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Authors: Leigh Bale

BOOK: The Heart's Warrior
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Bah! What nonsense. He was a warrior, the son of a great earl. Why should he care about a woman who had murdered his beloved brother and shot him with an arrow? She
must
have cast a spell for him to entertain 83

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soft notions toward her. He could be under her spell and not even realize it. He must fight it, resist his compassion for her.

He wanted to repudiate her and avenge his brother’s death. Yet he could not. Her beauty, her fierce spirit, her tenderness with her father who had betrayed her, touched the deepest core of his heart. A heart he thought died long ago. It didn’t matter. He needed no woman’s softness to make him whole. Even blemished, he remained a

powerful warrior, strong and fierce. He could not allow himself to show leniency. To be merciful was to be weak.

Only the strong prevailed.

Look at what he had overcome. The fire that killed Olga could have taken his life. Though the flames left their mark upon his flesh, he refused to give in to the pain and restored the full use of his arms and legs,

strengthening his muscles in battle.

His throat tightened. When he took Kerstin to his bed, would she find him repulsive like so many other women? None of the others mattered, but Kerstin would be his wife. In spite of his battle to hate her, he wanted her approval more than any other.

He watched as she drew back from Alrik, but kept

her arms around him. In the flickering shadows, her nose appeared red, her eyes moist. The desire to comfort her filled Jonas to overflowing.

What was he thinking? The power of her spell almost overshadowed his resolve. The temptation to defy his king and refuse to wed her pulled at him, but if he refused her now, the king would sentence her to death. He had no choice. He must marry her, but how could he remain immune to her charms? He had to find a way. For the sake of his people and his own sanity.

“Am I to die?” she asked her father, still not aware Jonas sat watching her. “I didn’t mean to defy you, Father, but how can I possibly marry a man I fear? You know how much I love Elezer.”

Jonas’s heart wrenched with jealousy. She didn’t

want him. As he feared, she longed for Elezer. Envy squeezed his heart like a vice. How he wished his name was Elezer and he could hear her happy laughter and 84

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taste the sweetness of love in her kiss. Never would he know the joy of having a woman adore him in such a way.

The thought left him feeling empty and bereft.

Drawing away from her, Alrik shifted nervously and Kerstin’s gaze glanced off Jonas. When she saw him, her eyes widened with surprise. He stood and her face whitened, draining of blood, as if she would scream.

So many words crowded his heart, words of peace

and condolence, words of kindness, and words of

beseeching. She wouldn’t listen to anything he said. She’d never trust his motives. He didn’t trust them, either. No longer could he tell what was real and what her magic spell caused.

He didn’t approach the bed, nor did he speak. There was nothing left to say that would soften her toward him.

He couldn’t explain the sad yearning that replaced his hope for a happy marriage.

The heat from the fire stifled him, the walls closing in. The sting of denial filled his lungs with every breath he took. He had to get out of here. Now!

As he walked to the door, he heard Kerstin sniff. He tilted his head slightly and saw her brush tears from her eyes. He turned away, feeling her glare boring a hole in his back. His skin prickled with regret as he closed the door behind him, his hands shaking.

Leaning against the outside wall, Jonas clenched his hands and damned this weakness. He must harden his mind or he would lose more than his self-control. He could very well lose his heart to a woman who hated him, and that would be a worse curse than death.

****

Kerstin stared at the closed door, trembling with the memory of Jonas’s gaze, cold as leaden clouds on a stormy day. Once again, he was aloof, the Undefeated. His shoulders had squared as he left the room, his jaw set like a hard lump of iron. If he hated her so much, why had he spared her life?

Her chest ached, her throat raw. He heard every

word she spoke to her father. He saw her cry—he knew how weak she could be.

“Ohh.” She clenched her eyes closed, her face hot with mortification. Why did it have to be
him
who saw her 85

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at her most vulnerable point?

“He spared your life, Kerstin,” Alrik said. “He told the king he will still wed you.”

“Why? Why would he do such a thing?”

“For peace. Your death would cause harsher feelings.

