His Captive Bride Read online

  Originally published under the title Timeless

  Originally published under the title Timeless

  She’s swept away to a hidden island paradise filled with pleasures… and secrets.

  Abducted from a trade fair by a mysterious warrior, Lady Avril de Varennes awakens on Asgard Island, an enchanted paradise cloaked in mists and mystery, kept secret from the world for centuries. Against her will, Avril weds her arrogant captor, Hauk Valbrand—even as she vows to escape. Hauk believes himself beyond the reach of love, until his fiery captive bride begins to melt his heart of ice. But soon he must reveal the stunning truth about Asgard and its people—and Hauk and Avril must choose between love and honor, duty and desire... now and forever.

  “An utterly absorbing read! With its richly drawn characters, powerful conflict and vividly imagined setting, His Captive Bride is a romantic fantasy lover’s dream. When it comes to sweeping, sizzling historical romance, Shelly Thacker is a shining star!” – New York Times bestselling author Lara Adrian

  “Five hearts (highest rating). An involving, beautiful story. I thought about the characters often at work, at the grocery store, in my car—wherever I was until I could get back to the book. A definite keeper.” – TheRomanceReader.com

  “Powerful. From the very first page you're whisked away to a world where anything is possible.” – The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

  A full-length novel of 100,000 words

  Adult content: explicit love scenes

  Originally published by Dell under the title Timeless

  Search keywords: historical romance, medieval romance, paranormal romance, kidnapping, captive captor, Viking, bride, marriage of convenience, erotic romance, fantasy, adventure, Vikings

  About the Author: USA Today bestselling author Shelly Thacker has won numerous national awards and earned lavish praise from Publishers Weekly, The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, The Detroit Free Press and The Oakland Press, who have called her historical romance novels “innovative,” “addictive,” “erotic” and “powerful.” Find out more at www.shellythacker.com.

