Conveniently Wed to the Viking Read online

  Her tongue wet her parched lips. She was aware of how his chest rose and fell. If she put out her hand, she’d encounter it. ‘Was I? Am I?’

  ‘Yes, you are.’ His eyes crinkled at the corners, but he remained next to her. ‘Now, tell me what that was all about, Skadi.’

  ‘I’ve never been good at crossing rivers or any sort of moving water since my mother and brother died,’ she said, running her tongue over her dry lips again. ‘I should have said earlier but I didn’t want you to think the worst of me. I didn’t want to be one of those simpering ladies who do little more than bat their lashes while they weave golden ribbons for their dresses.’

  ‘Being afraid of something like that isn’t shameful. It is natural. You should have told me.’

  ‘I was afraid you’d laugh at me.’

  ‘How did your mother and brother drown?’

  ‘They were washed away in a ford which was supposed to be safe. It had been raining and the waters came up very quickly. He was in her arms.’ She shivered slightly and wrapped her own arms about her waist. ‘It was all I could think of when I was on that rock, that the river was rising and you were going to forge ahead without me.’

  ‘Next time just explain instead of trying to be brave when there is no need. We’re a team, Skadi, and we go at the pace of the slowest. No one seeks to have sport with the other’s fears.’ His eyes turned serious. ‘You are safe with me.’

  Safe with him. She glanced up at his face. He was so close that she could see the faint scarring on his cheeks and the slight cleft in his chin. And his eyes had depth. She wondered that anyone thought them cold.

  Without giving herself time to think, she raised up on her toes and brushed his cheek with her lips. ‘Thank you. For everything.’

  Sandulf swore softly and then lowered his mouth to hers, and his arms drew her against his hard body.

  Ceanna started as his warm lips touched her cold ones, giving them life. She’d never known kisses felt like this. She wanted to open her mouth and drink from his lips. She had intended to brush his cheek in thanks, but this had happened. And she wanted more. She wanted to sink into the kiss. She wanted to feel his hands moving up and down her back.

  The thought was like the icy river water which had swirled about her ankles a few heartbeats earlier. Kissing him enthusiastically was all wrong for someone whose destiny was to be a holy maid. It demonstrated her lack of pure intent. And she knew her aunt would closely question her on such things.

  She forced her feet to move away from him and concentrated on tucking her hair back into the couvre-chef. All the while, her cheeks burned. ‘I can see Ben Cruachan peeking through the clouds. We’ve far to go to reach the pass. The sooner we start, the sooner we will get to Nrurim and you can go your own way.’

  ‘Should I beg your pardon, Skadi?’ he enquired.

  She quickly shook her head. ‘I kissed you. I’m not...’ She searched for the right words to explain that men did not desire her. Men desired her dowry, not her body.

  ‘You’re not a holy maid yet. You could be wrong about your destiny. The more of the world I see, the more I learn that no one can tell the future. Not even the gods.’

  She tumbled into his gaze again and then rapidly concentrated on the clump of blue and yellow wildflowers nodding in the light breeze behind him. ‘Do you think my aunt will mind my...exaggeration? My aunt once said to me that if I truly thought I had a vocation, then she would consider taking me, but I must not think about shutting myself away because of fear.’

  ‘Is that what you are doing? Shutting yourself away because of fear?’

  ‘I’m not afraid of the marriage bed, if that is what you are asking. I simply have a great desire to grow old.’

  ‘Ah, Skadi. You’ve a way with words.’

  ‘Then you understand why I need my aunt to take me in. I am hoping to discover my vocation in earnest before we arrive.’

  ‘So you have not yet felt the calling?’

  ‘It will come. It has to.’

  His fingers caught her elbow. A warm pulse rocketed through her. ‘A kiss is no reason to abandon your journey to Nrurim. Your aunt will be delighted you favour her establishment for what is sure to be an illustrious career as a holy maid.’

  ‘Abandoning my plans is impossible. My stepmother wishes me dead. Once my father dies, she intends on marrying her lover, the man who was to be my husband. And a man cannot have two living wives.’

