The Highlander's Viking Bride: Book 2 in the Hardy Heroines series Read online

  The Highlander’s Viking Bride

  Book 2 in the Hardy Heroines Series

  Cathy & DD MacRae

  AMAZON KDP EDITION

  PUBLISHED BY

  Short Dog Press

  www.cathymacraeauthor.com

  The Highlander’s Viking Bride

  Calder MacGerry, laird of an impoverished clan, has resolved to end the bitter feud between the MacGerrys and Sinclairs. He jumps at Laird Sinclair’s offer of marriage to his only daughter, Katja, to seal the agreement between their clans—only to get more than he bargained for.

  Katja’s chance to escape her father’s harsh treatment appears to be too good to be true. But becoming Lady of a clan that despises her because she’s a Sinclair, doesn’t make her life any easier. When the attacks turn deadly, she fights her way out, making a dangerous passage to the Shetland Isles for refuge with her Viking family.

  Calder and Katja’s marriage, built on mistrust, rushes quickly into disaster. As Calder seeks to repair the damage, Katja discovers not another enemy, but a husband who pledges a new beginning.

  The Highlander’s Viking Bride

  Copyright © 2017 Cathy & DD MacRae

  All rights reserved

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy.

  The ebook contained herein constitutes a copyrighted work and may not be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or stored in or introduced into an information storage and retrieval system in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This ebook is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  THE HIGHLANDER’S VIKING BRIDE

  About the Book

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Books in the Hardy Heroines Series

  Gaelic and Scottish Words of Interest

  Old Norn (Norse) Words

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  More Books

  About the Authors

  Acknowledgements

  A Note from the Authors

  Excerpt from THE HIGHLANDER’S CRUSADER BRIDE

  Dedication

  Dedicated to Freki

  Loyal companion,

  fierce protector,

  and such a sweetheart

  Books in the Hardy Heroines Series

  Highland Escape

  The Highlander’s Viking Bride

  The Highlander’s Crusader Bride

  (available 2018)

  Gaelic and Scottish Words of Interest

  Buidseach – witch

  Dreich – dreary (weather)

  Fairetur – watchful tower

  Loch Beaggorm – Little blue lake

  Mumblecrust – toothless beggar

  Roane – faithless faeries whose love for the sea overrode their feelings for their human lovers

  Ruadhcreag – red rock

  Siursach – prostitute

  Tanist – heir apparent to a clan chief

  Old Norn (Norse) Words

  Afi – grandfather

  Amma – grandmother

  Beta – bite

  Bjenk – dog

  Bolli – darling

  Borg – broch, an Iron Age structure peculiar to Scotland

  Ek ann þér – I love you

  Elkesdottir – Elke’s daughter

  Flatja – hold down

  Fresta – wait

  Ganga at – attack

  Glene – clear patch of sky

  Haar – sea fog

  Halda – hold/halt

  Hannja – come

  Henta – fetch

  Holm – island

  Korrnorr – quiet

  Kvala – calm

  Lofta – rise

  Moonbroch – hazy halo around the moon signaling bad weather to come

  Niese – niece

  Reginulfsdottir – Reginulf’s daughter

  Snell – biting (cold) weather (wind)

  Trow – troll

  Utgeng – go

  Chapter 1

  1445 AD

  Caithness, Scotland

  Robert MacGerry’s gaze locked on his son’s, his voice cracked and twisted with pain, his gnarled hands clenched tight on Calder’s arm. “Promise ye’ll keep the clan strong.”

  Calder swallowed his grief, his chest burning with shock and dismay, as he gently rested his father’s head in his lap. Applying pressure with a wadded length of woolen cloth to the jagged belly wound, Calder watched his father’s eyes as the spark of life ebbed.

  “Aye, Da, I’ll do all that I can.” Calder choked on his anguish, his da—his hero, his protector—lying in his arms, forever broken, mortally wounded in a raid gone awry on Sinclair lands. Calder rubbed the rough, twisted wooden cross hanging about his neck and prayed fervently to trade places with his da. He shuddered as a biting wind wrapped ice-laden fog and the acrid smell of a nearby bog around them.

  “Did ye take care of the bastard who did this?” Robert rasped.

  Calder glanced at the lifeless body of the man who’d dealt his father his death blow, crumpled against a large rock. “Aye, Da. I did.”

  Robert gripped Calder’s shirt, his eyes searching his son’s face. “Take care of yer brother and sister.”

  Harsh reality dug its talons deeper at his father’s request. Calder glanced at his Uncle Finn standing next to him. Finn settled a heavy hand on his shoulder, nodding his support. Calder swallowed hard before answering. “Aye, ye can trust me to see to all that needs doin’. When ye get to heaven, tell my older brother I miss him.”

