In her captor’s bed!

Women are not part of Sigurd Sigmundson’s existence, and Eilidith should purely be a means to an end to gain access to a well-guarded Viking stronghold. He would have to be made of iron, though, not to be stirred by the warmly sensual woman beneath her ice-cold shield.

Liddy has been made to feel ugly and insignificant because of her facial birthmark. Surely her captor couldn’t physically desire her? But, oh, how the stifled, passionate Liddy yearns to experience unrestrained love in his arms...

‘Of course I might be willing to sell my daughter,’ her father said. ‘You may have her in lieu of this year’s harvest.’

‘I volunteered to be a hostage, not a slave!’ Liddy cried. ‘A hostage has certain rights. A slave has none.’

‘You offer your daughter as tribute?’ Sigurd asked, in a tone chipped from last winter’s ice.

‘Aye,’ her father said heavily. ‘I may have to sell her on the open market to raise the amount required if the harvest fails.’

Something flickered in Sigurd’s eyes and his face became more carved in stone than ever.

‘I will buy her from you...if the price is right.’

Author Note

For the last four years my youngest son has spent part of his summers volunteering on the Scottish island of Oronsay. The first time he returned home he told me all about the Vikings on the west coast of Scotland, and how the Viking fleet had been based on Colonsay. I was intrigued, and wanted to do some more research. In September 2014 I was lucky enough to spend a week on Islay and Jura as my husband wanted to go whisky-tasting. The weather, contrary to all expectations, was blue skies and sunshine the entire time. I had a thoroughly good time and became more determined than ever to write a Viking romance set on the west coast of Scotland.

It took me a little time to get it right, but here it is.

As ever, I do hope you enjoy reading Sigurd and Liddy’s story as much I did writing it.

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

Sold to the Viking Warrior

Michelle Styles

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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

Books by Michelle Styles

Mills & Boon Historical Romance

Viking Warrior, Unwilling Wife

An Impulsive Debutante

A Question of Impropriety

Impoverished Miss, Convenient Wife

Compromising Miss Milton

The Viking’s Captive Princess

Breaking the Governess’s Rules

To Marry a Matchmaker

His Unsuitable Viscountess

Hattie Wilkinson Meets Her Match

An Ideal Husband?

Paying the Viking’s Price

Return of the Viking Warrior

Saved by the Viking Warrior

Taming His Viking Woman

Summer of the Viking

Sold to the Viking Warrior

Mills & Boon Historical Undone! ebook

The Perfect Concubine

Visit the Author Profile page

at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

To my loyal readers,

who asked for more Viking-set romances.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Author Note

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Author’s Historical Note

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

AD 873—Islay, Viking-controlled Alba.

Modern-day Scotland.

‘No good giving me that reproachful look of yours, Coll. I made a promise, so we have to go, even if I’d rather be anywhere else but there.’ Eilidith gathered her thin woollen cloak tighter about her body and tried to ignore the biting cold while her wolfhound padded softly beside her.

In the half-light before dawn, Liddy could make out the Northman stronghold in the distance and, beyond the forbidding wooden walls, the purple-grey Paps of Jura rose. Appearances were deceptive. While she expected to arrive before the assembly day, Liddy knew she had at least a full day’s hard walk in front of her. She had refused to travel in a boat since the accident which killed her young twins, Keita and Gilbreath.

Behind her, the footsteps which had been keeping pace with her for the last few miles stilled.

Liddy reached down and grabbed her wolfhound’s collar. Her mother had objected to her taking Coll, even to the point of calling her by her proper name, Eilidith, and reminding her that she was a lady of the Cennell Fergusa, not an urchin without a noble kindred. Liddy had insisted and her mother had given way as she often did these days, commenting as Liddy left that for once she sounded like her old passionate Eilidith, the one who had vanished when her husband died.

Liddy rolled her eyes and continued walking. Her old self had vanished long before the day she heard of Brandon’s demise. That self had ceased to be when her children drew their final rattling breaths and her heart had shattered into a thousand pieces.

Liddy reached down and stroked the dog’s ears. Coll leant into her and gave a reassuring nuzzle of her hand.

In the aftermath of Islay’s final fall to the Northmen, outlaws roamed the woods and desperate men were prepared to do desperate things. However, even a desperate man would think twice when confronted with a full-grown wolfhound. Coll’s head came up to her chest. He had a scar running down his nose, a legacy from a tumble he took as a puppy, rather than a fight, but it gave him a fearsome appearance that made most people and dogs avoid him. But it made Liddy love him more.

She, too, had a disfigured face—a birthmark decorated the lower part of her jaw. When she’d been small and children teased her, her grandmother, her seanmhair, had declared her kissed by an angel at birth and that she’d bring good luck to the Cennell Fergusa. However, her late husband had considered the mark ugly and his mistress had declared her cursed at birth. After the twins died, she knew that woman had spoken the truth—she bore a curse. Her husband had even sworn in church, risking his immortal soul. Rather than risking the whispers, she shunned people and had become a virtual recluse, but now she had no choice—she had to act.

‘We can do this, can’t we, Coll? We can free my father and brother. Lord Ketil’s promise to my father must mean more than empty words.’

Coll gave a soft woof and nudged her hand in agreement, as if he believed the words were truth rather than noise to fill the silence and bolster her flagging courage.

Liddy squared her shoulders. No one was going to stop her. She would get her father and brother released. There had been a misunderstanding. Unlike her late husband, her father had sworn an oath of allegiance to the Northman overlord at the first opportunity. To protect his people and the land he’d been entrusted with by his father, he swore. Peace brought its own prosperity and it was the land which mattered. Cennell Fergusa had to endure on this land. It was in their blood and sinew.

Her hand balled into a fist. Even the Northmen in their great fortress had to have some sort of honour. They, too, had laws and a king. The Northern jaarl simply had to be reminded of his obligations. He would see it was in his best interest to hold fast to the laws. He wanted peace and prosperity, not war with the islanders. And there was a tiny part of her which hoped that her seanmhair was right and she would bring good luck to the family.

‘You walk with a determined step and a strong purpose,’ a faintly accented voice said behind her, making her jump. ‘Most people would shun this place at this hour.’

She half-turned and saw the same cloaked figure she’d been ignoring for the better part of an hour. The man had started following her a good mile or two back. He was tall and his face was hidden. There was no stoop in his back or shuffle in his step. Or rather not when he considered no one was watching. Under her gaze he seemed to shrink and hunch his shoulders as if he was attempting to seem less than he was.

She forced a steadying breath. No need to be frightened of a solitary man, not with Coll by her side and a knife stuck in her belt.

‘What business is it of yours?’ she asked and advanced another step on the path. She was glad that her remaining gold necklace was safely sewn into the hem of her gown. Nowhere that any robber would think to look. It was not much, but her mother had insisted. If she could not appeal to the Northman’s honour and respect for the law, she could buy her father’s and brother’s freedom. Liddy had agreed more out of hope than expectation. There was no room for error. She knew what would happen if she failed, but she had to do something. ‘How do you know where I go?’

‘Unusual to encounter a lone woman on the road at this hour.’ His gaze took in her cloak. ‘Particularly one of high birth.’

‘I’ve business at the Northman’s fortress.’ Liddy resisted the temptation to pull the hood across her face and hide the curse. Instead she curled her hand about her knife and threw back her shoulders. Maybe the stranger would take one look and decide a cursed woman was not worth bothering with.

Coll, sensing her mood, raised his hackles and gave a low growl.

The man stepped back a few steps and held up his hands. Coll flopped down at her feet, but kept a wary eye on the man.

‘You are brave or foolhardy in the extreme going near that fort without a protector. Do you know how they treat attractive women?’

‘My dog is my champion. He dislikes strangers, particularly Northmen who begin talking without a proper introduction,’ she said between gritted teeth. Attractive? Hadn’t he seen the mark on her face? ‘Even the Northmen at the fort have to obey their own laws.’

‘It has been some time since I have encountered anyone like you. Such bravery in the face of overwhelming odds. Unusual for a woman,’ he said, slowly lowering his hands and risking a step closer. Coll gave another low growl.

‘Flattery fails to work with me. I know what I am.’

His face took on a guarded expression. ‘We both travel in the same direction. What is wrong with a little conversation to pass the journey? Have you considered how you will get into the stronghold to put your petition? It is well guarded these days. They don’t just allow anyone in and lone unprotected women rarely emerge.’

‘Have you been there recently? Is it true that they keep the entrance guarded, only allowing people in at certain times?’ she blurted out.

The stranger tilted his head to one side and Liddy caught an intense blue stare before his hood obscured his features. ‘The gate is locked at owl-light each night. They do not allow anyone in or out. During the day, everyone entering or leaving is searched. Thorbin, Lord Ketil’s current representative, is cautious. There is resentment on the island.’

‘You are one of the Northmen,’ she said, hearing the faint traces of the heavy Northern accent, but laced with the slight lilt of her native tongue. Normally Northmen growled their words, making it difficult to understand them. ‘But you speak my language better than most. Unusual.’

‘You are a Gael.’ He looked her slowly up and down, from the bottom of her travel-stained gown to the top of her couver-chief from which a few tendrils of hair kept escaping. Again she resisted the urge to hide the birthmark. ‘Most Gaels take better care of their women rather than simply providing them with a large dog before sending them to bargain with one of the most notorious men in the North. Have you considered what he will do to you when you lose?’

Liddy kept her hand on Coll. He couldn’t have guessed about the necklace, could he? Using her knife on him would be possible, but he would have to be closer. She would have one chance and the point where his throat met his shoulder was her best option. The quickest way, according to her late husband, who had liked to boast of his expertise in battle.

Her body went numb at the thought of killing a man, any man, but particularly this one who seemed so full of life.

‘Most men would think twice about tangling with my dog,’ she said instead. ‘They will let me go once I’ve finished my business. They will be men of honour. They will keep the promise Lord Ketil made to my father.’

The words rang even more hollow to her ears than before. But if she lost this slender hope, she might as well turn back. She had to believe this miracle was possible and that she lived for some reason beyond a cruel joke by God. It had come to her that perhaps she had been spared so that she could do this thing—rescue her father and brother and somehow atone for her part in the twins’ death. She had tried so hard to rescue them.

‘I’ve seen dogs die before. A pity. He seems like a good and faithful animal.’

