Michelle Willingham - To Sin with a Viking

Sometimes arranged marriages in historical romance end in happily-ever-after. And sometimes two good people are never meant to be together. I wanted to explore the idea of a marriage between a husband and a wife who want to make it work but are unable to connect. And what will happen to them when they meet their true soul mates?

This duet of books, beginning with TO SIN WITH A VIKING, explores that theme without trespassing into the realm of adultery. Both Styr and Elena Hardrata deserve a happy ending…but it will not be with each other. Styr is taken captive by Irishwoman Caragh Ó Brannon, and the forbidden attraction between them is searing. He must decide whether to maintain his loyalty to a wife who is heartbroken in their marriage or whether to reach out to the woman who has taught him how to love. Elena’s story will follow, when she is rescued by fellow Viking Ragnar Olafsson.

I hope you’ll enjoy these Irish-Viking stories. If you want to read more about my Hardrata heroes, Styr is the ancestor of Tharand Hardrata, the hero of THE VIKING’S FORBIDDEN LOVE-SLAVE, and later of Kaall Hardrata, hero of The Holly and the Viking in WARRIORS IN WINTER.

You’re welcome to visit my website at www.michellewillingham.com for excerpts and behind-the-scenes details about my books. I love to hear from readers, and you may e-mail me at michelle@michellewillingham.com or via mail at PO Box 2242 Poquoson, VA 23662, USA. I can be found on Facebook at: www.facebook.com/michellewillinghamfans and Twitter at www.twitter.com/michellewilling.

RITA ®Award Finalist MICHELLE WILLINGHAMhas written over twenty historical romances, novellas and short stories. Currently she lives in south-eastern Virginia with her husband and children. When she’s not writing Michelle enjoys reading, baking and avoiding exercise at all costs. Visit her website at: www.michellewillingham.com

Previous novels by this author:

HER IRISH WARRIOR *

THE WARRIOR’S TOUCH *

HER WARRIOR KING *

HER WARRIOR SLAVE †

THE ACCIDENTAL COUNTESS ††

THE ACCIDENTAL PRINCESS ††

TAMING HER IRISH WARRIOR *

SURRENDER TO AN IRISH WARRIOR *

CLAIMED BY THE HIGHLAND WARRIOR **

SEDUCED BY HER HIGHLAND WARRIOR **

TEMPTED BY THE HIGHLAND WARRIOR **

WARRIORS IN WINTER *

THE ACCIDENTAL PRINCE ††

Also available in Mills & Boon ®Historical Undone! eBooks:

THE VIKING’S FORBIDDEN LOVE-SLAVE

THE WARRIOR’S FORBIDDEN VIRGIN

AN ACCIDENTAL SEDUCTION ††

INNOCENT IN THE HAREM

PLEASURED BY THE VIKING

CRAVING THE HIGHLANDER’S TOUCH

And in M&B:

LIONHEART’S BRIDE (part of Royal Weddings Through the Ages)

* The MacEgan Brothers

† prequel to The MacEgan Brothers mini-series

** The MacKinloch Clan

†† linked by character

Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Ireland—ad 875 .

The tribe was slowly starving to death.

Caragh Ó Brannon stared at the grain sack, which was nearly empty. One handful of oats remained, hardly enough for anyone. She closed her eyes, wondering what to do. Her older brothers, Terence and Ronan, had left a fortnight ago to trade for more food. She’d given them a golden brooch that had belonged to their mother, hoping someone would trade sheep or cows for it. But this famine was widespread, making anyone reluctant to give up their animals.

‘Is there anything to eat, Caragh?’ her younger brother Brendan asked. At seventeen, his appetite was three times her own, and she’d done her best to keep him from growing hungry. But it was now evident that they would run out of food sooner than she’d thought.

Instead of answering, she showed him what was left. He sobered, his thin face hollow from lack of food. ‘We haven’t caught any fish, either. I’ll try again this morning.’

‘I can make a pottage,’ she offered. ‘I’ll go and look for wild onions or carrots.’ Though she tried to interject a note of hope, both of them knew that the forests and fields had been stripped long ago. There was nothing left, except the dry summer grasses.

Brendan reached out and touched her shoulder. ‘Our brothers will come back. And when they do, we’ll have plenty to eat.’

In his face, she saw the need to believe it, and she braved a smile she didn’t feel. ‘I hope so.’

After he went outside with his fishing net, Caragh stared back at the empty hut. Both of their parents had died last winter. Her father had gone out to try to catch fish, and he’d drowned. Her mother had grieved deeply for him and had never recovered from the loss. She’d given her own portion of food to Brendan numerous times, lying that she’d already eaten. When they’d discovered the truth, it had been too late to prevent her death.

So many had succumbed to starvation, and it bled Caragh’s conscience to know that both of her parents had died, trying to feed their children.

Hot tears rose up as she stared at her father’s forge. He’d been a blacksmith, and she was accustomed to hearing the ring of his hammer, watching the bright glow of hot metal as he shaped it into tools. Her heart was as heavy as the anvil, knowing she would never hear his broad laugh again.

Though his boat remained, she didn’t have the courage to face the larger waves. Her brothers knew how to sail, but none of them had ventured out again after his death. It was as if evil spirits lingered, cursing the broken vessel that had returned without their father.

She wished they could leave Gall Tír. This desolate land had nothing left. But they lacked the supplies to travel very far on foot. They should have gone last summer, after the crops had failed to flourish. At least then, they would have had enough to survive the journey. Even if they now travelled by sea, they had not enough food to sustain them beyond a day.

The hand of Death was stretched out over everyone, and Caragh had felt her own weakness changing her. She could hardly walk for long distances without growing faint, and the smallest tasks were overwhelming. Her body had grown so thin, her léine hung upon her, and she could see the thin bones of her knees and wrists.

But she wasn’t ready to give up. Like all of them, she was fighting to live.

She picked up her gathering basket and stepped outside in the sunlight. The ringfort was quiet, few people exerting the energy to talk, when there was the greater task of finding food. Her older brothers weren’t the only ones who had left to seek supplies. Most of the able-bodied men had gone, especially those with children. None were expected to return.