Magnar (The Wolves of Clan Sutherland Book 1) Page 6
“What can you share, MacAlpin?” The king’s words held a note of impatience.
“The only truth I ken. He travels with those not honorable. They plunder and destroy all in their path. I have gathered information from local villagers on my return from Kirkjuvágr.”
The king stared into the flames. “I have sent missives with Bjorn and Ivar to all the chieftains in the north. They will be gone for several more weeks. News has reached me of the increasing skirmishes of several bands of Northmen. They steal, rape, and burn everything. Those who manage to flee speak of an evil monster who leads them. There is talk of fear amongst my people of King Inge invading our shores.”
“I can assure you the King of Norway has nae desire to claim this part of Scotland,” professed Magnar.
William returned his gaze to Magnar. “Have you spoken with him recently? Or do you give your account on those from Orkneyjar Isles?”
Frowning, Magnar responded, “Those who are loyal to King Inge are loyal to me.”
The king waved his hand dismissively. “We must end this conflict and find out who is at the heart of these mercenaries. A few men creating mayhem is easy to put down. But when a threat of this extent invades much of northern Scotland, I want it vanquished immediately.”
Both men turned when Alexander Sutherland entered the chamber. The earl’s features seemed strained as he approached. “We have a new threat,” he announced.
King William stood abruptly. “Explain!”
“Ivar and Bjorn have returned. They bring with them Lady Elspeth Gunn and her nephew, Erik. They found them wandering the hills far away from Castle Steinn after a battle was fought.”
Magnar placed his cup on the stone floor and stood slowly. A tremor of unease slid across his skin. “Where is their chieftain?”
Alexander rubbed a hand down the back of his neck. “Slain. The castle taken and parts burned. This is the only information disclosed to me from Bjorn. He requests to speak to you about the new chieftain.”
“God’s blood!” William tossed the remainder of his ale into the fire. “The nephew you speak of is in truth, the new chieftain of Castle Steinn.”
“Nae,” uttered Alexander in a shocked tone. “He is but a wee lad.”
“Who will require guidance,” interjected William. “Have proper chambers prepared for them. I shall meet with both of them now. Where are they?”
“I have cleared the great hall and placed them near the hearth.”
“Good. For now, we must contain this news.”
Dark fury burst within Magnar. He counted Thomas Gunn a loyal and good friend. He knew of his sister, but never had been introduced. Sadly, he had not visited with Thomas in many years, especially after the death of his wife in her childbed. The beast within him howled in protest and sorrow. He clenched and unclenched his fist, yearning to rip apart the person responsible for ending the life of a good man. “I shall speak with Ivar and Bjorn.”
The king shook his head and made for the door. “Nae. Attend with me while I speak with them. You can glean any wisdom from their accounts. This threat across my lands will cease!”
After giving the king a curt nod, Magnar followed him out of the chamber.
****
Elspeth smoothed the folds of her gown, doing her best to brush the smudges of dirt staining the garment. Upon her arrival, she was told of King William being within the castle, and her nerves skittered. The food she had eaten earlier in the morn had quickly soured. However, Erik appeared eager to meet the king, despite his appearance. He continued to converse with Bjorn and Ivar as if they were kin. Even Lord Sutherland had taken an interest in what her nephew was saying before he departed the hall. Part of her realized this was Erik’s way of dealing with the death of his father. Although she understood the young lad was merely waiting for the day to avenge his father’s death.
You have found allies, Erik. Your father would be proud.
The flames from the hearth snapped, startling Elspeth. When the doors to the great hall opened, she pushed back her chair and stood. The man striding forward with Lord Sutherland following required no introduction. She had heard the tales of the tall, red-bearded king from her brother. Clasping her hands together to ward off the trembling within her body, she waited for him to acknowledge her.
Erik had left his companions and stood next to her. As the king approached, she dipped a low curtsey.
“I am saddened to hear of the loss of your chieftain—a loyal father and brother to you both,” proclaimed the king in a low voice.
