The Warrior's Viking Bride (Harlequin Historical) Page 9

  ‘Now that your mother is dead, your father requires you.’

  ‘His beloved son and second wife are dead, that is all. My father has exhausted his options. He has always been overly concerned with his legacy.’

  The bleakness of her tone clawed at his chest. He wanted to gather her into his arms and hold her tight. Aedan forced his hands to throw a stick for Mor instead.

  ‘He was willing to risk his fleet to force my hand. There are easier ways to kill a man then sending him to his estranged daughter. Does that sound like someone who doesn’t care? Would Old Alf have assisted me if he truly believed that your father meant you harm? Is it possible he charged Old Alf with keeping you safe because your mother had won the right to look after you?’

  She turned away from him so that he could not see her face. ‘Do you think he actually cares about me as a person and not just as a way to increase his own power?’

  The tremor of hope in her voice tugged at his heart and he wanted to take her somewhere where no one could hurt her like that ever again but that was impossible. His people came first, always.

  ‘Maybe he wants to make amends for what happened. Maybe his recent losses have taught him that all his children matter.’

  Dagmar sat for a long while. Her cheek resting against her knees.

  ‘You’re a good man,’ she said finally. ‘But you’ve no idea what my father is capable of. He has serious designs on your Kintra. He sent you to your probable death. It is mere luck that I decided not to slit your throat. And he will never have anticipated that I would return so swiftly with you.’

  ‘I simply want to save Kintra and the people who live there. I am their King and I can’t fail them again.’

  She tapped a finger against her mouth. ‘I know how he cheated my mother. There are measures you will have to take to prevent it.’

  Aedan sat up. ‘You intrigue me. What should I be doing? How can I keep my people safe?’

  She waved an airy hand. ‘Leave that to me. I will get you the full terms of the wager and will keep your people safe from his immediate attention. We’re in a fellowship together. It is the least I can do. He was wrong to place such a burden on you without explaining the perils.’

  ‘Why does that not fill me with confidence? What are you planning, Dagmar?’

  ‘Do you see that knot in the tree?’

  Aedan gave a nod.

  ‘Imagine that is my father’s head if he fails to honour your wager completely after I ask him to, in a way only I can.’

  He shook his head. Dagmar was trying to bolster his confidence in her. ‘It is a bit far away.’

  ‘Keep still.’ She reached down, grabbed her dagger and sent it flying, narrowly missing his head before becoming embedded in the tree’s knot. She then threw the second one, hitting the tree squarely where Kolbeinn’s heart would be.

  Aedan whistled softly. Unless he’d seen the demonstration, he wouldn’t have believed it.

  ‘People often underestimate me. Leave my father and his men to me. Trust works both ways.’

  Aedan marched over and retrieved the knives out of the tree. She was on his side. ‘Should I be concerned for my life?’

  ‘No, it was purely a demonstration of what I am capable of. It is my father who should fear for his life if he plays you false.’

  ‘Will you teach me to throw them?’

  ‘It takes years to learn to throw that accurately.’

  ‘Well then, will you teach me how you managed to flip that robber so swiftly?’

  Dagmar gave a soft laugh. ‘I’m rather proud of that move, but, yes, I can do that. It is all about working with your opponent’s weight rather than against it.’ Dagmar held out her hand. ‘My daggers, if you please.’

  He handed them back to her. ‘Let us hope it does not come to that.’

  ‘Violence is always a last resort. I thought you knew that.’

  * * *

  Dagmar spent the remainder of the afternoon trying to digest the news that, rather than being a sell-sword whom she could potentially bribe, Aedan was a king who had undertaken this quest to save his people. A noble sentiment, but she was certain that her father would try to wriggle out of paying the promised gold, just as he’d wriggled out of returning her mother’s ships or the gold her mother had brought to the marriage, gold she’d earned with the sweat of her brow and the strength of her sword arm. He’d even kept the jewellery which had belong to Dagmar’s grandmother.

