And a jaarldom could only be confirmed when the warrior proved worthy.

He noticed her glance and his lips turned up into a humourless smile, the sort of smile a hunter gives before he brings down his hapless prey. A shiver went down her spine.

She’d fought so long and hard for Rurik’s life when he was a baby that she wasn’t about to stop now. And she wasn’t about to be forced into a marriage where first Rurik’s life and then her own would be forfeit. Valdar would protect them with his dying breath.

She’d endure this ceremony, knowing she’d be back in Jaarlshiem in a few days. She had promised Rurik that she’d bring him a new father.

The last few steps to where Valdar was standing were far easier than the first ones. Auda was right. He did look every inch the handsome warrior, a formidable opponent for any foe. In time she would welcome him in her bed. She could play her part in bedsport.

How hard could it be to pretend passion? Other people did. Ash had done it with her and she’d been fool enough not to notice.

Kara held out her hand and Valdar lightly grasped her fingers. The simple touch did much to calm her nerves.

The priest began to invoke the gods, calling on Freya, Odin and Var to witness the union.

This marriage would be a better marriage than her last one, she silently promised. She would be a good wife to a good man.

The priest asked if anyone knew of an objection why the gods would not look on this union with favour. He paused dramatically.

Wriggling her shoulders, Kara tried to remove the sudden sense of impending doom.

She nodded to the priest to hurry him up and get this ordeal over with. He cleared his throat and lifted his hand.

‘I object! This woman is not free to marry! This ceremony must stop!’ a voice thundered from the back of the temple.

The priest’s hand halted. Kara forgot how to breathe. Ash! Ash’s voice from beyond the grave?

Impossible! Ash was dead. Buried in a watery grave. Someone else had called out and it was a trick of the temple’s walls. Sudden anger filled her. Who dared disrupt and dishonour this marriage? She would make them pay for it.

‘Stop the ceremony now! Listen to my words. This woman is not free.’

Valdar gave her a questioning glance. Kara forced a tiny shrug as her head began to pound. A distraction, nothing more. She belonged to no man. But whoever had planned this knew her weak spot.

She placed a hand on her stomach. She had to stop hearing ghosts. This objection had no merit. False and unfounded. But logically it would have to be heard.

Giving in to her temper seldom solved anything. In fact, it often made things worse. Over the past few years, she’d learnt the value of appearing calm and collected even if her insides were churning.

A little delay now would save a lifetime of innuendo and false rumour. Clinging to that thought, she attempted to breathe.

‘Make your objection known,’ the priest intoned. ‘Show your proof. This woman claims to be free.’

The crowds parted and the speaker came forward, walking with a distinct limp. His fine cloak swung about his body, highlighting the breadth of his shoulders and trim line of his waist. The deep blue colour set off his reddish-gold hair perfectly. There was something in the way he moved. Her stomach roiled as the scent of incense grew overpowering.

Kara shook her head, wished the crown was lighter and that the priest in the corner would stop waving his brazier about.

What her eyes saw was impossible. She dug her nails into her palm. Impossible.

The dead could not walk on this earth and Ash was dead. The ship had gone down without any survivors.

Ash’s uncle had brought back the intricately carved sternpost from Ash’s ship, charred from a fire, and laid it at her father-in-law’s feet. The day was etched on her brain. Her father-in-law had made a dreadful noise and collapsed in a heap. She had had to nurse him back to health along with Rurik, who had been suffering from one of his dreadful colds. There hadn’t been time to breathe, let alone grieve for the man whom she’d once made her whole world.

For a few days, both her father-in-law’s and Rurik’s lives had hung in the balance while Ash’s uncle had strutted about the hall, issuing orders and proclaiming how the hall would be his. Finally she had ordered him out and he’d gone with bad grace, promising his vengeance.

Was this some ghastly dream and she’d wake up in her bed with Rurik slumbering close by? She knew she was awake from the growing pain in her head and the nausea in her belly.

A conjurer’s trick? An apparition?

An insistent whisper went around the hall, growing in strength. Ash. Against all reason and expectation, it had to be. But utterly impossible. It had to be a trick, a way of sowing dissent and preventing the marriage. Harald Haraldson had to be behind it. She refused to allow this pathetic outrage to happen. This time Harald Haraldson had overreached. He would regret it when she was finished with him, but first she needed to be married with a warrior who’d defend her land.

Kara shut her eyes tight and opened them again. The man stood in the centre of the hall, no more than a few feet away from her. Broad shouldered and red-gold hair. His clothes were finely cut and of Viken rather than Raumerike origin.

The man raised his arms. Kara attempted to peer through the heavy smoke and see his face. A number of emotions raced through her—fear, anger and a wild sense of hope—but mostly she felt as if she were watching the events unfold from far away.

‘Hear me, good people, and listen well. Kara Olofdottar is my wife.’ He turned to face the room. ‘I dare any man to deny it. I have a prior claim over her and I will enforce my claim with my sword if necessary. I, Ash Hringson, claim Kara Olofdottar as my lawful wife!’


Chapter Two

The stranger’s words bounced off the temple walls, echoing round and round. The entire hall ceased to breathe, waiting for her reaction. Kara knew she had to do something, make some sort of defiant gesture, but her entire being was paralysed with shock.

She stared at the man with his fine clothes and burnished red-gold hair, searching for a sign that the words were true, that he was indeed who he claimed to be, that it wasn’t some sort of twisted trick from Harald Haraldson. Yet she knew it must be.

Anything else was utterly impossible. Ash had drowned. The entirety of Raumerike knew of the tragedy. The lament her father-in-law had commissioned about his only son’s tragic end was sung every year on the anniversary of his death.

She glanced at Valdar under her lashes. The big warrior stood stony-faced, his eyes trained on the priest’s face. The knots in her stomach tightened. She had thought Valdar would understand immediately what was happening and leap to her defence. But, no, once again, she’d have to fight alone. Luckily she knew how to.

‘You believe you have a prior claim to this woman?’ the priest asked with heavy scepticism in his voice.

‘I know I do,’ the man replied evenly. ‘Under Raumerike law, any claim must be investigated before a wedding proceeds further. Or does Raumerike law allow a woman two husbands these days?’

‘It shall be investigated if the claim is made properly and with due reverence,’ the priest countered. ‘Approach and let your face be seen. The light is in my eyes. All men should look on your face as you make your claim.’

Valdar gave Kara’s hand a squeeze, but moved away from her as if she had the plague. Silently she vowed that Harald Haraldson would suffer a slow and prolonged revenge for this shabby trick.

‘Are you deaf? Let me see who you are,’ the priest called when the man failed to move.

‘Kara Olofdottar appears faint. I ask we go elsewhere and discuss this matter in private,’ the man said. ‘She fainted on our wedding day, you know. I caught her before she collapsed. The incense makes her head swim.’

Either this man was the consummate actor or... A small shiver of uncertainty combined with another flickering of wild exhilaration stabbed her, banishing her scepticism.

The more she heard the man speak, the more his voice rang of Ash. Kara clenched her fist. Logic, not unfounded speculation. She was becoming as fanciful as Rurik, who kept insisting that the sagas were real, rather than simply stories told about a fire to amuse. And she never fainted these days.

‘It is the Raumerike way to conduct such matters in public,’ the priest said.

‘I merely thought to spare her the embarrassment,’ he continued, seemingly unperturbed by the hundreds of eyes turned on him. ‘My wife hates crowds. A husband knows these things.’

Kara gritted her teeth and clung to that small logical part of her which still functioned. The deception would be revealed soon enough. No one could carry it off for any length of time. All she had to do was to keep silent, wait for the inevitable mistake and allow others to take charge. She clamped her mouth shut.

‘I must caution you,’ the priest said. ‘Kara Olofdottar’s husband died many years ago on a sea voyage. This fact is well known in this land.’

