Magnar (The Wolves of Clan Sutherland Book 1) Read online

  Some of the thoughts being discussed echoed his own. Magnar should take the guards, slip inside the castle, and slit their throats. With the enemy vanquished, Lady Elspeth and Erik could continue with their lives.

  After draining his cup, he reached for a jug next to Rorik. Though the man was sitting next to Elspeth, he refrained in any conversation and kept his hands on the table. In truth, Rorik appeared terrified when the lass took a seat next to him.

  Magnar smiled inwardly. At least you heeded my words.

  Never before had Magnar ordered Rorik—a good friend—to keep away from a female. His command bothered Magnar. Why should he concern himself with the lass? She was a female like any other. Unable to fathom any reasoning, he slammed the door on his thoughts and refilled his cup.

  “Does he always drink so much?” she asked Rorik.

  Magnar’s hand stilled midway to his mouth. With his keen sense of hearing, the question had reached his ears. He turned slightly in his chair and lifted the cup outward to the lass. “Again, why would it concern you?”

  Confusion marred those lovely green eyes. “You are mistaken in the question I posed for Rorik. Considering you have emptied two jugs and left none for the rest of us, I grew curious over your consumption.”

  “Should you confess or shall I?” interjected Rorik, giving him a bold look.

  Magnar relented and judged it wiser to remain silent. The pain in his head increased.

  Rorik folded his arms over his chest. “Whenever Magnar drinks heavily, ’tis due to a decision he is battling over within his mind. Two jugs, you say? I have seen the man drink a barrel in one night.”

  “Truly,” she responded dryly, seemingly not impressed in the slightest. Pushing a trencher filled with boar’s meat and onions toward him, she added, “Considering the beating you had in the lists, you might want to replenish your body with food and leave the wine for another night.”

  Loki’s balls! Her tongue was as sharp as any he had encountered. “My body is none of your concern, unless you have other thoughts on what might fulfill my needs.” The words spilled out of his mouth before he could take them back. Worse, he had stated them loud enough for some to halt their conversations.

  Red splotches began along her neck and spread to her face. She lifted her chin and gave him a hard look. “You are correct. Please accept my apology.”

  Elspeth spoke quietly to Rorik and then rose from her chair. “My king, the hour grows late. With your permission, I will take my leave and go tend to my nephew.”

  Giving her a smile, he replied, “I thank you for gracing us with your presence at our table tonight.”

  She never even looked at Magnar as she passed him on her way out of the hall.

  The wine soured in Magnar’s gut. He required no apology from the lass. He was the one with poor manners and tossing out sharp barbs. By the hounds he required fresh air to rid himself of the uneasiness and pain inside his head. Quickly draining his cup, he pushed away from the table and stood.

  “What best plan of attack do you deem the wisest, Magnar?” asked King William.

  He narrowed his eyes in thought. There was only one truth to profess to the king. “Let me take the guards, and we shall reclaim Castle Steinn.”

  “All of them?”

  Magnar cast his gaze around the room, counting the number of the elite. “I will take those within the hall—Steinar, Bjorn, Ivar, Gunnar, and Rorik.”

  The king rubbed a hand through his beard and nodded slowly. “Take your leave from here after sunset tomorrow. Ten of my other guards will accompany you. We shall discuss more in the morning.”

  Relief coursed through him. Magnar dipped his head toward the king and then made swift strides from the hall. With a quest to plan, there was no time to dwell on anything else. Nevertheless, he yearned for the freedom to clear his mind and body from a certain lass.

  When Magnar reached the castle entrance, his beast sensed the approaching shift. Shoving the doors open, he began to cross the bailey and halted. Standing in the middle was Elspeth gazing up at the partial full moon. Moonlight spilled around her tiny body creating a vision for him to feast upon.

  The wolf within howled to be released. The man agreed.

  Continuing on his journey out of the bailey and toward the portcullis, her words made him pause.

  “Have I offended you in any way?”