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  A note from Shelly

  Dear Reader: My formatter and I carefully proofread each of my books before publication. We work hard to produce ebooks that are 100% free of typographical errors. But typos are sneaky little devils, and sometimes they slip past us. If you spot any typos lurking in this book, please visit http://www.shellythacker.com/contact to email them to me. Thank you! Together, we can stamp out sneaky typos.

  ~~~

  Table of Contents

  Welcome

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Other Titles by Shelly Thacker

  Copyright

  Excerpt: Stolen Bride Series

  Excerpt: Escape with a Scoundrel Series

  Excerpt: Lawless Nights Series

  Bonus Content: The Making of His Captive Bride

  An Asgard Island Glossary

  About the Author

  Welcome to the land of the Asgard Warriors...

  In a time long ago, when kings and princes ruled, when the world’s unexplored corners and uncharted seas tempted men of bold heart to explore, a small band of daring Norsemen set out in search of a fabled, fertile domain to the west.

  But like a mischievous dragon, the rough northern seas carried their longship to a hidden island instead, a place cloaked in mists and mystery, set apart from the world for centuries, untouched by time.

  There they found bountiful fields and deep, cool forests, vast meadows, cascading waterfalls, and midsummer warmth that knew no season. Enchanted, the twenty Norsemen decided to claim the island as their home, naming this newfound paradise Asgard, after the legendary realm of the gods said to float above the earth, invisible to the eyes of men.

  True to the daring spirit of their age, the warriors went a-viking, raiding, to seek brides to share their new home—and they soon discovered that Asgard offered much more than natural beauty. The island held a special magic unknown elsewhere in the world, a gift that has been enjoyed by their sons and daughters generation after generation.

  Over the centuries, the people of Asgard have kept the island’s secret, protecting it from those who would wage war to possess it. Yet the gift also carries a price...

  Chapter 1

  Asgard Island, 1303

  ’Twas a dangerous task, stealing women.

  A man needed guile, strength, blade-skill, and boldness to find a fair maiden, pluck her from the bosom of her family like ripe fruit from a bough, carry her off—and live long enough to enjoy his prize.

  Hauk Valbrand frowned, seated in the stern of the longboat as it pierced the fog and glided across the glassy, night-black sea. Studying the twelve warriors straining at the oars, their sweaty, angular faces illuminated by an oil lantern dangling from the prow, he knew that only seven or eight possessed the qualities needed to survive. The young fools should have listened to him when he argued against taking this risk.

  Despite the battle-axes strapped across their backs and the swords at their waists, some of his traveling companions would lose their lives before this voyage was done.

  He clenched his jaw and looked back over his shoulder at the distant beach, now a mere ribbon of silver in the moonlight. A brine-scented breeze made the fog shift and dance, while the rhythmic dipping of the oars through the water made the only sound in the stillness. All revelry and bawdy jests had ended when they left shore.

  As soon as the young raiders had donned their brown homespun garments and pushed the square-sailed ship into the mist that cloaked their island home, each seemed to realize the seriousness of the dangers ahead.

  But neither Hauk’s logic nor the threat of facing an outraged father or brother or kinsman had been enough to sway them from their purpose. The ancient drives were too strong, the temptation too powerful.

  Had he not felt the same fire in his blood years ago, his first time? Had he not lived to enjoy his pretty prize?

  Ja, and he had also lived to regret ever setting eyes on her.

  “Still having doubts, old friend?”

  Hauk glanced at the man beside him, who had one arm slung across the tiller. “Nei. Nay,” he replied tightly. “Merely wondering which of us will not survive to return home, Kel.”

  “I am certain we will all return home.” Keldan pushed back the hood of his cloak, revealing thick dark hair, a confident smile, and a face that always made females swoon at his feet in annoying numbers. “You have trained us well, Hauk. Gareth is now better with a blade than any man on Asgard—other than you, of course. And Bjarn has become an expert with that odd weapon that fires short arrows—”

  “A crossbow.”

  “A crossbow.” Keldan shrugged as if the name did not matter. “And we have spent six months planning every detail of this journey—”

  “And most of you have never left the island before. Even the best among you is little better than a green lad.”

  Keldan wrinkled his nose in offense. “Inexperienced we may be, but the Claiming voyage is an honored tradition—and even you cannot fight tradition, Hauk.”

  “Stolen fruit tastes the sweetest,” one of the other
would-be warriors said, quoting the centuries-old saying among the inhabitants of Asgard Island.

  Hauk slanted the eager young whelp a quelling look. “If we are to survive, we must change some of the old traditions.” It seemed he had been saying that every day of late. He sighed, rubbing at his eyes, running a weary hand through his tangled blond hair. “The Claiming voyage was necessary for survival in the early days, but that is no longer true. In these times it is dangerous not only to us but to everyone we leave behind. There are seven hundred lives on that island, and I am responsible for keeping them safe—”

  “Mayhap you should have stayed behind with them, Valbrand,” another raider commented, his voice laced with undisguised hostility. “We do not need you hovering over us like some overgrown nursemaid.”

  Hauk sliced his old nemesis with a glare. “I am here by order of the elders, Thorolf. Someone had to ensure that you hot-blooded raiders remember our laws and do not bring a world of trouble down upon us.” Leaning back against the bulwark, he rested one arm along the boat’s railing, letting his cloak fall open to display the longsword gleaming at his waist. Won in battle by his grandfather, it was named Forsvar. Defender. “I will be keeping watch over you most of all.”

  Staring at the weapon, with its silver hilt and mystical runes inscribed on the blade, Thorolf fell silent, broad shoulders bulging as he hauled on his oar. Hauk still did not understand why the hulking knave had insisted on taking part in this voyage. Older than the others, older than Hauk himself, Thorolf had a heart as black as ocean depths at midnight—and a habit of making trouble purely for his own amusement. He was not the sort to pine away for female companionship or a family.

  And that was the true purpose of this voyage. Like their ancestors, those men of Asgard who wished to have families had to risk venturing forth into the outside world in search of brides—for the women of Asgard could not bear children.

  Thorolf’s thick lips curled in a sneer. “I have as much right to be here as any man. The ancient law—”

  “During this journey, I am the law,” Hauk warned silkily. “You will either follow my commands or pay the price.” He shifted to a tone that some women had told him was even icier than his blue eyes. “You know from experience that I do not make idle threats.”

  Thorolf held his stare, gaze glittering with a lifetime of hatred, before he looked away uncomfortably.

