The Valhalla Prophecy Read Online Free PDF

Sophia’s father was after the honeymoon. And Lord Blackwood had made it clear with every aristocratic curl of the lip that his daughter’s marriage to a soldier—not even an officer, but a common squaddie!—was something of which he utterly disapproved. Sophia soon afterward found herself cut off from her father’smoney for the first time in her life—and not long after
that
, Chase began to find himself on the outside looking in as she renewed old friendships. Friendships exclusively of the male, young, upper-class, and wealthy variety.
    So now he was here, alone in a crappy rented flat overlooking a congestion-clogged main road through one of the grottier parts of London. He couldn’t even open the window to let in cooler air without its being joined by noise and diesel fumes.
    Staying in bed was not an option, he finally decided. If nothing else, years of military routine made inactivity seem almost criminally wasteful. He shoved away the covers and rolled upright.
    The sight of his surroundings lowered his mood still further. One room; that was what his life had been reduced to. He even had to share a bathroom with one of the other tenants.
    But the damp-stained studio was not nearly so depressing as what was on the little folding table by the door. Chase stared at the documents poking out of the torn envelope like spilled guts from a small animal. They were from Sophia—or rather, her solicitor—and one of them, once he signed it, would probably be the last thing she ever wanted from him.
    If
he signed it.
    He let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a growl. Sophia was seeking a divorce, to get rid of him as soon as possible so she could hook up with whichever rich, braying arsehole from the City she’d set her sights on. Under British law, before a divorce could be granted husband and wife needed to be separated for at least two years, or there had to be reasonable grounds.
    Adultery was one of these, and it had certainly been a factor; Sophia had practically rubbed his face in it before he finally moved out, unable to tolerate her taunting any longer. But there were two problems. The first, in which he saw the hand of her father, was that Sophia wanted
Chase
to be the one who admitted to an affair. Daddy dearest was protecting the reputation of his daughter—or, just as likely, the Blackwood name. Anheiress sleeping around behind the back of her war-hero husband was irresistible gossip fodder, whereas some yob from Yorkshire betraying a beautiful aristocrat would arouse nothing but sympathy for her.
    The second was more simple. He didn’t
want
to end the marriage.
    For all Sophia had done to him, for all the arguments and screaming and unfaithfulness … he still loved her. He had made a commitment to her, a promise, and the thought of breaking that promise was almost physically painful. Though he was no longer a member of the armed forces, he still placed a high value on duty, honor, and loyalty—even if Sophia did not.
    It also implied surrender, failure. As a former member of the Special Air Service, he was unwilling to accept either.
    Another sound, this time definitely a sigh. Chase forced himself to his feet and stretched, working the stiffness out of his muscles. The mattress was as unforgiving as his wife. He crossed the room to the counter that acted as his kitchen and filled the kettle, preparing—however reluctantly—to start the day.

    Half an hour later, he had eaten, showered, and dressed. To his disappointment, the letter had not magically vanished in the meantime.
    “Buggeration and fuckery,” Chase muttered, glaring at it. Sophia’s solicitors, he already knew from experience, would not hesitate to follow up on their inquiries by phone or even in person if a response didn’t come immediately. Their letterhead said they were based in the City of London, so they were probably charging her father a thousand pounds per hour for their time, while his own financial