‘Ash Hringson. Son of Hring the Bold and Nauma,’ the man stated in a firm voice. He thrust his hands forward and the cuffs of his tunic fell back, revealing his scarred wrists. On his right wrist he sported a purple birthmark in the shape of a coiled snake. ‘I’m very much alive. Reports of my death were at best mistaken and at worst a shameful lie.’

A variety of emotions rippled through Kara—shock at his survival, bewilderment at the length of time it had taken to get news to her, a deep-seated anger that it had taken this humiliating scene to reveal the truth, but most of all a wild exhilaration that he was alive, that they’d have a second chance. Her son would have his proper father.

Her breath stopped. Accepting this man’s claim of being Ash went beyond simply taking his word for it and her knowing it in her heart. Twelve members of Raumerike’s Storting would have to declare for him and stake their honour on it. The penalty for attempting to deceive the Storting was either death or permanent banishment.

Kara clenched her fists and concentrated. In acknowledging this man to be Ash, she’d lose Valdar, the man who would be the perfect guardian for Rurik. He was going to be her saviour. But it wouldn’t be right. Not now. She had to speak up. She had to bring the dead back to life.

‘Ash Hringson,’ she proclaimed, crossing her arms. ‘Where have you been? We thought you dead. Killed in a shipwreck off the Frankish coast over six years ago. A fine time you pick to appear.’

‘Reports of my death were incorrect but, alas, the shipwreck was all too real. I would say my timing is impeccable.’ Ash’s ice-blue gaze raked her form, travelling from the top of her bridal crown to the soles of her slippers, as if he were mentally undressing her, stripping her of her bridal finery and leaving her naked in front of the crowd. ‘I survived a fiery inferno on the sea and a Frankish prison. I have come to pay my debts. I have returned.’

‘Have you indeed?’

‘You look as lovely as my memory of you, Kara.’ His lips curved upwards. ‘I remember the garland of flowers you wore in your hair the first morning of our marriage while we took our vows again. The sunlight turned your head to pure gold and your skin to cream. Far more suited to you than your mother’s bridal crown. I didn’t like it on our wedding day and I like it even less now. It does nothing for your hair or your eyes.’

His rich voice flowed over her. Why did he have to remember the garland she’d fashioned and how she’d insisted they recite their vows again? But then Ash had always been good at remembering the little details which had no real meaning. It was part of his deadly charm.

She forced her mind away from any softening. Seven years! It had taken him seven years to return. Why so long if he thought her lovely?

‘Can you be sure this man is Ash Hringson, Kara? Others might sport a snake birthmark.’ Valdar put a heavy hand on her shoulder. ‘Are you willing to risk your reputation by vouching for him in front of everyone?’

Kara thought about her young son and the nightly prayers that he made to the gods for a father. The man who had given her Rurik deserved her loyalty. Silently she bid goodbye to an easy and settled life with Valdar. The safe future she’d envisioned only this morning was an impossibility and that hurt. But she knew in her gut that her instinct was right. She owed it to the gullible girl that she had once been to fight for Ash. She shrugged off Valdar’s restraining hand.

‘I am certain, Valdar. This man is Ash Hringson. He can be no other. Reports of his death must have been false.’

Her words echoed around the chamber and she waited for others to agree with her. Ash’s uncle rose to his feet.

‘Can a woman vouch for a man’s identity?’ he declared, banging his stick on the ground. ‘The traditions of Raumerike allow for men to vouch for an identity, but a woman? It is unprecedented. Women and thralls are easily led and their judgement suspect. Raumerike law and tradition allows for twelve men, not a single woman, to vouch for a man’s identity. I have not heard a single man speak in favour of this...this Viken!’

A low murmur travelled swiftly around the hall. Kara froze. Why had Harald Haraldson cast doubt on Ash’s identity? Did he want his nephew dead?

‘We are talking about my husband’s life! Your beloved nephew!’ Kara retorted before Harald Haraldson could garner any support. ‘Would you have me deny my husband? What sort of troll wife would I be then?’

‘I would have you declare the right man as your husband, Niece by marriage,’ Harald Haraldson said, his smile turning to a gloating smirk as laughter rippled through the crowd.

Kara raised her clenched fist and knew whatever Harald Haraldson wanted, she wanted the opposite. ‘This man is my husband. Reports of his death were wrong. Wrong, I tell you.’

‘All we have is your word, Kara Olofdottar.’ Ash’s uncle pursed his thin lips. ‘Ash Hringson tragically perished in the sea. We’ve all heard the saga his father commissioned. Can the dead return to life? Or is this man an impostor sent to prey on a vulnerable woman? We all know about the demons your mother battled.’

‘My wits have never been questioned. Mistakes have happened before,’ Kara stated in ringing tones as her stomach knotted. This was most definitely not how today was supposed to have gone.

‘Indeed. I seek to save you from a grievous one.’ Harald Haraldson spread out his gnarled hands. ‘We must take our time and be sure. Investigate this claim slowly and carefully without womanly hysterics.’

Kara stiffened. Harald Haraldson would stall on the enquiry and in the meantime would press for the king to award him the lands which he considered rightfully his, but which really belonged to Ash and their son. He might even find a reason why Ash should be banished for ever or even killed.

She refused to hand Harald Haraldson an easy victory. Somehow, she had to figure out a way to fight for Ash and give him back his life. Later, she’d sort out the marriage and what that meant for her and Ash. She was doing this for their son.

‘A woman knows her husband from a place deep within her soul. There is no need for a further investigation when one is as sure as I am,’ she said when she knew she had her temper under control. ‘You must know him, as well, unless you have gone blind and deaf, Uncle!’

Harald Haraldson only grunted.

‘Kara Olofdottar is within her rights to speak on this matter,’ the priest declared after an embarrassed silence where no one else spoke. ‘Who could know a man better than his wife? Her words must hold weight.’

She turned towards the crowd, seeking a friendly face or two. ‘Hear my words and mark them well, all of you. The man who stands before you is my husband. Lift the scales from your eyes. See that this man can be none other than Ash Hringson. How many horses have I saved through my skill? Or falcons’ wings fixed? How many people have I sewn up? How many times in the last few years have I ensured that timber or wool was delivered on time? Have I ever failed to honour a single agreement?’

A few started to murmur in the crowd.

‘This is Ash Hringson, the man who was once my husband,’ Kara continued steadily, knowing everyone was finally listening to her, including Ash. Her voice wasn’t going to vanish as it had when she was a girl and forced to speak in front of an audience. She was a grown woman with responsibilities now. ‘I can see his birthmark and his voice sounds the same as I remember it, but more importantly something deep within me tells me that this is him. Why it took him such a length of time to return is a tale he alone can tell. Who will join me in recognising him and welcoming him back to Raumerike?’

She waited expectantly, but no one moved or cried out.

‘What a thing to be recognised by one’s own wife who is about to remarry, but no one else,’ Ash said with his old dry humour to his voice.

The sound clawed at her heart and she had to look up at the ceiling. But still no one spoke. Most kept their eyes to the ground, though one or two stared defiantly at him.

‘You were the one who wished this done today, Lady Kara,’ Harald Haraldson said, rising to his feet again. ‘Shall we end this deception? My lord king and good nobles, I have no idea why Kara Olofdottar entered into this deception with this Viken, but something must be done to halt her perfidious scheme before she endangers the entire country. What other dealings has she had with our old enemy? What mischief does she wish to unleash on this country?’

The colour drained from Ash’s face, making his scars stand out as he recognised the gravity of his situation. Kara stared open-mouthed at Harald Haraldson. He had twisted the situation to suit his purpose. If she wasn’t careful, Harald Haraldson would seek to gain control of Jaarlshiem, using this as a pretext to attack the estate and hold it under the pretence of the safety of the realm.

‘My loyalty to Raumerike is without question,’ she snapped. ‘This is no act of Viken treachery.’