‘I’ve seen men back away from him before.’ Liddy wrenched her mind from the day shortly after the twins’ deaths when she’d encountered the Northmen on the track which ran along the headland. Coll had guarded her well that day.

The man shrugged and Liddy became aware of the strength of his shoulders. ‘You throw them a bit of meat and they are happy. Instant friends. Dogs have a simpler view of life.’

Liddy crossed her arms. This Northman might think he knew dogs, but he didn’t know Coll. ‘Not my dog. My dog distrusts strangers, Northmen in particular.’

His eyes flashed an intense blue. ‘I’m hardly one to refuse a challenge.’

‘You may try, but you are bound for disappointment. I know my dog. He is an excellent judge of character.’

He reached into his pouch and held out a piece of dried meat. A slight keening noise filled the air.

Coll, the traitor, took it from the man’s fingers with only a heartbeat of hesitation. The man reached down and stroked Coll behind the ears. Coll completed his surrender by lolling against the man.

‘Not all Northmen.’ The voice slid over her skin as if he had stroked her hair instead of Coll’s ears. ‘But maybe he senses that I could be a friend and an ally. You would do well to trust your dog’s instincts if he is such a good judge of character.’

‘I stand corrected and it is duly noted. I will not make that mistake again,’ she said through gritted teeth. Anyone would think that she was some sort of maiden from a convent who had never experienced men and their ways, rather than a widow. ‘Coll, come here.’ To the man, she said, ‘I will bid you good morning and be on my way. I’ve urgent business with Lord Thorbin, who will uphold the law once the truth of the matter is explained.’

Coll instantly bristled as if embarrassed by his actions and slunk away from his new friend. Liddy caught his collar and began to walk away with determined steps.

The man seemed to take the hint and let her go without a protest, but she felt his eyes watching her with a speculative glint.

Liddy hurried her pace, rounded several bends and went off on a different track. The trees were closer and the air silent. She turned her head to one side and her feet faltered. Trees with bodies hanging from them like overripe fruit blocked her way. She wanted to run, but her legs refused to work. Instinctively, she turned away as her stomach revolted. Coll began to bark in earnest.

‘Lord Thorbin sacrifices women to the gods,’ the man said behind her in a low voice. Coll’s howls immediately ceased. ‘He takes positive pleasure in it. He never does anything important without making one human sacrifice. Are you still certain about continuing on with your quest?’

‘How do you know it was him?’

His eyes became narrow slivers of blue ice. ‘I’ve seen his work before.’

‘And the women? Who were they?’ Liddy whispered, pulling Coll closer. A distinct shiver ran down her spine. This man was intimately acquainted with Lord Thorbin’s work.

‘Slaves who were freed before they were sacrificed. Lone women without families to protect them or women whose families had abandoned them.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Sacrifices must be made with a free will, lest the gods get angry. How much choice they actually had...well...they were slaves. Sometimes there are worse things than dying free.’

Liddy put her hands on her knees and tried to breathe. The heathen Northmen might believe such things, but she knew it to be false. Those women were murdered for no good reason. How could she appeal to the honour of a man who murdered women like that? Her idea seemed more and more naïve, but she had to do something. Pretending her mother could cope was wrong. The barren fields were a testament to that. ‘I thought those were tales from the priests to scare people.’

‘Do you want me to cut one down and show you? Do you truly want to risk disturbing the dead?’

Liddy regarded the grove again and one of the bodies seemed to reach towards her. A scream welled up inside her. She wanted to run but her feet had turned to blocks of stone. ‘I...I...’

He grasped her elbow and turned her firmly from the gruesome sight. The simple touch did much to calm her. ‘Where I grew up, people normally avoided these sorts of places. Stay on the well-trodden path. It takes longer, but mingling with the dead is rarely a good idea.’

‘I can see why some might go that way, but my time is short.’ Liddy wrenched her arm away. Didn’t he know that she had no luck left to lose? ‘The dead are incapable of harming anyone. I must reach the stronghold in good time for the assembly. My voice will be heard. It will not be said that I was turned away because I arrived late. Going through that grove saves precious time.’

Her heart thumped as she said the words. She had to hope they were true. To take the other way would add another half-day to her journey and she had to get to the stronghold in time for the assembly. She couldn’t do anything for the dead, but she could do something for the living.

‘What do you plan on doing with this dog while you speak with Lord Thorbin?’ He held out his hand to Coll again who gave it a quick lick. ‘Thorbin has as little time for dogs as he does for women. He has disliked dogs like yours ever since he was a boy and a dog bit him. Of course, Thorbin had beaten the dog with a stick, so it was understandable.’

Liddy abruptly stopped and turned back to the man. He knew far too much about Lord Thorbin’s habits for her liking, but he also did not appear to fear him like so many did on this island. ‘Is it any business of yours?’

He shrugged. ‘I like your dog. He has character, but such a dog might be used as a weapon to attack Lord Thorbin. Thorbin might use you bringing your dog as an excuse to take you into slavery and to put the dog to death. What better way to get the gold he requires than to acquire slaves?’

She tucked her chin more firmly into her shoulder, the better to hide her cursed mark. In her ignorance, she’d nearly condemned Coll to death. ‘But you know of a way that might work, one which wouldn’t lead to Coll’s death.’

‘There might be, if you are brave enough. We could be allies, you and I.’ He jerked his head towards the trees. ‘Better than ending up somewhere where you most definitely don’t want to be.’

A prickle crept down her back. She tried to dismiss it. It was no more than her priest or her mother had warned her before she set out yesterday.

Liddy raised her chin and repeated the same speech she had given her concerned mother. ‘I will succeed. I will make Lord Thorbin listen to reason. His overlord’s sacred oath must have meaning. He will honour it or be damned in the eyes of his war band.’

The man stilled. ‘Do you have a token of Lord Ketil’s esteem? Or merely the words of your father, who is now imprisoned?’

‘Yes, I do.’ Liddy dug into the pouch which hung from her belt and withdrew the ring her father had forgotten when he left home. ‘A ring Ketil Flatnose personally put on my father’s finger.’

She took quiet satisfaction from the way the man leant forward and the intensity of his gaze increased. That would teach him to mock her.

‘Why did your father leave it at home rather than taking it with him?’

‘His fingers had grown too fat and he took it off months ago.’ She placed it back in the pouch. ‘In his haste to rescue my brother, he must have forgotten about it, but I remembered and searched for it. Our priest told me that it would not make a difference, but I know it will.’

‘You chose not to listen to your priest. My mother was a Gael and I know how headstrong you Gaelic women can be.’ He gave Coll an absent stroke on the head. ‘A pity, but it will take more than willpower to defeat Thorbin and get your family back.’

Pity from him? From a Northman? What sort of fool did he take her for? She knew what form a Northman’s pity often took. She’d seen the burnt farms and the slain men. And then there were the sgeula-steach tana adhair, the women who had vanished without a trace. Fewer now that the Northmen had control of most of the islands, but every year one or two were still stolen.

‘So your father was a Northman. Your poor mother,’ she said instead. ‘She is the one I pity.’

He tilted his head to one side. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘I presume she was born free, captured and remained a slave to the end of her days.’

‘You know nothing about it.’ His voice dripped ice. ‘You are the one jumping to conclusions. Perhaps I should leave you to your well-deserved fate, instead of trying to help you.’

‘But it is what happens. The women are taken and no one sees them again. These woods, hills and fields are chiselled in my soul. I will return to them a free woman. I will not die in a foreign land or become like one of those bodies in the wood.’ Liddy tightened her grip on Coll and hoped the man would overlook the trembling in her hand. She knew what happened to women when they were taken by Northmen, and how some had escaped after a ransom was paid. The necklace was something to bargain with and could get her home, if the ring failed. ‘I will not be a slave nor will any of my family.’

‘All for a matter of honour?’

‘If you like. We Gaels take our honour very seriously.’ She belatedly put her hand over her birthmark, her badge of shame.

‘My mother proclaimed she was the daughter of a king.’ His mouth twisted. ‘I later learnt that nearly every second woman makes such a claim.’

‘What happened to her?’ Liddy let out a breath. She was glad that she hadn’t told him of her parentage and that her father used to be a king before the Northmen came and settled. Islay had many kings then, too many as they always quarrelled and far too many men had died.

‘She was freed before she breathed her last.’

The impulse to ask if her body had hanged from a tree in a sacred grove threatened to overwhelm her, but one look at his face made the words die on her lips. For once she swallowed her words. ‘Who freed her?’

‘I did. I freed her from all torment. It was what she desired most in the world.’ He put his hand on his sword and his cloak fell away from his face. The shaft of dawn light which pierced the mist showed her companion to be one of the handsomest men she had ever seen. His golden hair fell to his shoulders, his lips were full, but his other features were hard. His eyes betrayed a steely determination. Here was no ordinary warrior. There was something about the way he moved and the set of his jaw. He was used to being obeyed. A leader of men.

‘Who are you?’ she asked and then regretted it. Her late husband always proclaimed that her tongue would get her into trouble, one of his milder rebukes. ‘If I agree to join forces with you, will you actually help me instead of lulling me into a false promise?’

She hated that hope grew in her breast. She should know by now that these things only happened in the bards’ tales. There was no one she could depend on, particularly not a cloaked Northman. Thrice cursed, her brother-in-law had called her after Brandon’s funeral. Meeting this Northman, rather than having an uneventful journey, proved it.

‘Give me your name,’ she said when he continued to stare at her. ‘Your true name, rather than a ridiculous nickname like the Northmen often go by. Give it or we shall never be allies.’

‘Sigurd Sigmundson, a traveller like yourself who hungers after justice.’ He tugged his cloak, hiding his features again. His cloak was more threadbare than hers. And yet somehow she couldn’t believe it was his. There was the way that he moved. And she had a glimpse of the sword underneath the cloak. It was far too fine for a sell-sword to use.

‘You mean to pass into the compound unnoticed. That is why you are wearing that old cloak,’ she exclaimed. ‘I mean you must be, otherwise you would row your dragon boat up Loch Indaal and land beside the stronghold.’

Sigurd Sigmundson reached towards her. Liddy took a step backwards and half-stumbled over a root. Coll gave a low rumbling in the back of his throat and Sigurd’s hand instantly dropped to his side.

‘Why would I want to conceal my identity?’ he asked, tilting his head to one side. She caught the sweep of his lashes and again the piercing blue stare.

