The Viking's Chosen Read online

  A half hour later, there was another knock at the door. Instead of walking over to it, I simply stared at it as though it was a three-headed monster preparing to devour me. My heart began to beat painfully hard in my chest and my palms grew damp. I wasn’t sure whose presence I feared most on the other side of the door—Cathal or Torben.

  The choice was suddenly taken out of my hands when the door opened and in walked Lidia. My handmaiden glanced out into the hall, confusion marring her brow before she closed the door and turned to face me.

  “I was not aware that you were getting new guards,” she said.

  “I was not either,” I said with a sigh. I watched as Lidia moved about the room, making the bed and straightening pillows that were already straight. “I can tell you have more to say on the matter, Lidia. By all means, speak already.”

  She shrugged her shoulders as if it was of no consequence. “I was just thinking that they were both quite handsome.”

  “You make it sound as though guards cannot be handsome.”

  Lidia tsked at me. “When have you ever seen a guard that looked like those two?” She motioned toward the door.

  I had no argument. Torben and even Brant, I could admit, were both exceedingly handsome. “Have you ever seen them before?” I asked her.

  Lidia shook her head. “I would not have forgotten either of them nor would I have failed to have mentioned it. They are new. Those two will be the talk of the castle staff.”

  I smiled at her. “That, my dear friend, is quite true.”

  Lidia, quiet though she may be, did enjoy sharing any tidbits with me that she heard or saw outside of the castle. She was never quite as graphic as Dayna, but every bit as eager.

  Just as Lidia was assisting me with removing my night clothes, the door flew open again, giving me a brief glimpse of a wide eyed Torben. I jerked my gown up over my bare shoulder and tore my eyes from his to glare at my sister.

  Dayna slammed the door with just as much fervor as she had opened it.

  “Have you not heard of knocking?” I snapped at her, embarrassment at Torben having seen me in such a state burning up my flesh.

  “Sure, I have heard of knocking. But why should I have to knock to enter my own sister’s room? And besides, I assumed by this hour you would already be changed and ready for the day,” Dayna countered. “How was I to know that you were dragging around your room like a sickly snail?”

  “Can you think of one reason why I should be jumping for joy to begin the day?”

  A mischievous smile lit my sister’s face. “Well, I can think of two and they are both standing just outside your room. Where has Father been hiding those two?”

  “I have no idea. They were there when I awoke this morn. Now would you please lock the door so that no one else barges in while I am changing?”

  “Yes, yes,” she waved me off. “Get ready, but while you are doing so we must discuss our strategy.”

  “What strategy?” I asked as Lidia slid my dressing gown over my head and then held out one of Cathal’s dresses for me to step into. The fabric was slick and cool. It felt good against my heated skin. But once she raised it all the way up and I slipped my arms in it, I realized how little it covered and my skin flushed even hotter. I glanced down at the overabundance of cleavage that was pressed up and out by the cut of the dress.

  “The strategy we shall employ to convince King Cathal that you are not the bride for him,” Dayna answered as she tapped her chin. The wheels were turning in my sister’s head and I did not know if I should be thankful or scared.

  “Perhaps he is not a man who likes breasts,” I pointed to my own. “Since mine seem to be handing out engraved invitations, he will be repulsed and sail back to Tara without delay.”

  Dayna made a sound between a snort and a laugh. “Breasts are like sunshine, my dear sister. Everyone likes them.”

  Lidia scrunched her nose up at the offensive gown. “I cannot believe that this is the fashion in France.”

  “The French encourage embracing the beauty of the feminine form,” Dayna said absently.

  “Can they not embrace it behind closed doors?” I said as I walked over to the mirror and stared, wide eyed at the woman before me. “I am not leaving this room…not like this,” I declared.

  “I am a bit surprised he would allow you to be paraded around like that. Won’t he be jealous? The eyes of every man in the castle will be upon you.” Dayna asked, having abandoned, for the time being, her plans to derail the impending nuptials.

  I stared at my image, feeling like a woman of the night. How could I hold my head up as a princess of my people while dressed like a harlot?

  “No,” I finally responded. “Cathal is a man who is absolutely confident in his own position. He wants other men to see me and know that they could never have me. He wants other men to be jealous of him, lording over them what they could never touch.”

  The three of us stared at the mirror for several moments in silence until I finally threw my hands up. “There is nothing to be done about it now.” I turned from the mirror and motioned for Lidia to follow. “Could you please just do something simple with it?” I asked pointing to the mass of hair still mused from my sleep.

  “I have taken it upon myself to be your escort, sister mine,” Dayna informed me as she flopped down on the chair across from me.

  “Do not feel that you must. I will have my guards with me.”

  She grinned back at me and winked. “Oh, believe me, it has not slipped my notice that you will have those two handsome beasts with you.”

  “Handsome beasts?” I asked while Lidia giggled.

  Dayna shrugged shamelessly. “I may be only sixteen, mind you I am very close to seventeen, but that does not mean I do not know a prime stallion when I see one. Or two,” she added cheekily.

