Harlequin Historical May 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Notorious in the West\Yield to the Highlander\Return of the Viking Warrior (46 page)

Her mother's skill as a healer had been second to none and it had been the first time Kara had been allowed to bind up a bird's wing while her mother had attended to Ash's twisted ankle. Five months later her mother had died in an accident. Ash had spoken to Kara during the funeral, taking the time to discover her hiding place behind the iron trunk and bring her a sweetmeat. Instant adoration had followed and when he'd asked her to marry him, all of her girlish dreams had come true.

Until it was too late, she had never considered that he might not feel the same way about her. Foolishly she'd failed to realise her hero was a selfish man, not a god.

A sudden shiver coursed down her back. Rurik might look like Ash, but she was the one raising him. She refused to make the mistake Ash's father had with Ash—spoiling him when he showed prowess at being a warrior or did something which pleased him and abandoning him to his fate if the challenge proved impossible.

‘Kara, you've become very quiet.'

‘I'm always quiet, Auda.'

‘Only when people don't know you or if you are upset. When you are comfortable, you talk all the time.'

‘I'm trying to get my eyeliner right. Why I have to wear it is beyond me.'

‘A bride needs to make sure she is well painted. Everyone knows that. You don't want to risk Freya's displeasure. You do want the goddess's blessing for this union?' Auda started chattering like a magpie about various weddings and how the recent brides had looked and whether or not Freya had been pleased. ‘You've smudged it. Start again and keep to the corner of your eye, rather than trying to draw a line under it.'

Kara picked up the small brush and started again. This time, she was going to be a bride to be admired, rather than laughed at or pitied. She shuddered, remembering how the liner had run down her cheeks at the last wedding. Ash had cleaned it off with his handkerchief with an indulgent smile.

Auda held out the gleaming crown. It was even more ghastly than Kara remembered. The last time, she had worn it with such pride, thinking Ash would want her to look radiant. But she'd heard the whispers and catcalls of ‘witch's child' which had followed her progress.

‘You do agree, Kara?'

Kara started and realised she was expected to say something. ‘I missed that, Auda.'

‘I merely said that the women will now have several more things to envy you for—a gorgeous bridal crown and a handsome warrior in your bed.'

‘How could anyone envy me?' Kara forced a laugh. The thought of sharing a bed with Valdar left her cold. She'd do her duty, but ever since she had learnt of the truth about her marriage with Ash, she had felt entombed in ice. Despite his looks, Valdar's kisses chilled her. Even the simplest touch from Ash had been enough to send her up in flames during that long-ago spring.

‘You'd be surprised. There are rumours about Valdar's exceptional good fortune in bed. Many have hoped to capture him, but thus far he has only wanted one woman for his wife—you.'

‘The rumours failed to reach Jaarlshiem.' Kara kept her back stiff. She knew Valdar could have had his pick of the women, but he'd chosen her. His many proposals had emphasised his growing friendship with Rurik, the nearness of their estates and the compatibility of their natures rather than her golden hair or the curves in her bottom lip as Ash's had done. ‘The bedsport will be what it is.'

‘You should see your face, Kara. Redder than a beetroot. Anyone would think you a maid of sixteen rather than a widow.' Auda tapped a finger against the crown. ‘Is the bedsport with Valdar not to your liking? Surely you sampled him before you agreed to this match.'

‘Auda, stop teasing. When would I have had time to enjoy Valdar? I am a mother and I run Jaarlshiem. Valdar and I have barely had an hour alone since the match was agreed.' Kara reached for the crown and jammed it on her head.

Her doing, not his. It hadn't felt right dishonouring Ash in that way. Once the ceremony was over and she no longer belonged in any way to Ash, everything would be different.

Seeing her friend's increasingly troubled expression, Kara relented. ‘I just want this ceremony over and done with. The whole day, in fact.'

‘You look exquisite, you know that, Kara.' Auda laid a gentle hand on Kara's shoulder. ‘Anyone looking at you now will understand why one of the finest warriors in the land chose you for his bride and why he laid his heart at your feet. All you have to do is see the way his face lights up when he spies you.'

‘Sweet Auda.' Kara gave her friend a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘But I do know my limitations. Shall we get this ceremony over with? Before Valdar realises the sort of woman he is marrying and changes his mind?'

‘He won't. Once my brother-in-law has made up his mind, he stays the course. He is exceedingly stubborn.'

‘Steadfast, I know. You've said.' Kara gave one last despairing look in the small mirror. She repeated the words she had taken to saying over the past few weeks. ‘And precisely the right man for me. Seven years married and six of them a widow. I deserve a man in my life.'

