Viking Warrior, Unwilling Wife. Michelle Styles

you and I, Vikar. We only thought we knew each other.’

      ‘You disappeared all too eagerly, Sela—ready to run from any unpleasantness.’ A muscle in Vikar’s jaw jumped. ‘In Kaupang four years ago, you left without a word. I came back to our chambers—emptied of all life. The next thing I discover is that you have divorced me.’

      Breath hissed through Sela’s lips. She struggled to maintain a grip on her temper. Left without a word, indeed! She had waited and waited, wanting to believe in his innocence, and then his betrayal had been clear. He had given her no choice and so she had acted. ‘That is not my memory of the situation at all.’

      Vikar made an irritated noise in the back of his throat, reminding her forcibly of Kjartan and why this man represented danger. ‘Enough of this foolishness. I do not give you leave to retire, to pretend as if nothing has happened. Your father broke his truce. He sent his men to raid Viken territory.’

      Sela’s heartbeat resounded in her ears. An unprovoked raid?

      ‘Vikar, you have made a grave error of judgement. My father has not raided in years. Why should he? He earns enough from the trade of skins, soapstone and amber. Let us speak no more of his raiding, but instead of yours.’

      ‘Mine?’

      She drew a breath and began listing the points on her fingers. ‘You did not come in peace. Dressed in chain mail and bearing shields, you and your warriors rushed towards us with drawn swords without issuing a proper challenge. We had the right to defend ourselves. Thorkell will be informed of this. We have that right.’

      She watched with grim satisfaction as Vikar struggled for words.

      ‘Hafdan led a raid. He was stopped. I intend to have no more raiding parties threaten Viken. Thorkell will support me. I am the new jaarl of the north.’

      Sela closed her eyes. Hafdan. She should have guessed. Vikar was correct. Thorkell would not support her father, would not send his men to avenge the raid. ‘And what happened to Hafdan?’

      ‘He perished as all vermin do.’ A muscle in Vikar’s jaw jumped. ‘He would never have gone anywhere without your father’s orders.’

      ‘They quarrelled. Hafdan left. Hafdan sailed under his own standard.’ She pressed her hands together. ‘My father and I knew nothing of the raid. He had no intention of bringing war to Viken. Do you mean to sack the hall?’

      ‘Bose’s lands are among the most profitable in Viken. This hall is fit for a king, let alone a jaarl. Why should I wish to destroy that?’

      ‘And my people? What will happen to them?’

      ‘Provided they show their loyalty to their new master, life will continue on as before.’

      Sela dropped her head to her chest and felt a lump form in her throat. She would not have to watch her home burn, see the crops ploughed under and then have Vikar and his men leave. Her people would be spared that.

      ‘And what will become of me?’ she asked in a small voice, unable to stop herself

      ‘You are a problem I had not anticipated. Your father should have taken better care of you. He should have ensured your protection, rather than have you take charge of a rabble such as the one my men and I faced.’

      ‘It was my choice. My father did not have any say in the matter.’

      ‘Then is your husband amongst the fallen?’ Vikar lifted his eyebrow. ‘You should have said earlier. I send my condolences. Or perhaps it is why Hafdan left?’

      ‘Having experienced marriage once, and found it not to my liking, I had no great desire to return to the state, particularly not to someone like Hafdan. He was my father’s favourite, not mine.’ Sela kept her head high.

      ‘Interesting.’ Vikar stroked his chin and his eyes gleamed. ‘It saves me having to put a sword through an innocent man.’

      ‘Why would you want to do that?’

      ‘No man should live if he forces his woman to fight.’ A muscle in Vikar’s cheek jumped. ‘You should never have been out there, Sela. Women are made for other pleasures.’

      ‘Perhaps I have giantess blood like Skathi in the legends. She put on her father’s armour to avenge his death and marched all the way to Aesgard to challenge the gods.’

      ‘But your father lives.’ He lifted his eyebrows and had the bad grace to appear amused, as if he had caught her playing in her brother’s armour, instead of trying to defend her hall.

      ‘Things had to be done. A defence had to be made.’

      ‘But not by you, Sela. Your father was the jaarl. It is to his banner the men flocked.’

      ‘My father…’ Sela hated the way her voice faltered. She would have to confess the truth about her father’s affliction. ‘My father is ill. He cannot lift his sword. I had no other choice.’

      ‘If you father is that ill, that afflicted, why did he allow Hafdan to sail away?’

      ‘Hafdan wanted more—more power, more everything. My father felt that letting him go to Permia would give him the prestige he craved.’

      ‘Your tales grow more fantastic by the breath.’

      Sela fought the urge to bury her face in her hands. He did not believe her. She had told the truth and he did not believe her. ‘It is the truth, even you must see that.’

      ‘Hafdan left, knowing you were unmarried and your father about to breathe his last?’ He slapped his hand against his thigh. ‘Hafdan always sailed under your father’s orders. He left to war against the Viken. He is now dead and your father’s plot is in ruins. Everything your father valued belongs to me…including you.’

      ‘What are you planning to do with me?’

      ‘You are unmarried.’ Vikar took a step towards her. A lazy smile appeared on his face. ‘You need a protector.’

      Sela put her hand to her throat as she stepped backwards and felt the chest digging into her legs. ‘What sort of protector?’

      His eyes raked her form, lingered on her breasts. ‘You would make an admirable concubine.’

      Chapter Three

      ‘To you?’ Sela’s mouth went dry as the word echoed in her brain. The walls of her father’s chamber appeared to have shrunk, pushing her towards him, towards his hard unyielding body.

      Unbidden, a memory of the last time they had joined assaulted her senses, the way his hands had stroked her body, playing it as expertly as he played the lyre, how his mouth had drawn the cry from her throat as the two reached their peak at the same time. She pushed it away, back in a place where she never ventured. She refused to remember what it was like before his betrayal, before she had learnt the truth. She forced her lip to curl.

      ‘I will pass, thank you very much.’

      ‘A challenge? You know I am never one to resist a challenge.’ A hint of laughter echoed in his voice. Sela remembered when that particular sound had sent shivers of delight down her spine. Such things had vanished years ago, along with her girlish illusions. She had grown in the four years since she had last seen him, become a different person. And the person she had become would not be attracted to him and his easy charm.

      ‘A refusal.’ She crossed her arms over her breasts, stared into his eyes and forced her lips to smile. ‘Surely by now, you must know the difference.’

      A muscle in Vikar’s cheek jumped and his body grew still. Sela swallowed hard. Had she gone too far? A tiny shiver passed over her. She took a step backwards and tried to look somewhere other than at the green flame flickering in the depths of his eyes.

      Vikar’s hands closed around her upper arms. He hauled her towards him until their bodies collided. The softness of her curves met the unyielding strength