Johanna Lindsey
Surrender My Love
Dedication
For all the ladies who wanted Selig,
this one’s for you
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
HE ENTERED THE long hall of Wyndhurst and every woman…
Chapter 2
IT WAS NOT war that was threatening again, as Kristen…
Chapter 3
SELIG DEPARTED FOR East Anglia the next morn. As it…
Chapter 4
LADY ERIKA PUT the large ladle to her lips to…
Chapter 5
THE OXCART TRUDGED slowly down the wooded lane, an old…
Chapter 6
IT WAS THE rain that woke Selig, steady drops that…
Chapter 7
ERIKA HAD VAGUELY noticed the returning patrol on her way…
Chapter 8
ERIKA HAD MARCHED no more than twenty paces when the…
Chapter 9
KRISTEN WAS IN the stable, readying her white destrier, when…
Chapter 10
THE GATES WERE slammed shut against them as they approached…
Chapter 11
KRISTEN HELD THE Danish woman pressed tight to the front…
Chapter 12
THE WAGON HALTED when it reached the rest of the…
Chapter 13
KRISTEN WAS SHOVELING the thick stew down Selig’s throat with…
Chapter 14
ERIKA COULDN’T SAY what had roused her from her sleep,…
Chapter 15
THE DAY PROGRESSED as Erika might have expected. Kristen mounted…
Chapter 16
BRENNA HAARDRAD LAY back on the grassy bank, letting the…
Chapter 17
SELIG WAS PUSHING his recovery. Though he was nowise ready…
Chapter 18
ERIKA SAT IN a corner of the bedchamber, unnoticed, on…
Chapter 19
ERIKA STARED AT the large wooden bath with baleful eyes.
Chapter 20
“YOU WILL FIND a comb in the coffer next to…
Chapter 21
BRENNA SLAMMED A fist into her pillow before she dropped…
Chapter 22
ERIKA AWOKE TO raised voices and the bright light of…
Chapter 23
DAYS PASSED, ROLLING one into another without incident. Erika’s nervousness…
Chapter 24
SELIG HAD JUDGED correctly the short time it would take…
Chapter 25
FOR THE NEXT two days, Erika was left alone more…
Chapter 26
IT HAD BEEN too much to hope that his mother…
Chapter 27
THREE RODE FORWARD toward the closed gate. Turgeis Ten Feet…
Chapter 28
IT WAS UP to Kristen to relate to the rest…
Chapter 29
BY THE TIME Selig reached his chamber, he was so…
Chapter 30
THE BISHOP WAS to wait a while more for their…
Chapter 31
RAGNAR MADE KRISTEN wait nearly an hour up on the…
Chapter 32
“TELL ME HOW he forced you.”
Chapter 33
SELIG CAME AWAKE at the third shaking. His hands went…
Chapter 34
RAGNAR ASKED TO see Selig’s home and was taken there…
Chapter 35
HER NAME WAS Lida. She had been stolen from her…
Chapter 36
SELIG LED THE stallion from the stable. It was not…
Chapter 37
RAGNAR HAD BEEN right. Erika was not displeased with the…
Chapter 38
SELIG WAS TRYING to honor their bargain, he really was,…
Chapter 39
THE HOUR WAS late, yet Erika found it impossible to…
Chapter 40
SELIG WAITED UNTIL the sun had nearly set before he…
Chapter 41
THE DREAM WOKE Selig, causing him to sit up so…
Chapter 42
THE WYNDHURST PATROL brought advance word of the king’s approach…
Chapter 43
ERIKA WOULD HAVE run through the gate to leave Wyndhurst,…
Chapter 44
“MY LADY, YOU must come with me.”
Chapter 45
“WHAT DO YOU mean, you cannot find her?” Selig asked,…
Chapter 46
THE CAMP WAS easily seen from a distance. No effort…
Chapter 47
THE PIT WAS not easily found. It took an hour…
About the Author
Praise
Other Books by Johanna Lindsey
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
Wessex, 879
HE ENTERED THE long hall of Wyndhurst and every woman in it stopped what she was doing to follow him with her eyes. There was nothing unusual in that. It happened every time he was in the presence of women; here, at home, it mattered not where, they couldn’t help but stare at him. Here at Wyndhurst, it made no difference that he was a Viking and they were Saxons all, or that the two rarely mixed without bloodshed. It was only last year that their own men concluded yet another war with the Danish Vikings to the north.
It was not fear that held these women mesmerized, though this Viking could be fearsome when warranted, skilled warrior that he was. It was not awe for his towering height, which surpassed even that of their Lord Royce, who was an exceptionally tall man himself. It was simply that they had never known a man of Selig Haardrad’s uncommon handsomeness.
He didn’t just have a body the northern gods would envy, he had been blessed with a face likened to an angel’s, with eyes that could be as dark as a summer storm or as light as polished silver, prominent cheekbones to frame a perfectly shaped nose, and brows subtly arched and as raven-black as his long, luxurious mane. He also had lips so sensual, every woman he met yearned to know the taste of them.
