Marrying Her Viking Enemy

by Harper St. George

  ‘Is something the matter?’

  He turned to see her sitting up in bed, holding a fur to her breasts, but her soft shoulders and the curve of one hip was still exposed. Emotion squeezed his lungs so tight that he couldn’t breathe as he took her in. How could she tell? How was it possible this slip of a girl could break him down so easily? He gave a shake of his head in answer.

  ‘You don’t still suspect me of treason?’ Her mouth smiled in jest, but her eyes were wide and serious.

  The question was nearly his undoing. ‘I know how difficult of a choice it was to marry me.’ As he spoke, he set his cup on the table and crossed to her. ‘You chose peace and I believe that peace is in your heart.’

  Her face brightened and she took his hand and brought it to her chest. The steady rhythm of her heart beat beneath his palm. ‘Once I thought of losing you, it wasn’t that difficult a choice.’

  Fighting the urge to crush her against him and never let her go, he closed his eyes. Every fibre in his body told him that this was dangerous. It was too soon. He hadn’t even known this woman a month ago, yet she called to something deeper within him. It reached for her, needed her, longed to drink up her every touch.

  ‘Then it must be something else,’ she whispered.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Taking his face in her hand, she said, ‘Ever since I told you aye there’s been something...you’ve been holding yourself back from me. There’s been a distance.’

  He let out a breath on a laugh because he knew she was right. ‘There wasn’t any distance between us earlier tonight.’

  She blushed, but she didn’t back down. By the gods, she was fierce and he was doomed. ‘Not that.’ Her lips curved in another smile and she continued gently, as if afraid to scare him off. ‘Perhaps wariness is a better description. If it’s not me and my family, then why are you wary of me? Did... Is it something that’s happened to you?’

  Her eyes were so open and honest when she stared up at him that he couldn’t stop himself from putting his arms around her and holding her against him. This woman had more courage than he. The notion struck him with a certainty that he couldn’t deny and he felt shamed and proud at the same time.

  When he couldn’t speak of his fears, she had come to him with hers and spoken of them openly. She’d sought his comfort as she’d told him of her mother’s betrayal and her family’s hatred. It had quite literally cost her the life that she had known to come to him as his wife and he’d had to give up nothing in return. The least he could do was be honest with her and let her know that there were certain boundaries he couldn’t cross. Perhaps he’d been selfish not to tell her before they had wed, but it wasn’t something he’d rectify even if given the chance.

  She was his.

  Pulling back enough to look down at her without letting her go, he said, ‘The truth is that there was once another woman. I thought that I loved her, but I realise now that I was merely infatuated.’ He’d never felt this bone-deep pull with Hilde. There had been excitement and affection, but not whatever was happening with Elswyth. He held her close as he told her everything, even how it had driven him to become a warrior. She watched him with a mixture of sadness and understanding.

  When he finished, she said, ‘Hilde was a fool, but I can’t say that I’m sorry for it. Had she not been, I wouldn’t have you now.’ Taking his face between her hands, she rose to her knees to meet him at eye level and the tip of her nose touched his as she spoke. ‘And you have me. I won’t betray you, Rolfe. I give you my word.’

  ‘I know that you won’t.’ It was all he could manage against the swell of tenderness he felt for her. The barrier had crumbled with her words and he was tumbling headlong into the abyss with only her to catch him. It didn’t matter if he trusted her to catch him or not. He was already lost.

  She kissed him with all the passion smouldering between them. A groan tore from his lips when her hand came between them, tightening around his semi-hard length and bringing him to full arousal again. ‘Saxon,’ he murmured, though he didn’t know if it was a warning or a welcome.

  ‘Is it possible to pleasure you without you being inside me?’ she whispered.

  He nodded, somewhat amazed that in her innocence she was able to conceive of such a thing. ‘Aye.’

  ‘Show me.’ Her hand tightened slightly, pulling the breath from his lungs.

  So he showed her how to use her hands to bring him pleasure, then he spent the rest of the night making good on his vow to use his tongue on every part of her body.