  “All will be well,” Keldan said in a soft voice, trying to make peace, as usual. “We will follow your orders, Hauk, as we promised. But even if one of us is captured or killed, there is no chance that our secret could be discovered.”

  Hauk fingered the rough fabric of his cloak, hoping that was true. They had taken pains to appear unremarkable. Uninteresting. Unworthy of attention. They had removed their gold armbands and jeweled torques, shaved their beards, donned the tunics and leggings favored by common European traders. Hauk had left all mark of his rank and office behind—except for his sword.

  Even their ancient ship had been carefully disguised, its name sanded away, the carved dragon’s head removed from the prow. Stripped of its finery, the weathered longboat looked like a derelict left over from another age, battered but still fierce.

  The thought made Hauk’s lips curve in a rueful half smile. The same could be said about him.

  Shaking his head, he stared off into the fog. “Every time we set foot in their world,” he said quietly, “we risk exposing our secret.”

  “But we have taken every precaution. Looking at us, no one could tell us apart from ordinary men—”

  “Keldan, we are not ordinary men.”

  His young friend fell silent for a moment. “In every way that matters, we are,” he insisted stubbornly. “We feel joy and pain, we eat and sleep and laugh and bleed. We want what any man wants, to have a wife and a family—”

  “But we are not ordinary men,” Hauk repeated, fixing him with a hard stare. “We are different, Kel. Someday you will learn to accept that.”

  Keldan’s brown eyes held a hint of sadness. But then he waved a hand as if to brush the subject away, grinning. “Well, I for one intend to enjoy every second of this journey. And if aught goes awry...” His smile widened. “Who wants to live forever?”

  Hauk arched one brow. “You may not find that so funny two days hence when we land at Antwerp.”

  “I expect I shall have far more pleasant things to think about in Antwerp. This trade fair should offer a great variety of women from all over the continent.” He looked as excited as a boy choosing among a shiny array of new playthings. “I want an exotic beauty—a Moorish girl, or a dark-eyed firebrand from Tuscany, or a Scottish lass with red hair and freckles like Rolf’s wife.” His smile fading a bit, he lowered his voice, speaking for Hauk’s ears alone. “You might find a new bride for yourself, my friend... have you considered that?”

  Hauk swallowed hard and glanced away. Nei, he had not considered it. Not for a moment. He had lost his first wife in childbirth, and his second...

  He had outlived his second.

  “Never again, Kel,” he said bitterly. “Never. I am here to watch over you and the others, that is all.” Under his breath, he added, “A man can get used to living alone.”

  Even as he whispered those words, the last of the fog parted before the ship’s prow, a west-born wind filled the sail, and the longboat swept into the open sea.

  Chapter 2

  Artois Region, France

  Avril parted her lips for her husband’s kiss, welcoming him to their bed. Gerard, mon coeur, thank God you have returned at last...

  His weight pressed her down into the sheets, his hard body covering and claiming hers, and she twined her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, filled with surprise and joy. He nuzzled her cheek, her hair, whispered words she had not heard in such a long time. Words of love.

  You are here. She sighed, all the months of longing and loneliness pouring out. I thought you were gone forever, mon amour, but you are here. Never leave me again. Please never leave me again. I missed you so.

  He tenderly kissed her tears away. She held him tighter, his skin warm and smooth beneath her fingers, her lips. Their mouths met in deep, lingering kisses. His strong hands touched her intimately, each caress slower than the last as he gently aroused her.

  Moaning softly, she lifted her hips, wanting to take him inside her. Please, mon coeur, it has been so long. I need... I need...

  He nudged her thighs apart, positioning himself there at the silky core of her body. Then he raised his head, and in the firelight she could see the passion in—

  This was not her husband!

  Lady Avril de Varennes jerked awake with a startled cry, eyes wide, heart pounding. She lurched upright, uncertain where she was for a dizzying moment.

  A dream. It had only been a dream.

  The same one that had tormented her for months now... growing more vivid, more sensual each time.

  She pushed aside the blankets and stumbled out of bed, her silk kirtle tangling around her legs. Rushes crunched beneath her bare feet. A few embers still glowed on the hearth, helping her eyes adjust to the darkness. With every rapid breath, she inhaled the scent of the lavender oil she had burned earlier to calm her. Of course, she was in Gaston and Celine’s chateau, in one of the guest bedchambers. She had arrived here yestereve. She was quite safe.

  And alone. As she had been for three years, four months, a handful of days.

  Yet her body tingled in the most sensitive places, and perspiration made her kirtle cling to her back, her thighs, her breasts. Lifting an unsteady hand to her lips, she swore she could feel the lingering heat of a kiss there. And on her cheeks, a trace of dampness, like...

  Like tears that had been kissed away.

  She covered her face with both hands, her wedding ring cold against her flushed skin. The sensations had all felt so real, so intense, so...

  Mortifying. How could she dream of making love to any man but her husband?

  �
��Nay,” she whispered fiercely, raking her long brown hair out of her eyes, lifting her chin. “It was only a dream.” She was getting upset over naught. Crossing the chamber, she opened the door that connected to the next room.

  Inside, bathed in moonlight that poured through a tall, arched window fitted with glass, Giselle lay asleep—her thumb in her mouth, her plump arm curled around the carved toy horse her uncle Gaston had given her.

  Avril sank down beside the small bed, resting her cheek on the covers, reaching out to touch her three-year-old daughter’s raven curls. Many times these past weeks she had spent sleepless nights this way, disturbed not only by that troubling dream—but by the decision she had made.

  “We will be all right, ma petite,” she murmured. “You will love your new home in Brittany, I promise. And your uncle Gaston is wrong. We do not need a man to take care of us.”

  She closed her eyes, hoping that was true, praying she was not making a mistake. Not acting like a “stubborn little firebrand,” as Gerard used to chide her with a teasing, handsome smile.

  Her throat dry and tight, Avril stood, moving to the window, gazing down at the forest that surrounded the chateau. She looked for the chapel Gaston had built there. Normally she could see a great deal from here, but tonight, despite the full moon, she could make out only the uppermost branches of the trees.

  A mist enveloped all else, a silvery fog that wound through the woods to surround the castle.

  Strange, she thought, frowning in puzzlement, to see fog on such high ground. Especially at this time of year. The last days of summer had only just given way to the first bite of autumn.

  Yet the veil of white was so thick she could see only the spire of the small chapel, there where she and Gaston had agreed it should be... built of the finest marble and the most exquisite stained glass, by artisans brought from the East, as befitted a knight who had fought in the Crusades. Gerard always loved Moorish architecture, as he loved those woods where he had spent many happy days as a boy.