  ‘How do you know this with such certainty?’

  ‘I overheard them speaking,’ she said and tried for a nonchalant shrug. At his look, she knew she’d have to give him more. ‘It was late and I’d gone back to the great hall for a bone for Vanora. I heard a faint rustling and followed the sound. I encountered them...entwined.’

  ‘You saw them together? Or heard them?’

  ‘Both. In their passion, they did not notice me.’ Ceanna scrunched up her face and tried to rid herself of the image—her stepmother bare-breasted and the man naked on his knees before her. ‘Here I am, a failed holy maid with no real vocation except the desire to save my life and keep the people who depend on my family safe from my traitorous stepmother. Somehow, I’ll have to convince my aunt that my vision of being a holy maid is a true one and hope that my soul is not blackened by the lie. She will offer me sanctuary and take Dun Ollaigh under the church’s protection, rather than returning me to Dun Ollaigh, humiliation and death.’

  It felt good to say the words out loud and admit it. She wanted to be a nun because she knew no alternative. She envied people who were sure of their path in life, like her cousin who had known since she was a little girl that her destiny lay with the church. Her cousin had spent most of her life in prayer, constantly worrying about what the angels might think of her. Unfortunately, she’d died of a fever shortly after she entered the convent. Ceanna’s stepmother had proclaimed that it was because the girl spent so much time on her knees.

  She waited for condemnation from Sandulf. He simply whistled and Vanora came bounding up.

  ‘Your dog wants to continue the journey.’ He strode off towards the east. Vanora, the traitor, followed at his heels.

  ‘You don’t think I’m a terrible person for pretending?’ she asked, catching up to them quickly.

  ‘We all have to do what we can to survive.’ His mouth twisted. ‘I’ve made enough mistakes in my life and have no wish to compound them by giving advice when I know nothing of your god.’

  Ceanna touched her mouth which still faintly tingled from the kiss. She’d think of it as her proper first kiss, not the drunken assault from Feradach at Easter which had made her stomach churn. This was far more pleasant and something to recall in years to come, that once a handsome man had kissed her as though he meant it.

  She shook her head. Dreaming had never solved her problems.

  Compounding mistakes.

  That kiss had been a mistake. The last thing Sandulf wanted was someone like her panting after him. But her heart refused to believe it and longed for it to happen again. Ceanna resolutely started practising that speech that she’d deliver to her aunt. It had never sounded so false.

  Chapter Seven

  Thoroughly kissing Ceanna had been a strategic error, one which he wanted to repeat, but one which he knew, for the sake of his sanity and her destiny, he had to avoid.

  Sandulf resolutely kept his eyes carefully on the rough track as they walked through the bracken. Vanora had given up playing with sticks and mostly trotted at Ceanna’s side.

  ‘See,’ Ceanna said, pointing towards a faint shimmer off to the right. ‘I see the loch. And the two mountains off to our left.’

  ‘Is that good?’ Sandulf knew his voice was far too abrupt. At the hint of confusion in her eyes, he swallowed hard and tried again. ‘Did you expect to see them?’

  She covered her mouth with her hands in quiet j
oy. ‘We’re going the correct way. I did find the right track. I’m not totally useless.’

  He smiled back at her. ‘Your navigation skills are excellent. You should have more faith in your abilities. I do.’

  She stopped and looked up at him. Her blue-grey eyes sparkled like sunlight on a lake. ‘You do? I wasn’t entirely certain. Particularly after we crossed the river. We might be able to avoid the pass by skirting south of the mountains.’

  He put his hands on her shoulders, felt the flesh tremble slightly beneath the pads of his fingers. ‘You worry too much.’

  Her tongue wet her lips. ‘Do I?’

  ‘Yes.’ He bent his head and brushed his mouth against hers. ‘Much too much.’

  He gave in to the sensation of her mouth moving under his for one long glorious heartbeat. She tasted of sunshine and warmth, all the good things in life. He let go. He doubted he deserved any of that.

  Her fingers explored her mouth.

  ‘Should I beg your pardon?’

