Marrying Her Viking Enemy

by Harper St. George

  ‘Good,’ he praised when she complied. ‘Hold the sword here.’ He demonstrated with his own grip. ‘Any lower and you can easily lose your grip. Higher and it will limit your range of motion.’

  He made certain that there was no room for idle talking for the rest of the lesson. The rules of his seduction had suddenly been changed and he didn’t like it. He had known that she would despise him for his role in what had happened in Banford, but he had soothed himself with the knowledge that her anger would be rooted in misplaced pride. There was no wrong in his actions, no personal affront to her.

  Only now he understood that she would take it personally. She would hate him for what he’d done.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘How was the sparring lesson this morning?’ Lady Gwendolyn asked from her bath, giving Elswyth a sly smile as she ran a cloth over her shoulder.

  Elswyth tried not to react, but she could feel her cheeks warm at the woman’s tone. It was the same tone with which Ellan had asked her as soon as they’d returned that morning. Somehow she didn’t think a hastily mumbled, ‘It was fine’, would suffice here. The range of emotions she’d experienced this morning had left her quite drained and unable to fully understand what she felt towards Rolfe. She’d gone from absolute terror that the warrior would find out about the stolen bloodstone, to jealousy about Claennis, to an awareness of him as a man that she hadn’t been able to shake. The lesson with the sword had hardly signified after all of that.

  She sat with baby Tova on the floor of the chamber Lady Gwendolyn shared with her husband, playing with the baby who crawled around her. She delighted in pulling a soft, thinly woven wool blanket over her head so that Elswyth could find her. ‘Where is Tova? Wasn’t she just here?’ she said with a lilting voice. Tova pulled the blanket down to reveal herself, grinning widely to show several white milk teeth. Elswyth pretended to be surprised and the girl fell over with laughter. Her laugh never failed to make Elswyth laugh along with her.

  But Lady Gwendolyn expected an answer. Though she smiled indulgently at Elswyth and her daughter, when the moment had passed, she looked at Elswyth with a raised eyebrow. ‘It was fine.’ A quick glance confirmed that the lady did indeed expect more in the way of an answer. ‘I’m merely sceptical of how much I can learn in less than a fortnight.’ She busied herself with folding up the blanket. Tova liked it better when she could unfold it before hiding under it.

  Lady Gwendolyn went back to her washing, but the pregnant silence let her know that the conversation wasn’t over.

  ‘What do you think of Rolfe?’ Lady Gwendolyn finally asked.

  There was a question rife with difficulty. ‘He’s a fine teacher. Patient and not too demanding, especially when I do something wrong.’ Much to her chagrin, the sword didn’t seem to come to her as easily as the axe or the bow and arrow. Or perhaps she’d been too distracted by Rolfe to concentrate properly on her lesson.

  ‘That’s good to know.’ There seemed to be a sliver of impatience in her voice, but Elswyth wasn’t certain if she had only imagined it. ‘Anything else?’

  Elswyth shrugged as she set the blanket aside and watched Tova start to unravel it. ‘He seems to be a great warrior. I’ve been impressed with the men under his command. They respect him and he respects them.’ That was saying a lot actually. Her own father frequently became impatient with his men and was given to bouts of shouting at them. She had yet to see such behaviour from Rolfe. Of course his men were well trained and hardly needed the admonishment.

  Lady Gwendolyn laughed. ‘You know that’s not what I’m asking you, Elswyth. What do you think of him...as a man?’

  Not only were her cheeks flaming now, but the heat had spread to her neck and chest. Nevertheless, she made herself answer, because she knew that Lady Gwendolyn wouldn’t be put off as easily as Ellan had been. She’d keep asking, because it was likely that she was in on this whole marriage idea. Besides, she liked Lady Gwendolyn. They’d developed an easy friendship in the time Elswyth had been here. ‘He’s powerful...and kind...and an impressive warrior. His men respect him—oh, fine.’ She rolled her eyes at her lady’s narrowed gaze. ‘He’s very handsome.’

  The woman smiled knowingly. ‘And you find favour with him?’

  ‘Aye.’ She was surprised to find her voice hoarse. A knot of guilt tightened in the pit of her stomach as she thought of her mother and what her attraction to a Dane had caused. Nothing good would come of this.

