Heartless by Tamara Leigh

Author:Tamara Leigh
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Medieval
Published: 2020-04-22T18:30:00+00:00

The Humber

Northern England

MERCIA PACED, reminiscent of her grandmother though many had been Gytha’s strides in rooms sizable enough to accommodate her angst and well populated with servants upon whom she could unleash anger for the slightest offense.

In the small cabin of the earl’s great ship, its occupant had only enough space to stretch her legs three times side to side across the gently dipping floor, four times if she moved diagonally.

Somewhere in the hull beneath her feet was the one who had yielded to Canute under threat to her life and lived because she, in turn, said she would not wed the Dane. Maël was safe, but would he remain so once she spoke vows with Canute? Was it enough the chevalier was of value to his family as well as the tyrant?

Groaning, she turned her thoughts to Nicola and Bjorn. She had expected to be met by one or both upon boarding the ship and being presented to the hard-faced earl. She was not alone in that expectation, Canute demanding to know his cousin’s whereabouts.

The earl’s disavowal of that knowledge had not seemed feigned, and concern for his missing son softened his face before his nephew told Bjorn must be found so the D’Argents’ sister could be ransomed alongside her cousin. So what had become of the two, there surely no safer place for a Dane than where their forces anchored? Had they been overtaken by Maël’s other men? Captured by patrolling Normans whose base was the city of York north of the Humber? Felled by Saxons who would deem a Norman lady and Danish warrior enemies?

“Lord,” Mercia whispered, “let Vitalis be the one to gain on them. He will see Nicola restored to her family, perhaps even Bjorn returned to his.”

The tap of boots brought her around.

Canute opened the door, ducked, and entered. The moment he set eyes on her, his brow lined. “Why did you not do as told? You cannot dine with my uncle and me looking a servant.”

Though she had cleaned her face and hands and made simple braids of her hair, she had not exchanged the heavily soiled gown for another sent by Gytha. She had meant to but been uncomfortable with no means of barring the door against the Dane posted outside.

She ran hands down the gown that had replaced her habit days past, paused over the purse that held her grandmother’s missive. “Methinks this suffices for now, especially as I am weary and prefer to eat my meal here.”

His displeasure wavered then eased. “Remain and rest. On the morrow, don the clean gown so you not dishonor me.”

“Dishonor?”

“The priest rows over late morn to wed us in daylight.”

She caught her breath. “So soon?”

“My sire says we should begin making babies.” When words eluded her, he continued, “As I make good on the bargain with Sir Maël’s life, you will make good on yours.”

Though there seemed no way to escape their union, she was not ready. Too, the longer she delayed, the longer

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