The Temperate Warrior
Read The Temperate Warrior Online
Authors: Renee Vincent
Tags: #Romance, #historical, #Historical Fiction
The Temperate Warrior
by
Renee Vincent
The Warrior Sagas
The Temperate Warrior
Copyright © 2012, Renee Vincent
Digital ISBN: 9781622370924
Editor, Ayla O’Donovan
Cover Art Design by Erin
Sendelbach
Electronic release, December, 2012
Trade Paperback release, Month, Year
Turquoise Morning, LLC
P.O. Box 43958
Louisville, KY 40253-0958
www.turquoisemorningpress.com
Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work, in whole or part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, is illegal and forbidden, without the written permission of the publisher, Turquoise Morning Press.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, settings, names, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination and bear no resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, places or settings, and/or occurrences. Any incidences of resemblance are purely coincidental.
This edition is published by agreement with Turquoise Morning Press, a division of Turquoise Morning, LLC.
Dedication
For God, who is my strength and my constant companion.
For Kim Jacobs,
As I took those first steps in my writing career, you were always beside me, and I will never forget that. Your encouragement, guidance, and friendship are beyond compare. Thank you for taking me under your wing.
Praise for Renee Vincent’s Writing
“Deliciously sinful!”
~Maddie James, bestselling author of
Broken
“Enriched with vivid descriptions, well-drawn complex characters, an exhilarating plot, humor, plot twists, danger and sizzling romance, this story is realistic, historically accurate and unforgettable; a story you will remember long after the last page is read.”
5 Stars! ~ Romance Junkies
“A must-read for anyone who enjoys historical romance.”
5 Heart Sweetheart Award ~ The Romance Studio
“If you’ve never heard of the name Renee Vincent, then you’re missing out on quality reading that’s worth every second of your undivided attention. It’s an escapists dream, and I will most certainly be back for more.”
5 Star TOP PICK ~ Night Owl Reviews
The Temperate Warrior
He was her champion. She was his weakness.
Together, they loved with wild abandon.
Gustaf Ræliksen lives by the blade of his sword. After avenging his father’s murder and reuniting with his family, he wants nothing more than to settle down and have sons of his own. Only one woman will do—a fiery redhead he saved from the spoils of war.
No longer forced to warm the beds of the men who’ve taken everything from her, Æsa has nothing to offer the noble warrior but her heart.
When someone with a deep score to settle seeks revenge upon her, Gustaf’s world is torn asunder. He has but one vow—saving the woman he loves from the ignorant fool who dared to best the temperate warrior.
Glossary of Norse Terms
Berserker:
Elite force of Viking warriors, often cloaked in animal skins to portray an image of intimidation and fierceness.
Boxbed
: Long bed for sleeping that ran along the lengths of the outer walls of a longhouse, often times doubling as benches during the daylight hours.
Drakkar/Langskip
: Viking longship (swift warship with very shallow draft).
Freyja:
“goddess of love and beauty.”
Hel
: Viking hell.
Hirdmen
: Army of Viking men.
Loki:
“god of lies” “promoter of deceit.”
Mørketid
: Also known as “polar night.” A season of winter above the Arctic Circle where the sun, even at its highest, doesn’t rise above the horizon.
Odin
: “god of victory and wisdom.”
Passager:
Any young bird that can already fly and is taken while it is still in its first-year plumage.
Seið-kona
: Practitioner of witchcraft, from shamanic magic to prophecy, from healing to channeling and more.
Skerpikjøt
: Wind-dried mutton native only to the Faroe Islands.
Straw Death
: To die at home in bed. It was considered a dishonorable death among Vikings, for fighting men were expected to show contempt for any death short of dying fearless in battle if they wished to enter into Valhalla.
Thor:
“god of thunder and justice.”
Thrall:
Slave.
Valhalla
: “Eternal Heaven of Heroes.”
923 A.D.
North Atlantic, West of Norway
Gustaf Ræliksen crumpled the pretty embroidered cloth in his fist and brought it to his nose, breathing in the lingering scent of lavender and primrose one last time before tucking it back inside the sleeve of his tunic. He looked out over the calm deep-blue water as he approached the Orkneys, torn between steering his longship toward the Faroe Islands and sailing eastward toward Skíringssalr, where his loyal men’s families lived.
On the Faroes waited the woman he’d left behind—his dearest Æsa.
For over twenty-three years, Gustaf and his men had been scouring the known world for ten cowards, hired under King Harold ‘the Fairhair’, who had killed his father. He had never dreamed that hunting down an ensemble of spineless men would take most of his adult life. Though the small band of freelance murderers were anything but stealthy, they certainly knew how to make themselves scarce, often taking refuge in places unfit for humans. Lands so cold and barren, only a marked man would dare to go.
Desperation can do that to a man, especially when one knows a dreadful fate awaits. No one in their right mind would want to die in the manner Gustaf had deemed necessary. His father had been hung from the rafters in his barn by his own intestines, and nothing less had been dealt forth toward his foes.
From the time he left home to avenge his father at the age of eighteen, Gustaf had not stopped until every last one of them had been found and left to die in the same agonizing manner. However, if not for his seven
hirdmen
aboard the vessel, he would have never been able to fulfill his duty as a loyal son. It was because of their dedication to the cause that he made haste to reunite his steadfast friends with their families. It was the least he could do for their undaunted stretch of devotion and service. But his heart ached to throw duty overboard and storm up the east coast of Skúvoy, seeking out the owner of the kerchief in his possession.
He’d been fortunate enough to find Æsa when he stormed into the longhouse of one of his father’s murderers a few months prior. He’d given Ragnar, son of Thorrstein, the chance to offer up the last coward’s name in exchange for a swift death. Ragnar refused and, thus, his gruesome fate had been handed to him without delay.
Though Gustaf had not gained a name, he didn’t leave empty-handed. He’d taken the young, shapely redhead from the dead man’s possession. And why not? A dead man has no need for a beautiful woman in his bed.
Gustaf smiled as he recalled the way Æsa had looked at him as they sailed away from Iceland’s inhospitable shores. There was wanton lust in her eyes, but even he could see the underlying relief hiding behind their bewitching color. She’d been a slave to Ragnar’s wishes, a harlot for many years of her life, and he could only imagine the disgrace and abuse she underwent being his lowly
thrall
.
Those days were over.
Gustaf had claimed Æsa for his own and his equal. He’d made it very clear he would never share her with another man. To his delight, she’d promised to take no one but him, as well, to her bed.
Perhaps he was a fool to believe her, but he did. During the few weeks he’d spent with her, hiding in a deserted longhouse along the outskirts of the small settlement of Skúvoy, she’d given him no reason to deem otherwise. The conversations they’d fallen into, and the intimate moments they’d shared amid a warm crackling fire, were things he had never given up for anyone, save her. By rights, she should have been sickened by the harshness of his past actions, if not intimidated by the determination of his mission. But she seemed to have taken pity on him, seeing the real man behind the chain mail and leather, protected with sword and shield.
No amount of armor could have guarded him from the sweet invasion of Æsa’s innocent love. She was like a child, youthful and pure. Yet, on the same token, a skilled seductress, shameless and brazen. In his heart and mind, they were a perfect match. She’d even bestowed unto him a pet name—her temperate warrior.