  He should keep on walking. The battle between his wolf and the man screamed within his mind. Clenching and unclenching his fist, he took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. Turning to face her, he stared into emerald depths that shimmered in the moon glow.

  “Nae, Lady Elspeth. ’Tis I that has offended you with my sharp words.”

  She chuckled softly. “Do not be so forgiving of my barbs either, Magnar. The nuns at the abbey were constantly chastising me for speaking my mind openly.”

  Stunned by her declaration, he asked, “You lived with nuns? Why would your brother send you to live with those who do not follow in his beliefs?”

  “Aye. My brother sent me there when I was ten. I fought against leaving our home. But I was headstrong, outspoken, and was often found climbing trees or playing with the sheep and goats. He thought the women—nuns would soften my temperament. In many ways, my brother was attempting to make me obedient for marriage.”

  She lifted her head and pointed to the stars. “I wanted to learn other things, not what was demanded of me.” Blowing out a sigh, she returned her attention to him. “Nevertheless, I am grateful my brother did send me to the abbey. I found great love for our Lord there.”

  And I am a heathen in your eyes. A part of him saddened at the thought. “Your brother would be proud of you,” he stated with sincerity.

  Her eyes widened in surprise, and she smiled at him. “You knew him?”

  Magnar returned her smile. “Aye, most definitely. I counted him among the few I call friends. He spoke only the one time of you.” Clasping his hands behind his back, he lifted his sight to the stars. “Becoming chieftain at a young age after the death of your parents was an honor he accepted. It was the task of having to care for an unruly sister that caused him anguish.”

  “You do not need to remind me,” she responded dryly. “I was a dreadful sister. He used to say my temper matched the color of my hair, stating that nae man would ever want such a rueful wife. Nae wonder he only spoke of me once to you.”

  Returning his attention to her, Magnar studied her taut features. “I reckon I would be upset if I had a sister who put maggots in my morning gruel.”

  Elspeth clapped a hand over her chest. “By the saints! I was beyond the threshold of anger with Thomas on that day. He had forbidden me from stepping outside the castle for one week. I nearly went mad. I made a vow to seek revenge on the mighty Chieftain Gunn.”

  “Truly,” replied Magnar, doing his best not to laugh out loud. “I am sure he learned his lesson and never punished you again.”

  She pointed a warning finger in front of him. “I see you are jesting with me.”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “Do you see me laughing?”

  Elspeth snorted. “I can see the mirth showing in your face, especially around your eyes.”

  Shrugging, he replied, “’Tis a witty tale.”

  “Aye, aye, but soon thereafter he sent me to the abbey,” she confessed in a somber tone.

  “Perchance Thomas judged it wiser for you to be tutored there. If I may ask, why did you not stay there?”

  Sighing heavily, she wrapped her arms around her body. “I came back for the marriage of my brother. Our reunion was mixed with emotions—mine mostly filled with tears. I had not seen him in five years. I pleaded with him to allow me to remain, and he agreed. That was eight years ago. I did love the nuns, but my home was with him. Yet he soon found me challenging his belief in the old ways, and we argued many a night.”

  Doing the figures in his mind, he concluded the lass’ age of three and twenty. “And you have not married?”
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  As she glanced at him, her expression turned guarded. “It was a constant battle of words between us. I argued against most of the other chieftains—”

  “Too old,” interrupted Magnar.

  She nodded vigorously. “How did he expect me to have any children with them?”

  Magnar burst out in laughter. Never had he encountered a woman so forward in her speaking. One moment, he wanted to rip out her tongue, and then the next, he found himself listening with interest.

  “Pray forgive my words. I should not have blurted that one out. I realize I am old to most men for a wife, but I would not settle for anything less than what our parents had.” She twisted her hands together in front of her. “They truly loved one another.”

  “Did he insist on a chieftain?” asked Magnar, attempting to lessen her discomfort. “Surely there were other men offering to take you as their wife.”

  She shuddered, and Magnar yearned to take her in his arms to bring warmth to her.

