Chapter 1 The Viking’s Warrior Bride
The Viking's Warrior Bride
The longship slid through the still waters of the loch as dawn broke.
They had portaged from Loch Long to Loch Llumonwy the evening before and camped on the western shore of the latter overnight.
Ylva Ivarrsdatter stood at the prow, ostensibly watching for her first sight of Car Cadell even though she knew the fort would not come into view until they had rounded the next headland.
Instead, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the fresh morning air, desperate to subdue the nausea now plaguing her daily.
“Here, eat this,” Elisedd’s small hand pressed a chunk of bread into hers. She broke off a piece and chewed it before swallowing tentatively. It seemed to help. She ate another and then another. Then the boy handed her a skin of fresh water.
“Sip it slowly. Too much will make you sick,” he said.
“Thank you.” As she looked at his concerned expression, guilt tightened her chest. His concern for her was real, and yet when they had first met, she had seen only the face of a Briton, an enemy, and been ready to see him pay for a crime he had not committed.
Perhaps it was a sort of penance that had made her agree to accompany him back to his former home in Car Cadell.
It certainly had the potential to complicate her own life if she was not careful.
She looked down at him and ruffled his hair.
“Are you looking forward to seeing your mother?”
Elisedd nodded, but kept his gaze straight ahead over the prow of the boat. She was not the only one, then, who was worried about what would happen when they arrived.
“Ulf said…” Elisedd stopped and took a deep breath. “Ulf said I must be kind to her. She was not well treated by Lord Marcant’s men.”
“She went with Lady Aoife’s half-sisters?”
“Yes, she became their lady’s maid after Lady Aoife was sent to the convent.”
“Surely they will have looked after her?”
He shrugged. His mother, Rhiannon, had been one of the Britons taken to Lord Marcant’s lands south of the River Clut.
Most as prisoners, but Ylva had thought that as lady’s maid to his nieces Marcant would not have imprisoned Rhiannon.
She shuddered. Men could be cruel to women they had power over.
At least with Lord Marcant now himself a prisoner of King Rhun of Strath Clut, all his captives had been freed.
There hadn’t been many. Few had survived the massacre at Car Cadell, and Ylva had heard rumours the captives had been mistreated.
She hoped Rhiannon was one of the luckier ones.
The longship lurched, and Ylva grabbed hold of the side. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing slowly in and out as her stomach roiled.
Elisedd slid his hand into hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“It will pass in a few weeks.”
Ylva jerked her hand away and stared at him. How could this boy — a boy too young for arm rings — have realised something she had only just admitted to herself?
“How… how did you know?”
Elisedd shrugged. “You are like this every morning,” he said solemnly. “My mother told me when a woman is going to have a—”
“Don’t say it!” Ylva said urgently.
“But—” Elisedd stopped.
“I am not yet sure.” She tried to smile at him, but was unsure how successful she was.
Ylva had run through many scenarios in her head over the past few days when it had become clear there really would be a child this time.
She did not intend to ever be a mother, had never wanted the complications and expectations motherhood would bring.
She was a warrior born and bred, her dead father’s only legacy.
Ivarr Djarfr, Ivarr the Valiant. He had been renowned far and wide for his fighting skill, and she was determined to prove that his death had not been in vain. A child would hamper that.
Some warrior women simply left the babes to die on the rocks, but she knew she could never do that.
Maybe Magda, the Norse woman who had fostered Elisedd these past few months, would take the babe and raise him for her.
Him. She was sure it was a boy. But if Bjorn returned to Kirkjaster, then he would realise the child was his.
She was worried he would ask her to marry him and then expect her to give up her warrior’s lifestyle to care for the child, while he changed nothing about his own life. Life was not fair.
No, if she were going to have the child, she would have to leave Strath Clut.
Perhaps she could go back home to the Norselands, but if she were going to do that, she would need to go soon before the winter storms set in.
There were always the Northreyar or Suthreyar islands off the coast of this land, where many Norse people had now settled.
“Have you told him yet?” Elisedd’s voice startled her. She had been so lost in her own thoughts that she had almost forgotten he was there.
“Him?”
