I smile, shaking my head. “None is asked. I’m not looking to be your friend, Lord Hamish, but I am looking to be your ally.”
Hamish glances at his friends, who each nod in turn, before he finally turns back to me.
“Aye,” he growls. “I can do allies.”
I smile as I grip his hand firmly, shaking on it.
“We ride immediately, and my people will need horses.”
Lachlan nods. “I’ve got plenty in my stable. I’ll send a man ahead to ready them. You three, ride back and ready your men, and we’ll meet at my castle before marching on Chauntleroy.”
Callum nods at me. “You’ve married Rhona?”
“I have.”
He nods, holding my gaze. “Then I’ll take you as that man, not the one from before. Don’t make us regret this, or you will.”
I shake my head. “All I want is my Rhona back,” I growl. “The rest is in the past, for all of us.”
He nods, and when he reaches out, I shake his hand. I do the same to Malcolm and Lachlan before they turn to ride off to their own castles to ready their troops.
Now, it’s time for war.
“Ready our people,” I growl, watching as my strange new allies gallop away.
I turn to my friends, half excepting scolds of disproval. But instead, I just get a clap on the shoulder from Bjorn as he chuckles deeply.
“What?”
“You, a regular fucking politician,” he chuckles.
Freya laughs. “What’s your next magic trick, Tor? Are you going to pull a bird out of your ear? Turn water to wine?”
I roll my eyes at them, “Are you with me or not?”
The humor fades instantly, as the hungry yearning for battle that I know and recognize spreads over all of their faces.
“Until Valhalla, my jarl,” Erik growls, grinning hungrily as he hefts his sword. “Let’s go take your woman back.”
Chapter 14
Rhona
My pulse races. My body strains at the binds tying me to the chair, but it’s useless. For the second time in as many days, I find myself tied up by a man. Though this time doesn’t carry the undercurrent of heat and desire the first one did. Chauntleroy tying me up is a fear and intimidation tactic. With Tor, it was foreplay.
Chauntleroy himself is pacing his chambers in front of me, looking deranged as he slugs back goblet after goblet of wine. He’s been at it for hours, pacing and drinking and occasionally muttering vile things at me. And I want to think that any moment, my Viking will come for me, but I’m slowly starting to realize how far-fetched a hope that is. Tor might be infamously savage and effective at attacking the coasts, under the element of surprise. But Chauntleroy’s castle is far inland, and heavily, heavily fortified. It would take an army trained in the art of attacking a castle to come for me, and even if I wish it were true, I’m not sure if a ragged band of Viking marauders without armor, or siege weapons, is capable of it.
Actually, I’m quite sure they aren’t.
I drop my eyes, a darkness settling over my heart. There’s a bitter feeling in my stomach. For one night, I had something perfect. Because somehow, in the very last man I could imagine finding it in, I found love. True, passionate, wild, untamed love.
I startle at the sound of Chauntleroy swearing as he throws his goblet across the room. The metal cup slams against the castle wall, bouncing to the floor as he whirls on me.
“You… you…” He snarls, seething as he his eyes narrow at me.
“You little whore.”
I spit at him, catching him right in the eye and sending him screeching back.
“You bitch!” he squeals. He whirls back, and when his hand slaps across my cheek, I wince, crying out. And yet, it’s worth every bit of the pain to have spit in his damn eye.
“You know, I’ve been sitting here trying to decide what to do with you,” he growls. “Since you’ve been defiled by those filthy savages. Do I give you to my men to have fun with? Take your head?”
He leans close, swearing at me, and when he tugs at the pommel of his sword, a spike of fear shoots through me. Chauntleroy sees it, and he grins wickedly.
“But no. No, my wayward whore of a bride. I’ll still marry you. You will bear my heir. But after that?” he sneers at me. “After that, I’m throwing you to my dogs to be their bitch. After you bear me a son, you’re dead.”
Terror spikes through me, but I’m determined not to let him see. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Tor in the last few days—aside from what it truly means to come—it’s that: to be strong. To be fierce in the face of danger. To be unflinching and unafraid. And that’s what I try and do—swallow it back and show Chauntleroy nothing but the hard sneer on my face.