His eyes narrowed.
‘We may look respectable to the rest of the world, madam wife, but here in the bedchamber I think we will be quite scandalous!’
The look he gave her sent the desire curling up inside her once more and she shivered with delicious anticipation.
She said innocently, ‘But I thought you had reformed, sir.’
With a growl he reached out and pulled her to him and Phyllida gave herself up to the pleasurable task of discovering just how wrong she was.
* *
This is the first story in
Sarah Mallory’s brand new Regency quartet,
THE INFAMOUS ARRANDALES.
Look for further books in the series,
coming soon!
Keep reading for an excerpt from SUMMER OF THE VIKING by Michelle Styles.
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Historical.
You dream of wicked rakes, gorgeous Highlanders, muscled Viking warriors and rugged Wild West cowboys from another era. Harlequin Historical has them all! Emotionally intense stories set across many time periods.
Enjoy six new stories from Harlequin Historical every month!
Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Other ways to keep in touch:
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
http://www.harlequin.com/harlequinexperience
Chapter One
June 795—off the coast of Northumbria
The possibility of returning alive to Raumerike and Sand hung by the slenderest of threads. After weighing the odds, Valdar Nerison figured he was never going to see his nephews again, never going to sit under the rafters of his hall and never going to breathe the sweet air of home again. He knew that in his heart. He’d known it ever since the mutineers had struck five nights ago, killing his friends, including the leader of the felag.
Girmir, the leader of the mutiny, would strike before the ship reached Raumerike’s shore, most likely when the familiar outlines of the houses came into view. But right now they needed Valdar alive to navigate with the sunstone. Girmir’s mistake was that he assumed Valdar believed his bland reassurance about how valuable he was.
The only question in Valdar’s mind was the timing of the escape. When should he make his move? They watched him like ravens and had taken all his weapons.
Valdar bent double over his oar as the rain and the waves lashed him, trying to reason out the best moment. Rejecting first one plan then another as unworkable. With each passing day, it became clear that the men believed Girmir when he proclaimed that they would acquire gold and slaves beyond their wildest imaginings if they followed him.
As the gale intensified, Girmir started muttering about making a sacrifice to the storm god, Ran. A human sacrifice. ‘Better one should die than the entire boat,’ he announced. It chilled Valdar’s blood.
Valdar glanced to his left as a flash of lightning lit up the sky. In the distance he spied the shadowy shape of land. For the first time since the mutiny, a glimmer of hope filled him. One long-ago summer, he and his brother had learnt to swim. Even after all this time, he reckoned that he just about remembered the strokes. One chance to get it right.
‘The storm increases. Ran and Thor are both in a terrible temper,’ he shouted as another blast from Thor’s anvil reverberated through the sky. ‘If you are serious about a sacrifice, do it before the entire boat is swamped.’
‘Do you wish to challenge for the leadership?’ Girmir came forward and put a knife against Valdar’s neck. ‘You know what happened to Horik the Younger when we fought. And to Sirgurd.’
‘Your boat now, Girmir, but I’m entitled to an opinion.’ Valdar ceased rowing and stared at the usurper, who had attacked at night, killing Horik before he could reach for his sword. Then forced Sirgurd to fight when he was clearly ravaged by fever. ‘The storm may be difficult to ride. We should put to shore.’
‘The only way which will quiet the gods in this weather is a life. I’ve seen it before.’ Girmir nodded towards where the youngest member cowered beside his oar. ‘A noble thing to give one’s life for one’s friends. Someone should volunteer.’
The boat became silent as all the men paused in their rowing.
‘Me?’ Valdar enquired as the wind howled about them.
Girmir adopted a pitying expression. ‘We have need of you and your navigational skill, Valdar Lack-Sword. I gave my word. You will see Raumerike again.’
‘If it is such a noble thing, then we should draw lots,’ Valdar said, ignoring the jibe and laying the trap. Girmir would murder him as soon as the cliffs of Raumerike were spotted. Earlier if it suited him. Once an oath-breaker, always one. ‘Let the gods decide...unless you fear their judgement.’