  I pointed my finger at her, attempting to sound as stern as possible. “Well, you just make sure you don’t suddenly develop an interest in equestrianism, Dayna Auvray.”

  “I think interest isn’t a strong enough word. I’m thinking of taking up trick riding.”

  I closed my eyes and rubbed my temple, attempting to keep the headache I felt coming on at bay. “Bloody hell, you will be the death of me.”

  “There have been very few times in my life when I have had the wind knocked out of me, and it’s never happened when I wasn’t in a fight.”

  * * *

  ~ Torben

  “That is to be your wife?” Brant asked.

  I heard my friend’s words, but I was still too busy staring at the door that had just been closed in my face a second time. My brain was stuck on the exposed collar bone and shoulder of the woman who held me captive.

  I felt a smack to the back of my head and whipped around with a snarl on my face. “Mind yourself, Brant.”

  He held up his hands. “I meant no offense, but you seemed a little distracted. I do not blame you. She is quite a lovely piece.” Brant’s eyes flashed with something that looked like amusement. “Not to mention, she is pure as the driven snow. A woman who has known the touch of a man would never turn that shade of red.”

  I felt my muscles tense at the fact that my next in command was having such thoughts regarding Allete. Pure as the driven snow was just another way of saying she had never been unclothed in front of a man. “It would behoove you to keep your thoughts far from the skin of Allete and whether she has been touched by a man,” I snapped. For whatever reason, one I was not about to examine too closely, I felt very protective of the small, feisty princess.

  “All teasing aside,” Brant said after several minutes of silence. “She is beautiful. I hope the prophecy is correct, and she is the woman who you will have. You deserve something beautiful in this life of war we live.”

  “When did you become so philosophical?” I jested.

  Brant shrugged his large shoulders. “I have layers.”

  I chuckled. “Yes, you are certainly like an onion. Peel back the layers to find something u
nderneath, but by doing so, a stench is released that brings tears to the eyes of those around you.”

  “You are simply a riot,” Brant said dryly. “Oh, and just to ease your mind, I have no designs on your woman. Now the lively one who just whipped past us with only a passing glance, she is intriguing.” He licked his lips. “She is more to my taste.”

  I groaned. “We are on a mission. Please refrain from attempting to bed a host of the English women.”

  Brant reached out and clapped me on the shoulder. “Do not worry. I do not want to bed a host of them. Just that one.” He nodded his head toward the door where the woman in question had disappeared.

  “Did you notice the likeness? And the clothes? She is probably Allete’s younger sister,” I said, crossing my arms and giving him my best do as I tell you glare.

  “Relax, Torben. I will not jeopardize the mission for a gown…even if it is royal and encasing such a beauty.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Bloody hell, when did you become such a wielder of words?” Footsteps moving quickly from the right side of the corridor caused us both straighten and slip into the roles we were playing.

  Under the pretense of acting as a watchful guard, I jerked my head to the side to look at the approaching man who was striding toward us. He was tall, though still a few inches shorter than myself. I imagined the women probably classified him as handsome, though there was a cruelty that danced in his narrowed eyes. His mouth was thin and tightly stretched across his face, as though he was perpetually offended by everything around him. The man stunk of wealth and entitlement. He was the type of man who believed everyone to be beneath him, and he proved it when he opened his mouth to speak.

  “Are you going to open the door, or do you need a heralding trumpet to prompt you to do your job?”

  My jaw tightened, and I was sure I was going to break some teeth. “Forgive me, my lord,”

  The man interrupted me. “Your Highness,” he snapped.

  “No, I am simply the guard,” I retorted. Brant attempted to cover his laugh with a cough.

  The man in front of me was seething, which only made me want to laugh.

  “Not you, you idiot. I was speaking of me. You do not address me as ‘my lord,’ you address me as ‘Your Highness.’ I am Cathal, the king of Tara.”

  He paused, looking expectantly at me as though I was going to break out into applause. I simply returned his stare.

  “Now, open the door,” Cathal ordered.

  “I cannot,” I said. “The lady is still dressing. I am sure you would want to protect her reputation and virtue, seeing as how you are to wed her.” I knew I was walking a fine line with the king, but it was so easy to bait the man, which might have been the only thing that kept me from punching him.

  I turned, pushing my body in between his and the door, and knocked gently. As soon as the door opened, I stepped quickly inside, gently moving the woman in front of me aside and shutting the door behind me. When I looked up, I saw three sets of eyes staring at me. One set was quite appreciative, one set was clearly confused and shocked, and the third set was curious. I dismissed the appreciative and curious pair and looked at the woman who was staring at me with her mouth opening and closing, unsure of what to say. Butterflies assaulted my stomach as I took in her beautiful form, followed by a roaring dragon that threatened to consume me as I realized what she was wearing. I clenched my fist, pushing down the rage, and taking a deep breath, steadied myself.

