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Sent As The Viking’s Bride
Michelle Styles
She’s the wife he doesn’t want……and the woman he needs!Desperate to escape her murderous brother-in-law and protect her young sister, Ragnhild agrees to marry an unknown warrior, and arrives penniless at his remote island. Only Gunnar Olafson’s belief in love died with his family—he does not want a bride! But as yuletide approaches Ragnhild transforms his isolated existence. Can she melt her Viking warrior’s frozen heart?
She’s the wife he doesn’t want...
...and the woman he needs!
Desperate to escape her murderous brother-in-law and protect her young sister, Ragnhild agrees to marry an unknown warrior, and arrives penniless on his remote island. Only, Gunnar Olafson’s belief in love died with his family—he does not want a bride! But as yuletide approaches, Ragnhild transforms his isolated existence. Can she melt her Viking warrior’s frozen heart?
“Styles’ attention to detail will captivate readers, as will her powerful characters and elaborate plots.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Warrior’s Viking Bride by Michelle Styles
“Styles delves into the powerful psychological forces of doubt and distrust masterfully, keeping me turning the pages, and delivering a wonderfully satisfying ending.”
—Goodreads on The Warrior’s Viking Bride by Michelle Styles
Born and raised near San Francisco, California, MICHELLE STYLES currently lives near Hadrian’s Wall with her husband and a menagerie of pets in an Edwardian bungalow with a large and somewhat overgrown garden. An avid reader, she became hooked on historical romances after discovering Georgette Heyer, Anya Seton and Victoria Holt. Her website is www.michellestyles.co.uk (http://www.michellestyles.co.uk) and she’s on Twitter and Facebook.
Also by Michelle Styles (#uebe3344e-81d5-5074-be5c-e9005130c4d6)
His Unsuitable Viscountess
Hattie Wilkinson Meets Her Match
An Ideal Husband?
Paying the Viking’s Price
Return of the Viking Warrior
Saved by the Viking Warrior
Taming His Viking Woman
Summer of the Viking
Sold to the Viking Warrior
The Warrior’s Viking Bride
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Sent as the Viking’s Bride
Michelle Styles
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08864-0
SENT AS THE VIKING’S BRIDE
© 2018 Michelle Styles
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Tim and Kathy de la Fosse, because you asked
so nicely when we visited and you gave us the
most memorable rooster, aka Hugo Buff-Orpington,
to protect the hens from foxes.
Contents
Cover (#u24c7322e-84c5-543b-a292-0c482fa668fd)
Back Cover Text (#u15401b5e-c697-5a34-92b4-19f822ec3d03)
About the Author (#uddecda34-2357-5193-a529-ebd9c8b4eea2)
Booklist (#u89108f75-3225-5f27-9f04-97309f1ab37d)
Title Page (#u91e510ae-1179-576e-b4de-3ef9fc8a5fe3)
Copyright (#u8a7bd662-e353-5c9c-a80f-294af38acd6e)
Dedication (#ud13e05db-546a-5c8d-8dc9-1cb4a467def9)
Prologue (#u87f88cc4-452f-54c1-a280-62b6d6615383)
Chapter One (#u16ae418c-fa62-5a44-92e1-54dd3f1b7b67)
Chapter Two (#u80336af1-0d37-5783-8fbe-0f5479b69ea6)
Chapter Three (#u12ff71bf-4eb3-5d6a-af91-ff2a04c5149a)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Author Note (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#uebe3344e-81d5-5074-be5c-e9005130c4d6)
January AD 877—Colbhasa, modern-day Colonsay
Gunnar Olafson had spent a lifetime dreaming of his own land, but after he learned of his excellent fortune, all he could do was sit in stunned silence. Others would be shouting the news to the rafters, calling for more ale for everyone, but he wanted to savour it and hug it close.
He closed his hand about the tiny carved stone man his mother had given him the last time he’d seen her and recited the vow he’d made on her grave. It had seen him through two shipwrecks, five severe injuries and countless minor skirmishes.
His mind skittered away from the memory of the day he’d made that vow, the day when he knew the soothsayer’s dying words had power to harm those he loved. The curse still clung to his soul, but he wanted to believe that maybe one day, if he made his new lands prosperous, he’d show the gods that he was worthy and those words—all the women he loved would crumble to dust—would cease to have any power.
‘Are you going to tell me why Kolbeinn wanted to speak with you alone? What have you done wrong this Jul? Your oath of loyalty was as loud as any man’s.’ Eylir Rokrson banged his fists together as he settled on the bench next to Gunnar. ‘I won’t have it. We’re still treated poorly because we once followed his ex-wife and then his daughter.’
