Sold to the Viking Warrior Page 7

  The other Northmen confirmed what Gorm had said about the gold. Sigurd frowned. They had little reason to lie now that Thorbin was dead.

  ‘Where is Thorbin’s wife? Where are his women?’ Sigurd asked Gorm after he had questioned all of the men.

  Gorm shook his head. ‘His wife stayed in the North lands with their son, attending their estates. She let him have his fun. But he has had no women since the last disappeared. The others...their bodies adorn the sacred grove.’

  ‘Beyla stayed in the North country?’

  ‘Do you intend to marry her? Everyone has heard the rumours about you and her. Why Thorbin wanted you dead.’

  Sigurd clenched his jaw. Years ago, marriage to Beyla would have been sweet reward. His mother had thought they belonged together—two halves of the same whole.

  Now? He wanted to see her. He wanted to look Beyla in the face and show her what she had spurned. And Thorbin would not have left his son destitute. She would know where the gold was. Beyla was clever that way. He simply had to set a trap for her.

  He drew his sword and put the point of it under Gorm’s chin. ‘My business, not yours.’

  * * *

  The wind from the harbour whipped tendrils of Liddy’s hair into her mouth. She pushed them away with impatient fingers and tried not to think about the sea and what it could do to the unwary. She had gone over that day in her mind so many times. It still returned in her nightmares.

  Coll had given up barking a greeting to every seagull who happened to land on the beach and now lay at her feet. She shielded her eyes against the sun and tried to concentrate on the long queue of prisoners who were shuffling off the ship. Things could go back to what they were before Malcolm and her father were captured, before this nightmare started, once she was reunited with them again.

  A small traitorous piece of her disagreed. She had felt alive in Sigurd’s arms. She wanted to be something more than the cursed woman. When they were back on the estate, she would move out to a small cottage and spend her time cultivating a garden. She would plant rosemary for remembrance on either side of the door. Life would be quiet, but the solitude would be welcome.

  ‘Everything worked out, Coll,’ she whispered. ‘And when we get back home, people will have to say that I was kissed by an angel. I did save Cennell Fergusa from certain destruction. There will be no more talk of Irish convents where the devil would be beaten out of me and where you couldn’t go.’

  Coll’s soft sound of agreement turned to a sudden bark of recognition as two scarecrows stepped from the boat that was used to ferry prisoners.

  It took her a heartbeat to recognise her father. He appeared to have aged several years in the time he had been away. His hair had turned completely white and his shoulders were hunched. He stood, bewildered as the shackles were removed. Then it was Malcolm’s turn to be freed. Her brother’s face was a mass of healing bruises and cuts. When he’d left their hall, she’d joked that he’d soon have to have a new larger tunic, but now it hung from his frame like an empty sack.

  She gave a cry and raced towards them. Coll reached them first, putting his paws on her brother’s shoulders. Only then did some spark of humanity return to her brother’s eyes. He looked long suffering as the dog washed his face.

  ‘Liddy! What are you doing here?’ her father cried. ‘Can’t you keep that great beast of a dog under control? What will everyone think? Where is your sense of propriety? Did you not remember my last words—you were to stay on the estate and look after your mother?’

  Liddy looked heavenwards. Trust her father to be more concerned about appearances than about being free.

  ‘Seanmhair always said that I would bring great fortune to this family and I have. I saved you.’

  ‘My mother always had a soft spot for you,’ her father said.

  ‘No, it is true.’ Liddy rapidly explained all that had passed, but she kept the kiss she had given Sigurd before the fight a secret. Her brother’s and father’s faces showed enough incredulity at her story without adding that little snippet. She kept thinking that she’d been mistaken about it.

  Something panged deep within her. Why did she feel so upset about what might have been? Their friendship such as it was had always been doomed to be short lived.

  ‘You convinced a Northman to free us? Don’t make me laugh, Liddy,’ her brother scoffed when she finished her edited recital. ‘Why would he do that? What could he possibly want from us? What did you promise him? What did you give him? Fa, this explains...’

