Sold To The Viking Warrior. Michelle Styles

He put up his hand. ‘Don’t even think about offering. They would not bet with a woman.’

      She pleated her gown between her fingers. ‘It is possible that Thorbin plans some sort of treachery.’

      He shook his head. ‘Thorbin knows that he will lose his men if he isn’t seen to fight fair at the start. Once the battle begins, anything is possible between us, but no one else may intervene. I’ve learned a trick or two since he broke my sword.’

      She pressed her hands together and tried to hang on to her sanity. Sigurd seemed unnaturally calm about it. ‘Have you done this before?’

      ‘Challenge for leadership of a felag?’ He tilted his head to one side. ‘No, but I have fought many times, since Thorbin left me for dead. The surest way a man like me can rise. And I have risen, Eilidith, from the mud of society.’

      ‘Call me Liddy,’ she said before she lost the courage. ‘We are friends after a fashion and I loathe Eilidith.’

      ‘Liddy.’ He made her name sound exotic and mysterious, rather than plain. ‘It suits you better. Why are we friends suddenly?’

      She gave an artless wave. ‘Because you need one.’

      He tilted his head to one side and she felt the full force of his gaze. She was aware of how small this hut suddenly had become. ‘You may be right. My mother used to say a true friend was a pearl beyond price.’

      ‘I have heard that saying before.’ She watched her hands, feeling her cheeks go suddenly hot. She was bad at this sort of thing.

      He stood up and walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Allow me to do the worrying. You bring me good luck—that is why I need you there.’

      She turned her face away, tucking her chin into her shoulder to hide her mark. Now was far from the time or place to begin to explain about her problems, starting with the two tiny graves on the hillside and her part in making that boat capsize. Or her problems with her volatile ex-brother-in-law who blamed her for much that had gone wrong in Brandon’s life—the woman with the cursed face who lied to hide her inadequacies. ‘I am a woman of Cennell Fergusa. Worrying is something we do. What I do know is that my late husband, Brandon, would not have risked his life as you are about to.’

      ‘Only the fates know when you will die.’ He put his finger under her chin and raised it so her eyes met his piercing blue gaze. They were pools to drown in. Liddy hated that she wanted to believe in him. ‘I am trusting that my life’s thread runs longer than today. The three fates will have spun it longer.’

      ‘We come from different cultures,’ she whispered, watching his mouth. ‘God, not the fates, decides when we die.’

      ‘My mother used to say something similar. I can almost hear her voice, echoing down the years. Thank you.’

      ‘My pleasure.’ She watched his mouth as their breath interlaced. Her heart thumped so loudly she thought he must hear and guess her attraction to him.

      He dipped his head and his lips touched hers. This time was not a fleeting butterfly touch, but solid and real. Her mouth parted and she drank from him.

      For one wild heartbeat she forgot everything but the taste of him. Her breasts brushed against his hard chest. Then she stepped back, knowing that her face burnt far more than before. She fingered her birthmark, placing her hand to hide the ugliness of it, her badge of shame. He had kissed her voluntarily and she had no idea why.

      ‘Did you take pity on me?’

      ‘I have never kissed a woman out of pity yet.’ He watched her with hooded eyes, making no move to recapture her.

      ‘What was that for?’

      ‘So that some of your excellent luck will rub off on me,’ he said. ‘You might not believe in such things, but I figure I need all the help I can get.’

      ‘That is fine, then.’ Her voice came out as a husky rasp. ‘I figure you need as much as possible.’

      She turned on her heel and marched out of the hut. Behind her she heard a soft voice saying thank you, so soft that she wondered if she’d actually heard it.

      * * *

      A good-sized crowd had gathered about a makeshift arena. The atmosphere had altered since she was in the hut. It was now far more restless as if there was change in the air. Liddy hung back, wondering where she should stand.

      A cold nose nudged her hand and she saw that Coll had quietly joined her. Next to him stood Hring with a superior expression on his face. Liddy took a deep breath. She might not trust him, but at least he was on Sigurd’s side.

      ‘How did you get in?’ Liddy gasped out.

      ‘It is amazing how distracted guards can become when a big fight is about to happen.’ Hring shook his head. ‘The discipline.’

      ‘You disobeyed his orders,’ she said. ‘You were supposed to stay outside the gates unless I screamed.’

      ‘Sigurd’s a good fighter.’ He patted his chest. ‘I predict my purse will be heavier tonight.’

      ‘What will he say when he discovers what you have done?’

      Hring bared his pointed teeth. ‘I’ve never been one for following orders precisely. Sigurd knows that. And your dog pined for you. What should I have done—allowed him to take a chunk out of my arm?’

      Liddy gave an uncertain laugh. Somehow it was easier to have Coll with her. She curled her fingers around his collar. With Coll there, she had at least one protector. Heaving a great sigh, Coll flopped down at her feet.

      ‘Sigurd is going to fight, but I worry Thorbin may not fight fair.’

      ‘Thorbin is arrogant, but he isn’t stupid. The men would turn against him if more joined in. Two men challenge and fight to the death in these situations. It is our law and our heritage. It works well.’

      ‘Killing your brother cannot be considered a good thing where you come from.’

      ‘Half-brother, and it has been known to happen, but Sigurd isn’t planning on killing him.’

      Liddy blinked in surprise. ‘Why not?’

      ‘Ketil Flatnose wants that pleasure.’ Hring rubbed his jaw. ‘If it was up to me, I would disobey that order during the fight, but Sigurd is different. He knows when to stop. I’ve seen him fight before. There are reasons why I backed him. But you needn’t worry, my lady, any sign of trouble and I will get you out of here. You’ve held your side of the bargain, I reckon we can hold ours.’

      Liddy tightened her grip on Coll’s collar. The large Northman with strange pointed teeth no longer frightened her. ‘Good to know.’

      Sigurd was the first to emerge. He wore his tunic and carried his sword. Someone threw him a shield which he caught easily. In the sunlight, his hair gleamed gold and he moved with a great purpose, like one of the angels in church come to life. Her breath caught. It was hard to believe that he had actually kissed her.

      ‘I was simply the nearest woman and he’s a Northman with different beliefs,’ she whispered to Coll. ‘That was the reason.’

      Coll opened one eye and gave a low growl of disapproval.

      * * *

      Sigurd banged the sword against the shield. All his muscles had tensed. It was good to be out in the open, good to be doing something, rather than skulking in the shadows. ‘Thorbin. I am waiting. We are all waiting. Are you a warrior or a coward?’

      Thorbin came out of the hall, dressed in a finely wrought tunic and tight-fitting trousers. In his right hand he carried a gleaming sword and in his left a highly polished shield.

      ‘Is this how you dress for battle?’ Sigurd roared, not bothering to control his anger at the contempt Thorbin showed him. ‘You will rip your trousers and show your bare