The Viking's Touch

‘I thank you, my lord, but I have protection enough.’

‘Ah, yes. Torstein guarded you well, did he not? I don’t blame him for that; I would do exactly the same.’

A sudden chill raised gooseflesh along her arms. ‘I am quite sure of it.’

His voice grew softer, almost tender. ‘Would you not prefer to let a man shoulder the burdens for you?’

‘I can shoulder my own burdens well enough.’

‘That you are courageous is not in doubt. However, widowhood is a sad condition and a lonely one, especially for so lovely a woman.’ One hand reached out and lightly touched the edge of her braid. ‘Do you not long for a man to share your bed again—especially a man who appreciates beauty and knows how to please a woman?’

Her gut tightened. ‘I am not ready to marry again.’

‘You say so now, but I know how to be patient.’

‘Do not hold out hopes of me, my lord.’

‘When I set my heart on something I use every means at my disposal to get it.’

Anwyn suppressed a shiver at the memory. ‘I refused his suit long since,’ she continued, ‘yet barely a week goes by without his calls on some pretext or other.’

‘He is much smitten.’

‘Smitten with lands and wealth more like.’

Jodis shook her head. ‘A woman alone is vulnerable. You won’t be able to hold him off for ever, unless …’

‘Unless what?’

‘Unless you were to find another husband.’

‘I have no desire to marry again.’

‘If you do not, your father will choose for you.’

‘He has already intimated as much,’ replied Anwyn, ‘or at least my brother did when last he visited. Torstein had barely been dead three months! Osric takes after Father in his determination to increase our family’s wealth and holdings.’

‘Both of them are determined, my lady, and they see you as the key to future success.’

‘Another marriage for me; another step on the ladder to power for them. A wealthy northern earl, Osric said.’ Anwyn grimaced. ‘But I will not suffer them to make another match for me.’

‘You will likely have no choice, my lady. Your father is powerful and ambitious.’

‘He has furthered his ambitions at my expense already.’

‘But you remain a desirable marital prize.’

‘Maybe so, but the very thought of another marriage is repugnant to me.’

‘I did not mean a husband like Earl Torstein,’ Jodis replied, ‘but a good man, a kind man even.’

‘A man who is both good and kind? Now there’s a thought.’

Before either of them could say more, the child’s voice broke in. ‘Mother, can we have a canter now?’ He and his mentor had halted their mounts, waiting for her to draw level. The child’s green eyes were eager, pleading. ‘Ina says I can if you give your permission.’

Anwyn looked over his head at his companion. For all his fifty years the old warrior was still an upright figure whose sturdy frame spoke of compact strength. Grizzled locks and beard belied a shrewd mind and his dark eyes missed very little. He had besides an air of quiet authority. In the days after Torstein’s death he had been an invaluable ally, one she had learned to trust.

‘Very well, then, just as far as the dunes.’ She paused. ‘And be sure to take it steady.’

Needing no further encouragement, Eyvind turned the pony’s head and clapped his heels to its sides. The sturdy little creature broke into a canter. Beside him, Ina reined back, checking his mount’s longer stride to keep pace. Anwyn grinned and looked at Jodis.

‘How about it?’

Moments later their horses were cantering after the others. It was perhaps four hundred yards to the dunes, but the swifter pace was exhilarating and Anwyn fought the temptation to let the horse out to a gallop. It felt so good to ride out again without constraint, to feel the wind in her face, to feel almost free.

When at length they pulled up she found herself laughing, her spirit lighter than it had been earlier. She leaned forwards and patted the horse’s neck. Eyvind eyed her hopefully.

‘Can we ride along the shore, Mother?’

She knew he was thinking of another canter along the strand, but she had not the heart to refuse. Besides, she had no mind to return just yet either. ‘Why not?’

They rode single file through the dunes, letting the horses pick their way, and came at last to the bay beyond. Ina and Eyvind stopped abruptly.

‘Mother, look!’

Anwyn followed the line of his pointing finger and stared in her turn, her startled gaze taking in the ship drawn up on the beach and before it the massed host of the crew. There had to be seventy of them at least.

‘A warship,’ said Ina.

Uneasiness replaced her earlier mood. ‘But why would it put in here?’

‘At a guess it’s been damaged. See the sail spread out there?’

She nodded. ‘That would certainly explain their presence.’

Looking more closely, she surveyed the crew. Though they were apparently giving their whole attention to the sail and yard that lay on the sand, she noted that all of them were armed with sword or axe and that shields and spears were within easy reach. She wasn’t the only one to mark it.

‘Professionals definitely,’ said Ina.

‘But apparently not aggressors,’ she replied.

‘No. They’re coming now.’ He nodded towards the force that had just appeared on the far side of the bay.

Anwyn frowned. ‘Who on earth …?’

‘Ingvar’s war band, my lady.’

‘Are you sure?’