  ‘That’s good.’ The relief in the woman’s voice was so evident that it made Elswyth look away from the blanket-covered Tova to meet her gaze. ‘I think he finds favour with you as well.’

  ‘Why does that matter, my lady?’ She swallowed against the tightness in her throat. She wanted to hear the woman give voice to the idea of their marriage, to confirm or deny the intention.

  Tova peeked out at her from the blanket, so Elswyth went through the motions of trying to find her until the baby yanked the blanket off. The entire time her heart pounded as she wondered what this line of questioning meant. Was she being given to Rolfe? In some deep dark place inside her the thought appealed to her, which left her terrified.

  ‘Come attend me, Elswyth.’ Finished with her bath, Lady Gwendolyn stood and Elswyth walked over to wrap a light piece of sheeting around her. Tova was tired of her game by this time and crawled over to the edge of the rug to play with her wooden spinning figures on the hard floor.

  After drying her body, Lady Gwendolyn secured the end of the sheet between her breasts and surprised Elswyth by taking her hand and leading her to the bed. She sat at the corner and indicated that Elswyth should take a seat next to her. ‘I’d like to talk to you about marriage, Elswyth.’

  With those words her heart began to beat in double its normal rhythm.

  ‘Do you know how Lord Vidar and I have offered coin and gifts to Saxon and Dane couples who marry?’ At Elswyth’s nod, she continued, ‘We’ve had some success with this, but we’d like even more success. For that reason, we’ve asked some of our best warriors—including Rolfe—to take Saxon wives. We feel this is the best way to foster peace between our people.’

  ‘I understand. I don’t think I did until I came here, but I’ve seen how your own marriage has helped bring peace to Alvey. My father would have me believe that peace isn’t possible and I confess that I once thought that was true, but you’ve opened my eyes to how well it can work in certain circumstances.’

  Lady Gwendolyn smiled at that. ‘It warms me to hear you say that. You’ve become a friend to me, Elswyth, and I couldn’t bear it if you harboured ill feelings for me and my husband.’

  Elswyth was shaking her head before she’d even finished speaking. ‘Nay, my lady. I could never harbour those feelings for you. I admit that Lord Vidar, being a Dane, is a bit rough for me sometimes, but he treats you well and I can see the affection between you both.’

  ‘Good.’ She bit her lip in a rare moment of uncertainty, but then pushed on. ‘I’d hoped to hear you say this, because it is my belief that Rolfe could be a good husband to you.’

  Those were the words Elswyth had expected all along, but hearing them was far more potent than she’d imagined. In an instant she saw herself with him...sitting at the long table at his side, riding with him across the plains near the sea, walking hand in hand with him in the forest...in every imagining he was smiling at her as he had that first night in his chamber. He was smiling because she knew that he would be kind and gentle with her as he had always been, not the monster that Galan and Father made him out to be. And just like that her imaginings disappeared, thoughts of her family chasing them away. She couldn’t betray them. She wouldn’t.

  Thoughts of her mother, her father’s meetings with the Scots and her own duplicity in taking the bloodstone swept through her. She sucked in a breath, but it moved in jerks and starts over the serrated edges of her regret. ‘I believe that you’re right. Rolfe
would make a good husband...but not for me.’

  The light in Lady Gwendolyn’s eyes dimmed and her shoulders slumped as if Elswyth’s rejection had taken the air from her. ‘But why ever not?’

  ‘He...’ The word had no sound, so she cleared her throat and tried again. ‘He is a Dane, my lady. I could never marry a Dane.’ Had this conversation taken place before she’d met Rolfe those words would have come out strong and high with the full force of Elswyth’s conviction behind them. As it was, she was forced to say them now...after she had met Rolfe and knew how honourable he was. It didn’t matter that she’d said the same thing to the man himself this morning. The words didn’t come any easier.

  ‘Because of your father?’ Lady Gwendolyn prodded.

