Harlequin Historical September 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Lord Havelock's List\Saved by the Viking Warrior\The Pirate Hunter (43 page)

Cwenneth laced her hand with Martha's. ‘I'm glad you agree. I fear my brother would not. He would be beyond all reasoning, but know that I am happier than I have been in a long time. It feels right. I'm needed in a way I never was at Lingwold. Or indeed with Aefirth.'

Martha gave a reluctant nod. ‘If you say he is a good man, I'll believe you. And he is the right age. Aefirth was far too old for you. He treated you like a child and never allowed you to make any important decisions.'

‘Aefirth was good to me,' Cwenneth protested. ‘He sought to protect me.'

‘He wanted to play at being young. He should never have gone to war the last time he did. He should have stayed and looked after his estate. When he left you, he never trusted you to make the right decisions.'

Cwenneth pressed her lips together. What Martha said had merit. She had admired Aefirth and had liked being looked after, but he had never encouraged her to think for herself in the way Thrand did. He had left advisors for her. But Aefirth had only wanted her because he felt he needed another heir, one who could be a warrior instead of a cripple, and she was an ornament to his house. ‘The woman I was loved him.'

‘And the woman you are now? Who do you love?'

Was it wrong of her to keep hoping that Thrand would see her as more than the person who could help him fulfil his promise to his friend? Cwenneth fiddled with her eating knife. Now was not the time to reveal her problems with Thrand.

‘There is something more,' she said instead. ‘Something you kept from me because Thrand was in the room.'

‘Your brother means to march to Jorvik and demand Thrand's head. He has called for all men who hate Thrand Ammundson to flock to his banner. He means to take Jorvik if the king won't listen. Even your stepson has come with men. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw his banner fluttering in the breeze the other day.'

‘My brother is foolish if he thinks the king will listen. And insane if he thinks he can take Jorvik. Others have tried.' A pain developed in the back of Cwenneth's head. How could her brother be that foolish!

‘Hagal has guaranteed safe passage through his lands to Jorvik in time for the Storting. He says that it will be your brother's last chance to get rid of the menace for ever and get you back as his bride.'

‘Hagal wants me dead. Aefirth killed his cousin in battle. Unless my stepson is very careful, he too will end up dead.'

‘He has never mentioned that. And your stepson is one of the ones yelling the loudest.' Martha tapped a finger on the side of her nose. ‘But you always did say that he wanted easy glory.'

‘That's because he has never been to war.' Cwenneth clenched her fist. She hated to think about the lives her stepson risked, men she knew and respected. ‘Why does Hagal need an army of Bernicians?'

‘According to Hagal, the Norse oath of fellowship forbids weapons and private armies during a Storting. My nephew was in the room when he said it. A great cheer went up. Finally a way to defeat the menace.'

A cold prickling went down Cwenneth's back. This was what Hagal had been up to—he was going to use her brother and his men to provide the army so that he could take over Jorvik and become king. And they would not be Norse. He would not be condemned as an oath-breaker.

She leant forward and gathered Martha's hands between hers. ‘There is more to tell me.'

‘Your brother was not inclined to move as your sister-in-law is pregnant and begged him not to leave her side. But then the burning of the farms started. They all swore it was Thrand the Destroyer. Old John's son watched his father being killed.'

‘Thrand was with me.'

‘It is better that you are leaving tomorrow. Your brother has a hard lesson to learn. He should listen to his wife and stay put. But since the farms were attacked, there is no reasoning with him. He wants Thrand Ammundson destroyed. Hagal has assured him that Halfdan will listen as he has kidnapped a fellow
jaarl'
s bride and made off with her dowry. And if not, your brother is prepared to take on the entire Norse army.'

Cwenneth closed her eyes and knew she had been living in a dream world. Hagal was not going to stop if they went to Iceland. He was going to take that army south. People would be killed. Other farms would be burnt to the ground. People she cared about. Everything in Lingwold would change. Men would lose their lives, women their husbands and children their fathers. And in Jorvik, there was no saying what would happen if Hagal actually did gain power. Would they even be safe in Iceland? Or able to reach it?

