Coming February 2010
Viking in Love
The first in a new series from New York Times bestselling author
Sandra Hill
Breanne and her sisters are more than capable of taking care of themselves—just ask the last man who crossed them. But when a hasty escape lands them in the care of a Viking warrior, the ladies know they have at last met a worthy quarry. After nine long months in the king’s service, all Caedmon wanted was…well, certainly not five Norse princesses running his keep. And after the fiery redhead bursts into his chamber on the very first morning…Caedmon settles on a wicked plan far more delightful than kicking her out.
B eware of women with barbed tongues…
Caedmon was splatted out on his stomach, half-awake, knowing he must rise soon. This was a new day and a new start for getting his estate and his family back in order.
In his head he made a list.
First, gather the entire household and establish some authority. Someone had been lax in assigning duties and making sure they were completed. The overworked Gerard, no doubt. And the absent Alys.
Second, take stock of the larder. Huntsmen would go out for fresh meat, fishermen for fish, and he would send someone to Jarrow to purchases spices and various other foodstuffs.
Third, designate Geoff and Wulf to work with the housecarls on fighting skills and rotating guard schedules.
Fourth, replenish the supply of weaponry.
Fifth, persuade the cook to return. The roast boar yestereve had been tough as leather, made palatable only by the tubfuls of feast ale and strong mead they had consumed.
Sixth, the children…ah, what to do about the children? One of the cotters’ wives…or John the Bowman’s widow…could supervise their care, and a monk from the minster in Jorvik might be induced to come and tutor them, although his history with Father Luke did not bode well for his chances.
The door to his bedchamber swung open, interrupting his mental planning. The headboard of his bed was against the same wall as the door, so he merely turned his head to the left and squinted one eye open.
A red-haired woman—dressed in men’s attire…high-born men’s attire, at that—stood glaring at him, hands on hips. She was tall for a woman, and thin as a lance. As for breasts, if she had any, they must be as flat as rounds of manchet bread. “Master Caedmon, I presume?”
“Well, I do not know about the ‘Master’ part. What manner dress is that? Are you man or woman?” He smiled, trying for levity.
She did not return the smile.
No sense of humor.
“You are surely the most loathsome lout I have e’er encountered.”
Whaaaat? He had not been expecting an attack. In fact, he needed a moment for his sleep-hazed brain to take in this apparition before him.
“Your keep is filthy, pigs broke through the sty fence and are all over the bailey, I saw dozens of mice scampering in your great hall, thatch needs replacing on the cotters’ huts, you beget children like an acorn tree gone wild, your staff take their ease like high nobility, there are several blubbering servants arguing over who will bury the priest who is laid out in your chapel, and you…you slothful sluggard, you lie abed, sleeping off a drukkin night, no doubt.”
Whoa! One thing was for certain. This would not be yet another woman trying to crawl into his bed furs. “Stop shrieking. You will make my ears bleed.” Caedmon rolled over on his side, tugging the bed linen up to cover his lower half, then sat up.
“Bestir thyself!”
“Nay!”
“Have you no shame?”
“Not much.”
“Are you lackbrained?”
“No more than you for barging into my bedchamber.”
“Even if you have no coin, there is no excuse for the neglect.”
“Not even the fact that I have been gone nine long months in service to a king undeserving of service?”
“Where is the lady of this estate?”
’Tis just like a woman to think a woman is the answer to everything! “There is no lady.”
“Hmpfh! Why am I not surprised?”
Now he was getting annoyed. “Sarcasm ill suits you, m’lady. Have you ne’er been told that?”
“The blade goes both ways, knave.”
His eyes went wide at her foolhardy insults. “Who in bloody hell are you?”
“Breanne of Stoneheim.”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“She’s a princess,” someone called out from the corridor. He saw now that a crowd of people were standing just outside the open doorway, being entertained by this shrew’s railing at him. Geoff and Wulf were in the forefront, of course, laughing their arses off.
“Well, Princess Breanne, what do you in my home and my bedchamber?”
She had the grace to blush. “My sisters and I came here, on our way…as a stopping-off place…for a…uh, visit…on our journey. Your castellan offered us hospitality.”
He could tell by the deepening red on her cheeks that she was either lying or stretching the truth.
“Sisters?”