  ‘Hush, Malcolm. You know little about it,’ Liddy retorted, aware that her cheeks had flamed. ‘We made a bargain because of Fa’s ring. He needed an excuse to challenge Thorbin.’

  She handed the ring back to her father as well as the necklace she’d retrieved from her gown’s hem. Her father watched her with a thoughtful expression.

  ‘An honest Northman. Today has been a day of miracles. The prayers from the Kells obviously did their work,’ her father said.

  Prayers indeed! Where had praying got them? ‘It was only when I started to take action that things happened.’ Liddy clenched her fists. Today proved that she had been mistaken to listen to Brandon’s self-serving prattle. Not everything she did was destined to fail. But she refused to fight with her father here with all the Northmen looking on. Later, she’d try to make him understand.

  ‘He fought for you,’ her brother muttered. ‘I heard what the guards said. About Sigurd’s woman with a marked face. Now I find out it was you! I’d have rather rotted than know my release was due to you opening your legs for that man.’

  Liddy marched up to her brother, sticking her face a few inches from his. ‘Say that again, Malcolm. Say it and you will know the meaning of my fury. He fought for you and Fa, not for me.’

  ‘Stop it, you two!’ her father thundered, pulling them apart. ‘Your sister did what was necessary to rescue us, Malcolm. Leave it at that.’

  ‘It was because of Fa’s ring that I had the sense enough to bring.’ Liddy flexed her fingers, wanting to throttle Malcolm. First he had caused this by aggravating Thorbin in some way when he was supposed to be selling winter cabbages and then he accused her of being Sigurd’s mistress. As if she would. As if she could! Now that he was the undisputed jaarl of Islay, women would flutter about him.

  Malcolm rolled his eyes. ‘You can be so naïve, Sister. You would think you would have had more dignity. That you wouldn’t have wanted to disgrace your late husband’s name by begging a Northman for help.’

  ‘A dead man cannot have his reputation altered by actions of the living.’ Liddy concentrated on her wolfhound’s ears.

  Even before their children died, Brandon had had the habit of talking over her as if she didn’t exist or wasn’t important. He’d been an attentive enough husband, but his passion was elsewhere. The sea had been his first love and his best mistress, but there had been other women.

  His then-mistress made that very clear the morning after their wedding when she confronted Liddy and listed all her failings. Brandon had gone straight to this woman’s bed that night. And when he left on his last sea voyage, he had muttered to Liddy about forcing her to go into a convent so that he could marry a woman who would actually warm his bed and ensure any children were kept safe.

  ‘Brandon had no love for the Northmen,’ Malcolm said, kicking a stone. ‘He never bent his knee. He would be spinning in his grave to learn you had assisted any Northman.’

  ‘Malcolm, do you wish to return to chains?’ Liddy said through gritted teeth. After all the hardship she’d encountered, her brother was being vile. He should be grateful that she had saved him, rather than reacting to what were nonsensical rumours. ‘I’ve no influence over our new overlord. I’m not his mistress and am not likely to become one either. Coll and I are returning home. You may accompany us or take your chances here.�
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  Liddy kept her back straight and prayed that her cheeks did not burn the way she suspected they did.

  A movement made her turn and she saw Sigurd standing at the water’s edge. He had washed and exchanged his threadbare cloak for a fur-lined one in the time she’d been waiting for her family to appear. Rather than a raggedy beggar he appeared like the Northman jaarl that he was.

  Liddy’s heart leapt, but she damped it down.

  Sigurd had no reason to make an alliance with her family. He needed the sort of woman who could advance his career or bring great wealth. Brandon had squandered her dowry.

  ‘Fa, now is not the time to mention any potential trouble with paying the tribute,’ she whispered, turning quickly to her father. ‘I would hardly like you to get off on the wrong foot with Sigurd.’

  ‘Nothing to worry your head about, my Liddy,’ her father said, giving her a speculative look. ‘Let your father handle it. You’ve done more than enough and it’s good to see your old spirit returning.’

  Her insides twisted. Her father appeared far too frail to even manage the journey home. His hands trembled. He would have to spend months in bed, rather than months out in the fields. ‘That is what you said when you went off to rescue Malcolm.’

