Sold To The Viking Warrior

Thorbin leant forward. ‘Hmm, are you challenging my word? A woman like you? A Gael? Mayhap you are a warrior who wishes to fight me and let the gods decide who is in the right.’

The room broke out into nervous laughter.

‘A misunderstanding,’ she whispered between her parched lips. ‘I am certain it can be solved, but my father must be released. He took no part in whatever happened when my brother came here.’ Sweat poured down her back. What had her brother done? Malcolm could never hurt another human being in cold blood. He would have been a priest had he not been the only son. Had her mother known? Was that why she counselled Liddy against making the journey?

‘There is nothing to be done about it. Give me the ring now! It is forfeit. Be grateful I don’t make you fight.’ Thorbin waved his hand and the North warrior who had opened the ceremony snatched it from her palm. ‘Next.’

‘But it is wrong!’ The words emerged from her throat before she had a chance to check them. ‘You have no right to take that ring! You have stolen it. That is against the North laws! I demand justice!’

Thorbin checked his movement.

‘Are you calling me a liar? Both your brother and father are traitors. They broke the truce, not me. At the end of this assembly, they will be declared outlaws and all their lands forfeit.’

Liddy balled her fists. She wished that she was a warrior and could take on Thorbin. Sigurd had been right—there could be no justice in Islay while this man ruled the land. ‘It is up to you to decide what you are. I merely state the facts. My father never knowingly broke a promise in his entire life up to now. Why should he start? He was one of the first to accept the Northman overlordship. He has never failed with the correct amount of tribute. Ever.’

Thorbin gave a pitying smile. ‘The facts are that I am in charge, my dear. And it is I and I alone who judge if a man is a traitor. However, I am in a generous mood and can see you have no champion to fight in your stead. You may live. Quit this hall and never return. Be glad you have your life. I, Thorbin Sigmundson, am the ruler of this island and I decree this!’

‘This lady has a champion!’ a loud voice thundered out.

Thorbin started and seemed to pale, but then he recovered himself. ‘There is none who cares to challenge. This has been settled. Be glad I am in a good mood, my dear. You may go, but your family’s tribute has been doubled. I will expect it at harvest time. Then we can discuss your father’s release.’

He tossed the ring and it landed with a clunk at her feet.

Sigurd stepped in front of Liddy and put his boot on the ring. ‘I challenge you, Thorbin the Two-Faced! You failed to act on a solemn promise given by your jaarl. You broke the fellowship. You have forfeited your right to lead and I claim the right to challenge.’

‘How dare you come before me with your face cloaked? How dare you call me that name? Who are you?’

Sigurd lowered his hood and threw back his cloak so that his sword was revealed. ‘Sigurd Sigmundson. Deputy of Ketil Flatnose. I challenge you on behalf of this woman and her family. I challenge you for the leadership to settle the question once and for all.’

A collective intake of breath echoed about the hall, swiftly followed by an all-pervasive silence. Sigurd waited, knowing that this was the crucial time. Either Thorbin’s men were up for a fight or they would force Thorbin to accept the challenge.

The colour drained from Thorbin’s misbegotten face, making the white scar which ran from his temple to his chin stand out clearly. ‘It is not possible. You are dead. Long ago. I saw you fall from that cliff in Ireland near the Black Pool.’

Sigurd bowed, enjoying his half-brother’s discomfort. He had waited a long time for this day. It was gratifying to know that Thorbin had been behind the attempt on his life two years ago. ‘But here I am, standing in front of you. Real and whole.’

‘What connection do you have to this woman?’

‘Will anyone deny me the right to challenge? To fight for the fellowship?’

There was a stamping of the floor and shouts of approval. The muscles in Sigurd’s back eased. If there was anything a Northman loved, it was the opportunity to watch a good fight. None would interfere. From the look of it, Thorbin would be no match for him now. Not like years ago when Thorbin had left him more dead than alive.

Sigurd could see signs of heavy living in Thorbin’s red-rimmed eyes and the way his hand trembled when he picked up the ring. This was his time.