“She has four sisters,” Geoff offered. “All princesses.”
Five princesses? Here? Oh, Lord!
“And they are accompanied by two scowling Vikings who are about this tall,” Wulf added, holding a hand high above his head. And Wulf was a big man by any standard.
“They were only scowling because your archers aimed their bows at them,” the lady declared, doing her own good job of scowling.
“’Tis a comfort, your explanation is. I feel so much better.”
Caedmon could practically hear the grinding of her small, white teeth.
“And there is a wise man from the eastern lands who has opinions on every bloody thing in the world, most of it involving camels.” As usual, Geoff was enjoying himself at his expense.
“Why me? I mean, why stop here at Larkspur?” he asked the bothersome woman. “Surely there are better places.”
“My sister Tyra is your cousin.”
He frowned. “I have no cousin named Tyra.” Leastways, he did not think he did, but then he was still wooly-witted from sleep.
“Her husband, Adam of Hawkshire, is your cousin by marriage…um, slightly removed,” the flame-haired witch explained.
He knew Adam, or rather he had heard of him. A famed healer. But their connection by blood was far removed.
“Did you know there is a child still in nappies walking about nigh naked? He could be trampled by dogs the size of small ponies roaming about indoors.”
“Have a caution, wench. You have already passed the bounds of good sense. Any more, and you may taste the flavor of my wrath.”
She started to respond, then stopped herself.
“I told Emma to take care of Piers,” Caedmon said.
“Would that be the same Emma who spent the night spreading her thighs for the blond god?”
“She is referring to me,” Geoff preened. “The blond god.”
“And, by the by, why do all the females in this keep appear to have big bosoms?”
“Huh?”
Geoff and Wulf were laughing so hard they were bent over at their waists, holding their sides. When he was able to speak, Geoff said, “’Twould seem that Gerard has a preference for big breasts when choosing maids for inside work.” He gave particular emphasis to “inside work.”
“Gerard? Bloody hell! He is old enough to…never mind.”
“Not yet in his dotage, if he can still appreciate a buxom bosom,” Wulf observed.
Breanne waved a hand airily. “You are not to worry. My sisters and I will set your keep aright whilst we are here.”
Alarm rippled through Caedmon’s body. “How long do you intend to stay?” he asked bluntly.
Another blush. “I am not certain. But you are not to worry.”
“I was not reassured the first time you said that.”
“You will hardly notice we are here.”
“I doubt that heartily.”
She went stiff as a pike, apparently not liking it when the sarcasm came from his direction, but she pressed her lips together. Very nice lips, he noticed, if he were attracted to tall, skinny, red-haired women with barbed tongues, which he was not. At least she was making an effort to be polite now.
Something very strange was going on, but he had more urgent matters to take care of. He’d drunk a tun of ale yestereve and now he needed to piss. Badly.
“Go down to the great hall and wait for me. We will discuss this later.”
The shrew lifted her chin defiantly and said, “I am not leaving until you get your lazy self out of bed. If no one else cares about those children…” On and on she blathered in her shrill voice.
Really, this woman’s tongue flaps like a loose shingle. I could rebuke her in a way she would not soon forget. Hell, I could kick her cheeky arse out the door, if I choose. But wait. I know another way. “You say me nay? Be careful, you may find I am more than you wagered for.”
“Do you threaten me, troll?”
“So be it,” he said, tossing the sheet aside and standing. How do you like that trollsome part?
Immediately her eyes fixed on a part of his naked body, which was displaying a powerful morning thickening, standing out like a flagpole. “You, you, you…” she sputtered, but could not seem to raise her eyes, which he noticed, irrelevantly, were a beautiful shade of green, like summer grass on the moors.
“Do not be offended, m’lady.” He pointed at his nether part. “This is not for you. Your virtue is not forfeit…from this quarter. ’Tis just that I must needs visit the garderobe.”
“What an insufferable, crude, arrogant, loathsome lout!” she exclaimed as she sailed through the doorway, where the crowd had magically parted like the Red Sea of Biblical lore.
“Damn, but it is good to be home, is it not, Caedmon?” Geoff inquired sweetly, then ducked just in time to miss the pillow he sent his way.
A short time later, Caedmon realized he had one more thing to add to his list of things to do today: Get rid of princesses.