Words she wanted to offer in response lodged within her throat like a hard bannock as she rose upright.
“Thank you,” whispered Erik, giving the king a bow.
“Aye. I can see courage in you as the new chieftain, Erik.”
Erik beamed from the king’s praise. He glanced up at Elspeth. “My aunt helped to get us free from the Northmen.”
The king looked her way. “Indeed. A brave woman.” Returning his attention to Erik, he motioned for him to take a seat. “You must share your account with us. You were fortunate to come upon my other guards, Bjorn and Ivar, but this is my most trusted guard, Magnar.”
Slowly, Elspeth turned around at the mention of the other man. When had he entered the hall? She’d heard no other footsteps. Yet there he stood, looming over her as she lifted her head to meet his gaze. A giant with piercing blue eyes, long fair-colored hair, and a silver torc around his massive neck.
Another bloody heathen Northman!
Determined not to be swayed by his handsome features, she swallowed and took a step back.
The man approached. And Elspeth continued to back away.
He paused and tilted his head to the side. “You might want to halt your steps, Lady Elspeth.”
His words skimmed across her skin and to the pit of her stomach. He was too near. His gaze made her dizzy, and her heart pounded against her chest. She would not be dismayed by his words. Elspeth shot him a haughty glare and lifted her chin. “Do not tell me what I shall do.”
The man arched a brow and mirth danced within those eyes. “Unless you heed my words, you will fall back into the king.”
Horrified, Elspeth glanced over her shoulder. King William was directly behind her. Beads of sweat broke out along the back of her neck. You are a lady of the house of Gunn. What is wrong with you? He is only a guard for our king!
Returning her attention to the man, she gave him a curt nod, unable to utter another word.
Elspeth scooted to the side and went around the table. Taking a seat across from her nephew, she watched in stunned silence as the giant approached and sat beside her.
“You were fortunate Bjorn and Ivar came upon you both. The forest is not a place for a young lad and woman to be traveling alone, especially without guards.”
Elspeth held back the barb she wanted to toss out at the man. She decided on a more blunt approach. “The young lad is a strong warrior. And I am not some feeble maiden.”
Reaching for a jug, Magnar poured the wine into two cups and handed her one. “Aye, I can see the fire in your eyes—strong and stubborn. Nevertheless, harm would have surely befallen you and your warrior, if you had continued on your journey.”
Sweet Mother Mary! She fully understood the risk they took by fleeing. Certainly, she did not need to have this man rebuke her for taking action and seeking help. The man’s presence surrounded her, and she longed to remove herself to another position at the table. Elspeth took a huge sip of the wine and then another. Glorious warmth invaded her body like a warm blanket, helping to ease the tension.
She swirled the wine within her cup. “I can assure you, Magnar, if Erik and I had remained at Castle Steinn death would have claimed us.” She met his steely gaze. “It would have been stubborn and foolhardy to remain. Fleeing to protect my chieftain was my only choice.”
He chuckled softly. “And I do not disagree with your decision.”
“Then why mention anything?”
“I thought they were the king’s men?” disputed Elspeth.
A muscle twitched in his jaw, and he placed his cup on the table. “Aye, but I am their leader.”
Confused, Elspeth started to object when boisterous laughter resounded from the king and other men. Erik was giving his account of how they stole the satchels of food. Except his interpretation was not entirely correct. Her nephew omitted the part where it was her skill and keen eyesight in retrieving the items.
Tapping her fingers on the table, she tried to draw her nephew’s attention toward her. To rebuke him in front of the king would be beneath her. However, Erik would surely hear her displeasure at his fable when they were alone.
Magnar leaned near her. “Does the lad speak the truth? Or do I hear boasting?” he asked softly.
His warm breath caressed her cheek, and she dared to meet his heated gaze. “How do you ken?”
“The lad has captured the attention of the king. I have witnessed it among many men—young and old. ’Tis a custom to boast after a great victory. Besides, when someone is plied with wine, the truth is skewed to fit the bard. ’Tis a good story.”
