She finds true love in the past, but is his love worth risking her future?
When Jarl,
Rannick MacRaghnaill meets the
alluring Warrior Woman who helped
steal his warship, she dresses in clothing so strange that every curve teases
his senses. But is she, as she claims, a woman from the future or an
irresistible lying thief?
She’d risk her life to save her sister-in-law. He’d risk his honor to win her heart. Can both hardened warriors save the realms from the evilest of Fae’s minds combined with the most dangerous of humans?
She placed
her sword at his throat. “Yield?” The warriors gasped, then cheered for her.
Rannick’s
eyebrows rose as Ainslie helped the youth to his feet and patted him on the
back. Rannick rubbed his neck and looked over his warriors. He called upon
another warrior. “Gunnar, come fight the She Warrior.”
A large
older warrior moved from the crowd, a grin on his face. As Gunnar passed,
Rannick patted his back and whispered something, but Ainslie couldn’t hear what
was said. The warrior nodded as he moved toward her. No matter. She’d fight
anyone.
Both took
their ready stance, and Rannick signaled for them to begin.
They
circled, weighing their opponent waiting on who would take the offensive first.
It was
Gunnar, with a slice of his blade on her shoulder. Ainslie blocked him well,
but he stepped forward and slammed his shoulder into her knocking her down.
Ainslie somersaulted backward to stand, her blade out and ready to defend the
next block.
Gunnar
glanced at Rannick, who nodded toward Ainslie.
They
circled again, waiting to see who would advance.
Ainslie led
the next attack with an overhead slash. Gunnar blocked it, pushing her back. He
was more substantial, but she was small, agile, and smart.
They
circled, and Ainslie went for his middle.
Gunnar
blocked and spun, coming around overhead.
She stopped
it with her blade and allowed him to slide down hers knowing she could quickly
push it aside with his forward momentum. When his sword came to the hand guard,
she moved with all her might. He stumbled on a sidestep at the unexpected
shift. As he flew past her, Ainslie whacked his rear with the side of her
blade. The warriors laughed, and Gunnar came for her in an off-balance rage.
She sidestepped and hit his rear end again.
Gunnar
leveled his eyes on her and advanced with his blade. Side-to-side attacks came
at her fast, backing her into the mainmast, trapping her, obviously trying to
end the fight. Knowing sailing and the rigging, Ainslie reached up and grabbed
the tack line holding the sail in place and swung herself onto the keelson box
beneath the main mast. She landed surefooted and, in her follow-through, swung
her sword connecting with Gunnar’s disarming him. His sword flew out of his
hand and clattered against the hull. He stood staring at his empty hand, then
tilted his head back and laughed loudly.
He bowed to
Ainslie. “Ye are Freyja, the war goddess. Her spirit lives in ye. I have never
seen a woman fight. A Valkyrie,
and I’m honored to fight with ye.”
Gunnar strode to Rannick whose eyebrows remained raised. “She
has earned her coin. She has won the contest.”
The surrounding warriors cheered as Ainslie stood over them,
proud of her accomplishment. She’d battled and won against a trained, skilled
Viking warrior. Her da would be so proud. Some warriors grumbled as they
settled on the bets made, bringing her out of her musings. Ainslie jumped down
and approached Rannick. She grinned at him and held out her hand. “Time to
settle up.”
Rannick dropped a gold coin in it, then glanced behind her.
“Disarm her. She is still our guest.” Her guard Ivor must be back. The
sword pulled in her hand, and she let him take it. He wasn’t who she focused
on.
She stared at Rannick, her being so tall that they stood
almost eye to eye. “I bested yer best. Admit it. A woman can fight.”
Rannick’s smile grew. “Oh, my sweet, he wasn’t my best. He
was the one who wouldn’t hurt ye.”
Ainslie gripped the coin and raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take on
yer best any day, anytime, and I’d still win.”
She flipped the coin and caught it. “I’d even wager the gold
coin on it.”
She flipped the coin again, and Rannick stepped toward her,
catching the coin. They stood close as their breaths mingled. His sweet woodsy
scent wafted over her, sandalwood and citrus. He glanced over her face and
hair, then trailed to her chest.
His eyes returned to her eyes, and she raised an eyebrow as
he spoke. “Warrior woman from another time or another land, my best would do ye
harm. I have vowed never to harm a woman.”
Ainslie gazed back into his eyes. “That’s all right. Ye’d
never get close enough with yer sword to harm me. But I may harm ye.”
Rannick stood there a moment, staring into her eyes. She
glowered back with the glare of a challenge. She held out her hand for the
coin. He took it in his, the rough callouses brushing her skin, sending goose
bumps up her arm. He placed her coin in her palm and closed his hands over
hers, holding her hand in an embrace.
Without taking his eyes off her, he said, “Ivor, find a
second guard. The She Warrior might need more than one.”
He winked at her, released her hand,
and turned, moving away.
To learn more about Margaret Izard and the stories she creates, go to:
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