Harald Haraldson raised an eyebrow. ‘All I asked for was a little delay. Suddenly you speak of loyalty and treachery. I vote to err on the side of caution and tradition.’

‘Will no one else recognise this man as my husband?’ Kara held out her hands to the crowd, trying to pick out faces. ‘I trust my husband’s uncle has his own reasons for wishing Ash to remain dead, but what about the rest of you? Why do you wish Ash Hringson dead?’

The silence was deafening. Kara’s heart plummeted. What had she expected? For the entire Storting to stand up and declare for her, simply because she had asked? It wasn’t how the world worked. She’d stopped believing in miracles when Rurik was born.

She wished the ground would open and swallow her. Maybe she should have erred on the side of caution, but it would have been wrong to deny her husband. Silently she fumed at how neatly she’d been trapped.

A man dressed in rough farming clothes stood up. ‘Kara Olofdottar has vouched for him, I believe her. She cured my horse of lameness last spring and I know she always tells the truth. She never gives short measures with her grain.’ He gave Ash’s uncle a hard look. ‘Unlike others I could mention.’

After he stood, ten other men stood up. All they needed was one more.

‘I will vouch for him, as well. Kara Olofdottar must not be punished for speaking the truth,’ Valdar thundered beside her. He, too, gave a significant look towards Ash’s uncle before nodding at Ash. ‘You have your twelve men, Hringson. You are alive again in the eyes of Raumerike.’

‘The priest needs to decide,’ Ash’s uncle thundered. ‘Is this a proper way to conduct affairs? Are we to be led by women in skirts?’

Kara put her hand over her mouth and waited for the decision.

‘The gods have spoken. Kara Olofdottar has vouched that this man is indeed Ash Hringson, formerly declared dead, and twelve have agreed with her,’ the priest intoned after staring at the altar for a lifetime. ‘You are alive, Ash Hringson, according to Raumerike law. You may enjoy all the benefits of your former status.’

‘And the marriage?’ Ash’s face appeared to be carved from stone. ‘A woman, even a woman as beautiful as Kara Olofdottar, may not have two husbands. Do you accept my claim to her?’

The entire crowd laughed. A hot tide swept up Kara’s face. Easy words—that was all they were. Ash didn’t mean them, just as he had not meant the compliments he had given her seven years ago. Her father-in-law had demonstrated that fact when she’d fought for Rurik’s life. Ash had always used charm and flattery to get what he wanted.

Ice-cold anger swept through her. She might have recognised Ash but it didn’t mean she had forgiven him for what he’d done or how long it had taken him to return home. She would not revert to the starry-eyed naïve girl she had once been.

‘The marriage between Valdar Nerison and Kara Olofdottar will not take place today,’ the priest confirmed. ‘Ash Hringson has returned to the land of the living.’

‘This is not the end,’ Harald Haraldson said, rising to his feet. ‘I will ensure a proper investigation is held into where this man’s allegiance truly lies. I refuse to harbour a Viken viper in our bosom. Our country’s security should not be put at risk by this...this reckless woman.’

Without waiting for an answer, he stormed out of the hall. The room burst into pandemonium and a crowd of well-wishers swept Ash up, hoisting him on their shoulders and parading him about the room.

Kara stood at the altar, numb and shocked, unable to make any plans or even think straight as the noise surrounding Ash grew louder. Trust Ash to cause the most mischief and chaos that he could. He delighted in things like that.

They might be married, but it was not going to be the same sort of marriage that they’d once had. Her days of longing for approval and thinking he was her ultimate hero and saviour were over. No more. She had grown up. She required a good man by her side, helping her to farm the land and bring her son up, rather than one who went off to find glory. Someone steady and safe like Valdar, rather than someone who was only interested in their personal comfort or good fortune.

‘Thank you, Valdar,’ she said quietly, turning away from the spectacle Ash had created and looking directly at her former fiancé who had remained beside her. ‘I appreciate what you just did. Despite Harald Haraldson’s outburst, I know Ash will be a true Raumerike subject. He has only come back to claim what is his, not overthrow the king. He is no Viken viper.’

‘Kara?’ Valdar regarded her with an intent expression. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that there was a possibility that your husband might be alive? You should have trusted me with that knowledge, rather than allowing this to happen. Steps could have been taken.’

‘Tell you what?’ The crown pressed harder against her forehead and she struggled to control her anger at this latest injustice. Did he truly think she had arranged this near fiasco? That she wanted this? She had envisioned today ending very differently. ‘You must know that I intended to be a good wife. I thought him dead, like everyone else. The dead simply do not come back to life. Or at least until today...’

‘Your husband has returned. You recognised him without hesitation. Normally in these cases, there is an investigation. I thought maybe you had arranged in advance...’

‘I’m as surprised as anyone to see him alive,’ she snapped and instantly regretted her tone as Valdar looked very hurt and concerned. Whosever fault it was, it wasn’t Valdar’s. She sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Valdar. I don’t know what to say. Believe me.’

He squeezed her hand. ‘I hope you are right, Kara, as you will be the one married to him. You’ll have to share his fate if it is proven that he is a Viken spy or worse. This is the first time I’ve seen you act impulsively in the four years we’ve known each other.’

Kara closed her eyes. Valdar only knew the new Kara, not the one who had married Ash as quickly as she could in case he changed his mind.

‘I can’t marry you, Valdar.’ Kara pressed her trembling hands together. ‘I’m sorry. It appears I already have a husband. You deserve someone better.’

‘Why would I want anyone else?’ Valdar raised her hand to his lips.

‘Find your own wife, Valdar Nerison! This one is taken!’ Ash called from behind her.

‘Please, Valdar. I hate scenes.’

Valdar dropped her hand and took a step backwards. ‘At your command, my lady.’

The hurt in his eyes tore at Kara’s heart. She’d only considered the marriage for Rurik’s sake, but he seemed to have truly desired it. She hated that she’d wounded him.

Ash raised his arm and requested silence. The hall hushed instantly. ‘I have been recognised and welcomed back. I assume a wedding feast will have been prepared. It should now become a welcome-home feast. I look forward to drinking toasts with each and every one of you. I bear none ill will or malice. But would it be too much to ask for time alone with my wife before someone else attempts to steal her from under my nose?’

The entire chamber laughed as Kara fumed. Ash had them in the palm of his hand, just as he always had. Hring had sworn his son had been born with a tongue which could charm the birds from trees, never mind the maidens into his bed.

The last thing she wanted was to be alone with Ash.

Before Kara could object, the priest nodded his assent and indicated that they should use his antechamber.

‘We should go to the feast. People will want to greet you,’ she said in desperation. ‘Someone should be there to supervise.’

‘Shall we go from here, wife?’ Ash gave an elaborate bow, but his eyes remained colder than a glacier. ‘The men will not miss us for the brief time it will take to exchange our private greetings. The food and drink will flow whether you are there or not.’

‘Do you wish me to come with you?’ Valdar asked in an undertone. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. ‘I’m here if you need me, Kara. The priest will allow it if I ask. I want...I want to be your champion.’

Kara pressed her hand to her mouth. If she had ever had any doubts about Valdar, they vanished now. Not only had he been willing to recognise Ash, but he was also willing to fight for her. She truly had not deserved him. She wished that she felt something more than simple friendship for him. She wished she had been marrying him because she loved him, instead of to provide protection for her son.

‘How touching, Valdar.’ Ash’s voice could freeze icicles. ‘But my wife has no need of any champion except for me.’

‘That is for the Lady Kara to decide.’

‘I will be fine,’ she whispered back. ‘Fear is not something I have ever associated with Ash.’

Valdar bowed low. ‘Remember, Kara, I wanted to marry you, not the jaarldom. There is always divorce.’

‘I could never...’ Her throat closed. How could she have mistaken his intentions so badly? Somehow it made everything worse. She had nearly repeated the same mistake as seven years ago, only in reverse. Did that make her as wicked as Ash had been? ‘It depends on...’