  This time her father was going to pay the full amount or he would pay for the consequences of his actions rather than behaving like he had towards her mother.

  * * *

  They had made steady progress during the day and reached the outskirts of a hamlet as the sun began to sink lower. A small church stood slightly isolated from the rest of the houses. There was a certain peace to the place as if nothing bad could ever happen there. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Aedan if this was what Kintra was like. She’d heard the longing in his voice when he spoke about the sunsets over crystal-clear bays and a solid roof over his head. He’d been speaking of home.

  One day, she promised her heart, she, too, would have a home where she was loved and valued, where she could sit at the end of the day and watch the sunset without worrying about the next battle she needed to fight to prove her worth.

  If she couldn’t enjoy sitting with her face in the sun, watching the waves crash on a beach, what had been the point of all the years of dreary marches, the wearisome practices and the ache of watching good men die before they should for some petty king’s ambition? Her mother might not have approved of the sentiment but at the end, all her mother had wanted was to feel the sun on her face one more time, too.

  Aedan halted. ‘The rain clouds have gathered and owl-light approaches.’

  ‘I’d rather take my chances under a tree than in an abandoned hut again.’

  ‘I’ve something better in mind.’

  His smile was slow and sure, melting something deep within her core. She pinched her fingers against her nose. Those few heartbeats in his arms this morning had been an aberration. If men made eyes at her it was because they were being devious and required something from her, thinking her a fool. Right now, she suspected that the something he wanted was her in a gown to prove his superiority, and he wasn’t getting that. Ever!

  She adopted her fiercest scowl, the one which had sent Constantine’s advisers cowering. ‘What? What is better than a tree?’

  His eyes fairly danced, a myriad of shifting colours. A woman could lose herself in those eyes. Dagmar increased the depth of her scowl.

  ‘Change into the gown and I will explain. Think about a having a hot meal and a roof over your head. They have to be worth changing clothes for.’

  Dagmar carefully arched a brow. Aedan needed to alter his approach if he wanted her to do anything that drastic. ‘I believe we discussed this before. No gowns for me. Ever.’

  ‘No, you announced what you were going to do then. The circumstances have changed.’ The dimple was there again in his cheek. ‘Remember, I find challenges hard to resist. There is another storm coming, a big one with rain and wind. I can feel it in my bones.’

  ‘Your bones are suspect.’

  ‘Mor agrees with me so it is two against one. A definite storm. Do you want to be cold and wet or warm as toast?’

  His voice flowed over her like a hot tide. Something deep within her stirred and answered it.

  ‘Changed how?’ she said, crossing her arms over her suddenly aching breasts. ‘Everything looks pretty much the same from where I stand.’

  ‘We finished the last of the bread and cheese. There is a possibility of warmth and food here. Mor likes her comforts, but she won’t get them unless you are in a gown.’

  At the sound of her name, Mor gave a sharp bark and ran about Dagmar twice before
flopping down at her feet with a hopeful expression.

  ‘How I dress will not make a difference to obtaining shelter here.’

  ‘All doors will be barred to us if you remain as you are.’

  ‘What is wrong with how I am dressed? I have been able to match you stride for stride.’

  ‘It proclaims you are a north warrior.’ His smile increased. ‘We’ve no idea if news of the battle has spread. News can pass from village to village very quickly when something momentous happens. Olafr and Thorsten may have offered a reward for you.’

  Dagmar frowned. Aedan had a point about news travelling quickly. She’d seen it before. The last thing she wanted was to fall into Olafr’s clutches. Mor’s big-eyed expression was hard to resist. Wearing a gown once would not alter things. It would not turn her suddenly into the sort of prancing female who had populated Constantine’s court, the ones who had sighed and batted their eyes at the warriors they admired.

  ‘Can I wear it over my clothes?’

  Aedan retrieved the gown and held it out. ‘We have no idea of the sort of woman who originally wore this gown. Slip it on over your clothes if you can. I doubt anyone will ask you to disrobe while wearing this.’