Elspeth blinked as if coming out of trance. “Wine? Erik has been drinking wine? Did someone not think to mix it with water?”
“Aye!” proclaimed Erik, lifting his cup high. “A chieftain always has drink with his meal.”
Standing abruptly, she glanced around the table. She wanted to shout at them all. Did they not understand how exhausted they were? From the moment they arrived at Lord Sutherland’s castle, they were ushered into the great hall to await the king. No food given. Only wine served. Bright red splotches covered her nephew’s cheeks.
Moving away from the table, she went to her nephew and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “My king. If you would be so kind, I shall see Erik to his chamber.”
King William smiled. “Do not fret, Lady Elspeth. There was not much wine in his cup. I deemed it best to acknowledge his new position as chieftain with a small amount.”
Relief coursed through her, and she gave him her best smile. “Then with your consent, may I fetch him some food from the kitchens?”
The king rose from his chair. “Lord Sutherland has prepared chambers for you both.
“I shall send a woman to attend to you. Another will bring food for you and Erik,” announced Lord Sutherland.
“Chambers in the south tower?” asked Magnar, taking a hold of her elbow.
Lord Sutherland gave him a slight nod.
Startled once again by the man’s silent movements, Elspeth remained mute, trying to control the warring emotions from the man’s touch. The heat of his fingers seared into her gown and onto her skin.
Giving the king a small smile, she permitted Magnar to usher her out of the great hall. Erik kept a steady pace with their movements as he continued to entertain their overly bold guide with yet another tale of how they escaped their home.
Her steps slowed as the torchlight danced off the giant tapestry hanging on the wall near the stairs. The eyes of a white wolf bore into Elspeth as she drew near. Though only the head of the animal was represented within the woven threads, she half expected the wolf to jump out at her.
Elite Guards. Wolves. King William.
Elspeth returned her attention to the man holding her in his grip. “I heard my brother once mention the elite guards for the king. He spoke with reverence and with fear. They are loyal to the king but had one leader—one who all of Scotland should fear because of his magic.”
The man’s eyes darkened, and a smile tipped the corners of his mouth. “Your brother was wise in his account.”
Elspeth’s heart pounded fiercely within her chest. “You are the leader of the Wolves of Clan Sutherland.”
Chapter Seven
“You fight like a dog, Ivar!” Magnar spat on the ground in disgust. Even though the day was brisk, beads of sweat rolled off his body.
A low growl came forth from the man. “And you nae better than a woman.”
“Harness both—man and beast,” ordered Magnar, wiping the moisture from his eyes.
When Ivar lunged at him, Magnar attempted to block the blow. The result was a gash to his forehead from the man’s blade.
“You might be my leader, but you cannot tell me how to fight in the lists.”
Blowing out a curse, Magnar tossed his sword onto the ground. Out of all the warriors, Ivar continued to challenge him. Clenching and unclenching his right fist, he sneered at his foe in the lists. “Then let us see who can draw first blood without using a blade.”
Ivar snarled. “Blood already seeps from a cut above your eye.”
Pointing to his sword, Magnar argued, “From the blade—not a fist.”
The man tossed his blade aside and charged forward. The battle between the two began in earnest, each determined to injure the other. Magnar leveled a mighty blow to Ivar’s chin, but the man righted himself quickly and returned to the fighting. Each continued to struggle for balance and victory between grunts, curses, and blows. Yet not one drop of blood was drawn forth.
When the man dropped to the ground, Magnar held up his hand in warning. “Do not resort to the animal.”
“Is it not what we are?” taunted Ivar, pounding the ground with his fist. “Man and wolf? To fight as both is folly. The wolf can emerge more powerful.”
“The advantage is to have the power of both—a victory claimed,” argued Magnar. Shifting his stance he swiped at blood instead of sweat this time. “You allow the wolf to rule in this challenge. And there will be nae winner.”
Ivar’s eyes shifted to darkened orbs with silver edging the rims.
