Page 35 of Summer of the Viking

‘I’ve no idea what you are talking about, Gode.’ Alwynn picked up her pace. Theodbald’s death had opened her eyes to real life. This was real life. ‘Once the estate is saved, there will be time for other things.’

* * *

Alwynn’s mouth tasted of lush promise—sunlit hills and blue skies. Her body was soft and yielding beneath his. Her skin was smooth and tender. It was as close to paradise as he had ever come or was ever likely to come. He knew and he also knew he wanted more.

He cupped her face beneath his hands.

‘Who are you, Valdar?’ she whispered. ‘Before we go further, I need to know.’

He knew he had to tell the truth before anything happened between them.

‘I’m from the North,’ he whispered against her lips. ‘And I want to love you. I want to do right by you. Let me.’

Instantly the dream changed. Her cry echoed in his ears and she dissolved into nothingness. He looked at his hands and they were covered in blood.

A circle of people grew around him. He recognised the faces of dead comrades. They drew back and Horik appeared, hollow-eyed with torn flesh, accusing him of neglecting his duty, of not honouring him. Of allowing Girmir to go unpunished while he was forbidden from entering Valhal. People must know his story and the truth about Girmir and how he behaved.

Valdar woke with sweat pouring from every part of his body. The message from the dream was very clear. He had to avenge Horik. He had to return to Raumerike and confront Girmir.

And yet, he found it impossible to erase the sensation of Alwynn’s lips and her body against his. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face and remembered how her body had melted into his for an instant.

One summer was all he asked of the gods so he could honour the life debt he owed her.

The only hope was to work hard until he fell into a dreamless and exhausted sleep.

Chapter Seven

‘Are you ready to show me the estate or is now not a good time? You seem to have made all sorts of excuses.’ Valdar’s low voice startled Alwynn as she tried to sort out the various wool sacks several days later. Ever since her confrontation with Gode, Alwynn had been reluctant to return to see how Valdar was doing. Instead she had sent orders via Merri and other farm workers about the rethatching of the hut and the clearing of the barn nearest Gode’s cottage.

‘Excuses? I’ve been busy sorting out the return of the betrothal presents. Merri has kept me informed of your progress.’

Besides learning about his progress on the estate, it was clear from the reports that Merri was suffering from an advanced case of hero worship. No one could look that good or accomplish that much in a short space of time. There had to be a flaw in Valdar. Heroes only existed in tales told around the fire on a winter’s eve. And if she started to believe otherwise, she would go back to being the same naive woman who had blindly married Theodbald.

She risked a glance at Valdar, who was dressed in clothes which had belonged to her late husband. Although they were about the same height, Theodbald had never filled them out in the same way. The tunic drew attention to Valdar’s broad shoulders and the narrowness of his waist. His Frankish sword hung at his side. One glance told her that he was a warrior, but she also remembered the man who begged her to kiss him in the middle of the night.

‘I hadn’t expected to see you today. Merri said that you were going to inspect the manor farm’s cattle.’ She made a nervous gesture and sent a stack of spindle whorls tumbling to the ground. She pressed her lips together. ‘Clumsiness is not becoming in a lady...’ she stuttered out.

She stooped to pick them up, but he was there before her, returning them to the wooden box. ‘Maybe you are a person who things happen to.’

Their fingers touched. Her entire being tingled with an awareness of him. She instantly withdrew her hand.

As she did so, she caught a look in his deep brown eyes which stole her breath away. She wondered that she ever thought them just brown. There were flecks of gold, green and deep brown, all swirling together. And then there was the shape of his mouth. It begged to be tasted.

Her heart pounded in her ears and her lips parted softly. She wanted to lean forward. She wanted to feel his skin against her fingertips.

The sound of a dog barking and Merri’s laughter jolted her back to reality. She retreated two steps.

Silently Alwynn cursed her dreams from the past two nights and Gode’s outrageous suggestion that somehow she hadn’t been to blame for the utter failure of her marriage. If she wasn’t careful, soon she’d start believing in impossible things like the thirteen treasures of Britain again.

She made a show of straightening her kerchief and tucking all the escaping tendrils away.

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