Norse Jewel, Book 1

Enter the Viking World of AD 1022…

 

 

 

 

 

 

What does the wolf-eyed Viking want?

Stolen by marauding Danes, Helena’s desperate to escape their camp. She wants to return home but the wolf-eyed Viking who bought her has his own plans.

Wearied of living by the sword, Hakan wants a quiet farmer’s life, yet his once tranquil homeland’s in turmoil, and his new Frankish thrall vexes him for her freedom at every turn. Even worse, the fair maid lures him with her laughter and smiles. Betrayal has left the warrior cold to other women until one hot summer his icy heart thaws to the clever woman. Helena weaves happiness into his hard life, and soon she questions her own desires. But, shadows of deceit spread across the kingdom, reaching Hakan’s farm. Old loyalties call on the Viking to wield his sword again, but at what cost?

 

 

             Nominated for…

Best Historical of 2013

Best Alpha Hero of 2013

 

 

~ ~ ~

Norse Jewel  ~  an excerpt  “What harm can one woman do?”

                                                                                                         

                                                            

   His massive size closed in, blocking all light. Wedged between
a barrel and the ship’s side, sturdy wood imprisoned her. His skin
grazed hers as he wrapped the leather around her wrists. She
glanced down at the detestable strap, and a burst of rebellion
flowered.
   “Why the tether? What harm can one woman do?”
His eyes widened at her show of courage, or so she guessed
from the way he tipped his head in acknowledgment.
   “Aye, one woman.” His mouth made a grim line and bitterness
threaded his voice. “I have seen the destruction one woman can
do.” He knotted the leather. “The bindings stay.”
   Helena licked her lips, choosing silence. The chieftain’s
nostrils flared like some predatory beast scenting prey. Was this
anger barely restrained? Or something else?
   He touched the wet rope of hair that hung over her shoulder,
letting his fingers slip between tangled strands. His thumb and
forefinger found a single lock and stroked the hair down to the
curling tip. Goose bumps skittered across her flesh from the
intimate touch.
  “What is your name, thrall?” He asked in the gentlest voice.
  “Helena,” she whispered.
  “Helena.” He repeated her name softly. The corner of his
mouth twitched. He seemed pleased to know her name, but the
pleasure was fleeting, replaced by fierceness. “I care not about
trust, but I require obedience.”
  Helena swallowed the hard lump in her throat.
  “Serve me, as well as Agnar—” His teeth gleamed wolf-like in
the darkness. “—and you’ll be rewarded.” Rising, he towered over
her. “Fail in your purpose, and you will suffer the consequences.”
  The chieftain stalked away and, true to his word, he did not
harm her. ‘Twas as if she did not exist for the way he ignored her.
The Norseman kept his distance as one day slid into another, and
the dragon ship carried her farther from home. Each day left her
stewing over a baffling riddle:
  If neither deception nor fleeing would get her home, what
else could she do?

 

 


 

“For with law shall our land be built up and settled, and with lawlessness wasted and spoiled.”
Njal’s Saga, c.69

longhousenorsejewelHelena for Book Pageshutterstock_87499540


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