  Grief seared Calder’s throat and eyes as his father drew his last ragged breath. Time stood still, waiting desperately for the exhale that never came. Silent tears dropped onto his da’s torn shirt, mixing with the final pulse of dark red blood. Several minutes passed before anyone spoke.

  “What do ye command, laird?”

  Calder jerked with surprise. He stared blankly at his uncle before he understood what Finn asked. With his older brother, and now his father dead, he was the new MacGerry laird.

  Calder cleared his throat. “Prepare to leave.”

  They gently wrapped Robert’s body in his cloak, securing him to his horse for their return to Fairetur. The few sheep
stolen this night came at too high a price. Whatever had begun this feud with the Sinclairs had cost the MacGerry Clan dearly.

  Finn pulled his horse alongside, breaking Calder’s thoughts. “What will ye do, laddie?”

  “’Twill be as we discussed these past months,” Calder replied stonily. “I will seek a truce with the Sinclair. We dinnae have enough food to survive the winter. This damnable feud has gone on long enough. No one knows the why of it anymore. Fighting has cost the lives of too many good men, making too many women widows whilst still in the bloom of youth. I willnae see more lives wasted on a blood feud started by the dead long cold in their graves.”

  Finn nodded. Calling a lad over, he sent him ahead of the group to prepare the clan for the grim news of Robert’s death.

  The gates of Fairetur swung slowly open at their arrival. Two riders drove the stolen sheep inside to join the small herd they already possessed. Calder handed his horse to the waiting lad. He spotted his sister, Torri, standing at the front of the crowd, bunching her skirts in each fist, one word, one glance away from crushing despair. He would give anything to cushion the blow for her soft heart. She must have read the truth in his expression. Tears burst forth and flowed silently down her cheeks as she ran to him, throwing herself into his arms.

  “Och, now. ’Twill be well.” His voice sought to soothe, but Torri stiffened and drew away.

  Her eyes sparked at him through her tears. “How will it be well, brother?”

  He had no ready answer, so he hugged her again and slowly walked her toward the great hall, holding her upright as she sagged against him. Word of their laird’s death filled the keep with the thick flavor of mourning and a deep melancholy overtook the normally warm-hearted inhabitants. Lively voices fell to whispers, and the normal clatter of feet on the stone floor became a muted shuffle. Calder guided Torri into the comforting arms of their grandmam and the two huddled together in shared pain.

  He strode to the hearth inside the great hall, settling into the worn oak chairs with his uncle and younger brother, Robbie.

  Robbie perched on the edge of his seat, his face grim. “How’d it happen?” he murmured, scarcely meeting Calder’s gaze.

  “The Sinclairs waited fer us.” Finn’s pain-filled voice rode barely above a whisper. “’Twas as though they knew we were comin’. Yer da and Calder covered us as we retreated with the flock we seized. The Sinclairs dinnae have too much fight in ’em over a handful of sheep, but one bastard struck a lucky blow. Yer da took a sword in the gut.” His voice cracked. “He died in yer brother’s arms.”

  “What did Da say, Calder?” Robbie’s words, heavy with anguish, renewed Calder’s torment, and he paused before answering.

  “He asked for my vow to keep the clan strong,” he finally replied.

  When no more explanation came, Robbie pressed further. “No demands of vengeance? No words of hatred for the thrice-damned Sinclairs?” His voice rose in challenge.

  Calder waited for his brother to calm. “Nae. He claimed no vows of vengeance. I dinnae think his last thoughts were on killing, but rather on his family and clan.”

  Robbie sucked in a deep breath. Calder sensed part of the darkness hanging over them lift a fraction. Perhaps there would be a chance for something more than blood and death in their future.

  “What will ye do?” Robbie asked.

  “We will see to Da’s burial on the morrow. After I am installed as laird, I will offer a truce to the Sinclair. Then we prepare for a hard winter. Too many crofts in the village arenae ready. I dinnae want the deaths of widows and bairns on my hands. Those whose homes we cannae repair in time will move into the keep when the snows hit.”

  A serving woman brought them each a tankard of ale. Setting down their drinks, the buxom lass draped her arms around Calder from behind to whisper in his ear. “I’m sorry for yer da, Calder. I will fill yer bed if ye need comfort tonight.” The warmth of her breath tempted.

  Calder gave her a small smile. “Thank ye, Lorna, but I wish to be alone this eve. I have too much on my mind and dinnae want ye to think I am a neglectful lover.”

  “We have too much experience together for me to think that. If ye only want a fierce ruttin’ to ease yer pain, I can live without yer tender touch tonight.”

  The enticing purr of her voice recalled images of their shared pleasure, but his heavy heart did not respond to her promise of temporary relief. Calder dropped a chaste kiss on her cheek. “Thank ye. Nae tonight.”