  * * *

  Rolfe left her the next morning to go meet with his men, but when Elswyth had moved to rise with him he’d pressed her to stay in bed. Exhausted from their activities the night before, she’d slept a fair amount of the morning only waking up when someone knocked on the door. She had barely donned her underdress when the knock came again.

  ‘Elswyth?’ Ellan called, her voice insistent.

  Rolling her eyes at her impatience, Elswyth opened the door, barely getting out of the way before her sister barrelled in holding a tray of breakfast. ‘You are awake,’ she said as she set the food on the table.

  ‘I am now. Thank you for bringing breakfast.’

  Ellan shrugged off the thanks and walked over, looking her up and down as if she expected her to be different somehow. Elswyth laughed at the expectant look on her face. The truth was that she did feel different, but she was certain she still looked the same from the outside.

  ‘How was it?’ Ellan asked. Subtlety had never been her strong suit.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Elswyth smiled, intentionally baiting her sister, as she walked over to take a seat at the table.

  ‘Elswyth,’ Ellan groaned and sat down on the bench beside her. ‘Was he...gentle? Did you enjoy it?’

  Taking pity on her, Elswyth nodded. ‘Aye to both. It was perfect and I went to sleep knowing that I am a lucky woman to have him as my husband. This morning I can still scarcely believe it.’ If not for the fact that she had awakened in Rolfe’s chamber and her body bore a slight tenderness from the night before, she might think she had dreamed it. Never had she expected marriage to be like this.

  ‘If I had to guess, I would say he feels the same.’

  ‘Did you see him?’

  Ellan’s smile widened. ‘I did at the morning meal. He seemed happier than I’ve ever seen him. The men were teasing him, but he didn’t get angry once and smiled the entire time.’

  Elswyth felt her cheeks burn hot. ‘I suppose everyone knew what we did.’

  Ellan laughed and rubbed her shoulder with affection. ‘Well, it was your wedding night.’

  She was embarrassed, but she couldn’t find it within her to regret the night or their lack of privacy. There was no room for regret in her happiness. Turning her attention to the bowl of pottage, they spoke for a while about the wedding. When Ellan turned the conversation back to the wedding night, obviously desperate for specifics, Elswyth shook her head, laughing. ‘You’ll find out soon enough for yourself. How goes your hunt for a husband? Any prospects?’

  Ellan shook her head and looked away. The change in her mood from borderline rude curiosity to meekness immediately made Elswyth suspicious. ‘You’ve met someone.’

  ‘Nay.’ Ellan shook her head again, but the look on her face had turned serious. ‘We’ve not met. Not really.’

  ‘But there is someone who’s caught your eye?’

  Nodding, Ellan rose to her feet as if the strength of her thoughts couldn’t be contained to merely sitting. ‘It’s too soon to think of marriage. He’s unmarried, but I don’t know if he’s promised to someone. I don’t think he is.’ She wrung her hands and paced, a faraway expression in her eyes. ‘He’s tall, handsome and quiet. He doesn’t say very much, but when he does the men listen and his eyes... Elswyth, his eyes say so much. He watches me sometimes and I swear to
you that the feeling is more powerful than the flattery of any man.’ A pretty blush tinged her sister’s cheeks and she smiled like a woman in love.

  ‘Such emotion for a man you’ve never met.’

  Ellan grinned and nodded her agreement. ‘I know you won’t believe this, but I can’t seem to find my voice when he’s near.’

  ‘Who is it?’ When Ellan shook her head, Elswyth rose and took her hands. ‘You must tell me.’

  ‘It’s Aevir.’

  An image of the powerful warrior came to mind. There was a quiet intensity about him that might have drawn her interest as well if she hadn’t been so consumed with Rolfe. He was handsome, but where Rolfe was gentle, there was a hint of something dark in Aevir. Not cruelty, exactly, but something complicated. ‘Does he return your interest?’

  Ellan ducked her head. ‘Aye, I believe he does. I see him watching me and once...’

