De Wolfe Pack Blog Hop
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1) Elizabeth Rose 9) Eliza Knight
2) Kathryn Le Veque 10) Lana Williams
3) Victoria Vane 11) Barbara Devlin
4) Christina McKnight 12) Amanda Mariel
5) Anna Markland 13) Violetta Rand
6) Christy English 14) Scarlett Cole
7) Victoria Zak 15) Meara Platt
8) Catherine Kean 16) Hildie McQueen
VICTORIA'S GIVEAWAY:
For a chance to win reader's choice of any of my books, please comment below with your all time favorite book hero and tell me why you love him!
BRETON WOLFE by VICTORIA VANE
She swore to defy him to her dying breath... But passion blurs the line between love and hate...
The bluest blood and the hardest heart... at least when it comes to marriage... The daughter of a duke and granddaughter of a king, Adele of Vannes was bartered at birth in a marriage treaty for the sole purpose of producing a royal heir. When her philandering husband is slain by Norse marauders, she is coerced to wed again in order to protect her home and her people. Adele knows that her beloved Brittany needs a strong hand to survive, but how can she ever reconcile her bitterness and hatred with the desire she feels for her mortal enemy?
She’s the jewel he seeks for his Breton crown...A Barbarian bent on building a dynasty, Valdrik Vargr, ‘the Norse Wolf,’ is renowned for both his bravery in battle and shrewdness in statecraft. Setting his sights on claiming the kingdom of Brittany, he knows that siring sons from royal blood would solidify his hold, but the woman he would claim as his queen refuses to have him. Will he fuel her hatred by taking her to his bed, or will the man who strikes terror in the hearts of men be reduced to wooing his bride?
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EXCERPT
Within the gates ere a man shall go, (Full warily let him watch,) Full long let him look about him; For little he knows where a foe may lurk, And sit in the seats within. - Hávamál
ADÈLE SPENT the night on her knees, gaze cast heavenward in prayerful supplication. She hadn’t dared to bow her head and shut her eyes for fear that sleep would overtake her. She couldn’t afford to be caught unawares when the marauders came. And they would come. That was a certainty. Rudalt had never returned from his ‘Norse” hunt. None had. They were dead. She felt it down to her bones. In his arrogance, Rudalt had taken the best warriors, leaving her defenseless.
She’d dispatched riders to Cornouaille, but he was days away. He would never arrive in time. Her home would be burned to ashes before help ever came. Perhaps she could buy them off? Did she have enough silver and jewels to pay tribute? Or would the Norsemen simply extract their payment in women’s flesh and men’s blood?
From her bedchamber window, Adèle gazed eastward where the sun was rising, painting the landscape of rolling hills in soft shades of pink and gold. She stared off into the distance, willing her nerves to settle. Last night she’d worn holes in her slippers and bitten her fingernails to the quick. She now accepted that her fate was out of her hands. She had no choice but to entrust herself to the merciful will of God. If death awaited her, she prayed it would be swift.
Moving shadows appeared on the horizon. A moment later they took shape as a solid line of men. Hundreds of mounted men. But rather than shrinking in terror, a strange peace settled over her. She was the daughter of Judicael, a great warrior and Duke of Brittany. Her great-grandfather was Erispoe, the first proclaimed King of the Bretons. She would do as her father and grandfather had done before her—she would fight them to her dying breath.
***
As Valdrik approached the castle of Vannes, ready to claim his spoils, he raised his sword and swore on the names of his ancestors, that if any man broke ranks to pillage, he would perish by Valdrik’s own hand. Pillaging of property would require replacement, destruction meant costly rebuilding. He could almost hear the grinding of their teeth, but none of the men would dare to defy him. Keeping what they had seized by force, would require winning over the people.
When they reached the gates, the riders drew up in lines and halted. Anticipating a storm of arrows, they raised their shields over their heads, but the castle was deathly quiet. If not for the sounds of bleating sheep and lowing cattle, Valdrik would have thought it abandoned, but they never would have left it provisioned for an enemy. He wondered how many armed men stood behind those walls waiting to attack. They would be foolish not to treat when he came in peace, but Valdrik had come prepared to fight if he had to.
He hadn’t killed the duke’s men, but made each swear their allegiance to him on the hilt of Ulfbehrt. That was not to say he trusted them with their weapons or horses. Although he’d spared their lives, they would still have to prove their loyalty and make their way back to the castle on foot—all but one that is. He pushed the man forward who’d professed to be the duke’s captain, a man named Berengar.
“Go,” he commanded. “Tell them I would treat with them. Bjorn, you will go with him.” Valdrik handed his captain the duke’s sword to present as proof of his death. Returning it was also a sign of good faith and respect.
Bjorn nodded and rode forward with Berengar, who called out to the gatekeeper. A moment later, the peep hole dropped open and a set of distinctly feminine eyes peered out. Large and vivid. Unusual eyes. A woman gatekeeper? Were there no men left behind the walls? A few words were exchanged. Valdrik strained to hear, but he was too far away. The eyes behind the peep hole darted nervously in his direction. They held his gaze for just an instant. “Who are you?” the voice behind the eyes demanded.
While his men kept their attention on the archers, Valdrik spurred his horse forward. “I am Valdrik, son of Viggo Vargr, and kinsman to Hrolfr ‘the Walker’,” he announced proudly. He might not be noble, but he was the son of a revered chieftain and generations of warrior blood filled his veins.
“Those names mean nothing to me,” she replied, cold as an iceberg. “Why have you come?” she demanded.
Her gaze was unblinking and her voice proud and defiant. For a conquered foe, especially a woman, her hauteur surprised him. Suddenly he knew. This was no gatekeeper. This was the duchess herself.
Valdrik cocked his head in amusement. “You expect answers but do not extend the smallest courtesy. Whom do I address?”
“I am Adèle, Duchess of Vannes,” she haughtily introduced herself. “Enough of the pleasantries. I would know your business.”
“The duke is dead,” he proclaimed to the widow. “I come to return his sword that you may honor him.”
“Duke Rudalt is dead?” she repeated woodenly. “I suspected as much when he did not return. So now my husband and protector is slain by the same invaders who killed my father and my brother.”
Valdrik eyed her appraisingly, thinking it strange that she showed so little emotion over her husband’s death. “There is no greater glory for a warrior than death in battle.”
“We disagree,” she said. “There is greater honor in living peaceably and taking care of one’s people.”
“Caring and nurturing is for women,” he argued. “A man should hunt, fight, protect, and provide. Your duke died because he became soft like a woman.”
“How did he die?” she demanded. “Did you murder him?”
Valdrik glowered. “Murder is a cowardly act. Your duke challenged me before three hundred witnesses. Warrior-to-warrior, we fought. Had he killed me, he would have gained an army of three hundred hardened Norse fighters. But he lost.”
“So to the victor goes the spoils?” she replied dryly.
He shrugged. “That was the agreement.”
“You have killed my husband and now you expect me to just open my gate and welcome you?” she asked with a humorless laugh.
“I come in peace, unless you choose to make war with me.”
“Why should I believe you?” she asked.
“If I did not come in peace, do you think we would be having this polite conversation?” Valdrik asked, holding back a smile. With the duke dead, he’d wondered who he would be forced to negotiate with. He’d expected a kinsman or a sénéchal. He never would have anticipated dealing with a woman. “Had I come to fight, there would be no safety behind your walls.”
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