“Bjorn.” Then Elisedd frowned. “It is Bjorn who—”
“Yes.” Ylva smiled to herself. Bjorn was the only man she had ever wanted, one of only two she had ever lain with, but the boy did not need to know that. Nor did Bjorn.
“Ah!” Elisedd nodded at her. “You wanted him to be the first to know. I understand.” He pressed his lips together to show that he would not tell.
Ylva ruffled the boy’s dark hair and did not correct his misapprehension. “How did you get to be so wise?”
Elisedd shrugged. “Is that why you came with me?”
Ylva sighed. “I came because Lady Aoife asked me to, and I didn’t want to refuse a request from the jarl’s wife. Plus, I wanted to make sure you kept out of trouble on the way here. When we arrive, your mother can take over, and I will go back.”
Elisedd didn’t smile at her feeble attempt at humour.
“But…” He tilted his head to one side and eyed her curiously. “But Bjorn is here. I thought that… you would be staying.”
Ylva looked back at Car Cadell. “I came only to take you back to your mother. Once I have done that, I will return to Kirkjaster. We need to ensure that our own lands are defended.”
“Will Bjorn return with you?”
“No, not until Lord Cadell’s heir arrives,” Ylva said. “And perhaps not even for a while after that. Car Cadell also needs good men to defend it and to help Lord Cenydd establish control over his lands.”
“But surely you will need to be together?”
“No, we don’t.” Ylva squeezed Elisedd’s hand. “Please, say nothing of this to anyone, I beg you.”
“But…”
“Elisedd, it is complicated.”
“But… you will tell him?”
“I don’t know… Bjorn has always been clear that… that there is no future for us.”
“But why?”
“We are both warriors, not suited for domestic life,” she said. “He does not wish for a home and family. I will sort this myself. It is for me to deal with, truly.”
“I would give anything to be able to see my father,” Elisedd said, staring down the loch towards Car Cadell.
The boy dashed a tear from his eye and straightened.
She smiled at him. It was important for him to be seen as strong.
She put a hand on the side of his face and brushed the last remnants of the tear away with her thumb.
“Some things are not meant to be. We must accept them and not fight against our fate. Be happy that you are going to see your mother and please, Elisedd, do not tell anyone.”
The boy looked distressed, but he nodded. “I will do as you ask.”
“Do I have your word as a warrior?”
Elisedd looked up at her, and a grin spread across his face and he puffed his chest out with pride at her words.
“My word as a warrior,” he said firmly. “Does this mean I will get my arm rings soon?”
“I will mention it to Bjorn as soon as we arrive and ask him to speak to Arne,” she promised, smiling. “But you are still young and have much to learn. Do not rush into a situation when you are not ready.”
Elisedd nodded and leaned against the prow of the ship.
The fort was visible now, and she could sense his excitement.
An excitement that she couldn’t share. This was not her home, even if the man she…
the man she what? She and Bjorn were kindred spirits.
Their relationship was one of convenience, nothing else.
Love was not a part of that. Neither of them was born to love — only to fight.
Ylva had missed Bjorn more than she’d expected.
Not all the time, but sometimes in the evenings and especially now as the nights grew longer.
With each one that passed, she found herself wishing she could talk to him, hear his laughter, and in the deepest darkness, she often wished he was beside her, sharing his body.
She missed the way he made her feel. She ran a hand over her gently rounded stomach.
She had been fortunate in the past, but not this time.
Perhaps it was merely the fact that over the summer, she and Bjorn had been in the same place at the same time for longer than they ever had before.
Or perhaps it was because she had been training and fighting less often recently as she helped to finish the settlement.
She sighed. Would she tell Bjorn about the child?
It would be much simpler if she made the decision herself, wouldn’t it?
She glanced at Elisedd and wondered what her child would be like at his age.
The thought of never knowing made her frown.
But Bjorn had always been insistent that he would never marry, never have a family.
Bjorn was a warrior before anything else.
It was what he was trained to be, and the only thing that he genuinely loved doing.
She understood that. She, too, was a warrior.
But unlike him, if they had a child, she could not be both a warrior and a parent—certainly not alone.