  ‘Once what?’

  ‘Before he left for Banford we found ourselves alone one night and I think if we hadn’t been interrupted he might have...well, it hardly matters. We were interrupted.’

  ‘You kissed him?’ Elswyth’s voice rose in surprise.

  ‘It was an accident really, but, aye.’

  ‘Do you want me to talk to Rolfe? Find out more about him?’

  Ellan shook her head. ‘Nay, please don’t mention anything. I’d rather wait for Aevir to return and see if there is even anything to consider first.’

  Elswyth assured her that she wouldn’t ask about Aevir, but she couldn’t help but worry at her sister’s choice. Aevir was respected among the warriors and he treated them well, but there was something about his quiet intensity that unnerved her. His eyes sometimes seemed almost haunted, making her unsure if he would be a good match for her often playful sister.

  On the first morning after their wedding, Rolfe knew that he was enamoured of his wife. He had wrongly assumed that he could go about his duties and his life would stay much the same as it had been before. The only difference would be that his wife’s lush and lithe body would be waiting for his pleasure in bed every night. But she’d invaded his thoughts as well as his bed.

  She was always there. While on the sparring field, he’d try to catch glimpses of her with her bow and arrow and secretly long to be with her instead of his men. While in the bathhouse, he tried to think of ways he could get the place to himself so that he could bring her there and take her while their bodies were slick with sweat and steam. In the evenings while listening to the stories told by the skald, he would seek her out to hold her against him, savouring how well she fit with him. At night, long after their bodies were sated, he enjoyed talking with her about his childhood home and learning how she had spent her days before him. It was this that frightened him more than his physical attraction to her; it was this intimacy that was far more potent than anything he’d known with Hilde.

  * * *

  By the time several days had passed, he knew that enamoured wasn’t a strong enough word to describe his feelings for her. Obsessed would more closely name the feeling. Or, if he were a bitter sort, he could claim that she had bewitched him. Only he knew that women held no such power and that she herself was as lost in him as he was in her. Any fool could see how her eyes lit up when she saw him. When they spoke, even at the table eating their evening meal with everyone around them, the world fell away and it was just the two of them.

  But even their obsession with each other couldn’t keep the world at bay for long. Her father would arrive soon, which meant that news of what had happened in Banford would finally reach her. As each day had passed, the lump of dread in his stomach had become more noticeable. He knew that it would be best if she heard the news from him, rather than some other source, yet he couldn’t bring himself to disturb the bliss they’d found.

  Each morning when he awoke, he told himself that he had to tell her today. Except she’d awaken next to him, warm and soft and eager, and he’d lose himself in her for a time. Afterwards, as the day wore on, he’d find himself beguiled by her happiness and he couldn’t bring himself to say anything that would change that for her. Then he would make a deal with himself to let them have today and he would tell her in the morning, only to have the whole cycle start again.

  Finally he ran out of time. Men had come in late that morning to alert them that Scots had been seen on Alvey land to the north, just outside Banford. Rolfe would have to ride out immediately to see to the problem. Hurrying inside, he found his wife seated near the fire with Lady Gwendolyn and Ellan, helping the former with her embroidery skills. Tova sat next to them on a pallet on the floor near Elswyth’s skirts, playing with a woollen doll. Wyborn lay near the group, far enough away to discourage the baby’s curiosity, but close enough to keep a watchful eye on Elswyth. He’d become her protector, as if he knew that she belonged to him and Rolfe now.

  The group laughed at a particularly crooked line Lady Gwendolyn had sewn and Rolfe felt a tug near his heart as he stared at Elswyth’s happy face. He didn’t want to rob her of her happiness, but he had no choice. She would probably hate him for what he’d done in Banford before they had wed and what he was about to do would guarantee it. There was little doubt that the Scots had been seen because they had met or had planned to meet with Godric.

  ‘Elswyth.’ She glanced up and the ready smile fell from her face as she took in his grave expression. His heart twisted as she stood, the blood leaving her face as she approached him.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she asked, taking his arm.