The women should have grown used to his looks in the six years since his first appearance, when he had come with his Norse Vikings to raid their land and nearly died for it. But familiarity made no difference either. And none were immune, not old Eda in the cooking area at the end of the hall, although she was the first to recall herself and snap at the women there to get back to work. And not young Meghan in the front of the hall, who sat sewing with her ladies before the open windows.
Meghan was no more than ten and four, but she still sighed dreamily and wished this particular Viking was not twice her age. Not that she wasn’t old enough to marry. Babes could be married if the need for an alliance was strong enough. But Royce, her brother, had no such need and was already related to Selig by marriage. And besides, he loved Meghan too dearly to consider letting her leave his home for many a year yet, and she was perfectly happy to have it so.
On the left side of the long hall, at one of the tables set around a large barrel of ale, where the men were wont to gather, Selig’s sister, Kristen, watched him approach. She didn’t usually notice the effect he had on her women, but with the silence that greeted his appearance today, she couldn’t help it. She noted the smile he bestowed on several women, and the winks he gave even more, those he knew intimately. There were too many winks in her opinion.
Sitting beside Kristen, her husband, Royce, rolled his eyes, seeing the same thing, and remarked in an aside to her, “He ought to get married and put them out of their misery.”
“What misery?” she snorted. “He spreads himself around too much to leave naught but happy sighs in his wake. The misery would come if he did marry. And why should he, when he has women
of all ages throwing themselves at him in two countries, not to mention every market center he visits?”
“So ’twas the same in Norway?”
“Always.” She sighed.
Royce chuckled, aware that she was not the least bit annoyed with her brother for his legion of conquests, including those in her own hall. They were too close, those two, for her ever to begrudge him anything. He knew Kristen had even set herself the task of avenging Selig’s death when she thought Royce’s cousin Alden had killed her brother in that raid that had brought both her and Selig to Wessex six years ago.
It was a time Royce didn’t like to dwell on. How close he had come to ordering the deaths of the prisoners his men had captured that day, and almost lost his true love in the process. His wife had been one of those prisoners, though her friends had helped to disguise her so that she appeared no more than a boy. And the guise would have worked, for she was nearly as tall as they, and as tall or taller than most of his own men. It was the Vikings own forgetfulness, in still treating her like a woman, shielding her, aiding her, coming to her defense, that drew attention to her and finally to the truth the day Royce had her whipped.
He had separated her from her friends after that, moving her into his hall. He had thought her their whore, no other reason for her presence with them coming to mind. And she had let him think it, had been amused by it, and with her boldness unlike any he had ever encountered in a woman, she had tempted him from the first. If she had not, he could have resisted her, despite her beauty, despite the fascination she held for him, for he hated all kinds of Vikings with a passion.
Although he had fought wars against them for fifteen years, his hatred had only blossomed eleven years ago. In one horrific ordeal, he was forced to watch, impaled on a wall, while Danish Vikings killed his father and his only brother, and raped and killed his betrothed. Royce was left to die there, amid the corpses of his loved ones, and would have, if the Danes hadn’t gone on to sack Jurro Monastery further inland, allowing those servants who had survived to aid him.
Aye, Royce had good reason to despise all Vikings. Yet he had fallen in love with one, and because of that, was even tolerant of her family. They visited en masse from Norway from time to time in their longships, but her brother Selig had been a more frequent guest, and in fact had stayed to live with them for three out of the past six years.
The first year of their marriage, Selig had stayed merely to be assured Kristen was going to be treated properly in her new home. He stayed the winter that time, though he returned to Norway with his parents when they left after their visit the next summer. And although their parents didn’t come every summer after that, Selig did, with a new ship of his own (Royce had burned the first one), and usually with one or both of his younger brothers in tow.
At the next table, pretending to sharpen his short wooden sword as one of the men was sharpening a real one, five-year-old Alfred finally noticed his uncle’s arrival and ran out to greet him. With a laugh, Selig swooped the boy up and tossed him a good six feet into the air, just short of touching the high ceiling. Kristen squeezed her eyes shut with a groan, but her son’s delighted shrieks told her he had been safely caught. She looked again to see him up on Selig’s wide shoulder, being carried back to her and Royce.
On Kristen’s lap, three-year-old Thora put her arms out to receive the same treatment from her uncle, who was more than happy to oblige. But Kristen slapped his hands away when he reached for her daughter, saying, “Not if you value your life.”
Selig merely laughed at her warning and knocked her own hands aside to snatch up his niece. But he didn’t toss her. He held her up to kiss her baby-soft cheek so loudly, the smack of it was heard throughout the hall, as were the little girl’s giggles. He then straddled the bench across from Thora’s parents, but he kept her in his arms, where she settled down comfortably, looking so tiny against his broadness. Kristen couldn’t be angry with him when she knew how much he loved this child of hers who so resembled him.
