Meriel Fuller - Rescued By The Viking

A brave Viking...

Is her sworn enemy!

When Norman Lady Gisela strays into hostile Saxon territory, she doesn’t expect to be rescued by a mysterious Viking. She has no delusions handsome Ragnar Svendsen would be interested in her with her war wounds, but she must make a deal with him to rescue her brother from his Saxon captors. Their journey results in unexpected passion, but surely there can be no future for Gisela with her enemy?

MERIEL FULLERlives in a quiet corner of rural Devon with her husband and two children. Her early career was in advertising, with a bit of creative writing on the side. Now, with a family to look after, writing has become her passion… A keen interest in literature, the arts and history—particularly the early medieval period—makes writing historical novels a pleasure.

Also by Meriel Fuller

Conquest Bride

The Damsel’s Defiance

The Warrior’s Princess Bride

Captured by the Warrior

Her Battle-Scarred Knight

The Knight’s Fugitive Lady

Innocent’s Champion

Commanded by the French Duke

The Warrior’s Damsel in Distress

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Rescued by the Viking

Meriel Fuller

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08873-2

RESCUED BY THE VIKING

© 2019 Meriel Fuller

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any 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 publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

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

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Sunshine quivered across the water. A skin of limpid light sealing in the deep blue-green depths, bright sparkles forcing Gisela to narrow her eyes as she paused in her work. Touching the brooch at her throat, making sure the long pin secured the wrap of linen around her head and neck, she stared bleakly across the water at the longships entering the mouth of the estuary. Her heart plummeted. Oh no, not them. Not the Danes.

Her hands released the bucket handles and she straightened up, rubbing her chafed hands, raw from rope burn. Blisters had formed on the undersides of her fingers: white, water-filled sacs that would soon start to hurt. The ships were coming closer, their round red shields, gold bosses gleaming, lining along the side of each vessel. The sails had been lowered, rolled up into great bundles of canvas and rope, and the men had taken to the oars to steer the narrow, lightweight crafts up the river. Strings of jewelled liquid trailed through the dusky air as the paddles lifted, then dipped again. A guttural chanting, rhythmic, echoed across the water. The sharp jabs of sound coupled oddly with the dainty twitterings of the wading birds who picked their way through the vast salt marshes that led down to the river, powerful current brown and churning. Like a burn of flesh, panic seared her veins and she chewed fretfully on her bottom lip, forcing herself to control her breathing. They would be all right, the three of them. She would make sure of it.

A cheer went up beside her. Then another. One by one the men and women who worked beside her spotted the ships, then put down their pails, the thick salty water slopping over the sides. Thrusting their fists into the air with jubilation, they turned to each other, smiling, clasping at hands and shoulders. Someone snared her sleeve. ‘We are saved!’ the woman cried, her bony fingers digging into Gisela’s forearm. ‘The Danes will help us! The Danes will send those Normans home with their tails between their legs!’

Gisela pinned a wide smile to her face, hoping to mirror the woman’s excitement. These people could not guess who she truly was! She had to be so careful. Look at their joyous reaction to the Danes’ arrival! They couldn’t wait to be rid of the Normans. What would they do if they knew one was standing in their midst, carrying the salt pails alongside them? They would surely kill her! Her head swam suddenly and she wriggled her toes in her rough leather boots, searching for stability.

The woman said something else to her, nudging her conspiratorially. Failing to understand the quick words, Gisela’s mind washed blank. Even now, even after being in England for all this time, her brain struggled to decipher the outlandish Saxon vowels. She spoke little, her voice clipped and low, hoping not to give away an accent, or any clue to her true identity. Her sister, Marie, was the same, comprehending little of what was said around her, but their father was more adept, having learned the barbaric language as a child.

‘Eh?’ the woman cackled, shoving her, jolting her sideways. Drying salt streaked the other woman’s lined forehead. ‘Don’t you agree, my girl? There’ll be some fun between the bed-sheets tonight, you mark my words!’