Marrying Her Viking Enemy

by Harper St. George

  Her eyes moved of their own accord to find him. There were men sparring in the clearing outside Cnut’s longhouse, but he didn’t seem to be one of them. Aevir seemed to be the one running them through their paces. As they approached the village, men, women and children were moving about their daily chores. Not one of them seemed concerned with the additional Danes in their midst. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Without her father and the other agitators, there was nothing to keep life from happening as it should.

  Lady Gwendolyn had been right. Everyone served someone and most people didn’t care who it was as long as they could live their lives in peace. As long as there was enough food and work and time to enjoy life, what did it matter? The Danes were here, but they were not a hindrance and they were not malicious invaders. If only her father could have seen this, perhaps life could have been different.

  What would have happened had her mother never met that Dane and run off? Would her father have been more willing to work with Lord Vidar? In the days since talking to Father, she’d not been able to stop thinking of Mother. Somehow knowing that she carried the Dane’s child made the woman’s decision more poignant. She hadn’t simply left her family because she’d found a man more exciting than her husband. She’d been forced to choose and she’d followed her heart. She hadn’t left them so much as she’d chosen a future for her unborn child.

  The knowledge gave clarity to Elswyth’s own dilemma. If she was allowed to follow her heart, it would lead her to Rolfe. She only hoped it wasn’t too late to choose him.

  ‘Good morning, Elswyth!’ They had walked close enough to the outskirts of the village that a few of the women paused to set their heavy baskets of laundry down to call to her.

  She called back and smiled, happy to see familiar faces. She would have stopped and talked, but the Dane looked back at her. ‘Let’s go,’ he grumbled.

  Biting back a retort, she followed him and gave a regretful wave to the small group. Soon he led her to a grave, a fresh mound of dirt covering it. A wave of sorrow came over her. Though she’d had days to come to terms with his fate and she had, it still didn’t seem possible that the boy she had known was gone. She wanted to laugh with him one last time, but she couldn’t and that wasn’t Rolfe’s fault. She could accept that now.

  Rolfe was no more to blame for Osric’s death than he was to blame for the Dane presence in their lands. Osric had made his own choice and he’d been fully aware of the consequences. Even so, she found that she had to be angry with someone, because Osric wasn’t here to bear the brunt of it. In the days she’d spent in that farmhouse, she had come to realise that if anyone should share the blame with Osric that it was her father. