Page 29

F iona pulled on her warm leather sandals and tied them around her feet.

The heat from the small fire in the sleeping chamber cheered her spirits, not least because spring was already softening the harsh features of the landscape surrounding Skarthveit.

She longed for the return of the sunshine, had found the almost unrelenting darkness of the winter months depressing and hard to bear.

Matters had not been helped by Njal’s misery at the loss of his beloved aunt, and even now, several months later, he still asked after her frequently.

Fiona remained mystified by Brynhild’s disappearance.

It was possible, of course, for a person to be dragged away by wolves or even brigands, but there had been no sightings, no other losses reported by other settlements up and down the coast. She half-expected a ransom demand, had suggested as much to Ulfric, but none came.

There was nothing, no clue at all as to the Viking woman’s whereabouts.

She emerged from behind the curtain into the main room to find Njal waiting for her, his eager little face bearing the remains of his dagmal .

He sprang up from his seat at the huge table. “Come, it is time to go. We must be quick, while it is still warm enough to swim.”

Welcome though it was, Fiona considered the spring thaw to amount to nothing remotely resembling suitable weather for swimming, but the boy had begged her to accompany him to the small inland lake about two miles from Skarthveit.

She had reluctantly agreed, but on condition he did not expect her to dip more than a toe in the water.

So they had struck a bargain, and she was committed.

Two of Ulfric’s men were to accompany them as her Viking had not forgotten his brother’s warning about the continuing threats from the Bjarkesson homestead.

All had been quiet over the winter months, since as Ulfric pointed out, even blood feuds required some daylight in order to be pursued well.

But with the onset of warmer weather he fully anticipated the resumption of hostilities and he saw no reason to court danger.

Ulfric appeared through the door and fixed the pair of them with his sternest expression.

“You will remain at the lake for no longer than an hour. I shall expect to see you back here by mid-afternoon, well before it starts to drop dark again.” He paused.

“Maybe you should postpone this excursion until a day when I can come with you…”

“No, please, we have to go today. The lake could freeze again and—” Njal hopped from one foot to the other and summoned up his most pleading expression.

“We shall be fine.” Fiona kissed Ulfric’s mouth. “I have my slingshot with me, and your men are armed. We shall return in plenty of time, I promise.” Then, before he could find further objections, she hustled the excited little boy outside to join their escort.

The lake was even colder than she had imagined.

Fiona endured just a few minutes of paddling and hated every moment of it but Njal seemed oblivious to the icy temperatures as he danced and splashed in the shallow waters at the edge.

Fiona absolutely forbade him to venture further, and he was still sufficiently mindful of his dipping in the fjord that he was happy enough to obey.

Fiona had been glad of the chance to grant him this day out; it would help to strengthen the fragile relationship she was working to build with her Viking’s son.

The boy had lost his mother suddenly a little over two years previously, and now his aunt was gone also.

He was naturally reluctant to become attached to a third woman in his life, preferring to spend as much time as he could with his father.

Ulfric was tolerant and patient, but both he and Fiona were convinced that Njal needed a mother.

And it seemed, for want of a better candidate, that she was it.

Fiona did not mind, she found the lad charming and he made her laugh.

She supposed it would not be long before he had a younger half-sibling, though as yet she had not conceived despite Ulfric’s fervent efforts in that regard.

She pondered the prospect of possible motherhood as she watched Njal’s antics and decided it might be quite nice…

if she were a wife rather than a mistress.

Ulfric remained adamant that a marriage between them was out of the question though in every way he behaved toward her as though she was his wife.

Fiona had settled for that and she had not broached the subject again.

This apart, she was happy enough living as they did.

Her Viking was kind, attentive, he gave her pleasure beyond her imagining, and his creative wickedness in their bedchamber knew no bounds.

Neither, it seemed, did hers as together they explored sensual fantasies Fiona had not known she harboured.

She had discovered a tolerance for a decent spanking, and this had built to become something of a craving.

