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‘Of course I might be willing to sell my daughter,’ her father said. ‘You may have her in lieu of this year’s harvest.’

‘I volunteered to be a hostage, not a slave!’ Liddy cried. ‘A hostage has certain rights. A slave has none.’

‘You offer your daughter as tribute?’ Sigurd asked, in a tone chipped from last winter’s ice.

‘Aye,’ her father said heavily. ‘I may have to sell her on the open market to raise the amount required if the harvest fails.’

Something flickered in Sigurd’s eyes and his face became more carved in stone than ever.

‘I will buy her from you...if the price is right.’

Sold To The Viking Warrior

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