Valdar nodded, understanding that she could never leave Rurik. In any divorce, the children stayed with the father. Ever since she had first felt Rurik move within her womb, she’d loved him unconditionally. She could not simply leave him with a father who was likely to leave on some adventure again, abandoning him. Equally she knew she could not stay with Ash as she once had, looking for the best in everything and instantly forgiving her hero anything.

‘Shall we go?’ Kara said with icy deliberateness. ‘You have much to explain.’

Ash put his hand on the small of her back, pulling her close. His lips angled down. She turned her face. A tiny tremor went through her as they brushed her cheek. She stiffened, but his hand kept her close.

‘As do you,’ he murmured, giving Valdar a significant look. ‘Wouldn’t want anyone to think we weren’t the happy reunited couple, would we?’

Kara clamped her mouth shut and knew his touch on her back was about possession rather than any real affection and that she might have made the biggest mistake of her life when she’d acknowledged him.


Chapter Three

‘I owe you a life debt,’ Ash said the instant he was alone with Kara in the priest’s antechamber and before she had a chance to start shouting at him about how long he’d been gone.

With its collection of bowls, pitchers and stores of incense, the antechamber was more a storage room than a place of worship. A particularly ugly sculpture of Thor wresting Loki dominated one side of the room. Hardly the place he’d envisioned greeting his wife properly, but it would have to do. Kara needed to understand that he was aware of what she had done and that he appreciated it.

Kara tore off the bridal crown and placed it on the table with a heavy clunk. Her blonde hair hung about her shoulders like a cloud of gold. ‘Of all the things to start with. No explanation or apology. You owe me nothing.’

Ash tensed. He had never seen Kara this angry or upset before. He’d expected her to be overjoyed that he had returned. And she was wrong—he owed her a huge debt.

The events in the temple could have easily gone the other way, endangering both their lives. He had never considered that his uncle would actively seek to deny his identity. His uncle had always encouraged him to chase adventure. Had he decided that the man who had returned was still not worthy of being called Hring Haraldson’s son? Or was it some power game that he knew nothing about? All Ash knew was that his uncle was now his enemy and, therefore, his family’s enemy, too.

‘I always pay my debts, Kara,’ he continued while she regarded him as if she wanted to wring his neck. He’d forgotten how beautiful she could be when aroused. ‘And you gave me back my life.’

‘How can I give back something you never lost?’ Her voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘Speaking the truth benefits everyone. Lies are always discovered. We did marry seven years ago. I’m pleased you finally remembered you had a waiting family in the midst of your adventuring.’

Ash struggled to control his temper. He’d always known he had a family. He’d endured the last six years of hell so he could return with his head held high and his honour intact...for his family. ‘What was going on out there, Kara?’

‘I was about to marry an honourable man. Generally that is what being a bride at a wedding means.’ Her deep-blue eyes blazed defiantly. ‘To the best of my knowledge, you died in a shipwreck, Ash.’

‘I promised you I would return.’

‘There are some promises people are unable to keep. I’ve learnt that lesson well, Ash.’ She slammed her fists together. ‘You must be aware how difficult it can be for a widow to survive.’

Ash rubbed the back of his neck. He supposed he deserved the rebuke. For as long as he could remember Kara had hung on his every word and adored him. When his father had ordered him to marry, Kara had been the natural choice. Safe. Comfortable. Always there and someone who believed in his dreams and him. He’d taken her for granted, just as he had all of his good fortune in those days. But when he’d been trapped in that dungeon with his men dying all about him, he’d known that he couldn’t return to Raumerike ruined and broken. He’d sent a message.

He tried to think if the Kara he remembered would have spoken in front of a crowd. His main memories of her were her soft crooning voice as she tended one of the sick animals she had found. Or blushing crimson when he stole a kiss.

‘Why did no one recognise me until you asked?’ he asked to keep his mind off uncomfortable thoughts.

She tilted her chin upwards. ‘If you wanted to be recognised without question, you should have returned sooner.’

‘I ran into complications.’ Ash waved a hand, dismissing the past seven years. The past was behind him. The less Kara knew of his struggles, the better. She only needed to know he’d returned a hero. She’d always loved a hero. ‘Why were you prepared to marry Valdar Nerison? He is the wrong sort of man for you.’

She batted her impossibly long lashes and her lips quirked upwards, but anger and bitterness blazed in her eyes. ‘How would you know what sort of man I require, Ash? Seven years, Ash, without word. Seven years is far too long.’

He silently counted to ten, rather than giving way to his temper. Did she really want the broken man he’d been after the dungeon? He could remember her last whispered words about making her proud and returning with gold in his purse. ‘Where is my father? Why wasn’t he there? Or doesn’t he approve of the proposed union?’

Stifling silence invaded the small room. Her expression changed from fury to one of sorrow and pity in an instant. His mind reeled. Ash braced himself, hoping against hope that he guessed wrong.

‘Your father collapsed when he learnt of your death. He never recovered the use of his limbs.’

‘No! I sent a message back. I thought he understood what I needed to do.’ Ash fell to his knees on the rushes. His entire body shook. One of the things that had driven him onwards was the thought that his father would finally have to admit that his son was worthy of being called a Raumerike warrior. His father would once again be able to hold up his head. All sense of shame would go. His father would realise the sort of man he’d become. And now he never would.

His father had always seemed as sturdy and steady as the oak which served as the family’s guardian tree or tuntreet. His father had collapsed when he thought his only son had died and never recovered. Never recovered. Ash’s mind shied from the word.

‘Can you take me to see him?’ he asked, hoping that his guess was wrong.

‘There is more.’

‘Don’t spare me. I want to know everything.’

‘You asked.’

Each new word rained a blow to Ash’s heart. His father was dead, but more importantly Kara had spent the last few years caring for his bedridden father.

‘He died last Jul-tide of a fever,’ she said, finishing. ‘I run Jaarlshiem the best I can, but the estate needs a master as well as a mistress. I refuse to lose my home, Ash, simply because I don’t have a man.’

‘I wish I’d known.’ He closed his eyes and offered prayers for his father’s shade to any god who happened to be listening. The sort of son his father wanted would have been there to sing the lament and pour some of the ash from the funeral pyre on the family’s tuntreet.

There were so many things he had planned on telling his father. He’d looked forward to his father finally declaring his only son was worthy of being called the son of one of Raumerike’s legendary warriors. ‘I...I would have done things differently.’

‘Undoing the past is an impossibility, Ash.’

Ash struggled to think. His father’s demise gave an explanation as to why his Uncle Harald refused to recognise him and why Kara had planned to remarry. His uncle had always coveted Jaarlshiem and the title his father had won through the strength of his sword. The conferring of a jaarldom was far from straightforward if the heir was absent or not a strong enough warrior. It normally took a year or more. And Kara’s fate would be tied to the land.

Ash clenched his fist and stared at the cold hearth, aware of his many shortcomings. He’d simply never thought it possible for his father to die.

‘I know you loved your father,’ Kara said, breaking the silence. ‘Your father certainly loved you. Weep, if you like. I cried when he breathed his last.’

He raised his face to hers. Tears might come later, but not now. He refused to cry in front of anyone. He remembered her finding him in tears once before when he had run away after his father had beaten him for some trivial offence. She’d wiped his eyes with the corner of her apron. The shedding of tears was an occupation for the youth he used to be, not the man he’d become.

‘I sent word,’ he said, turning back to face her when he knew he could trust his voice to remain steady. ‘I did what was necessary for my honour. My father must have understood.’

She put a hand on her hip. ‘Your honour? Since when does honour come before life? Before family?’