  ‘And he has been rescued.’ Her father patted her shoulder. ‘Just like your mother, worrying over nothing. You have to believe that everything happens for the best. And it will. Cennell Fergusa will prosper again. When has your fa ever lied about something as important like this?’

  Liddy arched a brow. ‘Since when is being imprisoned and about to be sold for a slave for the best? Sometimes, Fa, I have to wonder about you.’

  ‘I found out that my daughter cared enough to rescue me and that surely counts for something. Ack, I’ve missed the way your eyes flash. You’ve been one of the living dead, Eilidith. You have come back.’

  ‘I never went away.’

  ‘A matter of opinion, of course.’ Her father swung his arms and breathed deeply. ‘I’d considered that I would die a slave in the North and now I breathe the free air in Islay. I don’t believe I properly appreciated it before.’

  ‘Fa!’

  ‘It is not open for us to understand the mysteries of God and his angels. We can only marvel.’ Her father cocked his head. ‘And who is this coming to greet us?’

  ‘Is this your father, Eilidith?’ Sigurd said, bowing low. ‘A pleasure to meet a man who wears Ketil Flatnose’s ring.’

  ‘I rescued Ketil Flatnose from Irish pirates. He owed me a life debt.’ Her father tilted his head to one side. ‘And the arrangement has worked for the both of us.’

  ‘Your daughter risked a great deal to rescue you, Gilbreath mac Fergusa. I hope you realise the debt you owe her.’

  ‘My daughter possesses more courage than any man I know,’ her father said, bowing low. He had the same look about him as he did when he was bartering cows or sheep in the market. ‘Truly a woman beyond price, your lordship.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘I have heard of you and your fighting ability. You were with Ketil when he fought the Northmen from the Dubh Linn last year.’ Her father made another low bow. ‘I trust you will do a better job of honouring your overlord’s agreement than the last one did. An oath should be binding on both sides.’

  ‘And you will have the tribute on time, I trust. To honour your side of the bargain.’ Sigurd’s smile was cold. ‘I would hate to think any of Thorbin’s claims were true.’

  Her father scuffed his toe in the dirt. ‘I plan on it. The weather will have something to do with it.’

  Her brother made a cutting remark in Gaelic. Before Liddy could warn Malcolm, Sigurd bowed low and answered back that he was not greedy, but merely seeking his due for the protection he planned on providing. Malcolm’s face went bright red.

  ‘A Northman who speaks Gaelic. This is indeed a change,’ her father said, rubbing his hands together. ‘I would never have guessed such a thing was possible. Would you have, Liddy?’

  ‘One of the reasons my half-brother gave for being late with Ketil’s tribute was that his tenants were late with their payments. I have inspected his strong room. Remarkably empty. As are the granaries.’

  ‘To be sure it is early in the season,’ her father replied far too smoothly. An uneasy prickle went down Liddy’s back.

  Sigurd tapped his fingers together. ‘A mystery, wouldn’t you say? I know how prosperous Islay once was and how much tribute it sent off to Ketil last year and the year before.’

  ‘There can be many reasons for an empty strong room, including Thorbin storing his gold elsewhere,’ she said before Malcolm exploded. ‘Thorbin expected someone to visit him. You said that several of Ketil’s emissaries failed to return alive. Thorbin will have wanted to protect his ill-gotten gains.’

  Sigurd nodded. ‘You have a point, Lady.’

  ‘Sensible woman, my Eilidith,’ her father said, swaying slightly and closing his eyes as if it was all too great an effort. ‘Forgive me, my lord. It has been a while since I last saw the sun.’

  ‘My father has been through much.’ She came forward and grasped her father’s arm. He leant against her as if he was an old man. She realised with a start that it was no sham. He did need Malcolm rather more than he wanted to admit. In her mind’s eye she could see the barren fields that she had walked past on her journey here. They should have been planted weeks ago, but her father had gone to rescue Malcolm instead. And her mother refused to do anything except sit in a chair and pray, claiming she did not know where the seed or gold was stored.