‘Because the other way is the surest way to end up stuffed in a barrel and sent back to Ketil. Even where we live, we’ve heard rumours about how Thorbin treats his enemies.’ She covered her mark with her hand. ‘My late husband was a warrior. You move with a warrior’s gait, not a beggar’s. If you wish other people not to notice, then you should shuffle rather than stride. Free advice.’

He bowed his head. ‘What are you going to do with this knowledge of yours? Do you wish me ill?’

‘As long as you mean me no harm, it is none of my concern. Once my business with Thorbin is satisfactorily concluded, you may do as you will with him.’ She paused. ‘I, Eilidith of Cennell Fergusa, have reasons for wishing this. He is no friend to my family. But I go first.’

He was silent for a long while. She felt his gaze roam over her body. It had been a long time since a man had looked at her in that appraising way. She tightened the cloak about her figure, hoping it hid most of her curves. She had few illusions about her beauty. Her figure was passable, her mouth too large and her hair was far too red. Flame-coloured, Brandon had called it when he courted her. One of his few compliments.

‘I have come to complete the task Lord Ketil set me,’ he said with a wave of his hand. ‘This task comes before your quest, Eilidith of Cennell Fergusa. Thorbin answers for his crimes and then you find your father and brother. Provided they haven’t been executed as traitors.’

White-hot anger flashed through her. Who was he to condemn them? He had no idea of her story or how her father had sought to protect their clan from the worst of the invaders. ‘My father gave his pledge to Lord Ketil Flatnose the first time he travelled to this island. My brother was but a mewling babe at the time. The tribute has always been paid. No one has ever accused my father of treason...until now.’

Liddy shook her head. She refused to think about the pitiful state of the fields, barely tended in the summer sun. According to her mother, her father had hidden the seed and the gold before he left. Without fresh seed, they stood no chance of having a good harvest and making the tribute.

She gritted her teeth. ‘If necessary, I will go to Lord Ketil and remind him of his sworn oath to my father.’

She hoped he wouldn’t hear the lie in her voice. The last thing she wanted to do was to travel on the sea. The thought of being on the open sea, out of sight of land, terrified her.

‘Will you indeed?’

‘What other option do I have?’

Sigurd regarded the small woman who stood in front of him. The faint light showed him that Eilidith’s hair was auburn, not black as he’d first imagined it. Like the sun setting on a clear summer’s day. The butterfly-shaped mark under her lower lip took her face from bland to intriguing.

She’d shown courage to come to this place with simply a large dog for protection. The only other women he could think of who would have done such a thing were his mother and Beyla, the woman he had given his heart to back in the days when he thought he had a heart. Beyla had chosen safety over their passion, and his half-brother, the man who was now jaarl over this island, Thorbin, over him.

‘I believe you could travel to Ketil and demand justice, as is any ring bearer’s right,’ he said to distract his thoughts from unwanted memories. ‘But Thorbin might have a great reluctance to see a prize like you go. Have you thought about what you might do then?’

She thumped her chest, like a warrior, rather than a lady. ‘I gave a sacred vow that I will see my father free or perish in the attempt.’

Sigurd stood straighter. Had his mother been like that once? Strong and resolute instead of jumping at shadows as she’d done during the last few years of her life? ‘The world would be a poorer place if you died. You obviously have a family who care about you.’

She lifted her head and assessed him as if he were a prize bull at the market. ‘Does Thorbin fear you or someone else more?’

‘Thorbin’s long-delayed day of reckoning has arrived. It gives me immense pleasure to know that I will be the one to ensure it happens. I, too, have a vow I want to see fulfilled.’

Islay was the lynchpin in Ketil’s strategy for the Western Isles. He who controlled Islay, controlled the lucrative trade between Ireland and Alba. All the sea roads flowed past this island. Because of the whirlpool north of Jura, the quickest way to transport goods was overland. Thorbin’s rule had begun a year ago last spring. At first Thorbin’s star flourished and Sigurd had despaired of ever finding a way to avenge his mother, but Thorbin’s tribute had been short at Yule. In the early spring Ketil had sent a man to investigate. When he returned, pickled in a barrel with an insulting message, Ketil finally lost patience with his protégé and ordered Thorbin to return to explain himself. It was Sigurd’s task to deliver the message and ensure Thorbin returned to face the accusation.

Sigurd had spent the last week scouting out the stronghold, coming up with a plan, once he realised sailing up the strait and landing his boats was doomed to failure. His half-brother was no one’s fool. It was obvious that he considered himself immune from retribution. But he’d also taken precautions. The bay was heavily guarded as well as all entrances and exits to the fort.

He felt sorry for this woman’s plight, but in all likelihood her brother and father were already sold or dead. She and the ring she carried, however, were tools he could use.

‘I have learnt that things rarely happen by chance. Our paths have crossed for a purpose,’ he said carefully, aware she had not answered him. ‘Let us fulfil that purpose. Let us together hold Thorbin to account.’

Her jaw became mutinous and her blue-green eyes flashed, becoming like the summer sea after a storm. ‘Why should I trust you, Sigurd Sigmundson? Why are you not going to be exactly like every other Northman? Exactly like Lord Thorbin?’

He ignored the flash of anger at being likened to his half-brother and forced his voice to sound placating, as if he were trying to soothe a nervous horse. He had to give her some reason to make her trust him. ‘We knew each other when we were children. I know his strengths, but also his weaknesses. It is why Lord Ketil gave me this task. I am the only man who can defeat him, but to do that I have to get close to him.’

Her neat white teeth nibbled her lower lip, turning it the colour of the dawn. ‘And you can save my family when you defeat Lord Thorbin?’

‘If they are on Islay, I will. If not, I will go to Ketil and personally lay your claim at his feet.’

‘Why are you suddenly willing to help me?’

‘To prove to you not all Northmen are the same. I remember my debts and I keep my vows.’

She tucked her chin further into her shoulder, hiding the butterfly mark. ‘I need some time.’

Sigurd carefully shrugged and pretended indifference as he handed the dog his last piece of dried meat. The dog put his paws on Sigurd’s shoulders and licked his face with his great wet tongue.

‘Coll, bad dog!’

The dog instantly sat, licked his chops and looked hopefully for another piece.

‘Your dog believes in me. He wants me to save you. Will you join forces with me?’

She bent her head and spoke to the dog before she held out her hand. ‘I may regret this, but we join forces until the time comes for the alliance to end.’

He closed his hand about her slender fingers and resisted the urge to pull her close and taste her mouth. Eilidith of Cennell Fergusa was a tool to be used, not a woman to be enjoyed. He never mixed business with pleasure. He reluctantly released her and stepped away, being careful to keep his face blank. He had discovered the perfect weapon to crack open Thorbin’s fort and destroy him. He would fulfil the vow he’d made as he watched the glowing embers of his parents’ funeral pyre.

‘You will be glad you listened to your dog.’

Chapter Two

Glad she had listened to her dog? Liddy kicked a small pebble, sending it clattering on the path. Coll gave her a look as if asking permission to chase it. Liddy shook her head and the dog stayed beside her.

‘Where are you taking me? We need to be going in the other direction towards the stronghold, towards Thorbin,’ Liddy said when Sigurd turned down another fainter track.

Sigurd stopped so quickly she nearly ran into him. ‘I promise you—we will arrive in time for Thorbin to hear your petition. In fact, I will make certain of it. But we do it my way.’

‘You allowed me to think you were a lone traveller, but there are other Northman in your company,’ she guessed, her heart knocking against her chest. Her curse had struck again. She was going to be the ruin of Cennell Fergusa, rather than its saviour.

‘You failed to ask about the finer details. You can hardly blame me for that.’

‘Northmen always travel in packs. I’ve been a fool. Of course, it is an invasion force and you need to get someone inside.’ A sort of nervous excitement filled her. She had more options than taking Sigurd’s promise to release her father and brother on trust. She could spy out the land, determine where her father and brother were being held and free them in the confusion of the attack.

His lips quirked upwards. ‘Thorbin certainly thinks there will be an invasion. He has fortified his stronghold. It can withstand siege.’

‘It is why you need someone on the inside—to open the gates.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I can get inside and then hide until late at night. I will be able to open the gates.’

He picked up a stick and threw it for Coll. The wolfhound chased it and then came to Liddy with a sheepish air as if he knew she wouldn’t approve. ‘I will set a trap that he won’t be able to resist. The problem has been the bait, but you have solved that difficulty.’

She fingered her mark. Had he missed it in the dim light? Thorbin would turn away in disgust. ‘You don’t understand. He won’t...that is... I am not desirable. You picked the wrong sort of woman.’

He merely picked up the stick where Coll had dropped it. ‘I have the right woman.’

‘But...but...’ Liddy struggled to explain. If she mentioned her curse, he might abandon her.

‘Why not wait until you hear the full scheme?’ He put a steadying hand under her elbow. She jerked her arm away from him. ‘Better than making wild guesses, I always find.’

‘What happened the last time you and Thorbin met?’ Liddy asked to distract her from the unintentional comfort the light touch brought.

‘He thought he had killed me. This time I have the measure of the man. He has grown soft and arrogant. I will win this time, Eilidith of Cennell Fergusa. I have learnt from my mistakes.’

The breeze whipped his hair from his face. He appeared utterly determined. Liddy glanced down at the ground. He might be the best hope her family had of surviving. She’d be foolish to walk away from him.

‘Then I am grateful you survived. I hope Thorbin will be less grateful.’

A rumble of laughter rang through the morning air. Soft and low, doing something to her insides.

‘Is it something I said?’

‘You are refreshing, Eilidith.’ He gave a crooked smile. ‘Come meet my crew. Come learn what I will have you do.’

‘I would be better off being the one to open the gate,’ Liddy said to the ground. ‘I can’t see Thorbin being interested in me.’

‘You’ve never met him. I have. You will be perfect. Trust me on this.’

* * *

‘Keep your dog under control until my men have been introduced. I would hate for anything to happen.’

At Sigurd’s words, Eilidith curled her hand about the wolfhound’s collar. He nodded, pleased she had obeyed. He knew he’d almost lost her when he started to explain about his scheme, but she had recovered and stayed, rather than running, proving his instinct correct. The time had come to avenge his mother and make good his vow.