‘That's the Kara I know and love.'

Balancing the awkward crown on her head, Kara trod a careful path to the temple. At the entrance to the temple's grounds, she froze.

The temple overflowed with people, so many that they filled the courtyard. A great cheer and stamping of feet rose up when someone viewed her.

Kara fought the temptation to flee. She hadn't realised there were this many people in Raumerike, let alone in the capital. Suddenly, this wedding felt wrong, as though she was making the biggest mistake of her life. A marriage should be more than simple practicality—her mother's long-ago words welled up within her.

She firmed her mouth. Her biggest mistake had been marrying Ash in a haze of romantic dreams. This marriage promised to be different, based on mutual respect. No one was marrying under false pretences.

Towards the middle of the temple she saw Harald Haraldson, Ash's uncle, sitting like a spider in the middle of his web, and knew why this marriage had to be so public. His very being radiated hatred and smug arrogance. Only she and Rurik stood in the way of his inheriting all that her father-in-law had acquired. The Raumerike inheritance laws were quite clear—if a man died without an heir, the estate passed first to his mother, next to her husband and only then to the remaining relatives. And a jaarldom could only be confirmed when the warrior proved worthy.

He noticed her glance and his lips turned up into a humourless smile, the sort of smile a hunter gives before he brings down his hapless prey. A shiver went down her spine.

She'd fought so long and hard for Rurik's life when he was a baby that she wasn't about to stop now. And she wasn't about to be forced into a marriage where first Rurik's life and then her own would be forfeit. Valdar would protect them with his dying breath.

She'd endure this ceremony, knowing she'd be back in Jaarlshiem in a few days. She had promised Rurik that she'd bring him a new father.

The last few steps to where Valdar was standing were far easier than the first ones. Auda was right. He did look every inch the handsome warrior, a formidable opponent for any foe. In time she would welcome him in her bed. She could play her part in bedsport.

How hard could it be to pretend passion? Other people did. Ash had done it with her and she'd been fool enough not to notice.

Kara held out her hand and Valdar lightly grasped her fingers. The simple touch did much to calm her nerves.

The priest began to invoke the gods, calling on Freya, Odin and Var to witness the union.

This marriage would be a better marriage than her last one, she silently promised. She would be a good wife to a good man.

The priest asked if anyone knew of an objection why the gods would not look on this union with favour. He paused dramatically.

Wriggling her shoulders, Kara tried to remove the sudden sense of impending doom.

She nodded to the priest to hurry him up and get this ordeal over with. He cleared his throat and lifted his hand.

‘I object! This woman is not free to marry! This ceremony must stop!' a voice thundered from the back of the temple.

The priest's hand halted. Kara forgot how to breathe. Ash! Ash's voice from beyond the grave?

Impossible! Ash was dead. Buried in a watery grave. Someone else had called out and it was a trick of the temple's walls. Sudden anger filled her. Who dared disrupt and dishonour this marriage? She would make them pay for it.

‘Stop the ceremony now! Listen to my words. This woman is not free.'

Valdar gave her a questioning glance. Kara forced a tiny shrug as her head began to pound. A distraction, nothing more. She belonged to no man. But whoever had planned this knew her weak spot.

She placed a hand on her stomach. She had to stop hearing ghosts. This objection had no merit. False and unfounded. But logically it would have to be heard.

Giving in to her temper seldom solved anything. In fact, it often made things worse. Over the past few years, she'd learnt the value of appearing calm and collected even if her insides were churning.

A little delay now would save a lifetime of innuendo and false rumour. Clinging to that thought, she attempted to breathe.

‘Make your objection known,' the priest intoned. ‘Show your proof. This woman claims to be free.'

The crowds parted and the speaker came forward, walking with a distinct limp. His fine cloak swung about his body, highlighting the breadth of his shoulders and trim line of his waist. The deep blue colour set off his reddish-gold hair perfectly. There was something in the way he moved. Her stomach roiled as the scent of incense grew overpowering.

Kara shook her head, wished the crown was lighter and that the priest in the corner would stop waving his brazier about.

What her eyes saw was impossible. She dug her nails into her palm. Impossible.

The dead could not walk on this earth and Ash was dead. The ship had gone down without any survivors.

Ash's uncle had brought back the intricately carved sternpost from Ash's ship, charred from a fire, and laid it at her father-in-law's feet. The day was etched on her brain. Her father-in-law had made a dreadful noise and collapsed in a heap. She had had to nurse him back to health along with Rurik, who had been suffering from one of his dreadful colds. There hadn't been time to breathe, let alone grieve for the man whom she'd once made her whole world.