  Sigurd stroked his chin. ‘Are you certain you can make the full tribute?’

  Liddy could hear the unspoken words and struggled to control her temper. Despite her help, Sigurd was going to act just like any other Northern lord. ‘The only reason my father might struggle is because he was unjustly imprisoned.’

  ‘Hush now, Daughter.’ Her father patted her back. ‘Let the man speak. He has only just become my overlord. He needs proof of his own eyes, rather than mealy-mouthed words. I can appreciate that.’ He inclined his head, but there was a faint spark in his eye which Liddy thoroughly distrusted. ‘Forgive my daughter, your lordship. She speaks from the heart, rather than from the head. Know our door is always open to you and your men, but it is a long way and I have been away too long. The tribute will be paid.’

  Liddy’s heart pounded in her ears as she waited. Her father was trying to save her. Sigurd was not her lifelong friend. They had parted ways.

  Sigurd clamped his hand about her upper arm. Coll bristled and gave a low growl, but when Liddy shook her head at him Coll sat.

  ‘We have nothing more to say to each other,’ she said between gritted teeth.

  ‘Your daughter may act as surety so that I can be certain of your good behaviour. Once the full tribute arrives, she will be free to go, but for now, caution.’

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ Liddy said in a furious whisper. ‘You have no need of a hostage. Least of all me.’

  Sigurd regarded her with an upraised brow. ‘This is between your father and his overlord.’

  Her father rather than protesting hung his head. ‘You heard about what my boy did.’

  ‘What did Malcolm do?’

  ‘He attacked my predecessor with a knife.’

  ‘He lies!’ Malcolm shouted.

  ‘There were witnesses to the attack. Several have spoken to me about it.’ A cynical smile crossed Sigurd’s face. ‘I am to watch my back when I am dealing with you.

  Liddy’s mind raced. Malcolm had been stupid and impetuous, but her brother was no natural warrior, not like her late husband or his brother. Malcolm preferred talking about battle, but he obviously had done something or otherwise why would Thorbin arrest him? ‘But if he had had proof, Malcolm would be dead. Malcol
m went to sell vegetables—winter cabbages.’

  ‘You are interrupting, Eilidith. A very bad habit you acquired from your mother, no doubt,’ her father said. His eyes half-closed as a bout of coughing racked his frame. His time as a prisoner had obviously taken quite a lot out of him, but she couldn’t shake the sneaking suspicion that he was in the midst of some trading scheme. ‘My daughter as surety against this year’s harvest. I am happy to agree to this condition. You see how confident I am about the harvest as I love my daughter dearly.’

  ‘Fa!’ Liddy hooked her arm about her father’s and lowered her voice. ‘You have no idea what will happen to me if you don’t make the tribute! You know what the barley fields are like. They have not become any better in your absence.’

  She clasped her hand over her mouth, unable to believe she had said the words out loud.

  Sigurd tilted his head to one side. His eyes had become deadly. ‘Do you fear your father will be unable to get the required amount of tribute, Lady Eilidith?’

  Liddy swallowed hard. She was trapped. If she confessed her fears, he would take away the estate right now. Sigurd Sigmundson was first and foremost a Northman who had no heart or compassion. He required gold. The tribute for him was a business transaction, for her it was about a land that had entwined its way about her sinews.

  That estate was all her family had left. It was why she had risked her life coming here today. Now everything was going wrong because of her outburst. ‘My father will get the tribute to you, whether or not you have a hostage. That is all I meant. His word is his bond. Take the ring as surety.’

  Her father shook his head. ‘That ring will always be on my person from now on, but I understand what Lord Sigurd is asking. A hostage is to be expected.’

  A ghost of a smile played across Sigurd’s features. ‘You see, your father agrees with me.’

  ‘Will you be requiring other hostages?’ she asked. ‘Or am I to be singled out?’

  ‘It depends on the circumstance. Your brother swears he acted alone. Of course, your brother might like to be the one who stays.’ Sigurd gave her brother a hard look. Malcolm pretended to examine the dirt.