Sigurd whistled softly through his fingers. Within a few heartbeats, Hring Olafson, an older warrior who Sigurd knew more from reputation and whom Ketil had decreed would be second in command of the felag, appeared from the shadows with a double axe in his hand, closely followed by his other oarsmen.

‘Where are the rest?’ Eilidith asked. ‘You can barely number more than twenty.’

Sigurd gestured to his men. ‘Except for the ones who guard the boats, they are all here.’

‘This is your invasion force?’ Eilidith knelt beside her dog. ‘Perhaps I should have stuck with my first plan.’

‘They will be enough, you will see.’

‘We had given you up for dead. You were supposed to return three nights ago,’ Hring said, enfolding him in a rough embrace. In a lower tone in Sigurd’s ear, he added, ‘Get rid of the woman. She will slow us down. She doesn’t look the sort who would entice Thorbin to do anything. He prefers blondes with large bosoms. She won’t get close enough to wield a knife.’

‘This is the newest addition to our enterprise,’ Sigurd said, ignoring Hring. The older warrior remained sore that he had not been confirmed as the leader of this expedition. ‘Lady Eilidith is the key to getting in.’

‘The key or the lock?’ Hring asked, making an obscene gesture. ‘Thorbin has only one use for women.’

The rest of men joined in the crude laughter. Eilidith’s face went scarlet. She might not be fluent in the North language, but there was no mistaking the meaning of the disrespectful gesture. Sigurd ground his teeth. Hring was far from his first choice on this expedition, but Ketil had insisted.

‘If I had needed a whore, I would have bought one, Hring.’

‘Even still, is it wise to trust a woman like that?’ Hring touched his lower lip. ‘The gods have marked her.’

Sigurd held up his hand and the laughter instantly ceased. ‘Continue along that line and I will assume you wish to challenge for the leadership.’

Hring held out his hands as the rest of the men fell silent and backed away. ‘It was a bit of fun. Harmless banter. That is all. If you want to stake all on this woman, then as leader it is your privilege. You’ve got us this far. Allow me to formulate a plan on what happens when we fail.’

‘Seven days ago you proclaimed that we would perish when we set foot on land. Has your ability to foresee the future improved?’ Sigurd said, steadily.

The other man was the first to look away.

‘We have a duty to help Lady Eilidith,’ Sigurd proclaimed, ignoring Hring. Once he had succeeded, Hring would be the first to praise him. For now, he kept his focus on the ultimate prize—Thorbin. Everything else was a distraction. ‘She bears Ketil’s ring as proof of the great friendship Ketil bore her father. A man who turns his back on the ring’s promise is a man who has broken faith with Ketil.’

‘May we see this ring?’ Hring asked. ‘I know what these Gaels are like.’

Sigurd wasn’t sure how much of the exchange she had understood, but Eilidith held up the ring with its seal without prompting. He gave Eilidith a pointed stare and she gave a faint shrug before examining the ground.

‘Her father swore allegiance to Ketil,’ Sigurd said, making sure he looked each of his men in the eye, rather than pondering on the mystery which was Eilidith. ‘Thorbin has ignored the friendship and falsely imprisoned him. Should Ketil ignore the insult?’

‘No!’ his men roared as one and beat their swords against their shields. The roar caused Coll to howl along with them. At the noise, everybody laughed and the tension eased.

Hring inclined his head. ‘I stand corrected. You were right to take up her cause. Lord Ketil should never be mocked in this fashion.’

‘Ketil’s wishes must be adhered to.’

‘Ketil wants Thorbin alive.’ Hring scratched the back of his neck. ‘Do you think you can still do that? After what you have seen?’

‘If possible, I believe is how the order goes,’ Sigurd responded. ‘One never knows what might happen in battle.’

‘Indeed.’

‘Ketil trusted my judgement. You should as well.’ Sigurd pointed his sword towards the sky for emphasis. As if on cue, the sun broke through the clouds and made it gleam. He could not have planned it better. ‘Without question.’

* * *

Liddy found the pace the Northmen used to travel across country was quick but not overly exhausting. The North language was fairly easy to understand and she was grateful that her father had made her learn it. She simply had to concentrate far more than she was used to.

The jibe about her warming Thorbin’s bed rankled. She had failed with Brandon. He had not even waited until the cockerel crowed after their wedding night to abandon her bed. And she knew she was no assassin who could seduce and then stick the knife in. But she had kept her face blank and trusted Sigurd would see the folly of such an action without her having to confess to her many failures.

* * *

‘How much about our leader do you know?’ the warrior who had challenged Sigurd asked in heavily accented Gaelic. One half of his face was covered in a network of scars. Scars on men were different from birthmarks. Scars meant battles fought and won, while a birthmark made people turn away.

‘I know Ketil has sent him,’ she replied, digging her chin into her shoulder. ‘He has promised to right the wrong which was done to my family. It seems the quickest way to achieve my goal.’

His smile made the scars on his cheeks seem more lurid. ‘But do you know why?’

‘I suspect he is a good enforcer. He moves like a true warrior. I understand the tribute was short and the last man who tried to enforce Ketil’s will ended up in a barrel.’

‘Yes, there were few volunteers for the job after that was made public. Sigurd was the only one who had the guts to put his name forward.’

‘Why are you here?’

‘Because I go where I am sent, but Sigurd wanted this.’ Hring nodded. ‘I, Hring Olafson, will tell you the tale. They are half-brothers—Thorbin and your warrior. Close until their father’s death from a cart accident, Thorbin caused Sigurd’s mother to be put to death and nearly killed Sigurd.’

Liddy missed her step. Sigurd’s earlier remark about his mother took on new significance. It was why he knew Thorbin was responsible for what had happened in that grove. He had waited for his revenge.

‘How did his mother die?’ she asked carefully in the North language.

‘Sigurd’s mother was supposed to burn to death as is our custom when a great lord dies. One of his women volunteers to join him in the afterlife. Always.’

‘Why did she do it?’

‘I heard it was to save Sigurd’s life after he attacked Thorbin. Thorbin inherited everything.’ Hring shook his head. ‘Thorbin lit the pyre, but an arrow arced from out of nowhere and killed her before the flames licked her feet.’

‘And Sigurd is supposed to have fired the arrow. Is that your point?’ Liddy said, staring at Sigurd’s broad shoulders. Knowing Thorbin’s reputation, she suspected he had deserved to be attacked. ‘How difficult. To be faced with a choice like that. Knowing that she had tried to save him.’

Hring grabbed her elbow. ‘That doesn’t bother you? He dishonoured the gods. Some might consider him cursed.’

Liddy touched her mark. Would this warrior think she had dishonoured the gods as well? ‘Do you?’

‘Lord Ketil knows what he is doing and I trust him. He chose Sigurd, but Thorbin makes sure the gods favour him and they have thus far. Luckiest bastard I have ever heard of.’

Not the words of endorsement for Sigurd Liddy had hoped to hear.

‘Everyone is defeated one day,’ she said more to calm her nerves than to Hring. ‘Sigurd will make Thorbin hold to Lord Ketil’s promise. He is Lord Ketil’s emissary.’

‘I like you, Lady Eilidith. You have faith. You are not worried about such things as curses.’

Hring clapped her hard on the back and Liddy stumbled, grazing her hands on the rough ground. She shook her head at Coll, who gave a low rumble in the back of his throat.

‘A problem?’ Sigurd asked, coming to stand beside her. ‘You tripped over that large stone, Eilidith. You should watch where you put your feet.’

Liddy wiped her hands on her cloak, shrugging off his steadying hand. She was doing it again—trying to see the best side of things. The sheer impossibility of what she was about to attempt swamped her and she wanted to sink down into a heap of tiredness and never get up. ‘Next time, I will pay more attention to where I put my feet.’

‘We can stop and rest,’ Hring suggested with a sly smile. ‘If this lady is the key which will open the locked door, we want her in the best condition.’

He gave her a look that suggested, even in her best condition, she’d have no hope of catching Thorbin’s eye.

Liddy straightened her cloak and tried to ignore the sinking in her heart. If they rested for too long, she’d miss her chance to petition Thorbin during the assembly day. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Look where you are stepping in the future.’ Sigurd turned back to his men. ‘We will get there, my lady, never fear. Even if I have to carry you. Hring the Grizzled, go bother someone else with your nonsense. The Lady Eilidith is safe with me.’

Hring immediately moved off.

‘Are you going to explain what that was about?’ he asked softly. ‘You should have informed me that you speak the North language.’

She shrugged. ‘The Northmen have lived here for most of my lifetime. Someone had to know what they were saying.’

‘And what was Hring saying?’

‘Hring saw fit to inform me of various rumours about your past. Apparently you dishonoured the gods and they will get their revenge whereas your half-brother always ensures that his doings find favour with the gods.’

Sigurd’s face became hardened planes. ‘The gods have more to worry about than mortal men and their deeds. I believe you are responsible for your own success or failure. If you believe in a curse, you are more likely to see things that way. My mother died free.’

‘I see.’ Liddy pressed her lips together to keep the truth about her curse from spilling out. Sigurd did not need to know about her dead children.

He shrugged, but a muscle jumped in his jaw. ‘I would have saved her if I could, but I was too late and could only ease her suffering. It was a long time ago, back in the North Country. Does it make a difference to what I will do? I think not.’

Liddy gestured with her hand. ‘Some of those women...back in the grove...did they suffer greatly?’

His eyes held a haunted quality. ‘It is far from an easy way to die. Not one I’d wish on anyone.’

‘But do you dishonour your gods by speaking this way?’

He gave a half-smile. ‘My god is my own business, but I haven’t followed my father’s religion since that time.’

Liddy wrapped her arms about her middle. He couldn’t be Christian. He wore long hair and was leading a pagan war band. And she had put her life in his hands. ‘Will you make sure that isn’t my fate?’

‘It won’t come to that.’

‘Even still...’

A muscle jumped in his jaw. ‘Stop worrying. Trust me. Your fate will be different.’

They arrived at a small knoll overlooking the fort just as the light turned to dark. Liddy was impressed that Sigurd had indeed known a quicker way.

His assessment proved correct. The fort’s gate was firmly shut with great ceremony as the last few rays flickered in the sky. The carts trundled out into the gloom. Liddy could hear various grumbles about the way the Northmen treated the Gaels, but not too loud and they were soon hushed.

Liddy started forward, but was hauled back against Sigurd’s hard body.

