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Fiona rose bright and early on her wedding day, although in truth, this was because she hadn’t slept well at all. She was afraid that something might go wrong and that one night with Varrik was all she was going to get. If so, then she was glad it was a night that would last a lifetime in her mind. She would never forget the hot passion of making love with him under the moonlight, of giving him her body and her virtue and her heart. These were things that nobody else could ever have, especially not someone like Alec Fletcher.

Lotta had volunteered to do her hair for the wedding, so she came in with a goading smile and tried to make Fiona irate. But this time, Fiona was calm and wasn’t going to rise to the bait.

“I feel sorry for ye, Lotta,” she said eventually. “I hae tried tae be a sister tae ye. I know that I hae nae always been kind, and perhaps I tried tae push ye intae things that ye haed no interest in. But all I wanted was for ye tae protect yerself because ye lost everything. I hae lost a lot as well. I thought that we could hae been friends. I wish ye haed nae done this. Da and I hae only ever tried tae give ye a home,” she said, looking directly into Lotta’s eyes. Fiona wasn’t sure how much of the plan Lotta knew about, but she had a feeling it was more than what Lotta was letting on.

Lotta made an excuse and left. Fiona didn’t care that her hair wasn’t finished. She doubted Alec would care either. She wasn’t sure if she would be spared and be taken as a prize if the Fletcher attack was successful or if she would be killed as they sought to extinguish the last remnants of the Callan clan. Fiona sighed. All this war was so unnecessary. And it was clear in her mind that Highlanders could be just as bloodthirsty as Vikings.

But there was little time to be spent thinking about war and blood and Vikings. It was her wedding day, and if things didn’t go to plan, then she might well end up being married to Alec Fletcher, forced to live a life that she did not want. Even so, as she was getting dressed in her gown and placed flowers in her hair, there was a part of her that could not resist the feeling of excitement. She just wished that she was marrying the right man. Doubt flickered in her mind, wondering if things would have been different had she been more willing to get married when she was younger. Would Lotta have held such a grudge against her? Perhaps not, and perhaps this terrible situation would have been avoided. But then again, she would not have known Varrik as well. It was he who had truly changed her mind about men and marriage and love. His presence had awoken something inside her, something deep and profound that she could not ignore at all. A smile twitched on her lips whenever she thought of him, and passion burned within her heart.

It was just such a shame that her wedding day had to be marred by war.

Still, as far as she was concerned, this wasn’t a real wedding. That had happened the previous night under the moon, in solitude with Varrik. Their hearts had whispered to each other, and their bodies had responded enthusiastically. A rosy bloom shaded her cheeks as she thought about the events of the previous night, wishing that it could have lasted forever.

“Ah, lass, ye are just as beautiful as yer ma was on her wedding day,” Laird Callan said. He wore a proud smile, and his eyes glistened with tears—happy tears. He took her hand and gave her a fatherly hug, kissing her lightly on both cheeks. “I hae always wanted tae see this day. I know that it is nae the way ye dreamed it, and I know the past few days hae been filled with strife, but I hope that ye can see the good that is gaeing tae come of this. I’m sure that Alec Fletcher will grow on ye. Marriage can be like that, ye know. Sometimes love takes a while tae take hold of two people,” he said, although she got a sense that he was saying this to try and reassure her rather than because he believed it. “I’m just glad that yer life can begin and ye can be happy.”

When the wedding had been arranged, she had been angry with her father, but now it was impossible to hold onto those feelings. Laird Callan only wanted the best for her, and it was just a shame that his good intentions had been taken advantage of and twisted by Laird Fletcher. It took all her willpower not to tell him the truth about what was happening, for she did not want to compromise the plan. But even so, she hated to lie to her father. It seemed to be the only thing she could do, though. She couldn’t tell him that she loved another man or that she had already pledged her heart to another under the twinkling stars and the silver light of the moon. She couldn’t tell him that she was ready to give her life to defend the clan either, although she certainly hoped it wouldn’t come to that. After making her solemn vows with Varrik, she wanted to spend a life with him, grow old with him, and discover the new adventures that life could bring.

