Chapter One

      Anglesey Coast, 995 AD

      The woman’s eyes haunted him.

      Reinn Geirsson had awoken long before dawn, his dream of those clear, gray eyes so real it had taken a few long minutes to realize he did not have the maiden in his arms. He longed for her the same he did then as now. But the dark-haired maid was a Welsh princess and part of the spoils of war. By right, she belonged to his brother and not him.

      Now, Reinn fled her as fleetly as if hungry wolves chased him. Swiftly he covered the ground from the conquered Welsh stronghold toward the northern coastline, his path lit by a full moon and the driving need to put distance between him and the maid who would be his doom if he dared stay another day.

      His horse and his hound would stay behind, at least for now. He normally travelled with a small band of men, often arriving first at the site of his brother’s battles because his karv ship was lighter and faster than the dragon ship that Gunnar sailed to denote his rank. Tonight, Reinn could see the dragon vessel, Loki’s Revenge, anchored off the coast. The serpent figurehead made the watercraft look like a fearsome sea creature in the dark.

      Turning his attention to the smaller boats that lined the shore, Reinn spied a light faering that could be crewed by one man. He ignored the karv that had brought him here with fifteen other men, knowing they would follow him tomorrow and bring his horse and wolfhound with them. Reinn had thought he could remain in the same keep as the woman destined to become Gunnar’s third bride, but the dream that had awoken him told him he dare not lay eyes on the proud beauty again. Those gray eyes called to him with otherworldly power, tugging at his gut as surely as if they had met in other lifetimes.

      Odin preserve him, he knew what she would taste like without ever kissing her. Her gaze was fierce as any warrior’s, her power obvious in the way all her people looked to her after the conquest. All save her father, the cunning Welsh king who’d given her away to a cold Norse lord without even trying to barter for her safety.

      Reinn walked into the water, heedless of the cool waves soaking his boots. Unloading a leather satchel and his weapons into the shallow hull, he straightened to push the boat out to sea.

      “Do not move,” a feminine voice ordered, harsh and desperate sounding, from the rocks behind him. “I have a crossbow upon you, heathen, and I know how to use it.”

      His blood chilled.

      Reinn prayed to all the gods that voice did not belong to the woman he most feared. And not because she thought she could shoot a crossbow.

      No doubt she would miss him in the dark. With any other female, he would take his chances. But he had to know if the Norns who controlled his fate had sent the one woman he hoped to avoid directly in his path. Could they be so cruel? He lifted his hands, keeping them in full view, as he turned slowly around.

      Only to see her. Eva filia Madoc, conquered Welsh princess and Gunnar’s promised bride. He did not need the sun’s help to see her gray eyes in the dark. He felt them upon him as she stared at him above the shaft of an arrow poised at his heart.

      * * *

      Eva trembled so hard she feared she would lose her grip on her weapon. Her throat was dry and her fingers had gone numb hours ago from lying in wait for her quarry. Still, she held her bow, her arms strengthened from years of hunting.

      “Take me with you,” she commanded, knowing it was a fool’s request. The heathen invader could simply toss her overboard once they’d left the shore and leave her to the sea monsters to devour. But after careful thought, she had decided any fate was better than what she faced at home.

      “The sea is no place for a lady,” the Norse warrior said softly, still standing in the water as if he could not feel the chill in the dark waves. “You will be safer here, under my brother’s protection.”

      Dark stubble kept his features in shadow, so she could not be sure if that was meant as some kind of joke. His eyes held hers, and although she could not make out the color in the moonlight, she knew they were ice-blue. The maids in her father’s keep had argued over who would be first to bed him and it had surprised her that she found herself hoping he would not touch any of them. There was something compelling about Reinn Geirsson, even if he had helped conquer her people.

      “Protection?” A sharp laugh rooted in hysteria burst from her lips as a sea breeze slapped her wet skirts against her legs. “Your brutish leader is reputed to use his wives so harshly they do not even care that he takes a new bride in every invasion.”

      She studied the tall, loose-limbed warrior, hoping she had chosen her savior well. As much as it galled her to entrust herself to any of the invaders, she had witnessed his mercy in battle from her perch high up on a parapet three days ago. He had released a boy—one of the villager’s sons—who had taken up arms against him. Even her own father would have never shown such a kindness to an enemy.

      Later, after the Norsemen had subjugated her father’s people, Eva had the chance to learn the identity of the merciful swordsman. Reinn Geirsson was the brother of the Gunnar, the powerful barbarian nobleman who had chosen to invade Madoc of Anglesey’s coastal stronghold. Reinn had sat silently at his brother’s side when Eva’s father had negotiated her hand to Gunnar in marriage. And while the blond beast Gunnar had watched her with greedy lust, raven-haired Reinn had eyed her with curiosity. Perhaps even—she had hoped—a hint of compassion. She had gambled everything tonight on that gut instinct. When her maid had overheard Reinn would depart this morn, Eva had slept in one of