  Blowing out a breath into the frosty night air, she said softly, “It was one of our last arguments over my marriage. Thomas even suggested one of the Northmen who had graced our table. He argued my age would be against me, thus I should be grateful for any man to take me as his wife.”

  When she lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “If I had agreed to a previous marriage, Thomas would not have been killed. ’Tis my stubborn fault that I did not take any of the other offers.”

  Magnar drew back. “You are not to blame, Lady Elspeth.”

  “Aye.” She pounded her chest with her fist. “The guilt will haunt me to my death and beyond, Magnar. He sought out the Northmen to trade and to discuss marriage plans. Word had reached him of how they had great wealth in furs, amber, and mead. And I was the wealth he was going to bargain for in obtaining those goods. When I found out, I threatened to leave. And he vowed to send me to the abbey for the rest of my days. There are many moments when I wished I had returned to the safety of those holy walls.” She lowered her head on a sigh. “I carry his death on my soul.”

  The battle to seek vengeance rooted within Magnar—not only for his friend, but for the lass standing before him.

  An abbey is not a place for you to hide, Elspeth Gunn. Nor are you matched to become a nun.

  Chapter Eight

  After giving one final inspection to the supplies and weapons secured on his horse, Magnar reached for his cloak and sword off a nearby bench and departed the stables. Early morning light shimmered off the treetops as he made his way to meet with King William. He nodded to those in passing, and skirted out of the way of a passing dog intent on wreaking harm on the rabbits that wandered inside the castle gates to feast on the garden greens.

  Rorik met him halfway across the bailey with a look that did not bode well. “The king received a message before dawn from Castle Steinn.”

  His steps slowed. “From whom?”

  The man nodded in the direction away from the castle entrance and other folk.

  Magnar followed after Rorik as he led them toward the lists and away from any others. A tremor of unease settled within him. When the man turned a corner, he continued down along the wall of the south-facing castle. Coming to a halt near a secluded area and sheltered by trees, Rorik turned around.

  Arching a brow, Magnar asked, “Why are we hiding here?”

  “You ken there are ears everywhere, even inside Lord Sutherland’s castle.”

  “Speak, Rorik,” he demanded, his patience waning.

  The man leaned against the stone wall. “Halvard Baardsen.”

  Fisting his hands on his hips, Magnar glared up at the sunlight. “I have not heard of him.”

  “He claims to be the leader of his men and has made demands from the king.”

  “Demands?”

  Rorik shrugged. “I was not privy to the particular details. I wanted to give you the news before you entered the king’s chambers. His temper is foul now, to the extent of cursing and crumbling the missive in his hand.”

  Wiping a hand down the back of his neck, Magnar began to pace. “Nae matter. I shall have the head of this bastard soon. Or I will take my time in slicing certain limbs from his body.”

  Rorik pushed away from the wall. “Our plans have changed.”

  Halting abruptly, he asked, “Why?”

  “Unsure. But the king is expecting you.” The man gestured him forward.

  Making quick strides back to the castle and up the stairs, Magnar slowed his steps. Curiosity battled with anger—anger that he had to halt his attack against this Baardsen. When he reached the king’s chambers, he found the door ajar. Pushing it open, he stepped inside.

  Rorik stood at the entrance. “I shall inform the other guards we are not leaving.”

  King William moved away from the blazing hearth. “Nae. I require a witness. Come inside and close the door.”

  A chill of foreboding swept through Magnar as he exchanged glances with Rorik. Clasping his hands behind his back, he waited for the king to speak.

  When the door was closed, the king went to his desk and waved a hand over the wrinkled missive. “I misjudged this man, Halvard Baardsen who has taken over Castle Steinn.” He rubbed a hand through his beard and leaned against the desk. “He has requested his future bride to be restored to him at once. There was an agreement between Thomas and this man in front of many witnesses. If needed, he will present names upon her return. In addition, Thomas withdrew his sword first in a drunken rage.”

  Stunned by this news, Magnar blurted out, “Elspeth? How did he ken she was here?”