  She shook her head. ‘I thought we’d agreed earlier.’

  ‘Agreed what?’

  ‘I am to be a nun, a holy maid who sees visions.’ She gave a half-smile. ‘Even if I have not yet had a real one.’

  He frowned. ‘Out here, you’re Skadi, the lady Ceanna, my travelling companion.’

  Her eyes became troubled. ‘If we’d been acquainted for longer, you would know I am far from the sort from whom men steal kisses. Mostly I’m overlooked and ignored. Far too plump in the bosom.’

  He watched her heart-shaped face with her pale rose mouth and upturned nose. ‘What is the matter with the men in Dun Ollaigh? Are they blind? I have rarely known a man to complain of such a thing.’

  She burst out laughing. ‘The Northmen must have different standards.’

  He regarded her. The urge to suggest other options for her life besides being a nun in Nrurim nearly overwhelmed him, but he needed to find Lugh and she was his best hope of getting there. After that, he’d assist her if he could. And he had to hope that his gut instinct that anyone attempting to find Ceanna would simply make for the monastery and wait, ready to pounce once she appeared, wasn’t accurate. He was taking a calculated risk, but once she reached her aunt’s sanctuary, she was no longer his concern. He would have fulfilled his oath. ‘Stop listening to your stepmother or whoever else told you that.’

  ‘Marriage proposals have not exactly been thick on the ground, according to my stepmother.’

  ‘Your stepmother seeks to manipulate you.’

  ‘I know the truth, Sandulf. Even before my father married her, I was considered awkward and clumsy.’

  He captured her chin between his fingers so that she was forced to look at him. He wanted to slay all of those who had made her feel less than she was. She wasn’t conventionally pretty, but once you got to know her, her inner beauty shone through and he wondered how he’d missed it when they first encountered each other. He admired her courage and her vitality. But he also knew he couldn’t say those things to her, not yet...and possibly never. She was the sort of woman men married. She was not the sort for a dalliance, however enticingly her mouth had moved against his earlier.

  ‘Nothing happens that you don’t wish. We go at your pace and...’

  Her eyes blinked at him. ‘And what?’

  Sandulf abruptly let her chin go and stepped away. Lady Ceanna was an innocent. She had little idea that she’d grown into a highly desirable woman with curves in precisely the right places. She might know things in theory, but she had little idea in practice. She deserved someone better than him to teach her. ‘We need to find shelter for tonight before it starts to rain again.’

  * * *

  Ceanna regarded the small cottage. The garden was well tended and there was an air of busy prosperity to it. She hoped that finding a place like this to stay in would get rid of the uneasy air which had sprung up between her and Sandulf.

  He had kissed her thoroughly and then strode off without a backward glance. For the rest of the day he’d spoken only when necessary and had gone out of his way to avoid her. She found she missed the little touches, the accidental brushes of their arms, his hand helping her over a muddy puddle. She hadn’t realised she’d been looking forward to them until they were gone. She concentrated on the door. Some nun she was going to make.

  ‘Allow me do the talking. Please.’

  ‘Because I’m a Northman.’

  ‘I speak Pict and Gaelic. I’ve no idea which language they speak in this hut, or if they’ve suffered at any Northman’s hands. You can hardly blame people for being cautious.’

  ‘True enough.’ He made a low bow. ‘Once again, I will be in your debt, my lady, if you secure us a place to sleep.’

  ‘Where has this formality come from? Are you mocking me?’

  ‘Never. I am prepared to admit that you might be the best thing to have happened to me recently. You are certainly prettier than my other guides on this journey.’

  She screwed up her nose. ‘There isn’t much competition if Urist is anything to go by.’

  ‘I’ll admit to not being attracted to Urist in the slightest.’ He shrugged.

  Ceanna glanced up at the sky with its growing storm clouds. His liking for her, if that was what it was, was friendship, not desire or even love. She had to keep her head out of the dream clouds. Heroes did not come to rescue women like her.

  ‘Then we’re agreed that I can approach the lady of the house and ask if she can spare shelter for us and perhaps a morsel of food.’