  Dagmar scowled. Proof if she needed it that this attraction was one-sided. Wearing the gown over her clothes was not the same as wearing it properly in any case. She’d remain a shield maiden underneath.

  ‘Hand it over then. It goes over my clothes or I don’t wear it at all.’

  Aedan adopted an expression of outraged innocence which she immediately distrusted. ‘Did I say any differently?’

  Dagmar regarded the garment, really looking at it for the first time. It was a beautiful deep blue which would match her eyes, the sort of gown she’d clamoured for when she was a little girl. She banished the memory.

  She put it over her head and pulled. It was far tighter than she anticipated. She squirmed slightly, but the cloth began to tear on her right side.

  ‘You appear a bit larger than I had first considered, but I am sure we can force it over your body.’ Aedan’s words flowed over her.

  She froze as her mind considered his hands running down her body, helping. She did not want to think about his hands touching her body as he adjusted the tight bodice. The image was enough to take her breath away and make her knees go weak but for him, it would be impersonal and meaningless. She’d stopped making those sorts of mistakes long ago.

  ‘When I need your help, I will ask for it.’ Dagmar eased the garment back over her head, aware that her cheeks were flaming. ‘Turn your back.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I am giving into the inevitable before you have a chance to say that you suspected as much. The design is like the gowns the ladies were wearing at Constantine’s court—very fitted. My stomach would like a hot meal.’

  He widened his eyes. ‘I know enough about women and their ways to know sometimes it is best to keep quiet.’

  She made one last attempt but the cloth only seemed to tear more. ‘I shall have to properly change. I never like knowingly missing supper.’

  He duly turned. Dagmar quickly changed. The gown was cut in the Pict fashion with long narrow sleeves, a tight bodice and a gently gathered skirt which fell softly about her hips, rather than being straight like Northern women wore. Equally, there was no apron to fasten over it with brooches.

  She did an experimental twirl. The gown flowed when she moved. In it, she could almost believe that she was beautiful, rather than the lump she knew she was.

  ‘You may turn around now.’

  Something appreciative flared in his face, but was quickly masked. ‘You are far more efficient than I considered. I thought you would be asking for help.’

  ‘When you grow up around men, you learn to change quickly. There is an art to it.’

  ‘Didn’t your mother keep any ladies?’

  ‘She had me, but she insisted that I learn to cope. In the summers we travelled together, fighting for whomever she pledged her services to. She refused to be parted from me, particularly as she had fought so hard for me, especially after we left the compound.’

  ‘In your dream, you kept calling out for your mother to wait.’

  ‘After the fight, my father gave us until sundown to be off his lands or he would hunt us down as wolf’s heads.’ Dagmar did not bother to disguise the bitterness in her voice. ‘Then he sent berserkers after us. Old Alf rescued me when I became separated from them. My mother bore a scar from that battle on her upper thigh. I still dream of it sometimes. Silly really.’ She attempted a shrug to show it no longer mattered, but she knew the terror still lingered.

  ‘Less than commendable behaviour from your father.’

  ‘My mother had humiliated him in front of his men and in front of the woman he desired,’ Dagmar admitted with a sigh as she fastened her own clothes into a bundle. Even now her stomach ached when she thought of that day and how it had started with her innocently asking if her father would return with the gift he’d promised for her tenth name day. She’d ruined her mother’s life and her mother never complained, but every so often her mother would remind her of the request and its consequences. ‘She was my hero. I have tried to live up to her ideal and have failed. With her final breaths, she only requested land for her followers, the land Constantine promised in exchange for her service for five summers. She wanted to give her followers and their kin a better life. I swore I would get it for them and I failed.’ Dagmar pressed her hand into her eyes. ‘I’m pleased my mother was spared that disappointment and this latest failure of mine.’

  He tilted his head to one side and assessed her. ‘You see wearing the gown as a failure?’

