Blind Allegiance by Violetta Rand Page B

the crowd turned away from the ensuing disagreement and focused exclusively on him. Much applause sounded as he came closer. Noelle met his eyes and smiled; he nodded and jogged the rest of the way, just in time to see his mother’s unpleasant face. He stepped in between them, and gave Noelle a sincere look.
    “Odin må ha satt vinden i ryggen . Men hans forbannelse er på deg på samme tid, se tispe han sendte over vannet med deg som plager oss alle . ” Lauga’s tone left little to imagination.
    “Nok! Du er min mor, men jeg har tenkt å bli viet til denne jenta, og vil ikke tolerere noen fornærmelser,” Randvior countered, stepping closer.
    They exchanged more heated words before Lauga finally relented and looked away spitefully.
    Randvior grabbed Noelle’s hand. “I never intended for this to happen. My mother is overly protective of me, even though I’m a grown man.”
    She managed to veil her truest feelings with a thin smile. The biting chill in the air made her teeth chatter, her fabric cloak poor protection against the rising wind. She searched the ground, frost crowned the wilted vegetation poking through patches of ice and snow. The wide path before them meandered up a hill, and people were walking to and from what she assumed was the direction of Randvior’s house.
    More than anything, she wanted a hot bath, food, and sleep. Perhaps a night away from her lover’s amorous sexual appetite, too. It meant a chance to recover and figure out how she could deal with his antagonistic mother.
    “Come,” Randvior said. He led her away, through a crowd of cheering admirers.
    As they climbed to the top of the hill, she spotted the wood and stone longhouse that Randvior had so carefully described to her. It was situated in a valley, surrounded by forest and pastures. They walked down the incline and slowly approached the facade.
    Ornamental stone and woodcarvings of mythical creatures graced the double-arched doorway at the entrance. A gray stone fence demarcated the main courtyard at the front, and dozens of men were seated at tables around a huge fire pit, eating and drinking. Once they realized their jarl had arrived, they dropped whatever they were holding and saluted him. Randvior released Noelle’s hand and walked ahead to greet them.
    One of them handed him an ale horn. He raised it ceremoniously and swallowed. Amber liquid dripped down his beard as he smiled exuberantly, very much the barbarian she’d pictured him as in these familiar surroundings. She had to admit, she enjoyed seeing him this way. He offered high praise in both Norse and English. He thanked them for guarding his lands so loyally. The guards stood and saluted him again. Randvior reached inside his cloak and pulled out a leather coin bag. He tossed it on top of the nearest table.
    “Silver,” he said.
    Randvior pulled Noelle in front of him. “See what else I have brought home.”
    Catcalls and whistling erupted.
    Noelle frowned. How easily he reverted back to that uncivilized nature once he was surrounded by his kinsmen.
    Once the laughter and noise stopped, Randvior spoke again. “I present to you Lady Noelle Sinclair. She will be staying here as my personal guest.”
    Several men expressed their approval and offered their own titles and names. One name caught her attention, Rafael Long-foot . She looked at his feet. Completely normal. And Rafael seemed much too Spanish for a Norseman. Noelle couldn’t help but smile at their adolescent behavior. Buffoons .
    Randvior continued, this time in Norse. She didn’t understand a word. Judging by the serious looks on his men’s faces, it must have been along the lines of She’s mine. Keep your bloody hands off her. But he had only referred to her as a guest.
    Formalities complete, he escorted Noelle inside. The great hall was more spacious and well-appointed than she had expected. Rectangular in shape, it boasted the largest hearth and finest mantelpiece she’d ever seen. Along the