‘Where do you think you are going?’ His deep voice rumbled in her ear.

She half-twisted. His closeness did strange things to her body. She frowned. Ever since she had watched the two tiny coffins being lowered into the ground, her body had had no feeling. Right now she had no time to go back to that indescribable pain. She swallowed hard and concentrated on the fortress.

‘To wait by the gate. To be first in the queue when they open for the assembly day. There are sure to be dozens of petitioners and I want to make sure mine is heard.’

‘We stay here a while yet.’ He draped his arm across her shoulders, preventing her from moving. Another warm pulse coursed through her. She screwed up her eyes and willed her lungs to fill with air. The trouble was that a small part of her wanted these pulses to continue.

Her gaze followed the line of his other arm. A group of Northmen rode up and demanded entrance. The gate swung open and another smaller group came out.

‘What are they doing?’

‘Searching. We wait until other islanders arrive. Then we will go forth as part of a crowd.’

‘Will they find us here?’ she asked.

Sigurd lifted a brow and exchanged a glance with Hring, who fingered his axe. ‘I’d prefer surprise, but we would be more than a match if they did discover us. A small patrol holds no fears for us.’

Liddy caught her bottom lip, something she always did when she was nervous. ‘Where should I hide?’

Sigurd settled down with his back against a tree. He patted the ground beside him. ‘Keep close and you will come to no harm.’

Liddy sat down with Coll between her and the Northman. The last thing she wanted, if she survived, was rumours that she had taken up with a Northman. She touched her birthmark. Not that any would be interested in her in any case. She had nothing to charm a man.

* * *

Sigurd woke with a numb arm. Some time in the night, her dog had moved to her other side and Lady Eilidith had moved closer. One hand was splayed against his chest. It felt right to hold her in his arms. He tried to remember when he’d last held a woman like this, just to sleep. Possibly Beyla all those years ago when he thought the world a very different place.

In the pale light, he watched her softly parted lips and the curve of her neck for another heartbeat. Something panged deep in his chest. He would do his best to protect her, but Eilidith was the bait. She was going to give him the excuse he needed to finally complete the first part of his vow and avenge his mother. First he did that and then he fulfilled the second part—regaining his father’s lands and becoming a great jaarl, rather than a half-breed good-for-nothing as Thorbin’s mother had proclaimed. If he lost sight of his goal, he lost everything.

He gently eased Eilidith away.

She blinked up at him, momentarily unfocused. Then recognition set in and she pulled away. Her dog gave a soft woof.

‘Time to begin, my lady,’ he said. ‘Are you ready? Shall we teach Thorbin a lesson?’

She nodded. ‘Coll and I are eager to play our parts, but Thorbin may listen to reason.’

He leant forward and adjusted the kerchief so that her flame-coloured hair was completely covered and less of a distraction.

‘You, yes, but your dog will stay with my men.’

She gave a hiccupping laugh. ‘Good luck with that. Coll will find a way to be with me. Your men won’t be able to hold him.’

‘They can and they will.’

A tiny frown appeared between her brows. ‘Why?’

‘Thorbin’s guards won’t let you anywhere near him with that dog. For my plan to succeed you must make your petition. You must be able to show Ketil’s ring to Thorbin yourself.’

The tension flowed from Eilidith’s face. ‘I knew Hring had it wrong. You would not have me play the whore.’

He stared at her astonished. She’d been worried about that? He captured her hand between his. Her fingers were long and narrow. The inside of her wrist was naked and vulnerable. Her eyes met his with a clear gaze. He realised he was staring. He hurriedly dropped her hand.

‘You are not the type,’ he said and knew from the flash of hurt in her eyes, his voice was a tad too harsh and he had put it badly. Her sensibilities shouldn’t bother him, but they did.

‘I never considered a whore for this,’ he said, trying again. ‘Thorbin knows how faithless women can be. You are perfect for what I need.’

Her hand grabbed on to Coll’s fur. Silently he willed her to see the sense. Making her a present to Thorbin would be something Thorbin would expect and would have planned for. His half-brother was thorough in that regard. They needed to be as inconspicuous as possible. Thorbin had to have no inkling until Sigurd sprang the trap.

‘If Coll senses I am in danger, he will find a way to get to me, but he can stay here.’

The air went out of Sigurd’s lungs and his neck eased. Eilidith was truly a gift. There was no pouting or demands that he list her undoubted charms as most of the women he’d dealt with would have done—instead, she turned her mind to the next problem. An attractive woman who was sensible—he couldn’t ask for more.

‘Hring will take care of him for you. I will inform him how to keep Coll under control.’ He stood up and held out his hand. ‘Now we need to move.’

She remained where she was.

‘Do you think we will emerge alive?’

He reached out and cupped her cheek. Her soft skin trembled beneath his fingers. ‘Thorbin failed to kill me once. He won’t succeed this time. Trust me to get this right.’

Her tongue flicked out and moistened her lips. ‘What are we going to do? Tell me now or I will go straight to the gate and proclaim that Ketil’s men are here.’

With great reluctance he let her go. Soon, he promised his body, he would taste her lips, but he needed her courage first.

‘Warriors are allowed to challenge for the leadership,’ he said, forcing his mind to work, ‘if, and only if, they are in the assembly. A decree from King Harald Finehair in order to stop disputes. Thorbin seeks to prevent anyone from Ketil’s felag from reaching the assembly. That is where you come in, you are going to get me into the assembly today.’

Sigurd hunched down and outlined his plan, concentrating on the important aspects of it, rather than thinking about how her lips might taste or how her hair slowly turned a glossy red in the rising sun. Such considerations had no place in the here and now. He had to focus on his task as he had a thousand times before. Focus kept him alive.

Eilidith was useful to him as a reason to challenge something Thorbin could not duck or forestall on—that was all. He knew what was important in his life and where his future lay. It had nothing to do with a flame-haired woman and her overgrown wolfhound.

* * *

The gates finally swung open mid-morning after much grumbling in the growing throng that they normally opened at dawn as they had done on previous days. The crowd began to shuffle with much jostling and shoving to get a good position.

Against her natural instincts, Liddy obeyed Sigurd’s instructions and waited. According to him, they wanted to be in the centre of the stream of people going in. They were less likely to be questioned, more likely to make it to the great hall where Thorbin would hear the petitions. Her stomach had twisted itself into knots. The last thing she wanted was to be questioned about who her companion was. Her ability to lie was laughable.

She put her hand out to pat Coll and encountered empty air. She curled her fingers into her palm and wished Coll was there, but he was back being fed dried meat by Hring and she was here with Sigurd, trusting that her curse would not ruin everything.

The queue moved forward and then stopped abruptly. Sigurd changed his gait as they inched forward. To her sidewise glances, he appeared much more flat footed and slow, rather than possessing the arrogant swagger of a Northman warrior.

A large warrior jostled a fishmonger’s wife and she told him what to do in no uncertain terms in Gaelic. All banter ceased. The man stared at her while other people nudged each other. When she finished her tirade, she said very loudly in Norse that she wanted to go in to sell her fish, the freshest in the land. He nodded and waved her on.

‘Most Northmen don’t know the Gaelic language,’ Liddy whispered. ‘They taunt him. It is what passes for sport in this country these days.’

‘They should be careful. Not everyone from the North is ignorant or tolerant.’ Sigurd watched the warrior who was inspecting the woman’s basket of fresh fish with a dubious expression. ‘Gorm used to be well thought of. Slow to anger, but when he does, watch out. His double-axe skill is legendary.’

‘Is that his name? Gorm?’

‘Yes, that is his name—Gorm the Two-Axed. We served together briefly a few years ago against Ketil’s great rival, Ivar the Boneless, and his band of dark Northmen, the men from the Black Pool, or Dubh Linn as you Gaels call it.’ Sigurd pulled his hood more firmly over his face and leant on his stick more, giving the impression that he was old and feeble. ‘He fights with two axes and no shield. I saw him clear an entire ship of Gaels on his own and emerge with only a slight cut on one arm.’

A shiver went down Liddy’s spine. The people were playing with fire. All it would take was for someone to point out what was being said. ‘Is he still...a great warrior? He seems to be running to fat.’

Sigurd was quiet for a long heartbeat. ‘He broke his leg in a fight after a feast more than two years ago. See how he still walks with a limp. I’d prefer him not to be against us should it come to a full-on fight.’

Her heart thudded. If he knew Gorm, then Gorm would know him. Any hope of surprise would go. Her mouth tasted like ash. And she would be condemned as an accomplice. Any hope of rescuing her father and brother would be lost. She stared up at the clouds. There were too many people behind them to run. She kept trying to remember the sound of her seanmhair’s voice as she declared that Liddy would do great things, rather than thinking about Brandon’s scorn.

‘Gorm will recognise your voice.’ She kept hers to barely above a whisper.

Sigurd nodded. ‘It is why you must speak if he acknowledges us.’

She risked a glance at him. He had straightened up a little and was surveying the crowd. ‘No one will ever take you for a servant. Stoop and keep your eyes on the ground.’

His breath fanned her ear. ‘Your lover, then.’

Something warm curled about her stomach. Lover? She was finished with such things. She’d been no good at bed sport with Brandon and Sigurd had made it very clear that she was undesirable—not meant for the jaarl’s bed. ‘A servant will provoke less comment.’

He raised a brow. ‘Say what you will, but make it convincing.’

‘Why did you choose me?’ she asked as they moved ever closer to Gorm’s inspection.

‘I knew I needed a distraction. Luckily the fates sent you along. Thorbin has even given up hunting wild boar, something I never thought I’d see him to do. He used to live for the chase.’

Gorm was five people away and demanding the cart be searched. The farmer instantly complied. The hay and straw was stabbed repeatedly with swords from all sides.

‘I can see why you didn’t try smuggling yourself in a load of hay.’

‘I saw this happen to three carts on my first day of spying,’ he said. ‘Until then I had favoured that idea.’

Gorm started towards them, waving his hand and signalling to another guard that he wanted to deal with them. Liddy forgot how to breathe.

‘Whatever you do, act naturally,’ Sigurd said in a low voice. ‘You look like a doe who has just heard the hunter’s tread.’

‘Turn towards me, pretend we are in close conversation,’ she retorted. ‘It won’t be so bad then. I can’t see him.’

