Page 15 of Summer of the Viking

He reached down and withdrew his sword from the scabbard. It gleamed dangerously in the sunlight, reminding her that, injured or not, he was still a warrior.

‘Here, take it,’ he said with his strange accent which caused his voice to sound more like a purr than a command. ‘Keep it safe while you get whatever herbs you need. When I go from here, I will take it with me. Until then...a gesture of my peaceful intent.’

She gingerly took the sword. It was Frankish made with gold-and-silver inlay. She could imagine how her husband would have drooled over such a sword. Surely a Northman would not have such an expensive weapon?

‘How did you get this sword?’

‘I bought it in a market.’ A dimple showed at the corner of his mouth. ‘How else would I have acquired it?’

‘Off the battlefield? Taken from an opponent?’

The colours in his eyes shifted as she amused him. ‘I had it made for me. I wanted the right balance for my arm. Not exciting at all. Are all Northumbrians as bloodthirsty as you?’

Alwynn breathed a little easier. The barbarians who attacked the holy island of Lindisfarne surely could not have dealings with the Franks. The Franks were part of the Holy Roman Empire and forbidden from dealing with pagans. She could remember Theodbald explaining this fact with great disdain after the raid happened. One more reason why this stranger deserved to stay alive.

‘What do you expect me to do with it?’

‘Keep it safe until I leave. A token of my goodwill while I heal. You will be well rewarded.’

‘You wish me to keep silent about you being here.’

‘The authorities in any country ask too many questions.’ He put a hand to his head. ‘Right now, I need no questions and much sleep. You understand?’

Alwynn hesitated. ‘Do you pledge to protect this household while you shelter within its walls?’

He placed his hand to his chest, displaying his arm rings. ‘I swear.’

She stood with the sword in her hands. Her mother would have said that she should go straight away and report this man. Her mother would never have even saved him. Alwynn straightened her back. She wasn’t her mother and she made her own way in the world now.

‘I will put it beyond use until then. And I accept your pledge, Valdar.’ She inclined her head. ‘Not that it will be needed. Nothing ever happens here.’

‘Then it is lucky you found me.’ A smile transformed his face from handsome to stunning. ‘A good omen in a sea of bad luck. Perhaps my life changes now. Perhaps I am reborn.’

A good omen for him. Alwynn took a deep breath. She wished she knew whether it would be the same for her—the woman who had obeyed all the rules had lost everything. Maybe it was time she started breaking a few. Maybe it was time for her to be reborn.

* * *

Valdar circled his shoulders, trying to focus on working the aches and pains out of his body, rather than think about the way the sunlight had shone on Alwynn’s hair or the shadows in her eyes when she evaded his questions about why she’d saved him.

But he knew what he faced here if his true origins were discovered. To the Northumbrians, one Northman would be very like another. It made no difference that he was from Raumerike and the raiders were Viken. Or the fact that he had always considered the raid to be a grave error. Something which had far more consequences than simply taking gold and a few slaves captive.

He hated the slight deception, but having survived the sea, he wanted to live. He wanted to live more than he thought possible.

Silently he pledged that while he was here, he’d do all in his power to protect Alwynn and to return the favour of giving him his life back.

There were many reasons why Alwynn was out of bounds. He wasn’t staying, but more than that she reminded him far too much of Kara and that wound in his soul was far from healed.

No one since Kara had intrigued him. It had hurt to discover that Kara had only wanted to marry him for the protection he could give her and her young son. He’d let her into his heart, the first woman he’d truly cared about, and she had only wanted him for a friend and bulwark to keep the estate intact.

He had spent the time since then feeling as if he was encased in ice and ignoring his sister-in-law’s pointed remarks about how he needed to marry. Valdar shook his head. His near-drowning had addled his wits.

‘I’ve lit a fire and made a simple poultice for your ribs. They need to be bound before you sleep,’ Alwynn said, appearing in the doorway. She’d shed her head covering and shawl and acquired an all-enveloping apron. But it was the way her dark hair escaped its braid that held his attention. ‘By rights I should call a monk.’

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