The Warrior's Viking Bride. Michelle Styles

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СКАЧАТЬ belatedly wondered if she had fallen into a trap. For all his bluster, Olafr was a capable warrior. Her mother had relied on his counsel during her final few months. On her deathbed, she’d urged Dagmar to do the same. However, there was something about the man which made her flesh crawl.

      ‘Go on. Why do you seek me out rather than readying your men for battle as I instructed?’

      ‘This man, Aedan mac Connall, seeks Dagmar Kolbeinndottar. Urgently.’ He bowed. ‘Are you acquainted with such a person? Or shall I send him away to seek her elsewhere?’

      Dagmar pressed her lips together. Her stepmother would not send a Gael if her father had died, she would send an assassin to ensure that her son inherited all her father’s holdings, rather than sharing it out equally between his children like the law in the North demanded. Her mother had drummed this into her since the night they fled into the forest with only Old Alf for protection—to be prepared for the knife in the night.

      ‘I’ve no time for riddles or to slit his throat. More’s the pity. The men need to be ready to march when the trumpet sounds.’ She turned towards the warrior and said very slowly in his tongue. ‘I will lead my men to victory and then we will speak, Gael.’

      Olafr raised a brow in that irritatingly smug way of his. ‘It might be worth your while to hear the man out before cutting his throat. No harm, unless you wish to continue with a battle that you must surely lose. You get more impulsive by the day, Dagmar.’

      Dagmar ground her teeth. He made it sound as though she was unblooded, rather than being a veteran of five summers’ fighting. She’d stopped being so eager years ago. There was a sort of nervous anticipation, a wanting to get the waiting finished. But after her first experience, she had never been eager for a battle. People she loved died or were injured. Battles were ugly messy things and had to be endured. If today went as she planned, this would be her final one.

      ‘I gave my word to my mother and she gave hers to the King.’ She crossed her arms over her bound breasts and glared at Olafr. ‘Would you have me break my promise? Would you have me lose my mother’s lands? Would you have me branded an untrustworthy traitor?’

      ‘What I have to say can wait until you have time.’ Aedan mac Connall made a smooth bow. ‘But it will be in your interest to hear me out before you slit my throat, Dagmar, daughter of both the great Helga and Kolbeinn the Blood-Axe.’

      ‘If you wish to stay, you must be prepared to fight,’ Dagmar said, her look scathing. ‘We require warriors who are capable of lifting a shield.’

      ‘My skill with sword and shield has never been in question.’ He raised an arrogant brow. ‘If I fight for you, will you hear me out? Will you listen to your father’s message right to the end? Will you allow me to keep my head attached to my shoulders and breathing?’

      Dagmar hated the small shiver of anticipation that ran down her spine. Her father must have heard about her mother’s death. Perhaps he would be open to an alliance now... But then she dismissed the thought as wishful thinking. Her father cared little for her hopes and dreams and everything for his legacy, the one which would go to his son. ‘After the battle, much can happen including listening to my father’s emissary.’

      His blue-green eyes assessed her as if he could see the woman beyond the snake-plaited hair and the paint. ‘Very well, my dog and I will fight for you in the coming battle.’

      She noted that Olafr appeared to be nonplussed. Perhaps Old Alf was correct—he did intend mischief during the battle. ‘Problem, Olafr?’

      He smoothed his face. His smile was far too quick and assured to be genuine. ‘Not in the slightest, Lady. After the battle, you say...’

      ‘I will fulfil my promise to my mother before I entertain anything else.’ Dagmar grabbed her shield. She felt more in control with it in her hand. Her father’s messenger could wait. What he wanted from her was the least of her concerns. If he died in battle, then the fates will have decided her path. ‘Go to the westernmost edge of the line, Olafr, and fill the gap caused by the loss of Gunnar.’

      Olafr’s eyes flashed. ‘I thought I would go more to the right.’

      ‘Do you wish to challenge me for the leadership of this felag, Olafr?’ she asked, putting a hand on her hip. ‘If so, I would suggest making that challenge before the battle begins. Otherwise allow me to deploy the men as I see fit.’

      A tick developed under his right eye. ‘I will go where my lady desires.’

      ‘What happened to your missing warrior?’ the Gael asked.

      ‘He ate something which disagreed with him and lurks in his tent with watery bowels,’ she replied, rubbing the back of her neck and trying to get rid of the sudden tightness. ‘As you don’t appear to have a working shield, you may use his, if you are sincere about wishing to assist me. Or return to my father and inform him that I have little time for him. You’re lucky. I’m in a good mood. Did my father inform you of his other messengers’ fate?’

      ‘I appreciate the shield, Lady.’ The Gael made another bow, perfectly correct, but there was a hint of arrogance in it as if he could make her change her mind about not having anything to do with her father.

      ‘After the battle, we will talk.’ Silently she prayed to Odin that it would not be necessary to kill this Gael, but anyone sent from her father’s house usually brought trouble.

      * * *

      Aedan ground his teeth as he waited for the signal that the attack could begin. How Kolbeinn must have chortled when he waved Aedan goodbye. Kolbeinn stood to win whatever the outcome—either the man got his daughter returned or a troublesome enemy was eliminated and his lands acquired. Aedan had gone into this quest blind and naive. A Northman never offered a fair deal. He had little hope in winning this wager without divine intervention.

      ‘He means to kill her.’ An old man sidled up to Aedan while keeping a wary eye on Aedan’s dog.

      ‘Who? Olafr Rolfson?’ Aedan asked the grizzled warrior.

      The man gave the briefest of nods towards the warrior who had greeted him. ‘Now he has to wait until you have said your piece, to see if it brings him some advantage. He is greedy, that one, make no mistake.’

      ‘Why are you telling me this?’

      ‘You’re from her father rather than that witch of a stepmother. You mean to take her back. There is no point denying it or causing your dog to growl at me. I’m far too long in the tooth, but I know the meaning of the sword you carry. Now that her mother has died, I am the only one left who does. You are to be treated like a friend, not an enemy. After all this time, he remembered the signal.’

      ‘That surprises you?’

      The warrior gave a lopsided smile. ‘I know what he is like. His daughter takes after him in many ways, except she wants her way, not his.’

      Aedan narrowed his eyes, wondering how much he should confide. ‘My honour and my people depend on me fulfilling this quest.’

      The man nodded. ‘I always knew he would send someone honourable one day. Where is the she-witch of a second wife? Quickly now.’

      Aedan cocked his head to one side. ‘His wife died. It is why he has sent for his daughter. He wants her near.’

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