‘For my father, always,’ he said very slowly. There was no need to recount the beatings he’d suffered as a boy when he’d fallen short of his father’s ideals or during the horrors he’d endured in his quest to restore his honour. The thought of returning home without that honour had been unthinkable and, not for the first time, he wished his life had taken a different path. ‘I returned with enough wealth to pay all life debts and tributes I owe. I’m aware of what my father required from any son of his. He beat it into me as a boy.’

Kara slammed her fists together and her eyes blazed with fury. She looked like she had truly become one of the Valkyrie, rather than merely named after one.

‘Your father thought you dead! Dead!’ She stamped her foot. ‘Instead of worrying about your precious honour, you should have returned. Your father wanted you here by his side, running the estate when he became too ill.’

‘Hiding behind my father’s shade, Kara? We both know how he used his fists. Be honest—you wanted me here, but you also wanted me to be a hero. You asked me to return one.’

She slammed her fists together again. ‘I asked you to return.’

‘I sent word when I escaped from the dungeon,’ he explained, watching her intently for any signs of softening and understanding. For months he’d hoped for a word of reprieve, but nothing had arrived. ‘The silence was deafening, but I knew what my father required. Return a hero or die. Pay my debts without his help.’

Kara dipped her head so that her loose hair fell over her face, hiding her expression. Ash watched a tiny heartbeat pulse in the hollow of her throat. Silently he prayed she’d understand what he’d gone through and would forgive him.

‘The tribute was paid years ago, from the estate,’ she said in a hollow voice. ‘Shipwrecks happen because the gods wish it. He wanted his son.’

‘My father wanted to preserve the honour of his dead son as he’d no use for the living one,’ Ash corrected her with an impatient wave of his hand. Didn’t she understand—it had to come from him, from what he’d earned, rather than from what he’d been given? ‘My father should not have suffered for my mistakes. None should have suffered but me.’

‘Are you that wealthy?’ she asked lifting her head so her deep blue gaze met his. ‘Four years to pay everyone. Jaarlshiem is one of the most productive farms in Raumerike.’

‘Yes, I am. My last voyage became a raid on a church filled to the brim with gold and silver. My share provided the final amount and more.’ He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face so he could gaze directly into her eyes. ‘I came home, Kara. You will not want for anything. I know my duty now that my father is dead and I will do it. You are my wife.’

He bent his head, preparing to taste her lips and see if they were as sweet as he remembered. To kiss away her anger like he had done in the past.

Kara twisted out of his grip. Her gaze became fixed on the grinning statue of Loki, which dominated the priest’s antechamber, rather than drowning in the deep blue pools of Ash’s eyes. That god-like Ash had a silver tongue to charm people.

It would be so easy to give in and taste Ash’s lips. Her entire being wanted to. But she knew kissing Ash would be a mistake. Her attraction to Ash was the hangover from a girlish fantasy. He couldn’t just smile at her, touch her hand and make seven years disappear as if they were nothing. Her days of unabashed adoration and ready excuses had finished when her father-in-law had showed her the sort of man Ash truly was. He most definitely had not been the golden hero of her dreams who would magically appear to solve her problems.

Ash had thirsted after glory, putting it before everyone and everything, and he had found it. But how long until he needed to quench his thirst again? This time she had to consider Rurik as well as herself.

She’d grown up in the intervening years. A necessity. She had taken responsibility. She’d run the estate very successfully. She’d done all the practical things that Ash should have been doing, if he had put his quest for glory to one side. Now he expected her to melt in his arms as if nothing had happened, as if she was the same simple infatuated girl who always forgave him with a smile. Romantic words melted like dirty slush in the sunlight of practicality.

‘This isn’t the right time or place,’ she said, fixing him with her eye as if he were the same age as Rurik and had done some mischief. ‘We’re in a temple. People expect to see us at this so-called welcoming feast.’

The excuse sounded weak to her ears. She lifted her chin and glared as if he were Rurik caught in some misdeed. He appeared amused rather than appropriately cowed.

‘Kara, let go of your anger.’ He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. The warmth invaded her body, melting the ice which had encased her soul for so long. ‘What purpose does it serve? What matters is the future, our future. As long as the mead and ale flow, the feast will be deemed a success.’

‘Keep away from me!’ She took a step back from him. ‘Your touch does nothing for me.’

Her body protested at the lie. A subtle brush of his hand and her internal flame sparked into a glow. For six years, she had considered it dead. Why did it have to be Ash and only Ash who did this to her? She wrapped her arms about her body, struggling not to lean in to him.

Slowly, he lowered his hands. She stumbled backwards.

‘Careful. I don’t want you to fall.’

She raised her chin. ‘My balance is excellent. Thank you.’

Kara put her hand over the spot where his hand had been. Warmth pulsed through her. She concentrated on breathing steadily.

‘A problem, wife?’ he enquired softly. ‘You used to beg for them—one, two, three. Have you forgotten so soon?’

Kara ground her teeth. Beg for his kisses! She’d behaved worse than she recalled. Or was he remembering another of his women? She had never begged. Asked, maybe. Hoped for, definitely. Did he take her for a simpleton?

‘Your memory is faulty.’

He gave a triumphant male smile. ‘Can you remember the kiss you begged for under the apple tree with the blossom falling all about you? I can. I asked you to marry me afterwards and you agreed.’

‘Seven years, Ash Hringson,’ Kara ground out, turning so she faced the Loki statue. He’d asked her to marry him because he’d wanted a ship to sail off and have adventures in, not because he wanted more of her innocent kisses. She hated that she had once believed the lie of his unswerving devotion.

Twisting events to suit his purpose, a trait he shared with his son. She was finished with being an apologist for his actions, always searching for the good. ‘You could have sent word of your progress, but chose not to. We’re strangers now. Walking back into my life and expecting to take up where we left off is a mistake. It will not happen. I will not allow my heart or life to be trampled on.’

‘You are my wife.’ Ash’s brows knit together as his hand fell to his side. ‘It is natural for a husband to kiss his wife, particularly after a long absence. Especially after a long absence.’

Unbridled fury coursed through her veins. She spun round and managed to stop herself from shaking him by the narrowest of threads. ‘Until I know for certain that I want this marriage to continue, I keep a separate bed.’

The words hung between them. The adoring girl she’d once been cringed. After she’d agreed to their marriage, whenever she protested about something, he’d kissed her until her senses had spun with desire. With so much at stake, she couldn’t afford to return to that girl.

His face became ice-carved, emphasising the half-moon scar on his chin. Instead of the young man she remembered, a fierce warrior stood before her. Then, like the sun coming between the clouds on an autumn day, he smiled.

‘Of course we shall stay married, Kara. You’re simply a bit put out and not thinking clearly. I’m hardly to blame. The message went astray.’

A bit put out? Kara’s jaw dropped. Ash made it seem like he had been gone for a few months and that she was overreacting. He should understand that seven years was an age and she needed time. They both did. Things had changed. She had changed. Going back to being the romantic dreamer she had been all those years ago was impossible. She had Rurik to protect.

Her stomach dropped. Rurik. He didn’t know. She had to tell Ash about their son. She glanced about her at the statues and incense burners. But not here. Not now. He’d just heard about his father’s death. She wasn’t ready to explain the full story of Rurik’s birth. It had to be done carefully.

She struggled with a calming breath. ‘It is far more than a fit of pique over a small slight. I’m within my rights to divorce you. We haven’t shared a bed for over five years. Consider my request for time as payment of your life debt to me if you must, but give me that time. Do not seek to seduce me.’

His eyes regarded her with a thoughtful expression.

‘You’re within your rights even without demanding payment for the life debt,’ he said and held out his hands. An indulgent smile played on his lips. ‘If it is what my beautiful wife wants, who am I to deny the request?’

The tension rushed out of her shoulders. He had agreed. She had time to find the right words and explain about Rurik and what she had done. She’d make him understand.

She tapped her finger against her lips. He had agreed, far too readily. Ash was up to something, but she knew all his tricks now. She would resist him.

