Michelle Styles - Sold To The Viking Warrior

In her captor’s bed!

Women are not part of Sigurd Sigmundson’s existence, and Eilidith should purely be a means to an end to gain access to a well-guarded Viking stronghold. He would have to be made of iron, though, not to be stirred by the warmly sensual woman beneath her ice-cold shield.

Liddy has been made to feel ugly and insignificant because of her facial birthmark. Surely her captor couldn’t physically desire her? But, oh, how the stifled, passionate Liddy yearns to experience unrestrained love in his arms...

‘Of course I might be willing to sell my daughter,’ her father said. ‘You may have her in lieu of this year’s harvest.’

‘I volunteered to be a hostage, not a slave!’ Liddy cried. ‘A hostage has certain rights. A slave has none.’

‘You offer your daughter as tribute?’ Sigurd asked, in a tone chipped from last winter’s ice.

‘Aye,’ her father said heavily. ‘I may have to sell her on the open market to raise the amount required if the harvest fails.’

Something flickered in Sigurd’s eyes and his face became more carved in stone than ever.

‘I will buy her from you...if the price is right.’

Author Note

For the last four years my youngest son has spent part of his summers volunteering on the Scottish island of Oronsay. The first time he returned home he told me all about the Vikings on the west coast of Scotland, and how the Viking fleet had been based on Colonsay. I was intrigued, and wanted to do some more research. In September 2014 I was lucky enough to spend a week on Islay and Jura as my husband wanted to go whisky-tasting. The weather, contrary to all expectations, was blue skies and sunshine the entire time. I had a thoroughly good time and became more determined than ever to write a Viking romance set on the west coast of Scotland.

It took me a little time to get it right, but here it is.

As ever, I do hope you enjoy reading Sigurd and Liddy’s story as much I did writing it.

I love getting comments from readers and can be reached at michelle@michellestyles.co.uk, or through my publisher, or Facebook or Twitter: @MichelleLStyles.

Sold to the Viking Warrior

Michelle Styles

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Born and raised near San Francisco, California, MICHELLE STYLES currently lives near Hadrian’s Wall with her husband, a menagerie of pets and occasionally one of her three university-aged children. An avid reader, she became hooked on historical romance after discovering Georgette Heyer, Anya Seton and Victoria Holt. Her website is michellestyles.co.ukand she’s on Twitter and Facebook.

Books by Michelle Styles

Mills & Boon Historical Romance

Viking Warrior, Unwilling Wife

An Impulsive Debutante

A Question of Impropriety

Impoverished Miss, Convenient Wife

Compromising Miss Milton

The Viking’s Captive Princess

Breaking the Governess’s Rules

To Marry a Matchmaker

His Unsuitable Viscountess

Hattie Wilkinson Meets Her Match

An Ideal Husband?

Paying the Viking’s Price

Return of the Viking Warrior

Saved by the Viking Warrior

Taming His Viking Woman

Summer of the Viking

Sold to the Viking Warrior

Mills & Boon Historical Undone! ebook

The Perfect Concubine

Visit the Author Profile page

at millsandboon.co.ukfor more titles.

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

To my loyal readers,

who asked for more Viking-set romances.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Author Note

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Author’s Historical Note

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

AD 873—Islay, Viking-controlled Alba.

Modern-day Scotland.

‘No good giving me that reproachful look of yours, Coll. I made a promise, so we have to go, even if I’d rather be anywhere else but there.’ Eilidith gathered her thin woollen cloak tighter about her body and tried to ignore the biting cold while her wolfhound padded softly beside her.

In the half-light before dawn, Liddy could make out the Northman stronghold in the distance and, beyond the forbidding wooden walls, the purple-grey Paps of Jura rose. Appearances were deceptive. While she expected to arrive before the assembly day, Liddy knew she had at least a full day’s hard walk in front of her. She had refused to travel in a boat since the accident which killed her young twins, Keita and Gilbreath.

Behind her, the footsteps which had been keeping pace with her for the last few miles stilled.

Liddy reached down and grabbed her wolfhound’s collar. Her mother had objected to her taking Coll, even to the point of calling her by her proper name, Eilidith, and reminding her that she was a lady of the Cennell Fergusa, not an urchin without a noble kindred. Liddy had insisted and her mother had given way as she often did these days, commenting as Liddy left that for once she sounded like her old passionate Eilidith, the one who had vanished when her husband died.

Liddy rolled her eyes and continued walking. Her old self had vanished long before the day she heard of Brandon’s demise. That self had ceased to be when her children drew their final rattling breaths and her heart had shattered into a thousand pieces.

Liddy reached down and stroked the dog’s ears. Coll leant into her and gave a reassuring nuzzle of her hand.

In the aftermath of Islay’s final fall to the Northmen, outlaws roamed the woods and desperate men were prepared to do desperate things. However, even a desperate man would think twice when confronted with a full-grown wolfhound. Coll’s head came up to her chest. He had a scar running down his nose, a legacy from a tumble he took as a puppy, rather than a fight, but it gave him a fearsome appearance that made most people and dogs avoid him. But it made Liddy love him more.

She, too, had a disfigured face—a birthmark decorated the lower part of her jaw. When she’d been small and children teased her, her grandmother, her seanmhair, had declared her kissed by an angel at birth and that she’d bring good luck to the Cennell Fergusa. However, her late husband had considered the mark ugly and his mistress had declared her cursed at birth. After the twins died, she knew that woman had spoken the truth—she bore a curse. Her husband had even sworn in church, risking his immortal soul. Rather than risking the whispers, she shunned people and had become a virtual recluse, but now she had no choice—she had to act.

‘We can do this, can’t we, Coll? We can free my father and brother. Lord Ketil’s promise to my father must mean more than empty words.’

Coll gave a soft woof and nudged her hand in agreement, as if he believed the words were truth rather than noise to fill the silence and bolster her flagging courage.