A lovely warm sense of ownership and pride went through Ingrid. This big gorgeous Viking was going to be hers and in a way he always had been. There was a closeness between them that couldn’t be taken away. They knew each other too well. Now that closeness of minds just needed to become closeness of bodies—warm, naked, mating bodies.

A shiver went through her and a gentle tug pulled at her belly and between her legs. She wanted to be naked with Raud, to feel his hot skin, his strength, and his pleasure. And the sooner that happened the better. She wanted to give him sons, many beautiful warrior sons, who would one day be kings of Ravndal.

“King Baardsen.” Raud nodded at Ingrid’s father.

“Raud, it is good to see you,” the king said gruffly. “And at a perfect time as I am just about to make an announcement.”

“You are?” Raud glanced at Ingrid.

She shrugged. An announcement was news to her.

“Ja,” the king said. “A very important one.”

He stood and Raud stepped to one side, took from his drink again.

“Attention, everyone.” As the king’s bellow roared around the great hall, everyone silenced. A few warriors continued to rip meat from bones with their teeth but mostly eating was halted.

“I have called this mid-winter feast to welcome my old friend Bjorn Har and I hope you will join me in doing so.”

A murmur of greetings rolled up to the beams.

“He has traveled for many days to be here, and it gives me great pleasure to offer him my daughter as his wife.”

My. Daughter. As. His. Wife.

The words had been spoken, but they roiled around Ingrid’s mind as though unreal, a figment of imagination. Except she never would have imagined that.

She was to wed Bjorn Har?

Live forever with the stench of his breath and clothes, the sight of his greasy hair... lie with him in bed... let him dothatto her?

Nausea swirled as she looked from her father to Bjorn.

Bjorn grinned and for the first time she saw he had very few teeth and what he did have were blackened with age and decay.

“Father,” she gasped, turning back to the king. “What are you doing? What are you saying?”

A frown creased his brow. “Look happy, daughter.”

“But... but I don’t know this man.”

“It is good for our families to join.”

“But I—”

“Princess Ingrid. Stop!”

Anger and frustration warred with disbelief. How could her father be giving her away to a man who was old and disgusting? He’d said not long ago how much he loved her, yet now this...

She caught Raud’s gaze. He appeared as shocked as she was. And while the rest of the crowd stood and cheered and held tankards aloft in jubilation, Raud’s cheeks stained red and his jaw tensed. He lowered his drink; it tipped, a trickle of mead splashing to the floor. His opposite fist clenched.

“We will wed in the spring.” Bjorn took Ingrid’s hand and pressed her knuckles to his lips.

The scratch of his beard sent bile into her gullet and she bit back the burn. Every instinct in her wanted to recoil, get away, run, but she stayed glued to the seat, knowing that to do anything else would embarrass and in turn displease her father.

“It will be a three-day ceremony,” the king said to Bjorn. “We will feast like never before.”

“And then Ingrid and I will make many sons.” Bjorn’s gaze dipped to her breasts. “Many, many sons.” He licked his lips and leered toward her. “And not stop mating until we do so.”