‘Thank you,’ she said, inclining her head. ‘Thank you for appreciating the difficulty we both face. We were friends once. I would like to remain friends.’

‘I do appreciate the length of time, Kara. Believe me. But you seem to be nervous. There is never any need to be nervous around me. Ever. Your interests are mine. It is what husbands do.’

He took a step closer to her and ran a finger down the side of her face, sending a pulse of warmth radiating through her. Her body swayed towards him as the ache in her lips grew.

The door swung open and she jumped back. Her cheeks flamed. Silently she blessed whoever had opened that door and jerked her back to reality.

Valdar stepped into the room, filling the doorway with his steady bulk. Concern was clearly etched on his face. A slow tide of warmth washed up her face and she silently thanked the gods that he had arrived when he did.

‘I wondered if there was some problem, Kara,’ he said, bowing low. ‘You were expected at the feast long ago. People are beginning to ask.’

‘It has been a long time since I’ve seen my wife. People must wait their turn.’ Ash laid a possessive hand on her shoulder. ‘A husband’s needs come first.’

‘We are on our way,’ Kara said, tearing her shoulder from Ash’s unnerving touch. This was not about her, but putting his stamp on his possession for all to see. Men could be so obvious. She was far from a piece of furniture or an arm ring to be squabbled over. ‘Ash needed to know about his father in private.’

Valdar inclined his head. ‘Auda wondered if you needed help. I volunteered.’

Kara rubbed the back of her neck. She couldn’t decide if she should hug Auda for sending Valdar or shout at her. She and Ash needed to get the boundaries of their relationship set, but Valdar was right—people expected them elsewhere.

Ash’s eyes flicked from her to Valdar. He pursed his lips. ‘I understand entirely.’

‘Understand what?’ Kara snapped

‘Why you made the request.’ He nodded towards where Valdar glowered. ‘Obvious, Kara, very obvious. You have acquired a guard dog.’

Kara clamped her mouth shut. Valdar and what he did with the rest of his life was the least of her concerns, but right now any excuse would do. She forced a smile. ‘There is nothing wrong with being obvious. Until you returned, I was Valdar’s bride.’

Ash’s eyes narrowed. A sudden pang went through her. She wished it was because he was jealous about the thought of her with someone else, not just because he was possessive and proud. If Ash had cared about her, he would have returned earlier. ‘I see.’

‘Do you indeed?’ Valdar’s hand went to his sword.

‘I do.’ Ash’s went to his.

‘The feast, Ash,’ she said before a fight started. Before she could explain about Valdar, she had to explain about Rurik and there wasn’t time to do it properly. Valdar was right. People expected to see Ash at the feast. ‘A lot of time and effort went into making sure the feast would be memorable.’

‘It will now be memorable for other reasons.’ Valdar’s hand remained on the hilt without moving.

‘The right reasons,’ Ash corrected glaring at Valdar and keeping his hand on his sword.

‘Did Valdar say otherwise?’ Kara asked, moving between the two warriors.

Neither commented. Each seemed to be poised, waiting for the other to make his move.

The nagging pain at the back of her eyes intensified. If she was not very careful, these two warriors would be at each other’s throats. And the feast would be even more memorable. ‘Thank you, Valdar, for heeding Auda’s request and reminding me that the feast needs to begin. Ash, you will have to say a few words before everyone can eat unless you would rather someone else did.’

Ash’s fingers relaxed. ‘Whom do you suggest? My uncle? After all, he has been entirely welcoming.’

‘Harald Haraldson sends his apologies.’ Valdar lowered his hand, releasing the hilt. ‘Today’s events have overwhelmed him and he is far from young.’

Kara’s heart sank. Ash’s uncle was making a deliberate statement rather than taking to his bed in shock. He had not given up his quest for Jaarlshiem simply because Ash had returned.

‘And the king?’ she asked quietly. If the king had decided not to attend the feast, as well, it would send a very powerful message that his support lay with Ash’s uncle in any investigation.

‘He agreed with Auda and sent me. He does prefer an early night these days.’

Giddy relief poured through Kara. The king might not come out and declare it, but he would support Ash over Harald Haraldson in any investigation. Everything might be fine after all. Harald Haraldson was powerful enough to demand an enquiry, but Ash would achieve his birthright as long as he had the king’s favour. Rurik’s inheritance was secure. For the first time since Hring the Bold’s funeral and Harald Haraldson’s declaration, Kara felt she could stop looking over her shoulder—the king was with Ash.

‘If he is the one asking, then we must go.’ Kara clapped her hands together. ‘One never keeps a king waiting.’

‘We are not finished.’

‘We can discuss things later.’

‘I look forward to that with anticipation.’

After the feast, she’d explain about Rurik, Kara promised herself. Ash had to understand that she had a duty to their son. And she wanted to ensure he was properly brought up, not left to fend for himself with only a nurse for company as Ash had been. She remembered drying Ash’s tears once after he’d been beaten and sent out into the forest again. Later Hring had boasted about Ash’s rough-and-ready upbringing and his tales still made her blood run cold. That was not happening to Rurik.

Ash drew his arm through hers. He smiled down at her but his eyes were hard. ‘We enter the feast together. Husband and wife.’

Kara wet her lips and tried to quell the nerves in her stomach. ‘Together?’

Ash gave Valdar a significant look. ‘You can hardly want people to think I had lost you...already.’


Chapter Four

The cheers and stomping of feet echoed in Ash’s ears as he took his seat. His brief speech and toast in reply to the king’s welcome had gone down well with the assembled crowd. Slightly different from the one he had planned on the ship.

It was the sort of speech they, in particular Kara, would want to hear rather than a precise recounting of events. Ash inwardly cringed at certain parts which made him out to be more of a hero. He’d been lucky. That was all. Nothing heroic. He had made it through alive even if at times he’d wanted to die, rather than continue on. But no one wanted to hear the truth.

‘Your speech was well received.’ Kara gave a polite smile as he sat down. ‘It certainly seemed like you had an exciting time.’

‘You missed two of my jokes. You never missed them before,’ he said. ‘I put them in especially for you. I hoped you liked them.’

Kara raised an eyebrow. ‘For me? I’m honoured that you thought much about me. My mind must have been on something else. I’m sorry.’

Ash tapped his finger against the drinking horn. Watching for someone? Valdar had not yet appeared in the hall, despite his ill-timed interruption in the antechamber.

‘I just wanted you to know.’

‘Impressing me should be the least of your considerations, Ash,’ she said.

Ash took a thoughtful sip of his ale. She was wrong. Seven years ago, he had married her in order to demonstrate to his father that he was ready to shoulder responsibility and ready to be the captain of a ship. Kara had been the girl on the next estate who blushed every time he spoke to her and hung on his every word. She’d believed in his dreams of being a great warrior. He hated disappointing anyone. ‘I wanted you to know.’

‘I’ll try harder the next time I hear the speech.’

Ash shuddered inwardly. The words had stuck in his throat, but people wanted to hear about heroes not failures. ‘It won’t be given again.’

‘I was distracted. I apologise.’

The earlier glance between Kara and Valdar had been telling. She had welcomed the interruption in the antechamber, maybe even requested it beforehand. Valdar certainly was her devoted slave. How far had it gone? Kara was his wife. But did he truly have a right to her any more? All he knew was that he wanted her.

When he had seen her standing in front of the priest next to the blond hulk of a warrior, something had twisted inside his gut.

He remembered the man from his youth. They used to be rivals at games and swordplay. His father had always held Valdar up as the sort of son he’d wanted. Kara was his woman, not anyone else’s, particularly not Valdar Nerison’s. He would reclaim her. He would show her that he was worthy of being her hero. He could do it. He was more than a match for Valdar.

‘You look very serious,’ Kara said, frowning. ‘The king’s speech was more than gracious in the circumstances and your recital of your adventures is sure to have fired skalds’ imaginations. You will get a saga out of this. You always wanted to be in a saga. Stop acting like it is Ragnarok because I didn’t laugh at one of your jokes.’