For a few days, both her father-in-law's and Rurik's lives had hung in the balance while Ash's uncle had strutted about the hall, issuing orders and proclaiming how the hall would be his. Finally she had ordered him out and he'd gone with bad grace, promising his vengeance.

Was this some ghastly dream and she'd wake up in her bed with Rurik slumbering close by? She knew she was awake from the growing pain in her head and the nausea in her belly.

A conjurer's trick? An apparition?

An insistent whisper went around the hall, growing in strength. Ash. Against all reason and expectation, it had to be. But utterly impossible. It had to be a trick, a way of sowing dissent and preventing the marriage. Harald Haraldson had to be behind it. She refused to allow this pathetic outrage to happen. This time Harald Haraldson had overreached. He would regret it when she was finished with him, but first she needed to be married with a warrior who'd defend her land.

Kara shut her eyes tight and opened them again. The man stood in the centre of the hall, no more than a few feet away from her. Broad shouldered and red-gold hair. His clothes were finely cut and of Viken rather than Raumerike origin.

The man raised his arms. Kara attempted to peer through the heavy smoke and see his face. A number of emotions raced through her—fear, anger and a wild sense of hope—but mostly she felt as if she were watching the events unfold from far away.

‘Hear me, good people, and listen well. Kara Olofdottar is my wife.' He turned to face the room. ‘I dare any man to deny it. I have a prior claim over her and I will enforce my claim with my sword if necessary. I, Ash Hringson, claim Kara Olofdottar as my lawful wife!'

Chapter Two

T
he stranger's words bounced off the temple walls, echoing round and round. The entire hall ceased to breathe, waiting for her reaction. Kara knew she had to do something, make some sort of defiant gesture, but her entire being was paralysed with shock.

She stared at the man with his fine clothes and burnished red-gold hair, searching for a sign that the words were true, that he was indeed who he claimed to be, that it wasn't some sort of twisted trick from Harald Haraldson. Yet she knew it must be.

Anything else was utterly impossible. Ash had drowned. The entirety of Raumerike knew of the tragedy. The lament her father-in-law had commissioned about his only son's tragic end was sung every year on the anniversary of his death.

She glanced at Valdar under her lashes. The big warrior stood stony-faced, his eyes trained on the priest's face. The knots in her stomach tightened. She had thought Valdar would understand immediately what was happening and leap to her defence. But, no, once again, she'd have to fight alone. Luckily she knew how to.

‘You believe you have a prior claim to this woman?' the priest asked with heavy scepticism in his voice.

‘I know I do,' the man replied evenly. ‘Under Raumerike law, any claim must be investigated before a wedding proceeds further. Or does Raumerike law allow a woman two husbands these days?'

‘It shall be investigated if the claim is made properly and with due reverence,' the priest countered. ‘Approach and let your face be seen. The light is in my eyes. All men should look on your face as you make your claim.'

Valdar gave Kara's hand a squeeze, but moved away from her as if she had the plague. Silently she vowed that Harald Haraldson would suffer a slow and prolonged revenge for this shabby trick.

‘Are you deaf? Let me see who you are,' the priest called when the man failed to move.

‘Kara Olofdottar appears faint. I ask we go elsewhere and discuss this matter in private,' the man said. ‘She fainted on our wedding day, you know. I caught her before she collapsed. The incense makes her head swim.'

Either this man was the consummate actor or... A small shiver of uncertainty combined with another flickering of wild exhilaration stabbed her, banishing her scepticism.

The more she heard the man speak, the more his voice rang of Ash. Kara clenched her fist. Logic, not unfounded speculation. She was becoming as fanciful as Rurik, who kept insisting that the sagas were real, rather than simply stories told about a fire to amuse. And she never fainted these days.

‘It is the Raumerike way to conduct such matters in public,' the priest said.

‘I merely thought to spare her the embarrassment,' he continued, seemingly unperturbed by the hundreds of eyes turned on him. ‘My wife hates crowds. A husband knows these things.'

Kara gritted her teeth and clung to that small logical part of her which still functioned. The deception would be revealed soon enough. No one could carry it off for any length of time. All she had to do was to keep silent, wait for the inevitable mistake and allow others to take charge. She clamped her mouth shut.

‘I must caution you,' the priest said. ‘Kara Olofdottar's husband died many years ago on a sea voyage. This fact is well known in this land.'

‘Ash Hringson. Son of Hring the Bold and Nauma,' the man stated in a firm voice. He thrust his hands forward and the cuffs of his tunic fell back, revealing his scarred wrists. On his right wrist he sported a purple birthmark in the shape of a coiled snake. ‘I'm very much alive. Reports of my death were at best mistaken and at worst a shameful lie.'