He took a step nearer. He was nearly touching her. His breath fanned her cheek again. ‘I still think my idea of lovers was a good one.’

Liddy wriggled to make some more space. Lies dripped from his lips as easily as honey dripped from the comb during the September harvest, the same as they had dripped from Brandon’s when he’d courted her. In her mind she listed the reasons Brandon’s mistress had given her for why she was undesirable to men, starting with her birthmark. Her breathing eased. ‘You should have told me about this possibility before I agreed to help you.’

‘I discovered too many people knowing my business leads to disaster. Has the danger gone?’

Liddy raised up on her tiptoes and peered around Sigurd’s bulk. ‘Yes, he wanted the farmer’s lad to help him unload the cart. He wasn’t signalling about us after all. I panicked.’

‘Keep on the side closest to Gorm. I’m depending on you, Eilidith, and your dazzling smile.’

‘My smile never dazzled anyone.’

‘We are going to have to do something about your persistent lying.’

Liddy shook her head, smiling a little at his foolish words. She knew what they were designed for. It had been a long time since anyone depended on her. Mostly they looked with horror at her, the woman who had caused her children’s deaths, and tried to forget she existed.

Sigurd walked at her side, leaning on his staff as if he had trouble standing straight.

‘Keep your head bent and your mouth shut,’ she whispered as they neared the gate. ‘Someone else has joined your friend Gorm. They seem to be looking for someone. They are unloading the sacks of grain for a second time.’

‘Thorbin always had a paranoid streak. Who would hide in a sack of grain?’

The guards finished with the grain and motioned her and Sigurd forward. His hand squeezed hers. ‘For luck.’

She drew back, knowing that her cheeks flamed. One simple touch and the ice she’d been encased in ever since Keita had given a terrifying gurgling sound and stopped breathing vanished. It was as if all the vile things Brandon had said to her and about her meant nothing. This man had touched her voluntarily. No, not voluntarily—to distract her from what was to come.

She withdrew her hand rapidly. ‘No more of that.’

A dimple flashed in the corner of his mouth. ‘If you say so, I was merely trying to play a part.’

‘We agreed on another part,’ she said between gritted teeth.

‘What is going on here? Why do you come to this fort?’ a booming Northern voice asked.

Liddy jumped and then slowly turned towards the warrior. ‘I come seeking my father and brother.’

The warrior’s brows drew together. Liddy tried not to think about the axe which hung from his belt. ‘And your father is?’

‘Gilbreath mac Fergusa. Chief of Cennell Fergusa.’

‘You speak the North language. Good. It is good to see the women make an effort.’ He gave a coarse laugh.

‘Enough to get by.’ Liddy wriggled to keep her gown from sticking to her back. Now she had started, the words flowed more easily.

‘Your companion? Why is he here? Why does he allow a woman to speak for him?’

She kept her gaze on the warrior, refusing to look at Sigurd. ‘My servant has lost his wits and his tongue. They say a witch cursed him last New Year. A woman like me would hardly walk across Islay on her own.’

‘The North’s peace runs here. Women are safe.’

Liddy remembered the sacred grove and knew he lied. She lowered her voice. ‘Outlaws. My mother worries about outlaws. But I believe that despite his lost tongue, my servant could use his staff if any outlaws approached us in the woods.’

Sigurd made some mumbling sounds and seemed to shrink deeper into his cloak.

‘It is fine, Colum,’ she said. ‘The warrior simply wanted to know about your ailment. I don’t believe the witch’s curse will pass to the next unworthy soul.’

Sigurd reached a trembling hand out as if to paw the large Northman.

Gorm drew back. ‘You may take your suit to the council, but keep your servant under control. You are in luck. Today is the day Lord Thorbin hears such things.’

‘Hopefully he will see the justness of my cause.’

Sigurd made another series of mumbling noise and started spinning around.

Gorm averted his eyes. ‘Keep your servant under control, my lady, or you both will be in trouble.’

He then began berating the farmer behind them, demanding that the load of fish be completely unloaded. Liddy hurried through the gate and started up the crowded road.

A hand on her elbow detained her. ‘Cursed by a witch? Lost wits? I thought we had agreed something else.’

Liddy gave Sigurd her sweetest smile. ‘You let me choose.’ Her low voice matched his. ‘You should trust me. He never asked to speak with you. He believed you bewitched. He couldn’t wait to have you gone.’

Sigurd rolled his eyes heavenwards, obviously not appreciating the role she had assigned him. ‘Preserve me from independent women with come-hither smiles.’

‘My quick thinking allowed us to pass,’ she retorted. ‘We are in.’

He raised a brow. ‘Now it is my job to ensure we get out of this place alive.’

‘With my father and brother.’

‘I know the bargain we struck, Eilidith. But I promise you—your life is important as well.’

Liddy studied the road rather than looking at the variety of warriors who stood just inside the gateway, far more than she had considered. What hope did Sigurd and his men have against them?

‘I will hold you to that promise.’

Chapter Three

People crowded everywhere inside the fort. Several market stalls had sprung up, offering fish, fresh vegetables and trinkets. The Northmen were easy to spot with their long hair and fine cloaks. For the most part, the Gaels kept their eyes to the ground and moved with furtive steps.

‘Where do we go now?’ Liddy asked, drawing her hood more closely about her face so as to avoid people staring at her mark. ‘Where is the best place to wait? When will your men arrive? I assume they are waiting for their chance, slipping in one by one.’

‘To the great hall where the overlord hears the petitions. We are here to offer your petition and to see if Thorbin will keep the law.’ Sigurd pointed to the large gabled building which dominated the area. ‘My men will remain in the woods unless I fail to return by sunset.’

‘Shouldn’t I try to find my family?’ she asked more in hope than expectation. ‘Let them know I am here and working on their behalf. Fa and Malcolm need to be warned and be ready to escape, if my petition fails.’

Sigurd laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. ‘Escape would be foolish. Where would they go? All your lands would be forfeit. They will be released when the jaarl of the isle chooses.’

‘You mean Thorbin. He is the jaarl here and you don’t believe my petition will work. You don’t want me to give my family false hope.’

‘Stop trying to peer into the future.’ He placed a finger against her lips. ‘Until the time is right, the fewer who know I’m here, the better.’

A Northman warrior bumped into her shoulder, nearly sending her flying. Liddy gave a little yelp. Sigurd instantly put up his hood and sunk deeper into the shadows.

‘Watch where you are going,’ the warrior growled and strode on without even truly looking at her.

Liddy waited until he had disappeared into the crowd before breathing again. ‘That was close. What are my orders now?’

‘Speak in a loud but firm voice once Thorbin acknowledges you. If he refuses, step aside and let me take over. Can you do that for me?’ Sigurd put his hand under her elbow. ‘You have done very well so far.’

‘Anything else?’

‘If I tell you to scream, I want you to scream with all your might. I want you to scream so that they can hear you all the way to Loch Indaal.’

‘It will bring Coll. I don’t think Hring could hold him if I were really in trouble.’ Somehow the thought didn’t bring her much comfort. The warriors who stood at the back of the hall would not hesitate to cut a dog down. She’d spied one with a quiver full of arrows kick a mangy-looking dog as they came into the fort.

‘Precisely. In the confusion you escape and return to your home. It will give you time to warn those remaining in your family. You then make for the Isle of Man and Lord Ketil.’

A pain developed behind her eyes. If he failed, she faced a sea voyage. She’d never call Coll to the fate that awaited him here! Liddy silently resolved to remain silent. ‘Do you think it is hopeless? I deserve to know the worst.’

‘It is always best to have an alternative plan in mind.’

‘I have an alternative—you and your sword arm, not failing.’

His lips curved upwards. ‘It is good that you have such faith in my sword arm.’

‘I have to have faith in something.’ She tried to quell the butterflies which had taken up residence in her stomach. ‘And if Thorbin does what is right?’

‘I will be the first to congratulate you.’ He put a hand on her shoulder. The warmth of his touch spread throughout her body, making the butterflies die down. ‘Keep your hopes low. Thorbin will run to his nature. I have succeeded against worse odds.’

A heavy staff was banged on the ground three times and the entire hall emptied of noise. ‘Come forward! Come forward, all you who have business with Thorbin, jaarl of the Western Isles. Come forward and he will see justice done.’

The curtains at one end of the hall parted and a warrior wearing a heavy gold torc and gold embroidered clothes stepped out. He had a long pointed nose and a disdainful expression as if the proceedings bored him. But there was something about him that made Liddy wonder where she might have seen him before—the way he tilted his head and the shape of his hands. Her stomach knotted. Sigurd’s half-brother. She risked a glance at Sigurd, but his hood obscured his features.

Sigurd jerked his head towards where Thorbin stood. A cacophony of voices rose as everyone vied to put their petition before the jaarl first.

‘There are too many in front of us,’ Liddy whispered with a sinking heart. ‘We won’t be heard. All this for nothing.’

‘Leave this to me.’

Using his staff, Sigurd shoved his way forward and Liddy followed in his wake until they were standing under Thorbin’s long nose. ‘Go, as loud as you can,’ he whispered and stepped behind her.

‘I will have order,’ Thorbin thundered.

‘I have business here,’ Liddy proclaimed loudly into the sudden stillness. ‘Ketil Flatnose promised my father protection from the slavers, but your men have taken him and my brother into captivity and they are to be sold in the North lands. I ask you to honour the promise Ketil Flatnose made to my father. I ask you to free them.’

Lord Thorbin regarded her as if she was an interesting insect that he wished to examine before squashing.

Fighting against the growing urge to hide her face, Liddy squared her shoulders and glared back at the tyrant.

‘Is this true? Who told you this story?’ Thorbin barked out. ‘There are many who claim Ketil Flatnose gave them this or that right, but have little to show for it.’

‘My father’s servant returned to our hall with his bloodied cloak and the message. My mother has taken to her bed.’ She dug into her pouch and brought out the gold ring. ‘I bring the token Ketil gave my father when they swore eternal friendship and peace.’

Thorbin had leant forward and peered at the ring. He gave a non-committal grunt. ‘Who is your father? You appear from this isle rather than from the North lands.’

Liddy wanted to wipe the bored smirk from his lips. ‘My father is Gilbreath mac Fergusa, a man who freely gave his allegiance to Ketil Flatnose after his lands had been ravaged by Irish pirates. A man who convinced others to do the same. A man deserving of your continued protection.’

