The Viking's Captive Princess. Michelle Styles

broke promises. And the worst thing was that she wanted to believe this man. Her blood ran cold when she thought about what he could do before help could arrive.

      ‘The inlet is a perfect hideaway for ships, ships that could easily prey on undefended trading vessels,’ he continued.

      ‘Ragnfast does not possess that sort of fleet.’

      ‘But others in Ranrike do. My king and many of the Viken think the strait is cursed.’

      Thyre turned her lips up into a polite smile. Sigmund was doing the Ranrike people a great service. He protected them from raiders, even if Ragnfast refused to let him keep ships in this bay. He would answer the beacon in time. ‘You would have to ask them. I am merely a woman. I have no interest in the sea and trade.’

      ‘My queen proclaims no interest, but she knows everything that goes on.’

      ‘I am not a queen,’ Thyre replied quickly. ‘I know little about what happens beyond the confines of this bay and am content to keep that way.’

      ‘There is a great world out there, ready to be explored. Aren’t you curious?’

      Yes, yes, she wanted to scream. She did want to know what lay beyond the next horizon, but it was impossible. Too many people depended on her here. Her responsibilities to Ragnfast and this estate were far too important. Without her, everything might stop. She remembered the melancholy he had slipped into after her mother’s death and how she’d had to make sure that the food was harvested and the animals were slaughtered. And once she had begun, Ragnfast had naturally listened to her counsel, just as he had listened to her mother’s. Little by little she had brought the place back to life.

      ‘I am content with my life.’ She hated the way the white lies dripped from her mouth. ‘I like the estate. There is always something to be done—the weaving, the cooking. Last week, Beygul, the kitchen cat, went missing and I eventually discovered her, curled up beside an overturned pot of cream. You should have heard Dagmar scream.’

      ‘You are trying to distract me with your talk of cats. You are not living. You are only existing.’

      ‘There is more to life than visiting new places.’

      ‘It is all I desire.’ He leant forwards. ‘But how does a mere farmer acquire such a bay?’

      ‘Ragnfast is one of the leading Ranriken jaarls, not as great as Sigmund but he still does attend the annual Storting and his views are well respected.’

      ‘Does he do much trading? The lack of boats is surprising. Forgive my curiosity, but the bay cries out to be used. You have stands of trees. He could build boats.’

      ‘Ragnfast is no ship builder.’

      ‘Nor does he keep his buildings in good repair. Your barn on the south side has a leaning wall. It needs support timbers. A simple repair job, which my men have carried out, but it will need to be properly fixed.’

      Thyre stared in surprise at the Viken jaarl. He had sorted the problem that she had been attempting to get Ragnfast to do for the past six weeks. ‘Ragnfast is loyal to the Ranriken king, if that is what you are asking. He says there is no need to change protectors. He quarrelled with the Viken when he was younger.’

      ‘I have never asked him to. The Viken have no quarrel with those who do not attack our ships. We are grateful for your hospitality.’

      ‘The Ranrike are a peaceful people. We give protection to trading ships, but we have always reserved the right to defend against those who would plunder.’

      ‘The afternoon is young. There are so many more interesting topics that we can discuss besides the politics—’ He broke off and his body became alert. His entire being seemed focused away from her. ‘There appears to be a light on the hill.’

      ‘You are seeing things.’ Thyre hated the way her eyes went towards where the beacon was lit. From here, only the faintest trace of smoke curling in the sky could be seen. ‘It is the sun on the rocks.’

      His eyes grew hard. ‘Are you certain? I would hate to be caught in a trap.’

      ‘The Ranrike have no quarrel with you.’

      ‘We returned from Birka and Permia. Ships were waiting and watching for us. One gave chase in the storm.’

      ‘And I have seen the results dashed to pieces on the shore. The ship did not sail from here. Ragnfast has nothing to do with such behaviour.’

      She waited with the breeze whipping her skirts and cooling her sweat-soaked back. Ivar had to believe her. His blue gaze bore into her and then suddenly his shoulders relaxed slightly.

      ‘That is reassuring.’ The Viken put his fingers under her elbow, held her for an instant. A warm surge went up her arm. ‘Shall I see you at the feast?’

      ‘The kitchen needs me.’ Thyre cleared her throat. ‘I supervise the production of the feast. Ragnfast is very particular about the manner in which the meat is prepared.’

      ‘Then I shall have to hope to see you afterwards.’ His voice dropped to a husky whisper, holding her in its embrace.

      Thyre gave her most withering smile, the one which had discouraged all the other warriors. ‘I sincerely doubt that.’

      ‘As you wish, but the offer is there,’ he murmured and lifted her hand to his lips, burning his mark on her. ‘I keep my promises.’

      Thyre regarded her hand. There was no mark, but the skin pulsated with warmth. The sensation would pass in a moment if she kept her calm. ‘I have made my choice and I never deviate from my course.’

      

      ‘Did anyone miss me?’ Dagmar asked, breezing into the kitchen as the sun was beginning to sink lower in the west, lighting the sky an intense orangey red. ‘I should never have worn my new boots. I slipped twice and now my toes ache.’

      ‘I missed you. And your father even came into the kitchen to enquire where you were.’ Thyre pressed her lips together. She had wanted to talk to Dagmar about the Viken and to get her opinion. So far, Ivar appeared to have caused a dozen jobs to be carried out. And his honeyed tones had led Ragnfast to dream of riches. And there was that brief kiss to be considered. What did he really want? ‘This feast means a lot to him.’

      ‘He came in here? His head has really been turned with the tales of the wealth the Viken jaarls brought back from Lindisfarne. There is more to a man than his fortune.’ Dagmar sat down and took her boot off. She wriggled her toes and started to massage the bottom of her foot. ‘There, you see, I did hurt them. You have no idea of the pain I have gone through.’

      Thyre bit back the words telling Dagmar that it had been her choice to go up to the lookout point rather than help with the feast. ‘I did warn you about those boots. They look uncomfortable, no matter how bright and red they might be.’

      Dagmar shifted uncomfortably as she reached down to give one of the sleeping cats a stroke. ‘I met a forester. Word has reached him. Sven should be here within days, a week at most. He has said that all the foresters will be sure to be at the feast tonight.’

      ‘Back so soon?’ Thyre commented, but privately she heaved a sigh of relief. Dagmar had been sensible. Having the foresters there would mean that the Viken would be less likely to start anything.

      ‘His business was concluded more quickly than he thought.’

      ‘Your forester knows a great deal about Sven and his plans.’ Thyre tilted her head and tried to assess Dagmar. Dagmar was normally very truthful, but Thyre also knew how badly Dagmar wanted Sven to return. How much was wishful thinking? She shivered slightly, remembering the stories about Ragnfast’s mother and how she had been touched by the gods.

      ‘Sven set up a system of signals or something.’ Dagmar waved an airy hand. ‘I do not really understand it. But he has kept true to his promise. He alerted me. Now I can prepare. I will be a bride before summer ends.’

      ‘You