Read Heart of a Viking for Free Online Page A

amber lit the horizon, skipping between the trees. the colour reminded him of the gem around Keita’s neck and how it had shimmered off her skin. This night, he could not afford to consider the fragile texture of her skin or how the necklace had been warm to the touch. Or how he wanted to see if the rest of her body was warm too.
    This night, he would begin picking apart Ragni’s life. He stepped out of the house and pushed shut the wooden door. It would be time to dine shortly and from his observations these past few nights, he knew exactly how to increase the tension between father and son. His information from Keita might have been minimal but others were happy to talk of the problems between them.
    It was as expected. Fleinn was not warrior-like enough for his father. It was unlikely anyone would ever accept him as a replacement for Ragni. The chances were, when Ragni passed into the afterlife, another man would take his place—and certainly not Fleinn. From what he had seen, Thorarin found him to be weak-minded too. Easily led and easily swayed. Not the sort of man any community would want leading them.
    Not the sort of man his father would want leading a raid.
    That was where he would strike.
    Thorarin made his way down the hill toward the settlement. The huts circled the longhouse, smoke seeping from holes in the roofs. The scent of the smoke offered a strange sense of warm comfort and familiarity. It reminded him of his boyhood.
    Ragni’s home dominated the landscape. Since his childhood, it had been enlarged to make room for a store and alehouse. The impressive triangular roof added to the dominance.
    A few of the villagers greeted him. They were getting used to the stranger in their midst, none of them aware he had once been known by a different name. Time had changed him in many ways, most certainly physically.
    As a boy, he’d been weaker than Fleinn. Trying to survive had quickly built him into the man he was today, and for that he was grateful, but he could not help regret that he had been unable to be a warrior in his boyhood. Maybe then he could have defended himself against these accusations, maybe even asking for a duel of honour.
    Instead he had been sent away with blood on his hands and no hope of return, under the penalty of death.
    But death did not await him here. He paused to eye the ferocious beasts carved into the eaves of the longhouse. Neinn , there would be only revenge.
    And death for Ragni.
    When he entered the dimly lit interior of the longhouse, his gaze immediately sought out Keita. No matter how hard he tried to avoid staring at her, she drew him in like a beacon of light. The golden glow from the torches reflected off her hair and even her plain woollen tunic could not distract from her ethereal quality. This was the sort of woman of which the goddesses would be jealous.
    She glanced his way and lowered her lashes rapidly as she dished out some stewed venison. Ragni spotted him from his position at the head of the table and waved him over. Every night since his arrival, Thorarin had been seated next to the járl . Fleinn never failed to glower at him from his spot on the other side of him. He managed to avoid smiling as that same glower greeted him when he sat.
    Little did Fleinn know he was playing his role to perfection.
    The noise of talk and laughter prevented Thorarin from having any serious conversation with Ragni until the evening wore on and the mead had taken its toll. He indulged in the drink but kept his consumption light in comparison to the other men. It would not do to lose his head to the drink—not when his position was precarious. He recalled first stepping foot in the village when Ragni had invited him to dine with him. He’d faced many a foe—armies, animals and criminals—yet his heart had never pounded quite so much as when he first laid the sole of his boot on his homeland. What if someone recognised him? His plans would be for nothing.
    But none remembered the