All because she was willing to let people think she was dead.

Hagal had to be faced, shown for the bare-faced liar he was, and stopped. Jorvik would be too late. Hagal needed to be stopped before he acquired an army.

‘You appear ill, my lady. Shall I fix you a sleeping draught?'

Cwenneth quickly shook her head. She knew what she had to do and there was no point in arguing with Thrand about it. He'd only refuse to let her go alone or insist they wait until Jorvik. If Thrand accompanied her, they'd kill him. And she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. The children needed him and his sword arm. She, on the other hand, could count on her brother's men to keep her safe. Her brother had no reason to seek her death. Once he knew the truth, his army would turn against Hagal.

‘I'm a bit tired, Martha,' she said, a plan beginning to formulate in her brain. She wanted the comfort of Thrand's arms one last time and then she'd do it. Only she could stop this madness before it began.

‘You go up and see that man of yours.' The old woman gave a huge smile. ‘If I was a few years younger, I would give you a run for your money. Not that he'd notice—anyone with half a brain can see that he is devoted to you.'

‘He's not—' Cwenneth responded too quickly and thought better of it. Let Martha believe in the romance. She knew the bitter truth—Thrand was currently interested in sharing her bed and he wanted her for the children. ‘What made you change your mind?'

‘No monster would take such good care of children. He handles them as if they are made of glass. And they are not even his own. I've misjudged him for years. And no man could ever have conducted as many raids as your brother claimed the Destroyer did.'

‘Why do it then?'

‘It gave him more power and more men. Your brother could always tell a good tale, particularly if it made him look the better for it. I've known him for a long time.'

Cwenneth reached out and grabbed the woman's gnarled hand. ‘I'm glad we came here tonight.'

* * *

‘Are they asleep?' Cwenneth peered into the moonlit loft. Through the tiny window at the gable end she could see the first stars in a sea of midnight-black.

Typical, she thought. They found shelter because the weather was awful and it had cleared. If only they had continued on, she'd never have known.

‘As soon as their heads hit the straw. I was watching them for a little while.' Thrand reached out a hand. ‘I was about to come down.'

Cwenneth caught his hand and brought the knuckles to her lips. He had purposefully stayed away so she could have time to talk to Martha. ‘I came up instead to see where we would sleep. Aud and Hilde have that side of the loft and we can have this one.'

He tilted his head to one side. ‘Did that old woman say something to make you upset?'

Cwenneth gave her head a quick shake. ‘Nothing. She approves of you in case you wondered. She thinks you are exactly what I need. Apparently she thought Aefirth too old for me.'

He pulled her into his arms. ‘Does she? I'm glad. I'll leave her some gold when we go. Or one of my brooches if you think the gold will offend her.'

‘What were you thinking about while you were making yourself scarce?'

‘When we are in Iceland, I'll build you a longhouse. It will be little bigger than this house, but I want to have something of Bernicia for you and the children. The configuration is different from the house I grew up in in Viken, but it can be done.' He described it all so vividly that Cwenneth could see it take shape in front of her. The lump grew in her throat.

Iceland was an impossible dream after what she'd learnt from Martha. She could not walk away and allow men to die in her name, trying to rescue her. Making sure Edward understood the truth and acted in his own best interest was imperative. And as Thrand taught her—she made her own luck. She was the only person who could stop this madness before it started, before it did turn into a war.

If things happened how she planned, she'd be back before Thrand and the children woke. Then they could continue on to Iceland as if nothing had happened. As long as Edward knew the truth, he would not send men after Thrand. Once he saw that she was alive and unharmed, he would destroy Hagal rather than march to his doom in Jorvik.

‘Are you cold, Cwen?' Thrand's breath tickled her ear.

‘Today took more out of me than I thought it would.'

He brushed her temple with a featherlike kiss which sent pulses of heat through her. ‘Are you going to tell me what is wrong, Cwen? What you intend to do?'

