Return of the Viking Warrior

Chapter Three

‘I owe you a life debt,’ Ash said the instant he was alone with Kara in the priest’s antechamber and before she had a chance to start shouting at him about how long he’d been gone.

With its collection of bowls, pitchers and stores of incense, the antechamber was more a storage room than a place of worship. A particularly ugly sculpture of Thor wresting Loki dominated one side of the room. Hardly the place he’d envisioned greeting his wife properly, but it would have to do. Kara needed to understand that he was aware of what she had done and that he appreciated it.

Kara tore off the bridal crown and placed it on the table with a heavy clunk. Her blonde hair hung about her shoulders like a cloud of gold. ‘Of all the things to start with. No explanation or apology. You owe me nothing.’

Ash tensed. He had never seen Kara this angry or upset before. He’d expected her to be overjoyed that he had returned. And she was wrong—he owed her a huge debt.

The events in the temple could have easily gone the other way, endangering both their lives. He had never considered that his uncle would actively seek to deny his identity. His uncle had always encouraged him to chase adventure. Had he decided that the man who had returned was still not worthy of being called Hring Haraldson’s son? Or was it some power game that he knew nothing about? All Ash knew was that his uncle was now his enemy and, therefore, his family’s enemy, too.

‘I always pay my debts, Kara,’ he continued while she regarded him as if she wanted to wring his neck. He’d forgotten how beautiful she could be when aroused. ‘And you gave me back my life.’

‘How can I give back something you never lost?’ Her voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘Speaking the truth benefits everyone. Lies are always discovered. We did marry seven years ago. I’m pleased you finally remembered you had a waiting family in the midst of your adventuring.’

Ash struggled to control his temper. He’d always known he had a family. He’d endured the last six years of hell so he could return with his head held high and his honour intact...for his family. ‘What was going on out there, Kara?’

‘I was about to marry an honourable man. Generally that is what being a bride at a wedding means.’ Her deep-blue eyes blazed defiantly. ‘To the best of my knowledge, you died in a shipwreck, Ash.’

‘I promised you I would return.’

‘There are some promises people are unable to keep. I’ve learnt that lesson well, Ash.’ She slammed her fists together. ‘You must be aware how difficult it can be for a widow to survive.’

Ash rubbed the back of his neck. He supposed he deserved the rebuke. For as long as he could remember Kara had hung on his every word and adored him. When his father had ordered him to marry, Kara had been the natural choice. Safe. Comfortable. Always there and someone who believed in his dreams and him. He’d taken her for granted, just as he had all of his good fortune in those days. But when he’d been trapped in that dungeon with his men dying all about him, he’d known that he couldn’t return to Raumerike ruined and broken. He’d sent a message.

He tried to think if the Kara he remembered would have spoken in front of a crowd. His main memories of her were her soft crooning voice as she tended one of the sick animals she had found. Or blushing crimson when he stole a kiss.

‘Why did no one recognise me until you asked?’ he asked to keep his mind off uncomfortable thoughts.

She tilted her chin upwards. ‘If you wanted to be recognised without question, you should have returned sooner.’

‘I ran into complications.’ Ash waved a hand, dismissing the past seven years. The past was behind him. The less Kara knew of his struggles, the better. She only needed to know he’d returned a hero. She’d always loved a hero. ‘Why were you prepared to marry Valdar Nerison? He is the wrong sort of man for you.’

She batted her impossibly long lashes and her lips quirked upwards, but anger and bitterness blazed in her eyes. ‘How would you know what sort of man I require, Ash? Seven years, Ash, without word. Seven years is far too long.’

He silently counted to ten, rather than giving way to his temper. Did she really want the broken man he’d been after the dungeon? He could remember her last whispered words about making her proud and returning with gold in his purse. ‘Where is my father? Why wasn’t he there? Or doesn’t he approve of the proposed union?’

Stifling silence invaded the small room. Her expression changed from fury to one of sorrow and pity in an instant. His mind reeled. Ash braced himself, hoping against hope that he guessed wrong.

‘Your father collapsed when he learnt of your death. He never recovered the use of his limbs.’

‘No! I sent a message back. I thought he understood what I needed to do.’ Ash fell to his knees on the rushes. His entire body shook. One of the things that had driven him onwards was the thought that his father would finally have to admit that his son was worthy of being called a Raumerike warrior. His father would once again be able to hold up his head. All sense of shame would go. His father would realise the sort of man he’d become. And now he never would.

His father had always seemed as sturdy and steady as the oak which served as the family’s guardian tree or tuntreet. His father had collapsed when he thought his only son had died and never recovered. Never recovered. Ash’s mind shied from the word.

‘Can you take me to see him?’ he asked, hoping that his guess was wrong.

‘There is more.’

‘Don’t spare me. I want to know everything.’

‘You asked.’

Each new word rained a blow to Ash’s heart. His father was dead, but more importantly Kara had spent the last few years caring for his bedridden father.

‘He died last Jul-tide of a fever,’ she said, finishing. ‘I run Jaarlshiem the best I can, but the estate needs a master as well as a mistress. I refuse to lose my home, Ash, simply because I don’t have a man.’

