Paying the Viking's Price. Michelle Styles

of them—people who had given their lives to ensure she and her family lived in comfort? What good would her honour be if she abandoned those who were ready to lay their lives down for her?

      It wasn’t the future she’d envisioned this morning, but she had to do it. She had to be able to speak for those who couldn’t. In a year’s time, she could leave and even go to the relative safety of Wessex with a baggage train. If all went well, she could take those people who wanted to go with her. She wrapped her arms about her waist and tried to control her shaking.

      She’d have to share his bed and keep him entertained. Something that in the past she’d singularly failed to do for a man. Egbert’s many accusations and taunts echoed in her mind—she possessed not one feminine attribute, was confrontational at the wrong times and the only thing about her which even remotely interested a man was her dowry.

      She must’ve been mad. This little adventure would end the instant Brand Bjornson took her to bed. The entire world tilted. She put her hand out to steady herself. What had she done?

      ‘Cousin? Is anything the matter?’ Hilda asked, catching her arm. ‘At last I find you. I have been hiding, but heard no sound of battle so decided to come and find you. Have the Norsemen left? Is everything as it was? Your scheme worked, didn’t it?’

      ‘I...I...’ Edith struggled to find the right words.

      Edith allowed Hilda to lead her to an alcove where they both sat. Hilda patted Edith’s hand.

      ‘You rest. You’ve done enough getting rid of the Norsemen and having everything hidden. You’re close to collapse, Edith.’

      Hilda’s appearance served to emphasise Edith’s problem. Every movement Hilda made seemed designed to entice or make her more attractive. Around her, Edith always considered herself gawky and awkward.

      If Hilda had been there, would Brand Bjornson have been so quick to make her his concubine? She dug her nails into her palm. She should be grateful for small mercies.

      Hilda only thought of herself. She had no feeling for the land or its people. All Edith could do was to try to survive and play whatever game this Norseman was playing to the end.

      ‘Not yet. They haven’t left yet.’ Edith smoothed her skirt. The action calmed her jangled nerves. She’d go mad if she tried to think about what ifs and how the past could have been different. ‘But don’t worry, Hilda. I have a scheme. They will go in time and all will return to how it was. I have to believe that.’

      ‘Oh, no!’ Hilda stuffed her hand in her mouth and she began to rock back and forth. ‘A scheme? And time is something we don’t have.’

      ‘They will go eventually.’ Edith didn’t know whom she was trying to convince. ‘The Norsemen never stay long. War and the open sea call. Everything will go back to how it was. You see I still have the keys to all the stores? Trust me to make it right. We simply need to keep our nerve.’

      She jangled the circlet of keys which hung from her waist. They’d belonged to her mother and every other lady who had ruled this house.

      Hilda drew a deep shuddering breath and her eyes became marginally less wild. ‘If I must. Where will they stay? Will I have to encounter them and their barbaric ways?’

      How their way could be more barbaric than Egbert and his men, Edith couldn’t say. She shuddered, remembering how powerless she’d felt in those few weeks before he departed. How hard she’d worked to shield various children from his abuses and what limited success she had had. Unlike Hilda, she hadn’t wept when she’d heard of Egbert’s death. She only wished it had happened before he had ruined everyone. All those countless lives lost and all the beatings she and others had suffered, simply because Egbert’s temper was uncertain. But he’d been unable to take the gold, silver and jewels. Some day she’d retrieve them from the lord’s bedchamber, but for now they were safe, stored right under the Norseman’s nose. The thought buoyed her spirits no end.

      ‘You’ll have to be civil, Hilda. There is little point in antagonising them. One must be practical about such things,’ she said carefully.

      ‘Will you marry the new earl? Did it happen like you predicted?’ Hilda watched her with narrowed eyes. ‘Is that what is going on? You can tell me, cousin. I can imagine the Norseman’s king doing that, not giving you time to properly mourn and seeking to secure peace on the land that way.’

      ‘No, my fate is something else.’ She paused and gazed directly at Hilda, whose golden-blonde hair, pale blue eyes and petite frame ensured men’s eyes followed her wherever she went. Hilda would learn soon enough. No doubt the entire hall buzzed with the news. ‘I’ve agreed to be Brand Bjornson’s concubine. I suspect the Norseman thinks it is an honour. And, yes, I do know how people will react and what they will call me but I did it for them. I hope to soften his heart towards my people.’

      Saying the words out loud helped.

      A tiny tingle went through her. It might be different with Brand Bjornson. When their hands had accidentally brushed as he regarded the ledger, all her senses became aware of him. Something that had never happened to her before. She banished the thought as wishful thinking and false hope. She’d endured Egbert’s touch and the bruises he had given her. She could cope with this Norseman. She was a survivor.

      Hilda stared at her with shocked eyes and gaping mouth.

      ‘Thank you, cousin, for your silence.’

      ‘You’re serious! That’s your scheme?’

      ‘Would I joke about such a thing?’ Edith folded her hands in her lap. ‘I have to remain here in order for my plans to work. Leaving would have meant that I had lost everything.’

      Hilda’s mouth dropped open, making her resemble a fish. ‘I’d rather kill myself. Brand Bjornson is a monster. His very name causes grown men to quake in their boots. And he sports an ugly red scar about his neck. They say that even his own mother tried to kill him but failed. The man sups with the devil.’

      ‘Unfortunately I didn’t have that choice,’ Edith said with a steady voice. Hilda was always overly dramatic, even as a young girl. ‘If I die, who will speak for the people who till this land or work in the kitchens? And I dare say Brand Bjornson sups with whoever sits down at his table.’

      ‘Stop trying to turn it into a joke, Edith. Why did you agree to it? How could you?’ Hilda shook her head. ‘Sometimes I fail to understand you, cousin. You should have drawn a knife, bared your breast and plunged it in. That is what any true Northumbrian lady would have done.’

      Edith bit back the words asking why Hilda had agreed to be Egbert’s mistress, then? Even now, she refused to stoop that low. There were some things which were better left unsaid. She accepted that Hilda had had her reasons and overall had behaved better than some of Egbert’s other women.

      ‘Why, Edith?’

      ‘There were others to think of,’ she said finally when Hilda’s horrified gaze became too great to bear. ‘I refuse to abandon everyone for the sake of my honour. In this way, perhaps I can tame the Norseman and prevent him from destroying all that I hold dear. Mayhap in time he will come to trust me and will install me as the steward.’

      ‘As you say, it is your choice, my cousin.’ Hilda stood up and made a brief curtsy. ‘I wish you well. I mean that. I hope you know what you have undertaken. These men...they are not quite human. You are gently bred. You haven’t had to suffer—’

      ‘I believe I understand the rudiments of the position I now occupy.’

      Hilda flushed. ‘No offence meant, cousin. I want to be certain that you know what you are doing. When I was in the south—’

      ‘Thank you, Hilda.’ Edith inclined her head. The last thing she wanted to hear was a horror story about how Hilda had experienced the habits of the Norsemen. If she did, her courage might give out. Right now, not thinking about what the night might bring was the only way she’d survive. ‘We have a feast to prepare.