  “Forgive the intrusion, my lady, and my also impertinence, but where the hell is the rest of your dress?” I said, bowing my head slightly though my eyes never left her. “King Cathal is waiting for you, and I did not want to let him enter until I knew you were appropriate. It was a good thing I did not let him in, considering that …” I could not even call it a dress. There was practically no top half; I would be more apt to call it a skirt with suspenders. Allete stood and stalked toward me, stopping when she was a few feet away.

  “And what about you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Do you think you can come into my chambers any time you like? You are a guard, not my nursemaid. My life is yours to protect, not my honor. And what if I wasn’t decent? I could have your head for storming in here.” She was angry that I had called her out on the scrap of material she was pretending was a dress. But she had a point. I had no right to enter her room, of course. Perhaps I should not have acted so hastily. The idea of Cathal alone with her, however, twisted in my gut like rotten meat and spurned on my rash behavior.

  “You are right, my lady. I should not have intruded, but I did not know how else to keep him from entering. I know that your father would not wish the man in your bedchamber before the wedding.” I fought to keep my eyes on her face, though I was man enough to admit that they did drop to the ample bust that was threatening to make a full appearance. I wanted to throw a blanket over her so that no other would ever see her in such a state. Why in the gods would she put on something so revealing?

  Allete held my gaze a moment longer but did not acknowledge my words. Instead she turned to one of the other women in the room. “Dayna, this is Torben, the new guard I was telling you about. Torben, this is my sister, Dayna. And the beauty who answered the door is Lidia, my handmaiden.”

  I bowed to each of them. “Ladies.” It did not escape my notice that Dayna was clothed much more appropriately than her older sister.

  “Please allow the king to enter,” Allete commanded. She pulled her shoulders back and raised her chin slightly.

  My blood boiled, and it wasn’t because she had given me, a clan general, an order. Rather, I was incensed she was going to let that slime into her chambers. “Perhaps you should meet him in the dining hall after you have put on something more akin to what your lovely sister is wearing,” I suggested through clenched teeth.

  Her eyes snapped to mine quick as lightning. “My attire is not your concern.”

  “I am your guard, Your Highness. Anything involving your person is my concern.”

  “I think you mean anything involving my safety,” she attempted to correct me. “My choice of gown does not affect my safety.”

  “Forgive me if I disagree. I will have to fight off every male in the castle if you parade around looking like—”

  “Be very careful how you end that sentence, Torben,” she seethed.

  “Every man’s desire,” I bit out.

  “Every man?” she asked coyly, her demeanor changing without warning.

  “Do you really want to play with me, Princess?” I challenged as I took a step toward her. My six and a half foot frame towered over her diminutive form. She tilted her head back to look up at me. Apprehension filled her light brown eyes, but no fear, for which I was glad. I did not want her to fear me, just follow my instructions regarded her safety. I nearly laughed to myself. It was apparent that Princess Allete was not about to turn belly up and submit.

  Smothered laughter reminded me that we were not alone. Allete seemed to draw my attention so completely that everyone else faded into the background while in her presence—a dangerous weakness to have.

  “Open the door,” she all but growled at me.

  “I will not,” I refused. “He has no business being in your chambers.”

  “I have chaperones.” She pointed to her sister and Lidia.

  I snorted. “Two females. What kind of safety do they offer if he decides to take what he already thinks is his? Especially when you offer it up in such desirable wrapping.”

  Allete gasped at my blatant reference to the intimacy between man and wife. I could not stop the grin that lifted on my lips. She was beautiful, but especially so when she was angry. She looked like an avenging angel. All she needed was a glowing sword.

  Allete stomped her foot. The laughter I had held back rolled out. “Did you just stomp your foot?”

  “You have been my guard all of an hour, and already you are worse than Clay.” She stopped abruptly and narrowed her eyes on me. “Wher
e is Clay?” She glanced around the room as if he might suddenly appear. “I was so surprised by your appearance earlier that I did not think to ask.”

  “Your previous guard has been reassigned. He will be a liaison to your betrothed’s own men.”

  “Do not call him that,” Allete snapped.

  “Do not call him your previous guard?” My brow drew together as I watched her begin to pace.

  “Not that. I meant, do not call Cathal my betrothed.”

  I tilted my head, trying to understand her sudden change in demeanor. “But he is your betrothed.”

  She was in my face faster than I would have thought possible. Her words were bitten out through clenched teeth, and the emotion that flowed with them fueled my own rage. “He is a man who made the right promises and offered the highest price to obtain me. That is not a betrothed; that is a merchant, and I am simply his merchandise.”

  “You do not want to marry him?” I could not stop myself from asking. The question seemed to bring Allete back from her angry rant. She straightened her dress before turning away, no doubt in the hopes that it would go unnoticed that she was attempting to pull the bodice of the dress higher.

  “I do not know why we are speaking of this.” Her voice was once again formal and reserved. “Please let Cathal know I will meet him in the dining hall.”