A variety of emotions rippled through Kara—shock at his survival, bewilderment at the length of time it had taken to get news to her, a deep-seated anger that it had taken this humiliating scene to reveal the truth, but most of all a wild exhilaration that he was alive, that they'd have a second chance. Her son would have his proper father.

Her breath stopped. Accepting this man's claim of being Ash went beyond simply taking his word for it and her knowing it in her heart. Twelve members of Raumerike's Storting would have to declare for him and stake their honour on it. The penalty for attempting to deceive the Storting was either death or permanent banishment.

Kara clenched her fists and concentrated. In acknowledging this man to be Ash, she'd lose Valdar, the man who would be the perfect guardian for Rurik. He was going to be her saviour. But it wouldn't be right. Not now. She had to speak up. She had to bring the dead back to life.

‘Ash Hringson,' she proclaimed, crossing her arms. ‘Where have you been? We thought you dead. Killed in a shipwreck off the Frankish coast over six years ago. A fine time you pick to appear.'

‘Reports of my death were incorrect but, alas, the shipwreck was all too real. I would say my timing is impeccable.' Ash's ice-blue gaze raked her form, travelling from the top of her bridal crown to the soles of her slippers, as if he were mentally undressing her, stripping her of her bridal finery and leaving her naked in front of the crowd. ‘I survived a fiery inferno on the sea and a Frankish prison. I have come to pay my debts. I have returned.'

‘Have you indeed?'

‘You look as lovely as my memory of you, Kara.' His lips curved upwards. ‘I remember the garland of flowers you wore in your hair the first morning of our marriage while we took our vows again. The sunlight turned your head to pure gold and your skin to cream. Far more suited to you than your mother's bridal crown. I didn't like it on our wedding day and I like it even less now. It does nothing for your hair or your eyes.'

His rich voice flowed over her. Why did he have to remember the garland she'd fashioned and how she'd insisted they recite their vows again? But then Ash had always been good at remembering the little details which had no real meaning. It was part of his deadly charm.

She forced her mind away from any softening. Seven years! It had taken him seven years to return. Why so long if he thought her lovely?

‘Can you be sure this man is Ash Hringson, Kara? Others might sport a snake birthmark.' Valdar put a heavy hand on her shoulder. ‘Are you willing to risk your reputation by vouching for him in front of everyone?'

Kara thought about her young son and the nightly prayers that he made to the gods for a father. The man who had given her Rurik deserved her loyalty. Silently she bid goodbye to an easy and settled life with Valdar. The safe future she'd envisioned only this morning was an impossibility and that hurt. But she knew in her gut that her instinct was right. She owed it to the gullible girl that she had once been to fight for Ash. She shrugged off Valdar's restraining hand.

‘I am certain, Valdar. This man is Ash Hringson. He can be no other. Reports of his death must have been false.'

Her words echoed around the chamber and she waited for others to agree with her. Ash's uncle rose to his feet.

‘Can a woman vouch for a man's identity?' he declared, banging his stick on the ground. ‘The traditions of Raumerike allow for men to vouch for an identity, but a woman? It is unprecedented. Women and thralls are easily led and their judgement suspect. Raumerike law and tradition allows for twelve men, not a single woman, to vouch for a man's identity. I have not heard a single man speak in favour of this...this Viken!'

A low murmur travelled swiftly around the hall. Kara froze. Why had Harald Haraldson cast doubt on Ash's identity? Did he want his nephew dead?

‘We are talking about my husband's life! Your beloved nephew!' Kara retorted before Harald Haraldson could garner any support. ‘Would you have me deny my husband? What sort of troll wife would I be then?'

‘I would have you declare the right man as your husband, Niece by marriage,' Harald Haraldson said, his smile turning to a gloating smirk as laughter rippled through the crowd.

Kara raised her clenched fist and knew whatever Harald Haraldson wanted, she wanted the opposite. ‘This man is my husband. Reports of his death were wrong. Wrong, I tell you.'

‘All we have is your word, Kara Olofdottar.' Ash's uncle pursed his thin lips. ‘Ash Hringson tragically perished in the sea. We've all heard the saga his father commissioned. Can the dead return to life? Or is this man an impostor sent to prey on a vulnerable woman? We all know about the demons your mother battled.'

‘My wits have never been questioned. Mistakes have happened before,' Kara stated in ringing tones as her stomach knotted. This was most definitely not how today was supposed to have gone.

‘Indeed. I seek to save you from a grievous one.' Harald Haraldson spread out his gnarled hands. ‘We must take our time and be sure. Investigate this claim slowly and carefully without womanly hysterics.'