  “Uncertain,” replied the king, tapping a finger to the missive. “Is she a spy? Did she plot to kill her brother and then flee realizing her mistake?”

  “Nae!” Magnar slashed the air with his hand. “I heard her account of her brother’s death. She spoke the truth. I will rip out the tongue—”

  William held up his hand. “Aye. But Halvard claims those within the Gunn clan witnessed this pact. Strange you would come quickly to her defense. Do you find a connection with the lass?”

  Confusion settled within Magnar. “If I may be so bold to ask, what are you trying to say, my king?”

  “According to the verbal agreement between Thomas and Halvard, Elspeth was promised to him. ’Tis an ancient law in the Gunn family. Any verbal contracts pertaining to marriage are binding, even if the clans resort to war. The written word is not required.”

  “Even if you murder your host?” snapped Magnar. “It should be without value. Perchance Thomas judged this man a poor husband and took back his offer. Aye, Thomas enjoyed his ale, but he always remained courteous with his guests. ’Tis this bastard’s word over our dead friend’s. What about those within the clan? Surely they were forced to speak falsehoods.”

  A sour look passed over the king’s features. “I agree. As the current chieftain is far too young to make any decision regarding his aunt, I as their king, have taken control. Aye, I can send you to slit his throat, or we can thwart their plan with another.”

  The king picked up the missive and crossed the chamber. Standing in front of Magnar, he crumpled the note in his fist. “You shall wed Elspeth Gunn and return to Castle Steinn with your wife and the new chieftain. Not only will you take the elite guards, but some of my own guards, as well. I want this man removed, but I also want to abide by the edicts of the Gunn clan. In the end, we can tell this man that you had fallen under the lass’ charm and agreed to wed her. We can profess that this missive came too late.”

  Magnar took a step back. “Marriage? To me?” He pointed a finger in Rorik’s direction. “Why not him?” Yet the idea of his friend bedding Elspeth twisted his gut like a pit of snakes.

  “Nae, nae!” The man shook his head. “You fancy her, not I.”

  Giving the man a scathing look, Magnar uttered softly, “Hold your tongue.”

  “Enough!” ordered King William. He clamped a firm hand on Magnar’s shoulder. “Would it be so
awful to take a wife?”

  Returning his attention to the king, he responded, “Aye! You ken I must share what I am. It would only serve to have her see me as a heathen. And in our ancient bylaws, I cannot wed until I have shared our ways with her.”

  The flames from the fire snapped, echoing the mood within Magnar. Marriage to a woman who followed the new religion would only end in biting words between them. Elspeth would come to despise him, and the thought left him unsteady.

  William blew out a frustrated curse and released his hold on Magnar. “Castle Steinn requires a strong leader to guide the new earl, and he must return to his home. Marriage to Elspeth and taking over Castle Steinn will ensure continued support for my kingdom—without a bloody war.”

  “Why not wipe out the bastard and then find a suitable match for Elspeth?” suggested Magnar.

  “Again, you are forgetting the agreement between Thomas and this man. I am certain he proclaimed it to all within hearing. Aye, you can storm into the castle and take control, but another might present himself from this band of warriors, and I need to quell the source.”

  Magnar crossed the room and drew back the partially open wooden shutters. Crisp air slashed across his face, and he inhaled deeply. His gaze roamed over the landscape as he leaned against the ledge of the arched window. Freedom beckoned him beyond the hills and over the sea to Orkneyjar. Even so, he was honor-bound to his king and to an ancient code of edicts. Duty always above personal needs. Exhaling slowly, he said, “She will learn to hate me.”

  William approached and stood by his side. “Again, I ask, do you have a bond with Elspeth?”

  Ignoring the question, Magnar challenged, “And my duties as the leader of the wolves? Will they be stripped and given to another? What about the search for my brother? Must I cease in finding Thorfinn?”

  “Nae,” replied the king. “This will add more to your duties when you take on this additional responsibility.”