One child was named for a king; Royce had seen to that. One was named for a god, a Viking god; Kristen had seen to that—to her husband’s chagrin. However, it was a fact that neither child had Kristen’s dark blonde hair or light acqua eyes. Alfred had his father’s dark brown hair and green eyes, but little Thora had taken after Kristen’s mother, just as Selig had, both with Brenna’s raven-black hair and gray eyes, both looking more Celtic, as Brenna was, than Norwegian or Saxon.
“’Tis done,” were Selig’s first words, given with a pleased smile.
Kristen and Royce didn’t need an explanation for the brevity of that statement. Two years ago Selig had made the decision that he would like to settle here in Wessex. He was his father’s heir, but his father, Garrick, wasn’t so old that Selig would be inheriting his house and lands in Norway any time soon. In Norway, Selig still lived in his father’s house. He now wanted a house of his own, and this he had started to build on land near Wyndhurst that Royce had sold him. It should have been completed last year, but last year the Saxons had been at war with the Danes again, and Selig had surprised everyone—except Kristen, who knew how much he loved a good fight—by joining the war to fight beside his brother-in-law.
Selig had been wounded in the major battle that year, severely enough that he had fallen unconscious for a time and had been unable to join Royce when the Saxons put the Danes to flight. The jest was, as he liked to tell it, that a Dane had saved him, pulling him to safety and binding his wound, the man assuming Selig had to be one of his own army since he in no way looked a Saxon. And as Selig spoke all the northern tongues, Danish included, the man had never learned of his mistake in aiding the enemy, and Selig was able to make his way to the Saxon side of the field before the battle ended.
The building of his house had had to wait until the war was over, and Kristen knew how much he had chafed at the further delay the weather had caused, for he had spent the winter with them. But the building was resumed in the spring, slowly, because fields also needed tending at that time, and Selig now had his own to plant.
Royce had loaned him his own builder, Lyman, as well as those serfs he could spare, though Selig had bought a half-dozen slaves in the Viking market centers of the north on his return trip that year, before he even told Kristen of his plans. He had bought men only—no Saxons, in deference to his brother-in-law—for the express purpose of building his house and working his land. His father, however, had given him a few more, which put his blessing on the venture, since Garrick wasn’t at all adverse to having Selig live near Kristen to keep her safe; his opinion of his son-in-law was not so high that he cared to leave her safety solely in Royce’s hands.
Selig was so obviously pleased by his accomplishment, Kristen was delighted for him. “So when is the celebration feast to be?” she asked.
He laughed. “Not until Ivarr returns with some women who can prepare it.”
Ivarr was his closest friend who had been captured along with Kristen and the others. All of them had been enslaved and made to wear chains that summer, until Kristen’s father and uncle had come to free them. It was their habit now that Ivarr would take Selig’s ship to trade in the north each summer that Selig spent with Kristen.
“You sent him to buy women?”
He reacted defensively to the surprise in her tone. “I cannot come to you every time I need something sewed or a hot meal, Kris.”
She was not upset with him. Slavery was a fact of life, and Christian and heathen alike saw nothing wrong with enslaving a defeated people. Her family had always owned slaves, some captured on raids, some bought. Her husband owned them, though his were mostly freemen who had been unable to meet the fines for whatever crimes they had committed, and so by Saxon law were enslaved as punishment. And his many serfs were not much different from slaves.
Her mother had been captured and given to her father as a slave, and so had Kristen been captured and enslaved by Royce for a time—until her father came to put an end to t
hat. Though truth be known, Royce had already decided to marry her, so he didn’t need the inducement of an enraged father and a hundred Vikings at his gate, nor her mother’s dagger at his throat.
“Of course you will need women to care for both you and your home,” Kristen said now. “But you should have let me choose them for you. Ivarr will pick only the pretty ones, if I know him, whether they can cook and sew a seam or not.”
“You think so? Truly?”
The eagerness in his tone brought a laugh from Royce, but Kristen would have thrown something at her brother’s head if he were not still holding her daughter. “You have more women available to you than you know what to do with, Selig. I would think you would want some with the skills to do what needs doing if you are going to pay good coin for them.”
Both men burst out laughing, and Kristen added with a scowl, “Besides that.”
Selig was still chuckling. “Let us hope, then, that they are skilled in all areas, or I will still be visiting your hall, sister.”
“When did you get so particular?” she scoffed.
He shrugged, giving her the grin that could melt the stoniest of hearts, and said, “You know me too well.”
She did indeed. Selig loved all women, just as they all adored him, and he treated each one the same. He didn’t take advantage of a slave merely because she was a slave and couldn’t refuse him, but wooed her as he would a free woman. The women Ivarr bought for him wouldn’t mind in the least being owned by him, of that Kristen had no doubt.