The third novel in #1 New York Times bestselling author Catherine Coulter's Vikings series. Merrik Haraldsson, the younger brother of Rorik, the Lord of Hawkfell Island, embarks on a journey that begins in Kiev where he comes away with two slaves--Laren and her younger brother. Laren wants to tell stories to earn enough silver and gold to buy her and her little brother from Merik, only he refuses to sell her. And now that she's his, he must protect her when she's accused of murder, then save her yet again when he discovers her secrets. Coulter has written another spry Viking romance. Merrik Haraldsson, a Norse trader unencumbered by wife or property, except for his longboat, suddenly finds himself the owner of three slaves after a plaintive child in the Kiev slave market begs to be reunited with his sibling. When Merrik sets out to steal the sibling from the vicious new owner, he finds the young person in the midst of an escape, pursued by another slave. Their escape is only the start of a grand adventure, for the sibling turns out to be a young woman, disguised as a boy. Of course Merrik falls in love, not knowing she is the niece of King Rollo of Normandy, and her brother the probable heir. Family rivalries set both lovers at risk until events are finally suspensefully unraveled at story's end. Denise Perry Donavin "Another spry Viking romance...A grand adventure." - Booklist Catherine Coulter is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the FBI Thrillers featuring husband and wife team Dillon Savich and Lacey Sherlock. She is also the author—with J. T. Ellison—of the Brit in the FBI series. She lives in Sausalito, California. 1 The Slave Market of Khagan-Rus Kiev, A.D. 916 THE SLAVE RING was as sweet-smelling as it would ever be, Merrik thought. It was early morning and still cool; a breeze off the river Dnieper rustled gently over the scores of unwashed bodies. It was July and the water below the embankment flowed smoothly and serenely within the Dnieper’s broad banks now, the ice floes having finally melted early the month before. The consequent flooding had eased now as well, sending cleansing river smells upward. The sun had just risen behind Kiev, showing bright gold behind the endless stretch of barren hills and jagged mountains to the east. The stench of winter-dirty furs and scrawny bodies too long unwashed wouldn’t offend the nostrils until later in the day, even here in the slave ring. The only thing here to offend anyone was the abject human misery, and that was a condition so familiar in a place like this, it hardly bore notice. Merrik Haraldsson had unfastened the pounded silver brooch and slipped its sharp point from the soft otter fur cloak. He’d slung the cloak over his arm as he walked toward the slave market’s perimeter. He’d come from his longboat, The Silver Raven, moored below at a long wooden pier that lay in a protected inlet of the Dnieper just below Kiev. He wasn’t sweating now, but the climb was a hard one, and he’d walked briskly, wanting to be here as early as possible to find a slave his mother would approve before they’d been picked over and only the sick and wasted were left. The Khagan-Rus slave market was set apart from the town. Its name was the same as that of the prince of Kiev: a reminder that there was a tax at each purchase that would go directly into Prince Khagan-Rus’s capacious pockets. Merrik turned to Oleg, a man he’d known since they’d both been boys—wild and passionate and eager to best their older brothers and acquire their own longboats to trade and fight and grow rich, rich enough to buy their own farmsteads sometime in a future that they pondered only rarely, richer even than their fathers and older brothers. ‘‘We will leave after I buy a female slave. Keep a sharp eye, Oleg, for I don’t want a drudge for my mother’s longhouse, or a sloe-eyed maid that would unduly strain my father’s faithfulness. He has had no concubine for thirty years. I don’t want him to begin now.’’ ‘‘Your mother would break his head open were he ever to gaze fondly at another woman and you well know it.’’ Merrik grinned. ‘‘My mother is a woman of strong passions. Very well, then, I think of my brother’s wife. Sarla is a shy little thing and could easily be governed by a clever female, slave or no.’’ ‘‘And your brother is a man of strong appetites, Merrik. A female doesn’t necessarily have to be toothsome for Erik to want her. Look at Caylis, I’ll grant you she’s a beauty even though her son is close to ten years old now, but Megot, whom he beds just as much, is a plump pullet and her chins shake when she laughs.’’ ‘‘Aye, ’tis true. We must consider many factors before I pick the right female. My mother needs a female slave who will be loyal to her and work only for her. My mother wants to teach her to spin, for her fingers stiffen and give her pain now. Roran told me this should be an excellent selection this morning, many slaves were brought in just last night from Byzant