‘You leave me with no choice, Sigurd the Scavenger.’ Thorbin gave a crooked smile. ‘You will have your fight. With swords. I assume you will put the one which hangs from your belt to better use than the one of our father’s which you broke.’

‘That sword has been remade.’

Thorbin nodded. ‘You should have died five years ago when you dared show your face at the funeral.’

Sigurd shrugged. He had gone to the funeral to show that he, too, wanted to honour his father and to rescue his mother. He had been naïve in thinking that it wouldn’t be a trap. Beyla’s timely emergence from the tent showed him his folly and he had to resort to ending his mother’s suffering. ‘You failed to kill me then and you will fail this time.’

‘Shall we fight?’ Thorbin wiped a hand across his face. ‘The winner will take the woman.’

‘That will be for the winner to decide. But no one touches my woman without my permission.’ Sigurd damped down any protective feeling he had towards Liddy. She was a means to destroy Thorbin, nothing more.

* * *

Liddy went into the hut where Sigurd sat preparing for the fight, rather than stand outside and be jeered at by any more of Thorbin’s men. She had stood it for as long as possible, but when the jibes became too crude she ducked inside.

She had never considered Sigurd volunteering to be her champion. He made it seem like she was little better than a whore. His woman, indeed.

What was worse, everything that had happened today increased the danger her family was in. If Sigurd lost, then they would all be branded traitors and lose everything. And if he won, could she count on him to keep his promise now that he had heard her brother had rebelled?

Liddy moved her mind away from that possibility. Brandon was right—her curse would destroy her family.

‘I apologise for the men outside,’ Sigurd said before she had a chance to complain. ‘Manners are singularly lacking in this place.’

Liddy forced the impulse to laugh hysterically down her throat. She had come in all set to rant and he apologised as if it were his fault for causing her a minor inconvenience. As if their only trouble was the rudeness of the Northmen.

‘How many times have you fought Thorbin? Was he the one to break your sword? You owe me that at least.’

He raised his head. His features seemed to be carved from stone. ‘We fought many times growing up. We shared a father. While our father breathed his last, my half-brother arranged for my murder. I survived the attempt, but my mother agreed to be sacrificed. She did it to save my life. She thought the woman I professed to love and I deserved to be together. She believed in the power of love conquering all. She never knew how wrong she was.’

‘What happened to the woman?’

‘She chose another.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘Someone with more land and power. Another country. It taught me a valuable lesson—love will get you killed.’

Liddy stared at him in astonishment. This warrior was far more dangerous than she had thought. ‘You wanted this not because of Ketil’s pledge to my family, or any noble reason, but because of something that happened long ago. You wanted another chance.’

‘The odds are in my favour. Trust me.’

She stared at him. ‘You failed to trust me. Why should I trust you now?’

Liddy heard her heart thumping in the silence. He came forward and lifted her chin so that she was forced to look into his piercing gaze. His eyes would be easy to drown in. ‘Leave this hut if you believe I will lose.’

‘I remain here.’ She wrenched her chin away and struggled to breathe normally. ‘His men will kill you if you kill him. They have nothing to lose. They are betting on how short a time it will take to kill you.’

‘Let me worry about such considerations.’ He stepped away from her. ‘You were magnificent back there. Better than I could have hoped for.’

A tiny bubble of happiness filled her breast. He had thought she’d done a good job. She struggled to remember when she had last had a compliment like that. And the part of her that wanted to believe she had been touched by angels at birth grew louder. ‘It didn’t do me much good. I lost my father’s ring.’

‘What do I see here?’ He reached behind her ear and produced the gold ring. ‘Next time, pick it up. I may not be there to retrieve it.’

‘I shall.’ Her hand closed about the ring and she regarded his well-worn boots. ‘It will take more than tricks to defeat Thorbin, but I do believe you can win out there.’

‘It makes all the difference—having one person believe in you.’

‘Do you want me to let your men know? About the fight? Everyone out there, waiting for you to return from your mission.’ She made a little gesture and hoped it hid the sudden flaming of her cheeks. ‘As I said, they are betting against you out there. Every single one of them.’