  ‘My mother would have marched into the town and demanded accommodation as her right, but then she had warriors and I only have you and Mor.’ Dagmar wrinkled her nose, grateful that he did not mention her true failure back on the battlefield. ‘However, I shall do as you suggest. It is best to keep a low profile until we reach my father’s. I gave you a solemn oath. You need to win your wager for the sake of your people. This is one wager my father will have to pay up on.’

  ‘It sounds as though your mother wanted you to survive more than she wanted a great warrior for a daughter. And she must not have wanted to play the warrior all the time, because she had you. And she chose you over all the material riches she could have possessed.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Dagmar frowned. To hear her mother describe it, her failed marriage had been one of the unhappiest times of her life—full of anger and growing resentment. But Dagmar remembered a golden time when she had felt secure in the love she’d received from both her father and mother. It was only when her stepmother with her great belly had appeared that everything had changed. And that had only happened because she had asked her father for a grown-up gown. Whatever Aedan said, she had destroyed her mother’s life.

  ‘Can you walk in that?’

  She did a little twirl. The skirt flared out gracefully from her legs. ‘The woman was slightly shorter than me so there is no need to gather the skirt about my waist.’

  ‘You’ve kept your boots on.’

  ‘No one will see them and they are moulded to my feet.’ Dagmar clamped her mouth shut. There was no need for Aedan to know about the gold she kept secreted in her boots in case everything went wrong.

  She used to resent carrying the extra weight, but now she could see the wisdom in it. If her father would not listen to reason and forced her to marry, she’d steal a boat and offer her services to any warlord who would have her. South to Wessex remained a possibility. ‘But will I pass for a subservient maiden?’

  ‘Fishing for compliments? How like a woman!’ The dimple appeared again. ‘But you will never pass for a subservient woman and nor should you.’

  ‘Damning me with faint praise.’ She tilted her chin upwards to show that his wo
rds had meant little rather than paining her. Against all her expectations, she did want to feel beautiful. ‘I used my ears at Constantine’s court. I know what they said about my lack of beauty.’

  ‘If you must know, you will do, more than do.’ A low husky note in his voice made her breath hitch in her throat. ‘The gown fits you as if it was made for you. It is nearly the precise shade of your eyes.’

  She scowled, hating how much his words meant to her. ‘There, that wasn’t so hard. I do respond well to kindness. But I dislike this colour.’

  ‘It certainly likes you.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Shall we go find supper? Or are you going to challenge for the leadership?’

  ‘The priest will turn us away. Even when my mother pledged her service to Constantine, the priests refused to have anything to do with us.’ She bit her lip. ‘It was because my mother was very vocal about following Odin, Thor and Freyja. Sometimes, though, I used to sneak in and watch them chanting and waving their smoke about.’

  Her words felt vaguely disloyal as she was criticising her mother, but he deserved the truth.

  ‘I am a Gael, rather than a Northman. If you can hold your tongue instead of blurting out who you are, he will not guess whose daughter you are. Or which gods you follow. Sometimes it is better to allow people to assume rather than rubbing their noses in it.’

  Dagmar swallowed a furious retort. As if she didn’t know the slightest bit about manipulating people and how to be charming. ‘Not actually lying, then. Just keeping quiet.’

  ‘Totally silent. I’m not responsible for other people’s conclusions. Nor are you.’

  ‘A very wise suggestion. Thank you.’ She allowed her voice to drip with a hint of sarcasm.

  ‘And thank you. Compliments run both ways, my lady fair. It is not weak to be kind.’

  She blinked twice. Aedan was perfectly serious. ‘I... I’ll try to remember that.’

  Dagmar allowed Aedan to lead the way to the church. He spoke quietly to the middle-aged priest who listened to Aedan’s highly edited story of how they came to be there. His kindly face immediately creased. He invited them in to share his evening meal, refusing any of Aedan’s protestations that all they required were scraps.