Gunnar slipped the stone man back into his pouch for safekeeping and regarded his best friend and drinking companion. They had fought long and hard together. He had hugged his good fortune to his chest for long enough. ‘Against all expectation, he has offered me land...on Jura. I had thought he was about to send me to Ireland on another impossible mission. Just to test my loyalty again.’
‘You thrive on such things.’
Gunnar examined the dregs of his Jul ale. ‘He hasn’t been able to kill me yet despite his best efforts. He thinks to put my back to better use and have me till soil even if the island is windswept and nearly uninhabited. We will only truly last long in this land if we put down roots.’
‘Yours is the better fate.’ His friend nodded. ‘Many of our former comrades were put to death.’
‘They betrayed Dagmar.’ Gunnar ignored the clenching of his stomach. ‘In the end I proved my loyalty and that I’d been tricked into giving her that cup of ale.’
‘Which was switched and made you ill.’
Gunnar winced, remembering how he’d inadvertently contributed to his former leader’s abduction. He had rejoiced at her restoration, but his punishment had been to serve her father, Kolbeinn. ‘For the last two seasons, I’ve served Kolbeinn well.’
‘What made him agree to honour the promise of land?’
‘I saved Lord Ketil’s life last season during that storm and, as Kolbeinn’s overlord, he demanded Kolbeinn reward me with land.’ Gunnar regarded the bottom of his goblet. Even now it was hard for him to believe that the man who had come from nothing and who had lost everything had the chance of making his dreams come true. His land. No more fighting in the stinking mud for someone else. No more offering his sword and oath to the highest bidder. He was going to build a hall which all would envy. His success should taste better than it did.
‘Far too modest.’ Eylir clapped him on the shoulder. ‘What next? Acquiring that northern wife you have always talked of? The one with the come-hither smile and plump bosom?’
Gunnar shook his head. ‘First the land tamed, then the marriage. One wild thing at a time.’
‘Send word for her now.’ Eylir made an expansive gesture with his hands. ‘Wanted: one sweet-tempered, buxom blonde who knows northern customs. Someone who doesn’t have inconvenient relatives, but does have accommodating thighs. One who listens, but forgets to open her mouth, except for your tongue.’
Gunnar laughed along with his friend, while privately wondering how much the other warrior had had to drink. ‘It sounds like a description for the woman of your dreams.’
Eylir shook his head. ‘Not I. I want a woman I can share my life with. But I’ve watched you long enough to know what you want—the type of woman who warms your bed when you can be bothered, but who plays no other part in your life.’
Gunnar twisted the goblet between his fingers. It was true he preferred blondes who asked for no more than he was prepared to give. ‘Do you indeed? When I go looking, I will remember your counsel. But I shall require a wife, not a concubine. We can discuss it further the first time you visit me in Jura.’
‘I’m required in the north. It is why I have come to find you.’ Eylir leant towards him, blasting him with alcohol fumes. ‘My younger brother sent word. My sword arm must return north or the family faces destruction. The usual exaggeration, I’m sure.’
Eylir launched into his familiar tirade against familial obligations. Gunnar swirled his ale and listened with greedy ears while he tried not to think about the three snow-covered corpses of his mother and two young sisters before a darkened hut. Families were wasted on those who had them.
‘Family. You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to them,’ Gunnar said when Eylir reached the end of his recital.
‘Aye, you spoke true there.’ Eylir gestured with his hand, sloshing ale everywhere. ‘It is why I will provide you with a wife, the perfect wife for your new venture, one you can get sons on.’
Gunnar stood. ‘Your drunken prattling puts our friendship in peril.’
‘Serious.’ Eylir grabbed Gunnar’s arm. ‘You require a northern bride, but you have land to till, a hall to build. You admirably hold fast to the vow you gave to your mother before you departed, the one about only marrying a worthy northern woman. Wasn’t that the excuse you gave that Irish warlord who commanded you to marry his daughter last season? The redhead who gave you hungry glances and had no eyes for anyone else?’
Gunnar tightened his grasp on the goblet. ‘You should know better than to believe what I say in drink!’
‘Same excuse you gave that pretty widow from Bernicia with her many acres of lands. Or one of the dozen other women who have buzzed around you like bees searching for a honeypot. You’ve acquired your land. What excuse are you going to give for failing to travel northwards and find this elusive bride of yours?’
Gunnar instinctively fingered his mother’s stone man. ‘You exaggerate as usual.’
‘Nevertheless, I will send you a Jul present to remember if you win the wrestling competition.’
‘How much Jul ale have you consumed?’
A self-satisfied smile crossed Eylir’s face. ‘I watched you in practice this morning. Peak physical condition. A man would have to be a fool to bet against you.’