Ash forced another swallow of the ale. Wasn’t that what she wanted, as well—a hero for a husband? And what would happen when she discovered he was just a man, a flawed man? He pushed the thought away.

‘Thinking. Things have changed since I last attended a feast in Sand. And I hadn’t expected to notice the empty spaces and missing faces as much as I have.’

She toyed with a piece of bread, shredding it into ever smaller pieces. ‘It must be hard to be the only one who returned from that félag.’

Ash gave a reluctant nod. The dead were always with him, but tonight more than ever. They knew he was no hero. They knew his words were an exaggeration at best, but he couldn’t risk losing her by appearing less than a hero. ‘You should know I’d have changed places with any of them if I could. They were good men, better men than me.’

‘You knew them better than I.’

‘That I did.’ Ash gestured towards where the skald sat, tuning his lyre. ‘When am I going to hear the lament my father commissioned about my death? Several have mentioned it. Or weren’t you planning on that song at your wedding feast?’

Her cheeks flushed scarlet. ‘I didn’t think it appropriate for my wedding. He might know it. It was popular for a few years in Raumerike.’

‘Ask him to play it.’

‘Why?’

To know what my father thought about me. A man wants to know how he is remembered. Even if he is not worthy of that remembrance. Ash clamped back the words. If he wanted to regain Kara, she had to think he was a hero, the ideal husband for her. ‘I thought it would be amusing.’

‘Amusing.’ Kara placed her cup down with a thump. ‘That is what you think a lament should be—an amusement? Sometimes I wonder if I ever knew you, Ash Hringson.’

‘What else? Amusement is far better than sorrow, but I will wait.’ Ash clapped his hands. ‘I wish to hear some Raumerike songs. It has been far too long. Please my ears, skald, and you will be well rewarded.’

* * *

Kara bore the feast for as long she could. She listened to the toasts and the songs. She made meaningless small talk with various people, but her sense of unease grew with every passing breath. She had to force her voice to be loud and firm, whereas Ash appeared not to be suffering any sort of fear or trepidation. He’d actually wanted to hear the lament his father had commissioned.

Silently she thanked the gods that the skald was one Valdar had hired so he hadn’t committed the verses to memory. The last verses were about Ash’s ghost imploring his infant son to grow up to be a brave warrior like him. There was never a dry eye at Jaarlshiem when the piece was sung. Instead the skald had sung drinking songs and songs of past Raumerike battles. Everyone had joined in and the ale had flowed.

The entire situation reminded her of the feasts before Ash had left when she’d faded into the background as he held everyone in the palm of his hand with his ready wit. He kept up a steady stream of banter and was willing to drink every toast.

Ash’s shoulder nudged her after the third drinking song. When the fifth started, his hand brushed over hers as he reached for the trencher that they shared. A deliberate caress. She made a stabbing motion with her eating knife. He gave an unrepentant smile and reached for her hand again. This time, he brought it to his lips.

Kara straightened her back and stared directly ahead, ignoring the pulse of warmth. She was not a plum, ripe for the plucking and bedding, simply because Ash had deigned to return after seven years and desired a warm body.

She turned and saw Valdar staring at her and Ash. Heat stained her cheeks. Ash’s gesture had been one of possession, rather than casual regard or desire.

She stood up.

Ash immediately stopped his conversation in mid-quip and caught her hand. ‘A problem?’

‘Time for me to retire,’ she said, her throat tightening.

‘Here, Valdar has finally arrived. He failed to follow directly. Odd, that.’ He nodded towards where her former betrothed stood, gently swaying. His bridal finery was now rumpled and his jaw slack.

Kara turned her face away, trying to remember if she had ever seen Valdar drunk.

Ash put an arm about her shoulders. ‘But if you are ready to go, who am I to deny you?’

She pulled away. ‘That has nothing to do with anything. I have had a long day. Exhaustion hits the best of us.’

‘And we are anticipating an even longer night!’ one of Ash’s former drinking companions called out from further down the table.

‘You speak to my wife. Keep a civil tongue in your head.’ Ash glowered at the man. ‘Apologise.’

The man gulped. ‘I apologise, my lady. The beer has made my tongue loose.’

Ash stood and put a possessive hand in the middle of her back. ‘You’re right, lady wife. The hour grows late. I accept your plea. Time we both retired.’

‘Please don’t feel you must,’ Kara said in a hurried undertone. ‘I can see myself home. Your many admirers are here, wanting to speak with you and hear about your adventures. The celebrations are poised to continue until the cock crows in the morning.’

His eyes became hooded. ‘Why should I want to be parted from you, my loyal wife?’

She moved and his hand fell away. The tiny touch burned its way up her arm. Ash was up to his old tricks—saying things and allowing her to interpret them in a specific fashion when he meant entirely the opposite thing. ‘Teasing fails to become you. I’m not in the mood and I am serious. People expect the full story. You only gave the briefest hint of your adventures. Do you wish for people to feel cheated?’

He reached down and rubbed the side of his leg. ‘The feast grows wearisome for me as well as you. The telling of tales means reliving my experiences. The words are stuck in my throat. Tomorrow when I have found better words, I will tell them. Today has unfolded in a different fashion than I had thought it would.’

Kara noticed the tired circles under his eyes and the faint pinching around his mouth. It reminded her of when Rurik protested at having a nap, but was about to fall asleep on his feet. She was being hard on Ash. She had been so caught up in her own discomfort that she hadn’t seen the toll the day’s events had taken on him. ‘Today was a different day than either of us planned. In the morning...’

‘The morning will look after itself. Right now, let me look after you.’

Her breath caught in her throat. Once she had longed to hear those words from Ash, but now she knew they were meaningless phrases. The only person Ash looked after was himself. ‘No need. I am capable.’

‘Every need. You are my wife.’ He cleared his throat and stared straight at Valdar. Valdar glowered back. ‘I must leave you all. My lady wife begs for bed.’

His voice echoed about the hall.

There was a great stamping of feet and a fresh round of laughter. ‘A kiss! A kiss! A kiss! We want a kiss!’

Kara froze. Not here. Ash was just proving a point to Valdar.

His eyes turned speculative, then he shook his head.

‘I do my wooing in private. Haven’t you seen enough for one day? Find your own women.’ He glared directly at Valdar. ‘This one is taken.’

He ushered her out of the hall into the cool night air, putting his hand firmly on the small of her back. The shouts and ribald jests followed them into the dark night. A large yellow moon hung in the sky, giving a real glow to the street. The sounds of the feast filtered out.

‘Thank you.’

‘For what? For not kissing you?’ He rubbed the back of his thumb along her mouth, making it ache. ‘I told the truth, Kara. I’ve no need to kiss you in public. I’m willing to wait, knowing what the prize is.’

Easy words. She had made the mistake before of believing such things. It was deeds which counted, not words. Deeds lasted. Words faded as soon as they were uttered.

‘For leaving with me. My father...’ Kara’s throat closed as she thought of the humiliations her father had piled on her mother when he’d returned from his voyages and how her mother had retreated into her own private world.

‘Your father was a difficult man, plagued with his own demons,’ Ash said.

‘Anyway, I’m grateful.’

‘Feasts are a chore at the best of times. This one was far harder than most, but it is over...for both of us.’

‘You used to love them. You spent days practising your jokes and quips on me.’

‘I’d forgotten that. Hopefully I didn’t bore you.’

Her mouth went dry. ‘I enjoyed hearing them. Sometimes...sometimes I think about them even now.’

His eyes became huge pools of midnight blue in the moonlight. ‘Other things became more important. And my long-ago words were the babblings of an unwise youth.’

She forced her face to turn away from him. In another heartbeat she’d melt into his arms and that was wrong. ‘I can find my own way home.’