‘Nothing is wrong. Everything is right. I simply have no idea when we shall next have a soft place to lie. And both children are sound asleep. We are alone together.' She pressed her body up to his and felt him harden. ‘I want you, Thrand, and I believe you want me as well. Here. Now.'

Her hands entangled in his hair and pulled him closer.

He groaned in the back of his throat.

Slowly she pushed him down the straw. He fell easily back and pulled her on top of him.

‘I'm in charge tonight,' she whispered against his throat. ‘And I intend to take my time.'

‘A threat or a promise?'

‘Both.' She put her fingers to his lips. ‘The time for talking has ended and the time for pleasure has begun.'

She slowly lifted his tunic, revealing his warm skin underneath. And then, allowing her hand to trail down his muscular chest, she undid his trousers and took them off.

He lay silver in the pale moonlight, naked and watching her. There was something very powerful about having a warrior such as him at her mercy.

She bent her head and tasted the hollow of his throat. Slowly, she moved her lips down his body, taking her time to taste and sample. So far most of their encounters had been about him taking charge—this time she wanted to be the one.

He groaned in his throat as she lapped at his nipples, enjoying the rough texture.

She cupped his erection and felt how he grew harder and longer in the palm of her hand. Giving in to impulse, she bent her head and tasted the tip of him. Silk smooth, but hard underneath. Ready for her. She moved her mouth lower on him and his body bucked upwards. His hands gripped the straw as if he was struggling to maintain control. She lifted her head and ran her thumb over the tip of him.

‘Too much?' she asked.

‘You are too dressed,' he gasped. ‘Want you naked.'

He caught the hem of her tattered gown and brought it up over her head. Then his hands cupped her breasts and flicked the nipples, sending rivulets of pleasure throughout her body.

‘Now we can both enjoy,' he murmured. He lifted his mouth and his tongue flicked her core. She ground her hips into him with each new sensation as she tried to concentrate on stroking him.

Finally, when she knew she was about ready to explode, she tore away from his pleasure-giving mouth and impaled herself on him, opening her hips to take his whole length in one fluid movement.

She started to rock back and forth, allowing her body to say all the things that she dare not whisper and to offer up promises for the future.

* * *

Thrand slowly came back down to earth. Something tonight had been different between Cwen and him. He couldn't put a finger on it, but for the first time in a very long time he felt as if he belonged to other people. She was in truth a part of him. She was the keeper of his heart, the sort of woman his father had told him that he would find one day.

‘Cwen,' he rumbled in her ear when they were still joined. ‘Thank you.'

She lifted herself up from his chest. Her entire body thrummed. ‘I should be the one thanking you. I never knew it could be like that. It is much more pleasant to share.'

Thrand released his breath. He was tempted to tell her how much he loved her, but the last time he had said such words he had ended up fighting for his life. When they were in Iceland, when he had built a house for her, then she'd understand what she meant to him. How she was at the heart of the new family he planned. He could confess his dream then. ‘It feels good to be part of a whole again. I had not realised that I missed it.'

‘Part of a whole?'

‘You, the children and me. They need parents.' Thrand knew his words were weak, but they were all he dared admit. He worried if he said anything more before they reached Iceland, he'd spoil everything. He wanted a family. His family. People he had ties with. He had lost one family and now it would appear he had gained another.

She struggled out of his arms. ‘Always the children.'

‘Someone has to look after them. You said so yourself.'

‘I know, but...'

Thrand put his hands behind his head and looked up at the blackened beams. ‘Once we arrive in Jorvik, it should take less than a week to find a boat. Many boats make the passage in the summer. Soon we will have both begun a new life and will be able to give those children the future they deserve. And I will let Halfdan know about Hagal's scheme. He will end it.'

Rather than wrapping her arms about his neck and thanking him, Cwen reached for her gown. ‘And if your old life calls you back? If Halfdan needs you to rout Hagal?'

‘It won't.' Thrand slammed his fists together. ‘My focus is you and the children. I'm through with war, battles and revenge. Let someone else do it. But I'm also no traitor. I'll not allow Hagal to use the Bernicians to seize power.'