The Warrior's Viking Bride (Harlequin Historical) by Michelle Styles

Author:Michelle Styles [Styles, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Romance, Women's Fiction, Regency, 19th Century, Adult Themes, Forever Love, Bachelor, Single Woman, Medieval, Ancient World, Thrillers & Suspense, Mystery & Intrigue, Violence & Crime Story, Protection & Safety, Action & Adventure, Dangerous & Deadly, Romantic Suspense, Life-Changes, Second Chances, Fantasy, Lifetime Love, Romantic Schemes, Scottish & Highland Romance, Highlander
Publisher: Harlequin Historical
Published: 2018-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Dagmar’s heart twisted as she watched the reunion between Aedan and the hostages. The dark-haired woman appeared very familiar towards him. The woman who had volunteered so that he could attempt to win the wager. He’d never satisfactorily explained why she had done that. Worst of all, he said her name with affection and kept an arm about her as he greeted the other hostages.

She struggled against the unfamiliar urge to scratch that woman’s eyes out. Drawing on all her training, she forced her face to be impassive. It wasn’t her problem if he cuddled with harpies. They’d finished. After this ceremony concluded, she’d never see him again, never contact him again. Yet she knew in her heart she’d cherish every scrap of news she’d glean about him and that she’d look for him on the battlefield. She placed a hand on her stomach and wished for a child, his child.

‘And the gold?’ Aedan asked. ‘The chest of gold?’

‘Gold?’ her father said, fingering his goatee. ‘Was there gold involved? I thought it was merely the debt cancelling and the hostages. You were gone longer than I had considered and my memory is hazy. My beloved wife had just perished.’

‘I understood gold was mentioned,’ Dagmar said, fixing her father with her best furious-warrior gaze. It felt good to give into her anger. ‘A chest of it. You bet against his returning with me and lost, Father. Face it or suffer the consequences.’

Her hand went to the dagger she still wore about her waist. If her father continued in this vein, she’d take the tale to Ketil who would have to act. Her father had sworn an oath to the overlord of the Western Isles.

‘And you returned because of this wager and no other reason?’

‘He gave me little choice and I owed him a life debt,’ Dagmar admitted, relaxing her hold on the dagger. ‘I stand as one with the Gael in this matter. Our fellowship holds true.’

‘You drive a hard bargain, Dagmar.’ Her father sighed and spoke quietly to his advisor. A small chest was brought out. ‘My dealings with you in this matter, mac Connall, are at an end. Let no man or woman say that I failed to keep my word in this matter.’

Aedan picked up the chest. His face was a perfectly blank mask. ‘It has been a pleasure doing business, Kolbeinn the Blood-Axe.’

To prevent herself from trying to catch his eye as he left or looking for one last sign of affection or worse, seeing him put an arm about Mhairi’s waist, Dagmar cleared her throat.

‘I’ve done as you requested, Father. I am here. Why did you summon me, rather than sending a messenger? What is so important?’

Her father brushed an imaginary speck from his cloak. ‘My messengers have developed a habit of having only their heads returned. I would have had no idea if the messages had been received or not. Therefore, you must come to me rather than the other way around. How many is it that you and your mother thwarted?’

Dagmar forced a laugh.

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