  He drew her to the side of the room for a bit of privacy. ‘The Scots have been sighted on Alvey land.’

  ‘Where?’ But it was as if she already knew. Her brow creased and a pain came into her eyes.

  He nodded. ‘Near Banford. We have no proof, but we suspect they are here to meet with your father.’

  Shaking her head, she said, ‘But they’ve never come this far south before.’

  ‘I know. It’s a bad sign that they’ve grown bolder.’ He rubbed her shoulders in a steady motion to soothe her. ‘I have to go.’

  ‘Let me come with you. I can talk to my father.’

  The idea was so abhorrent he immediately shook his head. ‘Nay. I won’t have you in danger.’ He was certain there would be a fight. If they caught the Scots crossing the Alvey border, there would be a battle.

  ‘As far as Banford, then.’

  ‘We can’t be assured the Scots won’t attack Banford. I won’t take the chance. You must stay here behind Alvey’s walls.’

  She opened her mouth to argue, but he tightened his hold slightly on her shoulders. ‘I have to go, Saxon. We can’t argue about this.’

  Throwing her arms around him, she squeezed him as if she never wanted to let him go, but the hall was abuzz with action now as the word had spread and they had no choice but to part. ‘I’ll help you pack your things,’ she whispered, a husk in her voice as she blinked back tears.

  He let out a groan and pressed a kiss to her forehead. ‘I will come back.’

  She nodded, but her fists tightened in his tunic. ‘Soon.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  It took Rolfe and his men two days to hunt the Scots down. The longships took them north, but the Scots knew enough to stay away from the waterways, forcing the warriors to travel on foot across the frozen earth for much of the journey. Cnut brought men from Banford to join him, bringing their count to nearly eighty strong. Finally, when the sky was still dark and the moon covered with low-hanging clouds, Rolfe and his men approached their encampment.

  They crept silently, but the scream as the first battle axe found its mark quickly alerted the men to their presence. A surge of vigour drove Rolfe forward—suddenly the battle wasn’t about taking land or maintaining territory, it was about protecting his home. An image of Elswyth as she slept flashed before his mind’s eye. More than anything else this battle w
as about protecting her and ensuring that she could continue to sleep and live in peace. A guttural battle cry fell from his lips and his warriors followed suit as they attacked.

  The Scots rose, but many of them met their deaths before fully coming to their feet. The ones towards the middle of camp stood the best chance. They stood in a circle three rows deep, facing their attackers on all sides, but Rolfe’s men were too fast, too ready and prepared to be held off for long. Rolfe’s sword took men down faster than he could see their expressions and soon there was a gap in their defence as a group ran off towards the wood instead of fighting. The grey light of morning spread over the camp, illuminating their path.

  ‘After them!’ he yelled to the man on his right. ‘Keep as many of them alive for questioning as you can.’ The warrior took the group of men under his command, running after them, and Cnut quickly took his place so that Rolfe would not be left undefended.

  The clang of steel on steel sounded close, drawing Rolfe’s attention away from the fleeing men to the action before him. As if his face had been culled from the depths of Rolfe’s deepest nightmare, Osric loomed before him and time itself seemed to grind to a halt. The pale skin of the Saxon’s cheeks was burnished with exertion as he hacked at an attacker. The Dane warrior deflected, surging to his left to meet yet another Scot, leaving Osric free to skewer his unguarded ribs if he so chose. But something caught Osric’s attention and he turned towards Rolfe, meeting his gaze.

  Fury transformed his features, his teeth shining white as he bared them and trudged forward. Rolfe stared, hardly able to breathe as he heard Elswyth’s voice near his ear as she laughed about the time Osric, then a boy, had helped her convince her father that one of the sheep could talk. She had told Rolfe that story one night as they’d lain abed. Her throaty laughter had filled the cocoon of their curtained bed as she remembered how her father’s bewildered disbelief had turned to grudging acceptance when he’d been unable to find the source of the voice and then anger when he’d found out he’d been duped.