‘I wish I’d known.’ He closed his eyes and offered prayers for his father’s shade to any god who happened to be listening. The sort of son his father wanted would have been there to sing the lament and pour some of the ash from the funeral pyre on the family’s tuntreet.

There were so many things he had planned on telling his father. He’d looked forward to his father finally declaring his only son was worthy of being called the son of one of Raumerike’s legendary warriors. ‘I...I would have done things differently.’

‘Undoing the past is an impossibility, Ash.’

Ash struggled to think. His father’s demise gave an explanation as to why his Uncle Harald refused to recognise him and why Kara had planned to remarry. His uncle had always coveted Jaarlshiem and the title his father had won through the strength of his sword. The conferring of a jaarldom was far from straightforward if the heir was absent or not a strong enough warrior. It normally took a year or more. And Kara’s fate would be tied to the land.

Ash clenched his fist and stared at the cold hearth, aware of his many shortcomings. He’d simply never thought it possible for his father to die.

‘I know you loved your father,’ Kara said, breaking the silence. ‘Your father certainly loved you. Weep, if you like. I cried when he breathed his last.’

He raised his face to hers. Tears might come later, but not now. He refused to cry in front of anyone. He remembered her finding him in tears once before when he had run away after his father had beaten him for some trivial offence. She’d wiped his eyes with the corner of her apron. The shedding of tears was an occupation for the youth he used to be, not the man he’d become.

‘I sent word,’ he said, turning back to face her when he knew he could trust his voice to remain steady. ‘I did what was necessary for my honour. My father must have understood.’

She put a hand on her hip. ‘Your honour? Since when does honour come before life? Before family?’

‘For my father, always,’ he said very slowly. There was no need to recount the beatings he’d suffered as a boy when he’d fallen short of his father’s ideals or during the horrors he’d endured in his quest to restore his honour. The thought of returning home without that honour had been unthinkable and, not for the first time, he wished his life had taken a different path. ‘I returned with enough wealth to pay all life debts and tributes I owe. I’m aware of what my father required from any son of his. He beat it into me as a boy.’

Kara slammed her fists together and her eyes blazed with fury. She looked like she had truly become one of the Valkyrie, rather than merely named after one.

‘Your father thought you dead! Dead!’ She stamped her foot. ‘Instead of worrying about your precious honour, you should have returned. Your father wanted you here by his side, running the estate when he became too ill.’

‘Hiding behind my father’s shade, Kara? We both know how he used his fists. Be honest—you wanted me here, but you also wanted me to be a hero. You asked me to return one.’

She slammed her fists together again. ‘I asked you to return.’

‘I sent word when I escaped from the dungeon,’ he explained, watching her intently for any signs of softening and understanding. For months he’d hoped for a word of reprieve, but nothing had arrived. ‘The silence was deafening, but I knew what my father required. Return a hero or die. Pay my debts without his help.’

Kara dipped her head so that her loose hair fell over her face, hiding her expression. Ash watched a tiny heartbeat pulse in the hollow of her throat. Silently he prayed she’d understand what he’d gone through and would forgive him.

‘The tribute was paid years ago, from the estate,’ she said in a hollow voice. ‘Shipwrecks happen because the gods wish it. He wanted his son.’

‘My father wanted to preserve the honour of his dead son as he’d no use for the living one,’ Ash corrected her with an impatient wave of his hand. Didn’t she understand—it had to come from him, from what he’d earned, rather than from what he’d been given? ‘My father should not have suffered for my mistakes. None should have suffered but me.’

‘Are you that wealthy?’ she asked lifting her head so her deep blue gaze met his. ‘Four years to pay everyone. Jaarlshiem is one of the most productive farms in Raumerike.’

‘Yes, I am. My last voyage became a raid on a church filled to the brim with gold and silver. My share provided the final amount and more.’ He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face so he could gaze directly into her eyes. ‘I came home, Kara. You will not want for anything. I know my duty now that my father is dead and I will do it. You are my wife.’

He bent his head, preparing to taste her lips and see if they were as sweet as he remembered. To kiss away her anger like he had done in the past.

Kara twisted out of his grip. Her gaze became fixed on the grinning statue of Loki, which dominated the priest’s antechamber, rather than drowning in the deep blue pools of Ash’s eyes. That god-like Ash had a silver tongue to charm people.

It would be so easy to give in and taste Ash’s lips. Her entire being wanted to. But she knew kissing Ash would be a mistake. Her attraction to Ash was the hangover from a girlish fantasy. He couldn’t just smile at her, touch her hand and make seven years disappear as if they were nothing. Her days of unabashed adoration and ready excuses had finished when her father-in-law had showed her the sort of man Ash truly was. He most definitely had not been the golden hero of her dreams who would magically appear to solve her problems.

Ash had thirsted after glory, putting it before everyone and everything, and he had found it. But how long until he needed to quench his thirst again? This time she had to consider Rurik as well as herself.