The North lord stroked his chin and his eyes narrowed. ‘Gilbreath mac Fergusa is a traitor with a traitor for a son. The son would have killed me if he had had the chance. He broke friendship, not I.’ He waved his hand. ‘Application dismissed.’

Liddy put her hands on her hips. ‘You lie! My father is an honest man! All he wants is peace and justice for his family.’

Thorbin leant forward. ‘Hmm, are you challenging my word? A woman like you? A Gael? Mayhap you are a warrior who wishes to fight me and let the gods decide who is in the right.’

The room broke out into nervous laughter.

‘A misunderstanding,’ she whispered between her parched lips. ‘I am certain it can be solved, but my father must be released. He took no part in whatever happened when my brother came here.’ Sweat poured down her back. What had her brother done? Malcolm could never hurt another human being in cold blood. He would have been a priest had he not been the only son. Had her mother known? Was that why she counselled Liddy against making the journey?

‘There is nothing to be done about it. Give me the ring now! It is forfeit. Be grateful I don’t make you fight.’ Thorbin waved his hand and the North warrior who had opened the ceremony snatched it from her palm. ‘Next.’

‘But it is wrong!’ The words emerged from her throat before she had a chance to check them. ‘You have no right to take that ring! You have stolen it. That is against the North laws! I demand justice!’

Thorbin checked his movement.

‘Are you calling me a liar? Both your brother and father are traitors. They broke the truce, not me. At the end of this assembly, they will be declared outlaws and all their lands forfeit.’

Liddy balled her fists. She wished that she was a warrior and could take on Thorbin. Sigurd had been right—there could be no justice in Islay while this man ruled the land. ‘It is up to you to decide what you are. I merely state the facts. My father never knowingly broke a promise in his entire life up to now. Why should he start? He was one of the first to accept the Northman overlordship. He has never failed with the correct amount of tribute. Ever.’

Thorbin gave a pitying smile. ‘The facts are that I am in charge, my dear. And it is I and I alone who judge if a man is a traitor. However, I am in a generous mood and can see you have no champion to fight in your stead. You may live. Quit this hall and never return. Be glad you have your life. I, Thorbin Sigmundson, am the ruler of this island and I decree this!’

‘This lady has a champion!’ a loud voice thundered out.

Thorbin started and seemed to pale, but then he recovered himself. ‘There is none who cares to challenge. This has been settled. Be glad I am in a good mood, my dear. You may go, but your family’s tribute has been doubled. I will expect it at harvest time. Then we can discuss your father’s release.’

He tossed the ring and it landed with a clunk at her feet.

Sigurd stepped in front of Liddy and put his boot on the ring. ‘I challenge you, Thorbin the Two-Faced! You failed to act on a solemn promise given by your jaarl. You broke the fellowship. You have forfeited your right to lead and I claim the right to challenge.’

‘How dare you come before me with your face cloaked? How dare you call me that name? Who are you?’

Sigurd lowered his hood and threw back his cloak so that his sword was revealed. ‘Sigurd Sigmundson. Deputy of Ketil Flatnose. I challenge you on behalf of this woman and her family. I challenge you for the leadership to settle the question once and for all.’

A collective intake of breath echoed about the hall, swiftly followed by an all-pervasive silence. Sigurd waited, knowing that this was the crucial time. Either Thorbin’s men were up for a fight or they would force Thorbin to accept the challenge.

The colour drained from Thorbin’s misbegotten face, making the white scar which ran from his temple to his chin stand out clearly. ‘It is not possible. You are dead. Long ago. I saw you fall from that cliff in Ireland near the Black Pool.’

Sigurd bowed, enjoying his half-brother’s discomfort. He had waited a long time for this day. It was gratifying to know that Thorbin had been behind the attempt on his life two years ago. ‘But here I am, standing in front of you. Real and whole.’

‘What connection do you have to this woman?’

‘Will anyone deny me the right to challenge? To fight for the fellowship?’

There was a stamping of the floor and shouts of approval. The muscles in Sigurd’s back eased. If there was anything a Northman loved, it was the opportunity to watch a good fight. None would interfere. From the look of it, Thorbin would be no match for him now. Not like years ago when Thorbin had left him more dead than alive.

Sigurd could see signs of heavy living in Thorbin’s red-rimmed eyes and the way his hand trembled when he picked up the ring. This was his time.

‘You leave me with no choice, Sigurd the Scavenger.’ Thorbin gave a crooked smile. ‘You will have your fight. With swords. I assume you will put the one which hangs from your belt to better use than the one of our father’s which you broke.’

‘That sword has been remade.’

Thorbin nodded. ‘You should have died five years ago when you dared show your face at the funeral.’

Sigurd shrugged. He had gone to the funeral to show that he, too, wanted to honour his father and to rescue his mother. He had been naïve in thinking that it wouldn’t be a trap. Beyla’s timely emergence from the tent showed him his folly and he had to resort to ending his mother’s suffering. ‘You failed to kill me then and you will fail this time.’

‘Shall we fight?’ Thorbin wiped a hand across his face. ‘The winner will take the woman.’

‘That will be for the winner to decide. But no one touches my woman without my permission.’ Sigurd damped down any protective feeling he had towards Liddy. She was a means to destroy Thorbin, nothing more.

* * *

Liddy went into the hut where Sigurd sat preparing for the fight, rather than stand outside and be jeered at by any more of Thorbin’s men. She had stood it for as long as possible, but when the jibes became too crude she ducked inside.

She had never considered Sigurd volunteering to be her champion. He made it seem like she was little better than a whore. His woman, indeed.

What was worse, everything that had happened today increased the danger her family was in. If Sigurd lost, then they would all be branded traitors and lose everything. And if he won, could she count on him to keep his promise now that he had heard her brother had rebelled?

Liddy moved her mind away from that possibility. Brandon was right—her curse would destroy her family.

‘I apologise for the men outside,’ Sigurd said before she had a chance to complain. ‘Manners are singularly lacking in this place.’

Liddy forced the impulse to laugh hysterically down her throat. She had come in all set to rant and he apologised as if it were his fault for causing her a minor inconvenience. As if their only trouble was the rudeness of the Northmen.

‘How many times have you fought Thorbin? Was he the one to break your sword? You owe me that at least.’

He raised his head. His features seemed to be carved from stone. ‘We fought many times growing up. We shared a father. While our father breathed his last, my half-brother arranged for my murder. I survived the attempt, but my mother agreed to be sacrificed. She did it to save my life. She thought the woman I professed to love and I deserved to be together. She believed in the power of love conquering all. She never knew how wrong she was.’

‘What happened to the woman?’

‘She chose another.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘Someone with more land and power. Another country. It taught me a valuable lesson—love will get you killed.’

Liddy stared at him in astonishment. This warrior was far more dangerous than she had thought. ‘You wanted this not because of Ketil’s pledge to my family, or any noble reason, but because of something that happened long ago. You wanted another chance.’

‘The odds are in my favour. Trust me.’

She stared at him. ‘You failed to trust me. Why should I trust you now?’

Liddy heard her heart thumping in the silence. He came forward and lifted her chin so that she was forced to look into his piercing gaze. His eyes would be easy to drown in. ‘Leave this hut if you believe I will lose.’

‘I remain here.’ She wrenched her chin away and struggled to breathe normally. ‘His men will kill you if you kill him. They have nothing to lose. They are betting on how short a time it will take to kill you.’

‘Let me worry about such considerations.’ He stepped away from her. ‘You were magnificent back there. Better than I could have hoped for.’

A tiny bubble of happiness filled her breast. He had thought she’d done a good job. She struggled to remember when she had last had a compliment like that. And the part of her that wanted to believe she had been touched by angels at birth grew louder. ‘It didn’t do me much good. I lost my father’s ring.’

‘What do I see here?’ He reached behind her ear and produced the gold ring. ‘Next time, pick it up. I may not be there to retrieve it.’

‘I shall.’ Her hand closed about the ring and she regarded his well-worn boots. ‘It will take more than tricks to defeat Thorbin, but I do believe you can win out there.’

‘It makes all the difference—having one person believe in you.’

‘Do you want me to let your men know? About the fight? Everyone out there, waiting for you to return from your mission.’ She made a little gesture and hoped it hid the sudden flaming of her cheeks. ‘As I said, they are betting against you out there. Every single one of them.’

‘Pity there is no one to place a bet for me. I could make a fortune.’ He put up his hand. ‘Don’t even think about offering. They would not bet with a woman.’

She pleated her gown between her fingers. ‘It is possible that Thorbin plans some sort of treachery.’

He shook his head. ‘Thorbin knows that he will lose his men if he isn’t seen to fight fair at the start. Once the battle begins, anything is possible between us, but no one else may intervene. I’ve learned a trick or two since he broke my sword.’

She pressed her hands together and tried to hang on to her sanity. Sigurd seemed unnaturally calm about it. ‘Have you done this before?’

‘Challenge for leadership of a felag?’ He tilted his head to one side. ‘No, but I have fought many times, since Thorbin left me for dead. The surest way a man like me can rise. And I have risen, Eilidith, from the mud of society.’

‘Call me Liddy,’ she said before she lost the courage. ‘We are friends after a fashion and I loathe Eilidith.’

‘Liddy.’ He made her name sound exotic and mysterious, rather than plain. ‘It suits you better. Why are we friends suddenly?’

She gave an artless wave. ‘Because you need one.’

He tilted his head to one side and she felt the full force of his gaze. She was aware of how small this hut suddenly had become. ‘You may be right. My mother used to say a true friend was a pearl beyond price.’

‘I have heard that saying before.’ She watched her hands, feeling her cheeks go suddenly hot. She was bad at this sort of thing.

He stood up and walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Allow me to do the worrying. You bring me good luck—that is why I need you there.’

She turned her face away, tucking her chin into her shoulder to hide her mark. Now was far from the time or place to begin to explain about her problems, starting with the two tiny graves on the hillside and her part in making that boat capsize. Or her problems with her volatile ex-brother-in-law who blamed her for much that had gone wrong in Brandon’s life—the woman with the cursed face who lied to hide her inadequacies. ‘I am a woman of Cennell Fergusa. Worrying is something we do. What I do know is that my late husband, Brandon, would not have risked his life as you are about to.’