  It would be so easy to say aye and end it there, but it wasn’t the complete truth. She had worked too hard since Mother’s abandonment to show everyone in Banford that she wasn’t like her. Her mother might have been faithless and vain, but she was good and noble and would put her family first. She wasn’t a silly girl to allow a handsome face to sway her. What would the people who had been her entire world since birth think of her if she turned her back on them now by marrying a Dane?

  ‘Nay, my lady. You have chosen a Dane for a husband and I can respect your choice. I, however, cannot overlook what they’ve done. They are our enemy and I cannot marry one of them.’

  A hand rose to Lady Gwendolyn’s chest. She was clearly unprepared for the harsh declaration. ‘I’m sorry, Elswyth. I had no idea that your feelings were so strong. Do you hate them, then? All Danes?’

  Elswyth nodded.

  ‘What of Tova?’

  The question brought Elswyth head up sharply. ‘Nay, my lady. Never could I hate Tova.’ Hearing her name, the baby made her way over to them with an adorable smile on her face.

  ‘She has as much of her father’s blood in her veins as she has mine. Many would say that makes her a Dane.’

  ‘Nay. I didn’t mean that. I do not hate Lord Vidar or even Rolfe.’ It was true. She’d been genuinely afraid for Rolfe when Galan had threatened him. Tova reached for her skirt and pulled herself up, smiling proudly as she stood holding on to Elswyth’s knees. Elswyth took the child up into her lap and hugged her close. The soft golden curls on top of the baby’s head tickled her chin. ‘I only meant that I despise their actions.’

  ‘What do you despise?’ Lady Gwendolyn kept her voice soft, but Elswyth knew that she had hurt her.

  ‘That we are forced to do their bidding or face death.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say it with such dramatics, but we are all at the mercy of someone. Had I married a Saxon man to be lord here, the same rules would need to be followed.’

  ‘But there’s the crux, my lady. Forgive me, but if you had married a Saxon man then he would be one of us. Not one of them.’

  Lady Gwendolyn was silent for a moment, a myriad of emotions crossing her features. Elswyth wondered if she might have gone a step too far and ruined the friendship she had come to hold dear. Finally, Lady Gwendolyn said, ‘They are not so different than us, Elswyth. Rolfe may be the leader of the warriors, but he’s a gentle man. The choice is yours, but do not discount him as an option so quickly.’

  * * *

  ‘I fear that Elswyth isn’t quite as amiable to a wedding as I had hoped,’ said Lady Gwendolyn later that evening at the long table in the hall.

  Rolfe tried to hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, but he failed miserably. How anyone who knew Elswyth could assume that she would be agreeable to marrying a Dane was beyond him.

  ‘We knew the girl held a dislike for us, love. It’s no secret.’ Vidar matched Rolfe’s smile as he looked adoringly at his wife.

  ‘Of course we knew, but she seemed so reasonable. I thought—naively, it seems—that she would agree to a marriage.’

  ‘Has she told you nay?’ Rolfe asked, curious about the details of their conversation. He wasn’t surprised at her refusal, since she’d told him as much this morning, but he wondered what Lady Gwendolyn planned to do about it.

  ‘In so many words.’

  Vidar frowned, his glance moving to the newly constructed gallery above them where Rolfe’s chamber was along with the alcoves. The woman in question had disappeared to the space she shared with her sister after the evening meal. The heavy curtain that hid their sleeping alcove was closed. ‘What of Ellan? She seems agreeable to taking a Dane warrior as husband. I’ve seen her talking with quite a few of them.’

  Lady Gwendolyn nodded. ‘I’ve thought of that, but you remember when we approached Godric with the offer to bring them here. It was Elswyth who has his respect, as well as that of her people. Ellan is a charming girl, but the alliance wouldn’t have as much consequence with her.’

  Something inside him revolted at the idea of exchanging Elswyth for Ellan. Rolfe and Vidar shared a glance, their earlier conversation about forcing an alliance weighing heavily on Rolfe’s mind. He liked Elswyth well enough. This morning had made him admit exactly how much he desired her. However, nothing had changed with respect to how he felt about marrying a spy.

  ‘Have you mentioned an alliance with her father?’ Rolfe asked. ‘This whole discussion could be inconsequential if he opposes it.’