King Hakon wouldn’t get the army he needs to fight against the Eirikssons. Jonas knows this.”

Dread seeped through to her bones. Jonas would

marry her for peace and nothing more. In his eyes, she was still a pawn, still no more than chattel to be passed off for political gain.

Still a witch.

With a deep sigh, Alrik went to take the seat Jonas had vacated. He slumped down, his chin resting on his chest as he spread his legs before him. The fire snapped in the brazier and a pine log rolled, shooting sparks into the air. “Jonas is a Christian, like you. He brought a monk with him to perform the marriage. They await you in the hall.” Kerstin’s mouth dropped open. “Jonas told me he had a man of the clergy, but I didn’t believe him.”

Nodding his head, Alrik showed a faint smile. “It doesn’t matter to King Hakon how your marriage is solemnized. Even though he’s a Christian, he will choose the religion most convenient for his political gain. Odin serves his purpose as well as Christ. But Jonas will have a Christian ceremony.”

“Ohh.” Kerstin covered her face with her hands. It was Jonas’s final victory. Even in this, he would not be thwarted.

When she looked up, Alrik gave a weary sigh, his face pale.

“Are you well, Father? Your wound—?”

He lifted a hand. “Don’t fret. Letta changed the

binding for me and prepared the healing herbs, just as you taught her. I grow stronger every day.”

Kerstin’s gaze fell on a small, scarred chest sitting at the foot of the bed. It had been her mother’s, filled with special treasures, her wedding dress, dried flowers Alrik had given her, and a necklace Kerstin had made for her out of shells. Ancient relics and rare herbs used for 86

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healing were also kept there. On rare occasions, Iona had let Kerstin sit beside her on this very bed as they sorted through the contents, giggling together, savoring every memory, every fondness associated with each precious item.
If I climb inside and close the lid, will the chest and
its happy memories protect me from Jonas?

In that moment, she missed her mother desperately and once more brushed a tear from her cheek.

Alrik frowned. “He will wed you now.”

Kerstin’s head snapped up and she stared at him.

“But I’ve been ill. Can’t we wait until tomorrow?”

“The king is determined, Kerstin. Jonas won’t be

fooled that you’re too ill for the ceremony, even though you fainted earlier.” He gave her another quizzical frown.

She pursed her lips. “I’ve never faced execution

before. How could you force me into this marriage, Father?”

“Listen to me, daughter,” he rasped as he rested his elbows on his knees. “Do you think I enjoy putting you into the hands of Jonas Sigurdsson? But you must

understand I have no choice.”

He rose and paced the room, his feet scuffing against the hard-packed floor. “He’s been patient with you. He could have killed both of you when he found you with Elezer. Yet, he spared Elezer’s life. The king has nothing but good to say about Jonas. He’s a valiant leader, a man worthy of admiration. He’s wealthy by his own hand, and the heir to a great earldom. His men love him and that says a lot. They follow him without question.”

A man she had always hoped to wed. Yet now, she

longed for Elezer, who seemed to be the complete opposite of Jonas. Gentle and kind, not a great warrior, not valiant in leading fierce warriors, but filled with goodness and love for her. And he knew she was a healer, not a witch.

Alrik spread his hands in a plaintive gesture. “Marry Jonas. Bring peace to our people.”

“But Elezer—”

“Is not the man for you. After Bjorn’s death, you were inconsolable. I couldn’t stand to see you so hurt. I agreed to your betrothal with Elezer only to placate you.

Honestly, child, I had planned to postpone the marriage 87

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until I found a man more suited for you.”

He could have told her this before now. “And you

think Jonas is that man?”

He nodded, his expression grave. “He is more of a man than Elezer. In time, I believe you and Jonas will deal well together.”

Kerstin snorted in exasperation. She threw back the fur cover and stood on her bare feet. Someone had cleansed the mud from her body, treated her scratches and cuts, and dressed her in a short shift that reached her mid-thigh. Her bare arms and legs glistened in the dim firelight. Hopefully it had been Minin who clothed her and Jonas had not been present at the time.

