Viking's Love

Viking's love CALLED BY A VIKING BOOK FOUR MARIAH STONE This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2018 “The Jewel of Time” Mariah Stone. All rights reserved. Copyright © 2023 “Viking’s Love” Mariah Stone. All rights reserved. Cover design by Qamber Designs and Media Editing by Laura Barth All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. http://mariahstone.com Contents Also by Mariah Stone Join the romance time-travelers’ club! Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Epilogue A glimpse into Viking’s Captive Join the romance time-travelers’ club! Also by Mariah Stone Enjoy the book? You can make a difference! Acknowledgments About Mariah Stone Also by Mariah Stone CALLED BY A HIGHLANDER SERIES (TIME TRAVEL): Sìneag (FREE short story) Highlander’s Captive Highlander’s Hope Highlander’s Heart Highlander’s Love Highlander’s Christmas (novella) Highlander’s Desire Highlander’s Vow Highlander’s Bride Highlander’s Protector Highlander’s Claim Highlander’s Destiny Christmas Reunion CALLED BY A VIKING SERIES (TIME TRAVEL): One Night with a Viking (prequel)—grab for free! The Fortress of Time The Jewel of Time The Marriage of Time The Surf of Time The Tree of Time FATED: Age of Wolves (free) Age of Ice Age of Fire CALLED BY A PIRATE SERIES (TIME TRAVEL): Pirate’s Treasure Pirate’s Pleasure A CHRISTMAS REGENCY ROMANCE: Her Christmas Prince Join the romance time-travelers’ club! Join the mailing list on mariahstone.com to receive exclusive bonuses, author insights, release announcements, giveaways and the insider scoop of books on sale - and more! To M and M. Always. Chapter One BUSKELAND, NORWAY, JULY 874 AD The mead hall rang with cheers and laughter. As Kolbjorn walked towards his father’s high seat, he felt lightheaded, as if he had just drunk a whole cup of ale. But it was not alcohol that made his stomach knot with thrill. It was hope. The raiding season had gone well, and the mead hall swarmed with warriors eating and drinking, the buzz of stories and lousy drunken songs. The air was thick with the scent of cooked vegetables, grilled meat, and fermented honey. The day was bright outside, but semi-darkness reigned here. The light came from the fires of the oil lamps hanging on pillars carved with interwoven wolves—Jarl Bjorn’s clan animal. Kolbjorn passed by the mead tables and benches where feasting men greeted him. He nodded back as he passed. Many of them had saved his life several times during raids in the last few years. Modolfr, his best friend and sword-brother, caught Kolbjorn’s arm and pulled him to the bench next to him. “Brother,” he said and gestured for a thrall to fill a drinking horn. His breath stank with mead and his cup swayed. “I want to drink to you. You won every single battle in Pictland. You saved my ass at least three times. Odin could not stop watching you, brother.” The other men nodded as they heard Modolfr. Warmth spread in Kolbjorn’s stomach at the affection and approval of his closest friend. Kolbjorn chuckled and glanced in the direction of his father, Jarl Bjorn. The warmth disappeared as if blown away by a winter draft. Everyone, it seemed, approved of Kolbjorn but the only person who mattered. Kolbjorn shook his head. “I am not a drinker. And I will eat with you after I find out what my father wanted me for.” Modolfr lowered his head. “Do you think he will finally make you his true son? If not after this raiding season, then I don’t know when. Thanks to you, he has more silver than Njord has water.” Kolbjorn swallowed a knot so hard it felt like a stone. “Not quite.” Modolfr scowled at the two blond half-gods sitting by Jarl Bjorn—his sons born in wedlock with his now-deceased wife—their rich brynjas gleaming in the dim light of the fires. “Surely better than those two pig turds. All they did was show off before Jarl Bjorn.” Anger rose in Kolbjorn’s blood like storm surge at the thought of Alfarr and Ebbe. How many times had he thrown Alfarr off kicking, screaming women while Ebbe did nothing? And his father? He just watched the three of them as if they were little boys who played with wooden swords. Alfarr and Ebbe threw insults at Kolbjorn when no one saw them, and he had to press down his anger, even though what he wanted most was to teach them a lesson. Jarl Bjorn never defended Kolbjorn, never took his side. He allowed Alfarr and Ebbe everything, yet Kolbjorn had to follow the code of honor to the letter: courage, magnanimity, strength, loyalty, generosity, integrity, and respect. And he still was not good enough. One bad word about Kolbjorn and he would lose his chance at the only thing he wanted more than his next breath. To become his father’s legitimate son. To become a Bjornsson. Then he would be the next jarl. He suspected his half-brothers had a very different take on the matter. The serving girl—Una—brushed his arm with her breast as she poured mead into the cup. “Finally taking up drinking, Kolbjorn? Let me know if you want me to make sure you don’t fly away tonight like a raven on the stormy wind.” She was pretty, with her strawberry-blonde braids around her head, her green eyes and full lips. She smelled like hay and flowers, and something sweet and feminine that made desire stir in him. And with it, sadness. He’d had women, all right. They came to him willingly, to share his sleeping bench and