Longing For Her Forbidden Viking. Harper George St.

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СКАЧАТЬ would feel safer going in that direction, but she turned towards the small fire set away from the others. Her father was too proud to seek sanctuary with the people he viewed as his enemy.

      His wiry frame leaned over a spit roasting what looked to be a rabbit. As she approached, he moved away from it and stood. Even from this distance she could tell that he was glaring at her with disapproval. It was the same expression he always wore when he looked at her. If there had been a time when he’d gazed upon her with love and understanding, she couldn’t remember it. Since Mother had run away years ago, there had been only grave censure and a suspicion that she would betray the family in some way as well. After all, she had the look of her mother and the heart of a woman. Betrayal was all but assured.

      He waited for her to step into the meagre light given off by the fire, then he said, ‘You will marry in a sennight.’

      Though she had done everything she could to prepare herself for this moment, his first words to her after months of separation still caused a zing of pain to dart through her. There were no tender words of greeting. No declaration of how he’d missed her, only the harsh announcement. She was a burden to be disposed of, not a beloved daughter to be welcomed with open arms.

      Again, an image of Aevir came to mind. He had come back to Alvey only hours ago, but he had been too busy conferring with Rolfe and Lord Vidar about a skirmish with the Scots to look her way. If only marrying him were an option.

      ‘You’ve found someone to take me off your hands at last.’ She tried for irreverent, but her tone fell flat. ‘A Saxon?’

      Light from Father’s campfire flickered in the deep shadows of night, casting hollows and jagged lines across the weathered planes of his unforgiving expression.

      She shouldn’t have been surprised by his words. Threats of marriage had been hovering over her head like a sickle poised to descend on a fresh patch of wheat for the past year. The only difference this time was that the promise had never been quite so specific. So ripe with certainty and malice. This was real. He’d made a deal with some unknown man and it didn’t particularly matter if she approved of his choice or not. He’d foist her off to become someone else’s responsibility.

      His lips twisted in a grin that made him look rather like a growling mongrel. ‘Your lady may have lowered herself to marry a heathen Dane, but you will not.’

      Father was a proud Saxon who would rather fight the invading Danes than accept peace with them. When he’d found out that Lady Gwendolyn had married Lord Vidar, he’d said that he’d sooner his daughters be dead than married to the barbarians. It didn’t matter that Lady Gwendolyn had done it to foster peace between her beloved Saxons and the invading Norsemen, he hated her regardless. Rumours even claimed that he’d started meeting with the Scots to plot against Alvey. Whether or not those rumours were true, Ellan didn’t know.

      Her gaze instinctively drifted back to the comforting presence of Alvey’s walls looming behind her. A sick feeling churned in her stomach as she said, ‘I would choose my own husband.’

      ‘You belong to me until you’re married. You’ll do as I say.’

      Her lips parted, but there were no words to combat his callousness. The jagged edges of his statement reached inside her, scooping out her heart and leaving a black, gaping hole behind. With nothing to warm it, her blood chilled. A shiver threatened to tear through her and rattle her teeth, but she held it back by clenching her jaw so hard the bone ached. Her composure was her only defence. He couldn’t see how terrified she was or how he’d hurt her. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

      ‘Then who is to be my husband?’ She couldn’t resist a quick glance at her older brother, Galan, who had come to stand beside Father on the other side of the campfire. His face was impassive in the shadows of the night. She wanted to ask him if he approved of this marriage, but she held her tongue and swallowed down the bitter taste of his betrayal.

      Father gave a barely imperceptible shake of his head. ‘You will meet him soon enough.’

      ‘So he’s not from Banford?’

      He shook his head again and looked away. ‘Nay, I’ve come from his village directly after arranging the agreement.’

      If it were left up to him, she probably wouldn’t meet her groom until the wedding. Her father would deliver her in a grain sack, dropping her off like goods if common decency allowed him to get away with it. Thankfully it wasn’t up to him. It was up to her and she wasn’t marrying anyone he bid her to wed. Not if she could help it. She’d already decided that Alvey would be her new home and this only firmed her decision. Her task now was to get back inside before he forced her to disappear into the night with him. Then she would have to convince Lord Vidar and Lady Gwendolyn to take her side in the matter, but she would confront that in the morning.

      Making a concerted effort to keep her voice stable, she said, ‘Then I’ll look forward to meeting him.’ It was the wrong thing to say. Father’s gaze narrowed in doubt. She had never once even hinted that she might welcome a marriage he arranged for her, so of course playing along now would rouse suspicion.

      ‘Good to see you again, Ellan. You’ve been missed.’ Galan stepped around the fire, seeming determined to end the tension between the two of them, and pulled her into a hug. For a brief moment she allowed herself to find comfort in his strong embrace. Galan had been the one she had always run to with a skinned knee or when a splinter needed removing. It was sad to know that he wouldn’t step in to help her now. He’d been poisoned by their father’s hatred.

      ‘And you as well,’ she said, stepping away lest her defences crumble completely.

      ‘We’ll be leaving in the morning for Banford,’ Father said.

      ‘Elswyth as well?’ Elswyth loved her husband too much to leave him.

      ‘Aye, Elswyth, too.’ Father’s voice was a little too proud, making it sound forced. He wasn’t certain of that at all.

      ‘Is that what she said?’ Ellan couldn’t help but ask. Elswyth had come out to talk to him earlier.

      He sniffed. ‘She’ll do as she’s told. She always does.’ His eyes narrowed and she had to force herself to appear meek. He couldn’t suspect that she intended to rebel and stay in Alvey or she’d never make it back inside. And her only real chance of not leaving with him was to go back inside now.

      She had made a grave error in coming out to speak with her family. Her father could take her now and disappear into the night with her if he chose. She instinctively took a step backward towards Alvey. The Danes chatted and roughhoused in the distance at their campfires, but they wouldn’t help her. No man would step between a father and his rightful claim on his daughter. No man but Lord Vidar. She hoped.

      ‘If we’re to leave at daybreak, then I should go back inside and collect our things,’ Ellan said.

      ‘There’s nothing you need from Alvey,’ Father said.

      Her thoughts collided as she sensed his intention was to not allow her to go back inside. What a stupid mistake. She’d come out here because of her terrible need to win some sort of approval from her father. She realised now that she had wanted to see him and have him open his arms to her as Galan had done, but it had been a ridiculous fantasy. He didn’t care for her and he never would.

      ‘There’s not much, but Lady Gwendolyn gifted us each with a fine golden bracelet. They have a small value that СКАЧАТЬ