She’d grown up in the intervening years. A necessity. She had taken responsibility. She’d run the estate very successfully. She’d done all the practical things that Ash should have been doing, if he had put his quest for glory to one side. Now he expected her to melt in his arms as if nothing had happened, as if she was the same simple infatuated girl who always forgave him with a smile. Romantic words melted like dirty slush in the sunlight of practicality.

‘This isn’t the right time or place,’ she said, fixing him with her eye as if he were the same age as Rurik and had done some mischief. ‘We’re in a temple. People expect to see us at this so-called welcoming feast.’

The excuse sounded weak to her ears. She lifted her chin and glared as if he were Rurik caught in some misdeed. He appeared amused rather than appropriately cowed.

‘Kara, let go of your anger.’ He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. The warmth invaded her body, melting the ice which had encased her soul for so long. ‘What purpose does it serve? What matters is the future, our future. As long as the mead and ale flow, the feast will be deemed a success.’

‘Keep away from me!’ She took a step back from him. ‘Your touch does nothing for me.’

Her body protested at the lie. A subtle brush of his hand and her internal flame sparked into a glow. For six years, she had considered it dead. Why did it have to be Ash and only Ash who did this to her? She wrapped her arms about her body, struggling not to lean in to him.

Slowly, he lowered his hands. She stumbled backwards.

‘Careful. I don’t want you to fall.’

She raised her chin. ‘My balance is excellent. Thank you.’

Kara put her hand over the spot where his hand had been. Warmth pulsed through her. She concentrated on breathing steadily.

‘A problem, wife?’ he enquired softly. ‘You used to beg for them—one, two, three. Have you forgotten so soon?’

Kara ground her teeth. Beg for his kisses! She’d behaved worse than she recalled. Or was he remembering another of his women? She had never begged. Asked, maybe. Hoped for, definitely. Did he take her for a simpleton?

‘Your memory is faulty.’

He gave a triumphant male smile. ‘Can you remember the kiss you begged for under the apple tree with the blossom falling all about you? I can. I asked you to marry me afterwards and you agreed.’

‘Seven years, Ash Hringson,’ Kara ground out, turning so she faced the Loki statue. He’d asked her to marry him because he’d wanted a ship to sail off and have adventures in, not because he wanted more of her innocent kisses. She hated that she had once believed the lie of his unswerving devotion.

Twisting events to suit his purpose, a trait he shared with his son. She was finished with being an apologist for his actions, always searching for the good. ‘You could have sent word of your progress, but chose not to. We’re strangers now. Walking back into my life and expecting to take up where we left off is a mistake. It will not happen. I will not allow my heart or life to be trampled on.’

‘You are my wife.’ Ash’s brows knit together as his hand fell to his side. ‘It is natural for a husband to kiss his wife, particularly after a long absence. Especially after a long absence.’

Unbridled fury coursed through her veins. She spun round and managed to stop herself from shaking him by the narrowest of threads. ‘Until I know for certain that I want this marriage to continue, I keep a separate bed.’

The words hung between them. The adoring girl she’d once been cringed. After she’d agreed to their marriage, whenever she protested about something, he’d kissed her until her senses had spun with desire. With so much at stake, she couldn’t afford to return to that girl.

His face became ice-carved, emphasising the half-moon scar on his chin. Instead of the young man she remembered, a fierce warrior stood before her. Then, like the sun coming between the clouds on an autumn day, he smiled.

‘Of course we shall stay married, Kara. You’re simply a bit put out and not thinking clearly. I’m hardly to blame. The message went astray.’

A bit put out? Kara’s jaw dropped. Ash made it seem like he had been gone for a few months and that she was overreacting. He should understand that seven years was an age and she needed time. They both did. Things had changed. She had changed. Going back to being the romantic dreamer she had been all those years ago was impossible. She had Rurik to protect.

Her stomach dropped. Rurik. He didn’t know. She had to tell Ash about their son. She glanced about her at the statues and incense burners. But not here. Not now. He’d just heard about his father’s death. She wasn’t ready to explain the full story of Rurik’s birth. It had to be done carefully.

She struggled with a calming breath. ‘It is far more than a fit of pique over a small slight. I’m within my rights to divorce you. We haven’t shared a bed for over five years. Consider my request for time as payment of your life debt to me if you must, but give me that time. Do not seek to seduce me.’

His eyes regarded her with a thoughtful expression.

‘You’re within your rights even without demanding payment for the life debt,’ he said and held out his hands. An indulgent smile played on his lips. ‘If it is what my beautiful wife wants, who am I to deny the request?’

The tension rushed out of her shoulders. He had agreed. She had time to find the right words and explain about Rurik and what she had done. She’d make him understand.

She tapped her finger against her lips. He had agreed, far too readily. Ash was up to something, but she knew all his tricks now. She would resist him.

‘Thank you,’ she said, inclining her head. ‘Thank you for appreciating the difficulty we both face. We were friends once. I would like to remain friends.’

‘I do appreciate the length of time, Kara. Believe me. But you seem to be nervous. There is never any need to be nervous around me. Ever. Your interests are mine. It is what husbands do.’

He took a step closer to her and ran a finger down the side of her face, sending a pulse of warmth radiating through her. Her body swayed towards him as the ache in her lips grew.