  Lorna hugged him once, pressing her soft bosom into the back of his neck before retreating to the kitchen. Calder watched the exaggerated swing of her hips as she left. The scent of roses lingered in the air.

  Finn sent a nod in the woman’s direction. “Ye know the lass fancies herself the laird’s woman now, aye?”

  Calder glanced at his uncle. “I have greater things to worry about than the schemes of my leman, Uncle.”

  Finn shook his head, but said no more.

  After receiving sympathies from members of the clan and family, Finn and Robbie left Calder to his thoughts. Calder knew sleep would not find him as he rolled the situation fate placed him in over and over in his mind. After more than twenty years as the second son, he found himself laird of the MacGerrys with a feud to end and a difficult winter ahead. His gut clenched at the many tasks before him. Long hours passed before his mind stilled and sleep came.

  Thick fog hung over the moors the next morn, which seemed appropriate given the mood of those who surrounded Robert MacGerry’s grave. As the last of the clan filed past to pay their respects to the old laird and give their greetings to the new one, Calder led the procession into the great hall to accept his new title. His father’s title. The title that should have gone to his older brother. After a brief ritual, he bade everyone sit and break their fast. He stood and raised his mug of cider in a toast.

  “To Robert MacGerry. A good laird, a good father—and a good man.”

  All raised their mugs in salute. “MacGerry!”

  Calder stood, his determined stare sweeping the room. “The last words my father spoke were of ye, his clan. He made me swear to keep ye strong. I intend to do that verra thing. Henceforth, there will be no more raids or attacks on Sinclair lands. Tomorrow, I will send a message to the Sinclair offering a truce.”

  A collective gasp of surprise spread into disgruntled murmurs, sparking a few looks of outrage. Calder did not flinch.

  “Hear me! No one has lost more than Robbie, Torri and I. We lost our da and brother Ewan to this feud, and Grandda before them. No one remembers why we raid and fight the Sinclairs. ’Tis only that we always have—an insufficient cause to keep the blood flowing. Clan MacGerry willnae long survive if all our men are killed. ’Tis not vengeance or justice, but madness. I will call a truce so we can see to surviving the winter. Come spring we will work toward making the MacGerrys stronger.”

  Uncle Finn, Peadar the Red and Ramsey stood with Calder. Auld Liam rose reluctantly to his feet. A hiss of dissension swept the room, but Calder could not mark from where it came. The elder council, along with Robbie, gave no doubt of their support of the laird’s decision. He could only pray Sinclair would support it, too.

  * * *

  The outer doors creaked and the thud of boots striding purposely across the stones grew louder. Calder raised his head to find the man he’d sent out two days before, offering peace to Sinclair, crossing the hall. His swift return could be either a very good or very bad thing, as the Sinclair was known to be quick to say aye or nae. The fact Niell appeared hale seemed a good sign. Clearly pleased with himself, Niell approached the high board.

  “The Earl of Caithness’ response, laird.” He bowed and handed over the letter.

  Breaking the dark red wax seal, Calder scanned the contents. In disbelief, he read the missive twice more before he allowed a smile to creep over his face. “’Tis good news, lads. The Sinclair invites us to come and enjoy his hospitality whilst we negotiate an accord.” He handed th
e parchment to Finn seated next to him.

  Auld Liam scowled. “’Tis a trap. Ne’er trust a Sinclair. They be a treacherous lot.”

  Calder gave the older man a nod. “Aye, it may. But we willnae know without going. ’Tis what we hoped for.”

  “To treat with the devil in his own lair is madness.” Liam’s scowl deepened and he shoved back in his chair, arms across his chest.

  Calder passed the note around the table as they lingered over the evening meal.

  Finn rubbed his grizzled chin. “Auld Liam is right. It could be a trap, laddie.”

  “’Tis why Robbie stays here whilst you and I go, Uncle, with half a dozen men-at-arms,” Calder explained.

  Peadar spoke up. “I dinnae like it, but if we truly want peace there’s little choice but to chance it.”

  “If Sinclair springs a trap, Robbie will ride to the king’s man at Wick and report what happened. With this note as evidence, Sinclair isnae fool enough to risk his reputation and prove a man who doesnae keep his word.” Calder glanced to each man, seeking their consent. Heads slowly nodded agreement.

  “’Tis settled then. Finn and I will ride to Ruadhcreag on the morrow. We’ll take young Cole with us. When we see what the Sinclair offers, he will return with the news.”

  The next morning, Calder and Finn, along with several MacGerry men, set out for Sinclair land. Passing through the forests to the south, Calder caught a glimpse of Loch Beaggorm, recalling the girl he’d seen while hunting two years ago when he’d ventured close to the loch where their lands bordered with those of clan Sinclair.