‘Only the fates know when you will die.’ He put his finger under her chin and raised it so her eyes met his piercing blue gaze. They were pools to drown in. Liddy hated that she wanted to believe in him. ‘I am trusting that my life’s thread runs longer than today. The three fates will have spun it longer.’

‘We come from different cultures,’ she whispered, watching his mouth. ‘God, not the fates, decides when we die.’

‘My mother used to say something similar. I can almost hear her voice, echoing down the years. Thank you.’

‘My pleasure.’ She watched his mouth as their breath interlaced. Her heart thumped so loudly she thought he must hear and guess her attraction to him.

He dipped his head and his lips touched hers. This time was not a fleeting butterfly touch, but solid and real. Her mouth parted and she drank from him.

For one wild heartbeat she forgot everything but the taste of him. Her breasts brushed against his hard chest. Then she stepped back, knowing that her face burnt far more than before. She fingered her birthmark, placing her hand to hide the ugliness of it, her badge of shame. He had kissed her voluntarily and she had no idea why.

‘Did you take pity on me?’

‘I have never kissed a woman out of pity yet.’ He watched her with hooded eyes, making no move to recapture her.

‘What was that for?’

‘So that some of your excellent luck will rub off on me,’ he said. ‘You might not believe in such things, but I figure I need all the help I can get.’

‘That is fine, then.’ Her voice came out as a husky rasp. ‘I figure you need as much as possible.’

She turned on her heel and marched out of the hut. Behind her she heard a soft voice saying thank you, so soft that she wondered if she’d actually heard it.

* * *

A good-sized crowd had gathered about a makeshift arena. The atmosphere had altered since she was in the hut. It was now far more restless as if there was change in the air. Liddy hung back, wondering where she should stand.

A cold nose nudged her hand and she saw that Coll had quietly joined her. Next to him stood Hring with a superior expression on his face. Liddy took a deep breath. She might not trust him, but at least he was on Sigurd’s side.

‘How did you get in?’ Liddy gasped out.

‘It is amazing how distracted guards can become when a big fight is about to happen.’ Hring shook his head. ‘The discipline.’

‘You disobeyed his orders,’ she said. ‘You were supposed to stay outside the gates unless I screamed.’

‘Sigurd’s a good fighter.’ He patted his chest. ‘I predict my purse will be heavier tonight.’

‘What will he say when he discovers what you have done?’

Hring bared his pointed teeth. ‘I’ve never been one for following orders precisely. Sigurd knows that. And your dog pined for you. What should I have done—allowed him to take a chunk out of my arm?’

Liddy gave an uncertain laugh. Somehow it was easier to have Coll with her. She curled her fingers around his collar. With Coll there, she had at least one protector. Heaving a great sigh, Coll flopped down at her feet.

‘Sigurd is going to fight, but I worry Thorbin may not fight fair.’

‘Thorbin is arrogant, but he isn’t stupid. The men would turn against him if more joined in. Two men challenge and fight to the death in these situations. It is our law and our heritage. It works well.’

‘Killing your brother cannot be considered a good thing where you come from.’

‘Half-brother, and it has been known to happen, but Sigurd isn’t planning on killing him.’

Liddy blinked in surprise. ‘Why not?’

‘Ketil Flatnose wants that pleasure.’ Hring rubbed his jaw. ‘If it was up to me, I would disobey that order during the fight, but Sigurd is different. He knows when to stop. I’ve seen him fight before. There are reasons why I backed him. But you needn’t worry, my lady, any sign of trouble and I will get you out of here. You’ve held your side of the bargain, I reckon we can hold ours.’

Liddy tightened her grip on Coll’s collar. The large Northman with strange pointed teeth no longer frightened her. ‘Good to know.’

Sigurd was the first to emerge. He wore his tunic and carried his sword. Someone threw him a shield which he caught easily. In the sunlight, his hair gleamed gold and he moved with a great purpose, like one of the angels in church come to life. Her breath caught. It was hard to believe that he had actually kissed her.

‘I was simply the nearest woman and he’s a Northman with different beliefs,’ she whispered to Coll. ‘That was the reason.’

Coll opened one eye and gave a low growl of disapproval.

* * *

Sigurd banged the sword against the shield. All his muscles had tensed. It was good to be out in the open, good to be doing something, rather than skulking in the shadows. ‘Thorbin. I am waiting. We are all waiting. Are you a warrior or a coward?’

Thorbin came out of the hall, dressed in a finely wrought tunic and tight-fitting trousers. In his right hand he carried a gleaming sword and in his left a highly polished shield.

‘Is this how you dress for battle?’ Sigurd roared, not bothering to control his anger at the contempt Thorbin showed him. ‘You will rip your trousers and show your bare arse to the world before you take five steps.’

‘Maybe that is all I will need.’

‘You will need more than that, Thorbin, as you well know.’

‘I would have a deputy fight for me. Do you wish to nominate someone as well?’ Thorbin gave an ice-cold smile. ‘A courtesy as we share a father. Blood will out, even if one has the blood of a whore.’

Sigurd glared at him. Trust Thorbin to bring up their heritage. Thorbin had been the legitimate son, the one with all the advantages. Thorbin’s mother had made sure of that. ‘Under the terms our mutual overlord has set, it is not permissible for either of us to have a deputy.’

‘King Harald...’

‘Ketil Flatnose has decreed no deputies in fights of this nature.’ He dug into the pouch and withdrew a rune stick. ‘We thought you might attempt this.’

Thorbin took the stick and read it with a curled lip. He tossed it away.

‘I had no wish to kill my brother, but you will keep returning.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Sigurd retorted. ‘I have not considered you my brother for years.’

‘I have no idea why the fates spared you, Sigurd,’ Thorbin sneered. ‘But it will be my pleasure to cut your life thread and then take the woman you desire. Like old times, Sigurd the Tender Hearted.’

Sigurd damped down the rage. He had used Liddy to get in here and owed her something for that. That was all. So why did it bother him that Thorbin could get under his skin in this way? He barely knew the woman. Women were not part of his existence. He used them when necessary, but mainly he focused on his vow and regaining his honour. His belief in love had died the day of his mother’s death. And yet, his lips still tasted of Liddy’s sweetness.

‘Your pathetic attempt to unsettle me does you no credit, Thorbin. I only met the woman yesterday. A means to an end.’

‘Then you know nothing of her past or her family. Why do you seek to protect her?’

‘I have my reasons.’

‘We could end this now. There are opportunities for men like you if you pledge your loyalty to me.’

Sigurd struggled to contain his temper. He would barely last a day before he encountered a knife in his back. ‘I will pass. Shall we begin?’

‘Your funeral.’

‘Your meeting with destiny.’

Sigurd lifted his sword and drove forward. As he expected, Thorbin easily blocked it with his shield and tried to rain a blow of his own. Sigurd lifted his shield with plenty of time to spare.

‘Getting old?’ he asked, mocking his half-brother.

Thorbin shook his head and made a furious stab forward. This time the sword was harder to block.

Sigurd concentrated and began to fight in earnest, matching blow for blow and drawing on all the skills he’d learnt during his time as a sell-sword.

* * *

The crowd roared with encouragement every time Thorbin landed a blow and catcalled Sigurd. Liddy’s stomach twisted. Even if Sigurd won, would he really be able to command these men?

However, very quickly the crowd became silent as it was obvious Sigurd was the better fighter and Thorbin was quickly tiring. Thorbin made one last attempt and forced Sigurd to his knees.

A scream echoed round and round the crowd. Liddy realised with a start that it was her voice.

She hid her eyes, unable to watch. Coll nudged her with his cold nose and she peeked through her fingers.

Somehow Sigurd had managed to twist and Thorbin’s thrust forward missed. Sigurd half-pivoted and crashed his shield down on Thorbin’s outstretched arm.

The sword dropped to the dirt as Sigurd brought his sword down onto Thorbin’s neck. Liddy risked a breath. Sigurd was going to win. He was going to live. She quickly amended it to her father and brother were going to be freed. Whether a Northman lived or died meant nothing to her.

She fingered her lips. She could almost feel the imprint of his mouth. He’d kissed her voluntarily. It was almost enough to make her believe Brandon’s mistress had lied when she said that no man would voluntarily touch her.

She pushed the thought away. Passionate encounters belonged to women who were made differently than she was. After today, she would never encounter him again. All she wanted was for him to keep his promise and free her family. Then maybe people would say her birthmark brought luck rather than shame.

* * *

Sigurd became aware of distant noises as the fog of battle cleared. He had done it. Thorbin was at his mercy. But he also knew that it had been Liddy’s cry that had given him the extra surge of strength he needed.

He had fought better because Liddy believed in him. And that scared him more. Since his mother’s death, he’d been alone, caring for no one but himself and the men he fought with. Finer feelings and tenderness had no place in his life. He barely knew her and already she was under his skin. She’d be returning back to her lands with her father. Liddy was not going to be part of his life. And the fact made him annoyed.

‘You cut my ankle,’ Thorbin whined, bringing him back to the reality. ‘Unsporting.’

‘Do you surrender?’

Thorbin made a noise.

Sigurd kept the point of his sword touching his half-brother’s neck. For many years he had anticipated the pleasure he’d have when he killed this man, but now that it came to it, he found the desire vanished. Something deep within him revolted at the thought of killing his brother, even though he knew Thorbin would not have had the slightest hesitation.

‘Louder, so all can hear. I am wise to your tricks.’

‘I surrender.’ His face showed real fear. ‘I can’t rise, Brother.’

‘Louder!’

‘You have won, Sigurd!’ Thorbin screamed. ‘You have defeated me!’

The silence was deafening. Sigurd knew the majority of the crowd expected him to drive the sword home. He was well within his rights.

‘Let Ketil decide what to do with you!’ He tossed the sword aside as he motioned to Hring who stood next to Liddy. The warrior had obeyed him in his fashion.

The colour had rapidly returned to her face. He hated that something twisted in his gut, a reminder to keep people at a distance. Allowing them to become too close risked losing everything that he’d worked for. He’d seen it before.

After he dealt with Thorbin, they would say their goodbyes. It was how it had to be. He kept no one close. Beyla had taught him that lesson. Women were self-interested and their protestations of love meant nothing in the clear light of day.

The big man came forward, withdrawing the chains from the pouch he carried. Sigurd clamped the irons on to Thorbin’s wrists and then shackled his ankles.

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