Surrender My Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

case. Seven feet tall he was, and barrel-chested, a great bear of a man with a shaggy mane and beard of bright red, and gentle brown eyes—at least she thought them gentle eyes. No one else did, not even her brother, for Turgeis, with his great ax three times the size of a normal one, could inspire fear in the stoutest heart. And he was never far from Erika’s side, never beyond the sound of her voice.
    It had been so since her tenth year, when she had found him near her secret pond, where she went to escape the bickering and unpleasantness of her home. He had been halfdead, lying in a pool of his own blood, with an ax embedded in his back and a half-dozen gaping slashes on other parts of his body. He was Norwegian and had been sold into slavery by his own brother, who had been jealous of him, and feared him, and been promised by the unscrupulous slave traders that Turgeis would be lost in the slave markets of the Far East. The crew had taunted him that he would fetch a great price as a harem guard, but would have to lose his manhood first. Little wonder he tried to escape when the ship put in for supplies at her family’s dock. The entire crew had given chase, and their bodies littered the woods from the docks to her secret pool.
    Erika had learned all of this later, but it was his body that concerned her. To bring help to him would give away her private spot, but to let him die and rot there would ruin it just the same. So she had taken her needle to him and applied what herbs she knew for healing, and miraculously he had lived. And while he was recovering, her father had confiscated the crewless ship and its human cargo, which he sold at Birka. Because of that, he had asked few questions about the bodies that were discovered eventually, and even less of Turgeis the day Erika brought him home and said simply, “He is my friend.” He had been her shadow ever since.
    It was not such a bad thing to have a shadow like Turgeis. He was a man of few words, and she had come to understand the grunting sounds he made in response as a language of hisown. He was indeed her dearest friend. Also, he had kept her father’s heavy hand from falling on her, as it so often did on her many brothers and sisters.
    Her father had had two lawful wives and three bedslaves, all of whom had given him numerous children. The count had been twenty at his death, and Erika had been close to none of them except her true brother, Ragnar. Their mother had been the second wife. The first wife had given the old man four daughters and three sons, all much older than the rest.
    In fact, the oldest son, who took their father’s place in their Danish lands, had three daughters himself for whom he would be concerned with finding husbands before he would think to arrange marriages for Erika and his one other sister still unwed. And with most of the young men in the area having left to seek their fortunes in new lands, it was little wonder she had supposed she would never have a husband or a home of her own.
    But her brother had been one of those to leave home to find a place for himself elsewhere, with great success. And it had been one of the happiest days of Erika’s life when he had sent for her to live with him in his newly conquered East Anglian holdings. She had had few expectations, was merely pleased to leave a home overcrowded and rife with petty jealousies, where she had never felt truly welcome or even needed.

    But Ragnar had shared his new wealth with her, had given her the highest authority in his home, that of the lady of the manor, and complete command in his absence. No longer was there no hope of a marriage. She had had five offers already from Ragnar’s men, stalwart Vikings, all, which he had turned down himself. He had higher aspirations for her, a wealthy lord at least, with many men at his command. This was their new home. It was time to strengthen their position with alliances. And now Ragnar had gone with his men to seek marriage