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How to Train Your Skjaldmær (Shieldmaiden)
How to Train Your Skjaldmær (Shieldmaiden)
How to Train Your Skjaldmær (Shieldmaiden)
Ebook41 pages39 minutes

How to Train Your Skjaldmær (Shieldmaiden)

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A Viking jarl tricked into marrying a shieldmaiden sets out to tame his fiery bride...

Note: This original 5600-word short story was previously published in Conquests. It may be short in length, but it's not short in passion!

 

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJan 20, 2016
ISBN9781524216344
How to Train Your Skjaldmær (Shieldmaiden)
Author

Delilah Devlin

Always a risk taker, Delilah Devlin lived in the Saudi Peninsula during the Gulf War, thwarted an attempted abduction by white slave traders, and survived her children’s juvenile delinquency. In addition to Saudi Arabia, she has lived in Germany and Ireland, but calls Arkansas home for now.

Read more from Delilah Devlin

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    Book preview

    How to Train Your Skjaldmær (Shieldmaiden) - Delilah Devlin

    How to Train Your Skjaldmær

    Norway, 924 AD

    "That creature is a Jarl’s daughter?" Left unsaid in Lothar’s wide gaze was the fact she would also be Torvald’s wife.

    Given the sight that beheld their eyes, Torvald might have felt it unfair to chastise his companion, but he couldn’t overlook the disrespect. So he jerked his elbow backward and up, neatly breaking Lothar’s nose. While the man groaned and bent at the waist to keep the blood streaming toward the rushes covering the rough dirt floor, Torvald stepped deeper into the taproom.

    The brawl was well underway. His bride seemed to have things well in hand. Something that might have amused him in his younger days, but he had a position to uphold and ambitions beyond his own jarldom. Bringing back such a wife to his holdings could prove a hindrance to his plans.

    Not that she wasn’t a handsome woman. Beneath the dirt on her cheeks and the blood smeared on her chin, her face was nicely formed and her eyes a direct and chilling blue. Her hair was such a pale shade as to be nearly white, and so thick it escaped her braids to fly about her back and buttocks like a wild mare’s mane. And she had surprising strength and stamina in her tall robust frame, which admittedly intrigued him.

    As he watched, she turned sideways, gripped the edge of a table, and flipped over it, planting her feet in the center of a large, brutish man’s belly to topple him. The man went down with a roar then kicked out his feet, pulling himself to stand in a single, astonishingly graceful motion.

    His bride glanced up the big man’s frame then planted both fists on her hips in a fearless stance. I tipped a bull once. He thrashed a bit, but didn’t get back to his feet nearly as quickly as you.

    Her words were brusque but admiring, and her expression gave away her cheeky lack of contrition.

    The red-headed brute glanced down at her, nostrils flaring, his cheeks so flushed Torvald feared he’d pop a vein—and then suddenly, he tossed back his head and laughed.

    The sound was large and loud inside the small, ale-saturated room. He clamped his arm around the woman’s shoulders and turned her toward the bar. Mead for the lady, he roared.

    The brawl ended in an instant. Laughter and loud claps to shoulders filled the room.

    Lothar sidled up beside Torvald, a cloth pressed to his nose as he stared through bruised and swelling eyes. Will you break something else if I say she’s not exactly the woman Hagar promised?

    Torvald blew out a breath and nodded. It can’t be the same woman. A sister, perhaps.

    Hagar, the chieftain of the neighboring jarldom, had promised a

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