Summer Of The Viking. Michelle Styles

      Marriage? How did that rumour get started? The back of Alwynn’s neck prickled and she had the horrible suspicion that Merri had been unable to resist telling stories. Again. The child was going to be the death of her.

      ‘Where did he get this idea from?’ She forced the words from her throat while she did combat with the panic that threatened to engulf her.

      ‘Lady Merewynn and the entire hall buzzes about the possibility. My son could not stop grinning from ear to ear when he returned.’ Oswy thumped his fists together. ‘It will be like the old days when your father was alive. There will be a warrior to protect us and our crops.’

      Alwynn’s heart pounded so hard in her chest that she was certain Oswy would hear it. She should have known Merri would find it impossible to keep a secret. No wonder the girl had looked sheepish when she’d asked her to keep the secret.

      ‘He heard this from Lady Merewynn?’

      ‘Yes. She wanted to show off Purebright.’ Oswy twisted his cap. ‘Please, my lady. If you know a warrior who might protect us, have pity and marry him. I can’t afford to lose any more grain. The bandits have attacked me three times this spring. They even threw the grinding stone into the mill race the last time.’

      Alwynn firmed her mouth. She knew all about the millstone and had taken steps to deal with it. In her opinion, it had been mischief by Oswald and his friends rather than outlaws, but she had lacked proof.

      ‘Lady Merewynn should not be telling tales,’ she said crisply. ‘And you should not be believing them. You know what she is like.’

      ‘Rumour is that you refused Lord Edwin’s offer because there was someone else and that is why he married that Frankish woman. Is this the man Lady Merewynn was speaking of?’

      ‘The two are entirely unconnected.’ She pinched the bridge of her nose. There was little point in explaining about Edwin and his disreputable offer. He hadn’t wanted her as a wife, but as a mistress. The marriage to the Frankish noblewoman had been arranged long before he had weaselled his way into the king’s affections.

      She clamped her lips together. Long experience had taught her that the gossips around here believed what they wanted, even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

      ‘I’ve no plans to wed again. Ever.’

      Oswy’s face went red. ‘You mean to go into a convent and leave us, then? Have I wasted a betrothal gift?’

      ‘No, not that!’ The words rang out over the garden as Alwynn spied Gode returning via the lower path. In another few heartbeats she’d be at the cottage and scream. The last thing Gode expected to see was a man in her house. She checked her impulse to run over and greet Gode. Oswy would think it strange if she abandoned him.