“You refuse to listen?”
“I believe the time has passed for words, MacAlpin.”
The wolf within Magnar clawed at him to be released. The lack of respect was an act of defiance—a total disregard of respect for his alpha. In one swift move, he gave the wolf partial rein and within seconds had the man flat on his back with his head twisted into the muddy ground.
Magnar clenched his other hand around his throat. “You have forgotten your place.”
When the man refused to relent, Magnar continued to affirm his authority by squeezing firmly.
He leaned close to his ear. “You are nothing but a thief.” The look he gave Ivar would singe the hair from any man or beast as he allowed his eyes to change to those of the wolf.
Ivar sputtered. “You…bar…barbarian.”
His fury was doused by curiosity as Magnar lifted his head to the sound of soft feminine laughter. Distracted by the flame-haired beauty walking by the entrance on Rorik’s arm resulted in a blow to his nose from Ivar. Blood spurted forth, and Magnar delivered a hard fist to the man’s chin, knocking him cold.
Elspeth’s gasp surrounded him.
Breathing heavily, Magnar stood slowly. Doing his best to temper the wolf within, his gaze lingered on her before he sought out Rorik. For reasons he could not fathom, Magnar longed to rip the man’s limb from his body. He should not be touching the lass. Especially not the seducer of women.
Rorik gave a curt nod. “I see you are the victor once again. ’Tis a shame for Ivar.”
Magnar spread his arms wide. “Ready to battle another,” he challenged.
Elspeth’s features paled. She pointed to Ivar. “Is he alive?”
Kicking the man’s leg with his boot, Magnar replied, “Aye. His pretty face will be covered with bruises for a few days, but I do not believe the lasses will mind while they tend to his injuries.”
Rorik coughed into his hand to hide his mirth. “Never thought the man had a pleasing face.”
“You are hurt,” remarked Elspeth, removing her hand from Rorik’s arm.
As the lass approached, Magnar fought the urge to take a step back. From the moment he stepped into the hall last evening, som
ething primal had emerged—lust, as well as possession, and Magnar craved to have her beneath him. Never had he experienced such raw emotions over a female. He simply bedded them hard, swift, and then left.
Control was his shield—his strength.
Elspeth lifted her hand. In one swift movement, Magnar captured her wrist and trailed his thumb over the vein. Her scent surrounded him, and he inhaled sharply. The fragrance of roses mixed with her female essence. Even in the gray light, he noted the tiny freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. However, it was those emerald eyes that had him enchanted. Her lips parted, inviting him to take and plunder their soft fullness.
“I was only going to inspect your nose to see if it was broken,” she offered softly.
He tilted his head to the side. “Why would it concern you?”
She gave a nervous laugh. “I had to tend to my brother’s injuries many a time after sparring in the lists. His nose was in constant need of healing.”
Magnar blinked and released his hold. Harness the lust. “I thank you, but there is nae need.”
Wariness flared briefly within her eyes. She took a step back and nodded.
It took all of Magnar’s restraint not to pull her back to him. He quickly stepped around the lass and walked away. The bite of wind slapped at his face as he wiped the blood from his nose on the back of his hand.
When he approached a smiling Rorik, he paused. “You will not bed this lass,” he ordered with deadly calm.
Rorik’s good humor vanished in an instant. “I have nae—”
He cut the man’s words off with a growl. “Remove her from your conquests of women.”
Keeping silent, Rorik shoved past him. Magnar fought the temptation to steal one last look at Elspeth. Instead, he stormed out of the lists, heading for the icy waters of the stream behind the castle.
His blood required cooling—not from sparring in the list, but because of the heady scent of a certain beguiling woman.
****
A dull ache settled behind Magnar’s eyes as he continued to drink heavily. The evening spent in the great hall had gone from quiet conversations to loud boasting and fighting over the best plan to attack Castle Steinn and rid the vermin from the lands. The king did little to thwart the heated debates. In truth, he sat back and listened with intent. A ploy Magnar often witnessed from the man.