Kara stiffened. Harald Haraldson would stall on the enquiry and in the meantime would press for the king to award him the lands which he considered rightfully his, but which really belonged to Ash and their son. He might even find a reason why Ash should be banished for ever or even killed.

She refused to hand Harald Haraldson an easy victory. Somehow, she had to figure out a way to fight for Ash and give him back his life. Later, she'd sort out the marriage and what that meant for her and Ash. She was doing this for their son.

‘A woman knows her husband from a place deep within her soul. There is no need for a further investigation when one is as sure as I am,' she said when she knew she had her temper under control. ‘You must know him, as well, unless you have gone blind and deaf, Uncle!'

Harald Haraldson only grunted.

‘Kara Olofdottar is within her rights to speak on this matter,' the priest declared after an embarrassed silence where no one else spoke. ‘Who could know a man better than his wife? Her words must hold weight.'

She turned towards the crowd, seeking a friendly face or two. ‘Hear my words and mark them well, all of you. The man who stands before you is my husband. Lift the scales from your eyes. See that this man can be none other than Ash Hringson. How many horses have I saved through my skill? Or falcons' wings fixed? How many people have I sewn up? How many times in the last few years have I ensured that timber or wool was delivered on time? Have I ever failed to honour a single agreement?'

A few started to murmur in the crowd.

‘This is Ash Hringson, the man who was once my husband,' Kara continued steadily, knowing everyone was finally listening to her, including Ash. Her voice wasn't going to vanish as it had when she was a girl and forced to speak in front of an audience. She was a grown woman with responsibilities now. ‘I can see his birthmark and his voice sounds the same as I remember it, but more importantly something deep within me tells me that this is him. Why it took him such a length of time to return is a tale he alone can tell. Who will join me in recognising him and welcoming him back to Raumerike?'

She waited expectantly, but no one moved or cried out.

‘What a thing to be recognised by one's own wife who is about to remarry, but no one else,' Ash said with his old dry humour to his voice.

The sound clawed at her heart and she had to look up at the ceiling. But still no one spoke. Most kept their eyes to the ground, though one or two stared defiantly at him.

‘You were the one who wished this done today, Lady Kara,' Harald Haraldson said, rising to his feet again. ‘Shall we end this deception? My lord king and good nobles, I have no idea why Kara Olofdottar entered into this deception with this Viken, but something must be done to halt her perfidious scheme before she endangers the entire country. What other dealings has she had with our old enemy? What mischief does she wish to unleash on this country?'

The colour drained from Ash's face, making his scars stand out as he recognised the gravity of his situation. Kara stared open-mouthed at Harald Haraldson. He had twisted the situation to suit his purpose. If she wasn't careful, Harald Haraldson would seek to gain control of Jaarlshiem, using this as a pretext to attack the estate and hold it under the pretence of the safety of the realm.

‘My loyalty to Raumerike is without question,' she snapped. ‘This is no act of Viken treachery.'

Harald Haraldson raised an eyebrow. ‘All I asked for was a little delay. Suddenly you speak of loyalty and treachery. I vote to err on the side of caution and tradition.'

‘Will no one else recognise this man as my husband?' Kara held out her hands to the crowd, trying to pick out faces. ‘I trust my husband's uncle has his own reasons for wishing Ash to remain dead, but what about the rest of you? Why do you wish Ash Hringson dead?'

The silence was deafening. Kara's heart plummeted. What had she expected? For the entire Storting to stand up and declare for her, simply because she had asked? It wasn't how the world worked. She'd stopped believing in miracles when Rurik was born.

She wished the ground would open and swallow her. Maybe she should have erred on the side of caution, but it would have been wrong to deny her husband. Silently she fumed at how neatly she'd been trapped.

A man dressed in rough farming clothes stood up. ‘Kara Olofdottar has vouched for him, I believe her. She cured my horse of lameness last spring and I know she always tells the truth. She never gives short measures with her grain.' He gave Ash's uncle a hard look. ‘Unlike others I could mention.'

After he stood, ten other men stood up. All they needed was one more.

‘I will vouch for him, as well. Kara Olofdottar must not be punished for speaking the truth,' Valdar thundered beside her. He, too, gave a significant look towards Ash's uncle before nodding at Ash. ‘You have your twelve men, Hringson. You are alive again in the eyes of Raumerike.'

‘The priest needs to decide,' Ash's uncle thundered. ‘Is this a proper way to conduct affairs? Are we to be led by women in skirts?'

Kara put her hand over her mouth and waited for the decision.