She was astonished that she actually found the pain exhilarating, and her release following a few minutes across Ulfric’s lap would leave her breathless and begging for his cock.

She was not completely certain that she liked him to fuck her arse, and would usually protest and seek to dissuade him.

It never worked. Once he had decided to take her rear hole, he would do so and any objections on her part would be met with a delicate yet relentless finger applied to her clit, or a sharp slap to her buttocks.

Either would yield the desired result and he would have his way.

All in all, Ulfric was a generous lover; she could imagine none better.

Taranc had been right. Her Viking was a rare find and Fiona was glad to share his bed, his life, and his son.

“Yeeargh!”

Fiona was dragged unceremoniously from her musings by the deafening battle cry.

She leapt to her feet as at least a dozen Vikings charged from the cover of the nearby trees.

All brandished weapons—swords, axes, daggers—and their faces were murderous as they descended upon the unwary group beside the lake.

“Lady, quick. We are attacked!” The superfluous warning came from one of her guards as he rushed at her, the reins of her horse in his hands.

He tossed Fiona into the saddle, then threw Njal up behind her, the lad still dripping wet.

“Ride hard for Skarthveit and send aid. We will hold them off whilst you escape.”

“What? No, there are too many…”

Already her other guard was rushing to meet the oncoming horde, yelling his own battle cry as he swung his sword around his head.

“Go, lady. Now!” The guard slapped the horse’s rump and the animal broke into a gallop. Fiona had to cling on for dear life as her mount lurched forward. Njal plastered himself to her back as she leaned forward in the saddle and fought to regain control of the dangling reins.

At last she had the straps between her fingers.

Not daring to slow down she peered back over her shoulder and was relieved to see that none of their attackers were yet in pursuit.

Ulfric’s men were putting up a valiant defence.

Fighting back to back, they were managing to fell any who came close, but they were surrounded and hopelessly outnumbered.

Fiona knew they would not be able to fend off so many, not for much longer.

Her mount reached the cover of the trees and was forced to slow. She glanced back again in time to see one of her guards drop to his knees.

Oh, no. Dear sweet Jesus…

She hauled on the reins to pull the horse up.

“Njal, can you reach that branch there, the one hanging across the track?”

“Aye, I can,” the lad replied quickly.

She nudged the horse forward until they were immediately below the bough in question.

“Grab the branch and climb up into the tree. Get as high as you can and stay quiet. And hidden.”

“But—”

“Please, do it quickly. Remember, do not come down for anyone but me. Or your father.”

Mercifully the boy did not ask any further questions. He grasped the bough and swung easily onto it, then scrambled along until he reached the wide, solid trunk. In moments he was lost to her sight, up among the dark, thick branches of the tall pine. She was satisfied no one would find him there.

Fiona slithered from the horse and ran back to the edge of the woodland. Her remaining guard was still on his feet but surrounded by the vicious raiders. He would be down in but moments, then the mob would come after Fiona and Njal.

“I believe I might even up the odds somewhat,” she muttered as she reached inside her cloak to retrieve the slingshot.

She selected a stone from among those she had stashed in her pocket before they set out, and she placed it in the sling.

It took her but a moment or two to sight her first target, swing the weapon around her head a couple of times, then she let fly the small rock.

A bellow of pain erupted from one of their assailants as he toppled forward to crumple to the ground. One or two others looked around, perplexed and uneasy, but Fiona allowed them no time to assess this new threat. She was already reloading for her next shot.

The second stone was just as true as the first, taking out another of their assailants. Several now paused to scan the trees, clearly nonplussed at this unexpected attack. Fiona remained concealed as she loaded her sling again, then let fly.

A third man clasped his hand to his face and sank to his knees. A few of the raiders broke off their attack on Ulfric’s remaining guard and started to make for the trees that concealed her, but Fiona let fly a fourth missile and dropped another man before he had taken more than three paces.