‘You’re my wife. Allow me this. Allow me to keep you safe.’

The stones in the road swam in front of her eyes. She blinked rapidly. The only person who could keep her safe was her. ‘I’ve no objection.’

They walked in silence to the door of the small house she used when she was in Sand. The night held the chilly promise of winter. In the sky, a large harvest moon hung, illuminating the silent town in silver.

It seemed such a short time ago that she’d left the house to marry Valdar and now she was returning with a different husband, one she had once mistakenly thought knew her intimately, but now was a total stranger.

Kara gave him a quick glance. Would he want to stay? Would he expect it? The house was his by right. She could hardly refuse him entrance, but she could refuse him her bed. It was too much to tell him about Rurik tonight. No one had said anything at the feast despite her worries.

His set face gave nothing away.

‘Here we say goodnight.’ She held out her hand as they stopped beside the door.

‘Kara...’ He reached for her, tilting her chin upwards. ‘Is that how you say goodnight? When did an ice giant touch your heart?’

In the pale moonlight, his face had become like Loki’s—beguiling, but treacherous. It would be easy to melt into his arms and give her mouth up to his touch, but also it would be the worst thing she could do. She had finished believing he was what she wanted. She no longer had need of heroes. She needed a steady man. To bring up Rurik properly.

Rurik.

Her mouth went dry. She needed to tell him. Before anyone else did. She had kept trying to find the correct way on the journey home, but her mind had been devoid of ideas. It had to be done right.

‘That would be unwise, Ash.’

His hand fell to his side. ‘Why?’

‘Much remains unsettled. We need to finish our discussion. I won’t be forced or seduced. Ash, I know your tricks. You say things you think people want to hear. I remember enough about your old stories to know things were far more difficult and less pleasurable than you made out in tonight’s speech. Some day, when you’re ready to tell me what truly happened, then maybe we can begin again.’

She watched him silently and willed him to tell her the truth of why he’d been gone so long. After that, she’d confess about their son. It was hard knowing the right time and way to say it. How did you tell a man that he had a six-year-old son?

‘I wasn’t planning on asking to stay unless you requested it. We go at your pace, Kara. I’ve never forced a woman. I’ve no plans to change that habit, particularly not with my wife.’ His hand caught a strand of her hair and wound it about his finger. ‘Are you afraid of admitting that truth? You desired me as much as I desired you. And I still desire you. We could have beautiful children, Kara. You always wanted children.’

A cold prickle ran down her spine. It was the opening she’d waited for. She had to tell him the truth before she gave into cowardice. Ash had to hear about Rurik from her, rather than learning from someone else. She silently prayed that she would not have to tell him the full story. Not tonight.

‘Ash, listen to me.’ The words came out in a rush as she tore her hair from his grasp. ‘Everything between us changed six years ago when I gave birth to your son.’

His mouth dropped open. In the pale moonlight, the laughter drained from his face. He looked as if someone had hit him over the head with a sword. He shook his head as if to clear it and all the while watching her with a stunned, uncomprehending face.

Her stomach roiled. She had said the words far too bluntly. She should have eased her way in.

‘I have a child?’ The words were barely above a whisper. Shocked and utterly unlike his usual voice. ‘A son from you?’

‘Yes, we have a son—Rurik.’

A son. He had a son. His son. The words pounded into Ash’s brain.

The overwhelming tiredness fell away. He was a father. He scarcely knew what to think or say. He was utterly unprepared for it.

He had never even thought of the possibility. Never allowed his mind to consider such a thing as a child of his own. Kara had had his child. All sorts of conflicting emotions coursed through him—elation at having a child and the horror at knowing how unworthy he was, as well as a sense of responsibility and the bitterness of regret.

His son had grown up without him—cut his first tooth, taken his first step and ridden his first horse without Ash being there to see it. He had always sworn that he’d never do that to a child, behave like his father had done. But he had. He’d been even worse. His father had at least welcomed him into the world before departing for four years of adventuring. Ash had never seen his boy. Never even considered his existence.

Was ignorance an excuse? Not for the first time, Ash wanted to turn back the sands of time.

He ran a hand through his hair and tried to keep his emotions under control. He glanced up at twinkling stars in the night sky and blinked the tears away. He was a father. It changed everything and nothing. One more mistake for his shade to carry. He should have known deep within his soul and he hadn’t. What sort of man did that make him?

‘What is his name?’ he asked, through the lump in his throat. ‘Did you say Rurik?’

‘Rurik, Rurik Ashson. Once you said you wanted your first-born to be named Rurik.’

Rurik, his mother’s father’s name. The memory came rushing back. He had been standing on a rock above the lake, proclaiming what he’d do after he conquered the world and sired a batch of sons.

How had she remembered that? He didn’t deserve that sort of consideration, but he was grateful for it. More than grateful.

‘You did well. My first choice,’ he said and knew his words were inadequate. Anger surged through him. She’d known. She’d carried the knowledge with her through the morning and afternoon. All through the feast. But she’d kept the most important piece of news from him. It felt good to be angry. Anything was better than the all-consuming regret. ‘Why wait until now to tell me? Why not tell me at the temple?’

‘Ash...’ She held out her hand.

Ash ignored it. With a hurt expression, she slowly lowered it. Ash hardened his heart and forced the guilt back down his throat. Every other man at the feast had known, but not him. Had she wanted to humiliate him?

‘It should have been the first thing you said to me,’ he ground out. ‘Before you spoke of my father’s death. You risked making me the laughing stock of Raumerike. Or maybe that was your intention. A way to get back at me for something not of my making? I thought you better than that.’

‘I was interrupted before I had a chance...’ Kara pressed her hands to her eyes, hating the guilt that swept over her. She’d made a mistake. He was absolutely right. She should have said something. She hated that she’d been a coward about her son whom she loved with every fibre of her being. ‘You’d just learnt your father had died. Losing a father and gaining a son in the next breath is far too much for any man to bear.’

‘You’re sure he is mine?’ Ash gripped her shoulders, his face intent.

Kara’s entire body went cold. He had to believe her. She hardly wanted to confess that Ash was her only lover, not after learning about the parade of women who’d graced his bed before her and more than likely since. He was not the type to endure an empty bed for seven years. She had her pride.

‘Rurik is your son as well as mine.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Once you see him, you will know. He has your eyes, Ash, and your nose. Your father used to proclaim how like his father Rurik was and how I ought to be careful or he’d be steering ships on to the rocks.’

The tension eased in his shoulders. His hands fell to his sides.

‘I wouldn’t wish my nose on anyone,’ he mumbled, hanging his head.

‘I’ve always liked your nose.’

‘When was he born?’ he asked in a gentler tone.

Kara wound a strand of hair about her finger and tried not to think back to that fateful day. Ash needed the bare minimum. Later, maybe, she’d tell him the full tale. ‘He was a Jul-tide baby. The day of his birth was icy.’

Ash expelled a breath. Five months after he’d departed. Two months after he was supposed to have returned.

He’d been in the dungeon then, waiting for help which never would come. Nothing he could have done. The thought failed to ease his sense of guilt. She must have known before he’d left. Had she kept the news from him?

‘I want to see him. Immediately! Take me to him.’

Kara opened the door, her shoulders quivered like a nervous horse, scenting battle. ‘Shall we discuss this inside, rather than on the street for all to hear?’

Ash entered the dimly lit room. He would never have recognised it. Instead of the gloomy tapestries of battles which had frightened him as a little boy, the walls were hung with the most fantastical beasts. The weaving loom was set before the small hearth rather than being banished to the back room. The house which he remembered as a cold and austere place had a definite air of warmth. Things had changed for the better here, but he dreaded to think about Jaarlshiem. The farm had suffered when his mother had looked after it.

‘Is he here?’ he asked as Kara stood quietly just inside the doorway. ‘I want to see him. Now. Wake him up! His father is home!’





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