Even Girmir’s loyal followers muttered their agreement. Girmir’s beady eyes darted right and then left, seeking friends and finding none.
‘Which will it be?’ Valdar pressed, as another lightning bolt ripped through the sky, highlighting the men’s drenched and pinched faces. ‘Which is Ran most likely to be satisfied with—your choice or his?’
The other man blanched slightly, belatedly realising he had tumbled into a trap. ‘I will abide by the gods’ decision.’
‘You will not mind if I hold the counters,’ one of the men said.
Girmir bowed his head. ‘Go ahead and Valdar Lack-Sword can prepare them. I wouldn’t want to be accused of cheating the gods.’
Valdar retrieved a set of tafl counters from his trunk, placed them in a sealed pouch, carefully showing everyone the one black stone, and gave the pouch to the man who’d asked for it.
After days of inaction and humiliation, it felt good to be doing something. One way or another, he would regain his self-respect before he died. For too long he’d lived with this hungry animal gnawing at his belly, telling him that he should have heeded Horik’s request and sat up with him that night.
He should have woken before Horik the Younger was murdered, before his own sword was taken from him. He should have gone against his years of training, followed his instinct and become involved before things spiralled out of control.
If this boat went down, other than the boy, there was not a man he’d try to save. They had Horik’s blood on their hands. They had all stabbed Horik’s body under Girmir’s orders to prove their undying loyalty. When Valdar had made only a token stab at the lifeless body, he had seen Girmir’s face contort and had known that his fate was sealed.
‘Go first, Girmir, you are the leader!’
Sweat beaded on the man’s forehead. ‘Ha! A white counter!’
One by one each of the felag took their counter. The youngest blanched as he saw he’d drawn a counter darker than the others. Valdar put his hand over the boy’s. ‘Open your hand and turn the stone over. You only think it is black.’
The boy did as Valdar bade. ‘The stone gleams white on this side. But I thought...’
‘Funny how that works.’
Valdar regarded the cliffs on the horizon as he weighed the pouch in his hand. He could do it. He knew how to swim. His body tensed with nervous anticipation. Better to die fighting than to be slaughtered like a sheep. Cheating the gods to palm the black stone from the boy? Maybe, but they had deserted him five nights ago.
‘The gods want my hide today.’ He held the jet-black stone aloft.
He waited as the other warriors glanced between each other and muttered. But the relieved look on the boy’s face was worth it.
Girmir shrugged. ‘The gods have decided. Your arms will be bound, Nerison, but Ran prefers his victim alive so I shall not slit your throat. I’ll let him do it.’
Valdar closed his eyes. He should have expected Girmir’s sadistic twist of binding his arms. His legs would have to be strong enough if he couldn’t free his wrists. He would be able to make it to the shore. ‘As you wish. But know one day there will be a reckoning. The gods will punish those who break their oaths.’
Girmir clasped his forearm after he gave Valdar his share of the takings thus far. ‘Your sacrifice will appease the gods. You may have your sword returned. You behaved with honour. May you die with honour.’
After buckling his sword to his waist, Valdar tossed the sunstone to the young boy. ‘Have charge of the navigation now. Use it well. Like I showed you.’
Girmir’s eyes bulged. ‘He can navigate?’
‘You wouldn’t want to lose another navigator, Girmir. How else would you make it back home?’
The boy’s ears coloured pink. ‘I’ve always admired you, Valdar. I know what you did for me.’
‘Then tie my ropes.’ Valdar grasped the boy’s hand. ‘Will you do that for me?’
The boy’s eyes grew wide. ‘Aye, I will.’
‘Good lad.’
‘When you return home, the sunstone will be waiting for you. Just ask for Eirik, son of Thoren, and they will find my cottage. My mother moves about a great deal,’ the boy whispered. ‘The Norns are not finished with you. I know this in my heart.’
‘I’m to be sacrificed.’ Valdar moved his wrists, creating a gap. ‘How can they not be ready to snip my thread of life?’
‘My mother always says this.’ The boy tied the ropes with a bit of slack. ‘You have to believe that the Norns decide when your thread is snipped, not you.’