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Chapter One
Lagenheim, Norway 1071
Marteinn clasped his hands behind his back, keenly observing the men wrestling in the lake. The point of the game—whoever lost consciousness first, failed to advance to the next round. This was the last contest before the championship, and the winner of that would walk away with the right to petition Jarl Erik the Bald for a favor.
Once a year, the summer festival graced the lands at Lagenheim. Beautiful dancers and acrobats arrived, along with merchants and vendors from the four corners of Scandinavia. Sometimes, the Saami signed their sons up for the field games.
That’s who Marteinn was watching now with deep interest—a superbly muscled Saami near to beating Marteinn’s own commander. Although the game was considered a swimming event, anyone that favored the sport knew it was more about sheer brutality.
He smiled. He’d waited nearly a year to find an outlet for his pent-up aggression. This might be the answer, because he intended to win, even if it meant drowning his opponent.
Satisfied he knew who the winner would be, he studied the spectators. Men and women alike enjoyed the games. Both sexes screamed enthusiastically for the competitors they favored and jeered at the ones they disliked. Of course, he never risked the displeasure of the masses. As captain of Jarl Erik’s personal guard, no one dared to humiliate him publicly—until Kara Dalgaard.
Her rejection tasted as bitter as wormwood. His gut twisted. Marteinn closed his eyes, remembering the Odin forsaken day she’d kissed him outside her father’s keep, promising to wait for him while he served in King Olaf’s new army.
It had all been a lie.
The girl he’d grown up loving had harbored feelings for a bloody Scotsman. Jarl Aaron McNally, the king’s confidant and now Erik’s son-in-law.
The couple stood just yards away, joyfully embraced. He hadn’t been near Kara in months. After she’d married, he’d left the Trondelag to resume his duties in Lagenheim, hundreds of miles away from his shattered dreams.
Seeing her again brought all those feelings rushing back. She’d greeted him at the feast last night as if nothing had changed between them.
Brother she’d called him.
Out of respect for her father, he’d kept his mouth shut. There was a list of things he’d wanted to spew in return. But he’d risk losing his self-respect. And regardless of their complicated past, she still claimed his heart.
He raked his fingers through his hair, the merciless heat increasing his ire. He’d spent years training as a soldier, killed countless enemies, successfully defended his lord’s lands, but nothing could have prepared him for the war that raged in his heart. In essence, he’d remain half a man until the day he could purge her completely from his soul.
“Marteinn …” The familiar voice made him cringe.
He opened his eyes; Kara was smiling up at him.
“Tell me I haven’t missed the title match,” she said.
“No.” He gritted his teeth. The sight of her wearing fitted breeches and a man’s tunic made his cock stir. “This is the last round. Whoever wins, faces me.”
She clapped her hands. “I begged Aaron to compete.”
Marteinn wished he had, nothing would have kept him from beating her arrogant husband senseless. “Maybe next year.”
“I don’t think we’ll be making the trip,” she said, cupping her stomach. “I believe I’m with child.”
So, the bastard’s seed had finally taken root inside her womb. He looked away, resolved to remain as civil as possible. But he was never the sort of man who could mask his emotions.
“Congratulations, milady.” He knew better than to face her, and focused on random people in the crowd.
“Milady?” She tugged his sleeve like she used to when she’d wanted his attention as a child. “When did this formality rise between us, Marteinn?”
Left with no choice, he gazed at her. “The day you broke your promise to me.”
She thrust her hand on her hip. “I did no such thing.”
“That’s a lie.” She had no idea how desperate he’d been, or how tempted he was to kill Aaron while he served under him in the king’s army. But to deny the truth when they were face-to-face for the first time in what seemed forever, it deepened the wound in his heart.
She fisted her hands. “Care to settle our differences the old way?”
Nothing had changed.