  Vidar and Lady Gwendolyn exchanged a look that set Rolfe on edge. The look clearly said that they had been plotting. ‘It’s time for me to confess,’ Lady Gwendolyn said. ‘I had hoped to have Elswyth agree to the marriage without consulting her father. With her on our side, I assumed that the wedding was a certainty. She’d either get his agreement, or marry you anyway and damn the consequences. No one—aside from her father—in Banford would oppose the union if it’s what she wanted.’

  The table was silent for a moment. Many of the men had settled down to sleep on the benches at the perimeter of the room, but some still huddled around tables, playing dice games. After a while, Vidar said, ‘We may have no choice but to force her.’ It was stated with quiet conviction, but it made Lady Gwendolyn take in a sharp breath.

  ‘I could not,’ she said.

  ‘Not even if it would save lives?’ Vidar asked.

  She looked uncomfortable, but she didn’t say anything as her concerned gaze trailed off to the curtained alcove above them. Rolfe swallowed thickly as he renewed his commitment to his quest to prove or disprove her guilt. ‘It’s not a question we have to answer now,’ he began. ‘Give me a few days with her and we’ll revisit the dilemma.’

  He’d come to a grim conclusion. He’d bed her if that’s what it took to get her to confess. If she confessed to being a spy, then the question of marriage was moot. If she was innocent, then bedding her would almost assure her co-operation in a marriage that would benefit everyone. He’d have an entirely new problem on his hands—how to take her as his wife while keeping his distance from her—but he’d deal with that when and if the time came.

  Duty would always come first.

  Chapter Nine

  Rolfe stared down at the face that was quickly starting to take over his every spare thought. Thick, sooty lashes laid in a crescent over pale cheeks, drawing his attention to her near-perfect skin. It was smooth like the ivory handle of the knife he’d bought in Hedeby years ago. Only he knew that unlike the knife that was perpetually cool to the touch, her skin would be warm and soft. His fingertips ached to touch her, to feel the difference in the textures of the smooth skin covering the curve of her cheek and the silken heat of her lips. Her pink lips were parted as she took in deep, sleeping breaths. They looked soft and inviting, making him ache to cover them with his own and wake her with a kiss.

  He shook himself from that fantasy before it could take root. He couldn’t be seduced by her or any woman. Infatuation made him weak and he refused to allow the emotion to wreak havoc with his life again. He had so much more to lose this time. It was imperative that he kept control.

&nb
sp; The woman slept like a child. He’d called her softly from outside of the curtained alcove to no effect. She and her sister both slumbered on, lost in dreams. He’d been forced to come inside as he had the previous morning and shake her awake, only she hadn’t responded to his first attempt, which had given him ample time to become distracted by her.

  ‘Saxon.’ He raised his voice to slightly higher than a whisper and gave a gentle nudge to her shoulder.

  She sighed and smiled in her sleep, turning on to her side to face him. Her warm breath feathered across his wrist, causing an uncomfortable stirring deep in his gut and a tightening farther down that made him crouch to hide any indication of what she had done to him. Surrendering to temptation, he allowed the tip of one finger to trace across her cheekbone. It was as warm and smooth as he’d expected. What he hadn’t expected was how that warmth slid across his palm and up his arm in a low flame that burned hotter and faster than he’d ever experienced. He drew his hand back almost as if she’d burned him.

  ‘Wake up, Saxon.’ His voice was rather ineffectually hoarse and low, but she managed to hear him this time none the less.

  ‘Rolfe,’ she whispered in a voice husky with sleep. Her eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open, lost as she was in that dream-filled place between wakefulness and sleep. The sound of his name in her mouth made him bite back a groan as it brought his body to full awareness of her. If they were in bed together, he’d have rolled her beneath him and found that sweet place between her thighs with his fingers, parting her to receive him. He’d kiss her awake as he nudged inside her.

  As it was, he was nothing but a lecher, desiring a sleeping woman who had no idea he was here. He forced himself to swallow down his lust. There were better ways to use this unexpected gift of sleep, if only he could focus on his mission with her and stop behaving like a besotted fool. The way she affected him was nothing short of extraordinary. All his life he’d known control and discipline, but she brought something out in him that he’d rather forget existed. Hilde was the only other woman to do this to him.