When the marauding ship of blonde Vikings sacks Eliza’s village, she knows her fate even as they drag her onto their ship. When she reaches the Viking village, she’s taken to the chief’s longhouse, and learns that her fate may be much worse just a shipload of raiders--if she can’t satisfy the chief, she’ll be thrown to the mercy of the entire village!
Excerpt:
They took the women first. Burly, bearded men with round shields and gleaming blades poured through the village, a rising tide of destruction and mayhem. Eliza huddled in the hovel, listening to the roars and the screams. If she could only make herself small enough, only hide well enough, maybe they’d miss her.
A faint hint of smoke hung in the air. It was heavier than the little cook fire where the fish stew she’d been preparing for her father hung in its pot. The pale skinned, blond raiders had been sailing further and further up the Seine. She hoped beyond hope that they’d overlook her. Well, that they’d overlook her and that they’d overlook her father’s fishing raft, wherever it was.
The reed and mud door of the hut slammed open, the lower leather hinge shredding and leaving the door crooked as the Viking strode inside. He kicked over the rough table, knocking it against the hearth and upending the pot of soup. The soup hit the fire with a hiss, and oozed across the stones.
The Viking smashed through the crockery, heedless of the preciously gathered herbs inside. It felt like an eternity before he turned back to the door. He took a single step toward the light, then stopped. His sword hissed from the sheath at his hip as he moved toward her hiding place. His eyes narrowed. He raised the sword, the point aiming right for her.
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