Alrik came to her, taking her hands in his larger, coarser ones. “Marry Jonas, and get yourself caught with his babe. It’s the only way to unite our people. Do you think they’ll fight beside the Sigurdssons as long as you run from Jonas? Nay, they will not, and the Eirikssons will take more and more power until we are all

destroyed.”

“How can you place the survival of our people upon my shoulders? It isn’t fair.”

“Life is not fair, daughter. Most of it is duty and drudgery and, once in awhile, there are moments of spectacular joy.” He caressed her cheek with his calloused hand. “Like the day you were born.”

She licked her lips and tried to breathe. A lump of emotion formed in her chest. What joy could she look forward to?

Her father’s gray eyes were intent as they searched her face. Desperate. Alrik, Earl of Moere, fierce leader of men and conqueror in his own right, feared for the lives of his people. For their very existence.

How could she deny him?

A sigh of resignation escaped her lips. “All right, Father, I’ll marry Jonas, but I’ll never give him my heart.”

“I only want your loyalty—and children.”

Kerstin turned. Jonas stood beside the door, one

hand braced on the wooden frame, the other resting on the hilt of his sword.

She stiffened. “It’s rude to eavesdrop.”

Easing his weight from the bed, her father left her 88

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alone with her future husband. Kerstin longed to call him back, but the words clogged her throat.

Jonas’s gaze lowered to her hips and legs and

embarrassment heated her face. With a glare, she

grabbed the bedding and wrapped it around herself. “Go away. I want to be alone.”

Deep laughter filled his chest, rumbling like thunder.

His eyes smoldered as he continued to look at her. “Nay, you might run away and I am in no mood to chase you down again.”

He approached, his hands reaching for her, his palms hot as he cupped her shoulders. His gaze lowered to her lips, scorching her with desire. His gaze locked with hers.

When he swayed, she noticed the flush of fever apparent on his face. He looked ill.

Though he had removed his chain mail and wore a

clean tunic of soft wool dyed a deep, vivid blue, he still kept his sword sheathed at his side. His tunic had long sleeves and a high neck and looked brilliant on him, matching the color of his eyes. If only he were not so handsome, so charismatic.

His hands threaded through her hair, the feel of his strong fingers strangely exotic. She longed to move closer but pulled away instead. He fascinated her as his hungry gaze held hers.

As his fingertips brushed her throat, his thumb

glided against her pulse and she fought the desire filling her. She heard him breathing to catch her scent. It embarrassed, yet flattered her. She felt his warm breath against her sensitive skin. His spicy aroma engulfed her and she inhaled deeper. Elezer had never engrossed her in such a way. His choking scent of smoke and grease repulsed her. What hold did Jonas have over her?

The thought made her frown and she felt a twinge of guilt. She longed to be loyal to Elezer, but it became more difficult the more time she spent with Jonas.

Outside in the hall, Kerstin heard her father

speaking with his men, rousing the warriors, urging Letta and Minin to gather the thralls and prepare a wedding feast. She could not escape her doom. She would be married this very night. Jonas would touch her, much as he touched her now. And she would be his.

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Jonas saw her distraction and kicked the door shut.

It didn’t slam but the latch clicking into place sounded like a boom to her ears.

She jerked. “It’s improper for me to be alone with you.” His deep laughter filled the room. “You didn’t care about appearances when you stole away to Elezer.”

Turning away from him, she sought some place of

succor. He pulled her back, lowering his head to hers. The bedding slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor like a lover’s sigh.

As he brushed his cheek against hers, her whisper was so close to his lips that she could feel his warmth.

“Elezer didn’t frighten me as you do.”

The confession brought a frown to his lips and he drew back to look into her eyes. “Have I ever hurt you?”

No, and that frightened her most of all. His kindness was more than she could comprehend. With his

accusations of witchcraft, she felt under attack by him, wondering when he might turn on her. How could she ever trust him?

Jonas pressed a kiss to her brow, his mouth warm

and languid. She moved her head away but too late. His touch branded her, the heat almost more than she could stand.

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