She took her father’s hand. “Life is never perfect, Da, but we make it what it is. I’m sure that I will end up loving the man I marry, and no matter what happens, I know ye hae only ever wanted the best for me. Thank ye for keeping me safe all these years. I could nae hae asked for a better da.”

They hugged again, and then Fiona prepared to step outside and walk toward the man who was going to be her husband. Her father noticed that she was nervous, but it was for entirely different reasons than he assumed.

Varrik had gathered his men in a secluded spot where they could charge to counter the Fletcher onslaught. Vikings were born warriors, and being on the eve of battle awakened something within each of them that was ancient and hallowed. They remained patient, waiting for the right moment to strike, but then there was a cry from behind as arrows rained down on them. They scattered to protect themselves from the death that fell from the skies, but it was clear that someone knew of their plans. Varrik told his Vikings to defend themselves while he prayed that Fiona would be safe. If he couldn’t get to her in time to bolster the attack, then he might well never see her again, although if the gods were kind, they would recognize her warrior’s heart and grant her entry into Valhalla. But for now, he had to fight well enough to ensure his own place. He rallied his men and made sure that he took his fair share of blood. And before he was done, he had a special mission for one of his Vikings.

As he waited, he looked at the sky, knowing that underneath the clouds, Fiona was walking toward another man, another destiny. Even though the vows they had made were solemn and binding under the eyes of the gods, there had been no mortal witnesses to what they had promised each other. Should either of them fall, or should Varrik fail, then Fiona would have to live as the bride to this other wretch of a man.

Anger burned within Varrik to think that he was so close to happiness and yet it was still so elusive. He wanted to bring the thunder and the lightning again to ensure that Fiona would end up with him. After their bodies and their hearts had been entwined, it was impossible to think of ending up without her, and yet he knew it was a real possibility. All the others in her clan would be smiling and happy that she was getting married to a fellow Highlander, without knowing that he was the real villain in all this.

Varrik snarled and counted the moments as they went by, waiting for the moment when he could reclaim his beloved, and their lives could begin in earnest. Although he wanted to earn passage to Valhalla, he was not ready to leave the mortal realm just yet.

There was still much for him to accomplish.

Fiona swallowed a lump in her throat as she made her way to the wedding. Alec was standing beside his father and hers, and most of the village was in attendance. It was a happy occasion for everyone apart from her, although strangely, Lotta wasn’t looking as smug as Fiona had anticipated. Fiona looked around at her warriors and gave them a sly nod, waiting for the moment when they were going to strike. She looked at the Fletcher clansmen with suspicion. They were all wearing cloaks, which were easy enough to hide weapons in. She allowed herself a slight smirk as she anticipated the moment when Varrik and his Vikings would come crashing in, ready to turn the tables. It was an odd feeling in the air, though, as though nothing unordinary was going to happen at all. It was almost possible to believe that there wasn’t going to be an attack and it had all been some terrible dream, but in her heart, Fiona knew what things were true. She breathed calmly so as not to give anything away as she made her way to Alec and Laird Fletcher.

But when Fiona reached her betrothed, her smile faded.

“Ye thought ye were wise, Fiona, but I know what ye are planning. The Vikings are already being dealt with. Ye should hae treated Lotta better. How many times did she come tae me and tell me that ye were nae being fair tae her? She is as good as my daughter, and I will see that she hae a good marriage. But since ye think ye can stop me, I’ll be even more vicious. I was planning on letting ye live, but now…” Laird Fletcher said, his words fading into cackling laughter.

Laird Callan furrowed his brow in shock and asked what was going on while Lotta looked sullen, staring at the ground.

“Attack!” Laird Fletcher said. Fiona watched in abject horror as he flung his cloak aside and pulled out a gleaming dagger, thrusting it into her father’s chest. When he pulled it out, the blade was covered in scarlet blood, and Laird Callan slumped to the ground, life pouring from his heart.