  ‘I take it you’re hungry...again.’

  A tiny bubble of happiness rose up inside her. ‘You know me so well. My stepmother thinks it a weakness. She says my aunt distrusts people with large appetites as their mind is on earthly pleasures.’

  ‘She was a disciple of your aunt’s. Will that cause problems?’

  She pressed her hands together. ‘My mother was her sister. I believe blood will count for something when my profound vision of holiness is added to the tally in my favour.’

  He reached out and pushed a tendril of hair from her face. ‘I prefer women who have a healthy appetite for life.’

  Ceanna’s mouth ached. ‘So, you agree. I will speak with the woman.’

  ‘But of course.’

  Ceanna coughed loudly as she approached the elderly woman who was seated in the doorway. The woman stopped doing her spinning and stared at her.

  ‘Strangers,’ she said in Pict. ‘Most go by the pass, rather than taking the long way around.’

  ‘Strangers in search of a place to lay our heads for a night and something to fill our bellies.’ At the woman’s puzzled expression, Ceanna reached into her pouch and retrieved a gold coin. ‘We’re happy to pay.’

  The woman gave a silvery laugh which sounded far younger than her white hair suggested. ‘What need have I for gold?’ she asked in Gaelic. ‘The only thing it calls to is thieves and rogues. Keep your money. My hospitality is not for sale.’

  She picked up a willow broom and began sweeping.

  ‘We’re happy to work. There must be some jobs we can do in exchange for a night’s lodging.’

  ‘I’ve a strong back,’ Sandulf added in Gaelic. ‘Your firewood runs low.’

  The woman stopped her sweeping. ‘You interest me, Northman. You’ve managed to spot my firewood running low without seeing my pile of logs.’

  ‘I find most women on their own are in need of more firewood.’

  ‘And other things besides, hey?’ The old woman cackled.

  ‘I always seek to discern a woman’s needs.’

  The woman looked him up and down and then glanced at Ceanna. ‘I can see you do. How do you know I am on my own?’

  ‘You did not call for your man when you spotted us.’ He gestured towards the cottage. ‘There are a few things which need fixing
on the roof and walls, jobs which you would soon set any able-bodied man who lived here to do as you don’t appear to be a woman who would suffer idle folk.’

  ‘Aye, you might be right about that.’

  Ceanna held up her palm and caught the splash from a raindrop. ‘It looks like rain and we have travelled far today. I am willing to help clean the house. I can churn butter and sew a fine seam.’

  The woman tilted her head to one side and examined both Ceanna and Sandulf. ‘Let me see your hands.’

  Ceanna held out her hand.

  The woman took it and ran a finger down the palm. She rocked back on her heels. ‘You have done some work in the past, but these are the hands of a lady. I see the signs of blisters.’

  ‘I’ve never been one to allow the servants to work while I rest.’ Ceanna jerked her head towards where Sandulf stood next to Vanora. ‘I’ve given all that up.’

  The elderly woman’s eyes widened. ‘For him? I can see why that might be appealing.’

  Ceanna felt a tide of red flame mount her face. It was beyond her to explain that she and Sandulf were merely travelling companions. ‘Will you be able to accommodate us?’

  The woman threw back her head and laughed. ‘Aye, my lovely. I can do that. Particularly as your man is willing to split a few logs for me in exchange. I’ll admit to finding it harder and harder. And that there dog will be content with a bone, I trust.’

  ‘What does she want?’ Sandulf asked. ‘She speaks a little faster than I’m used to.’

  ‘For you to chop wood. She needs the firewood more than the gold or other jobs, particularly as you are with me.’

  ‘Tell her that I will consider it an honour for such a lady.’

  The woman’s withered cheeks burnt rose. ‘He is from the North. I can scarce understand his accent, but he is a feast for the eyes. And he no doubt charms the birds from the trees.’

  ‘He means no harm.’ Ceanna hoped her voice sounded steady. ‘Not all of them are bent on destruction.’

  The woman pondered thoughtfully. ‘True enough. The dog must stay outside. Cats and an owl make their home with me.’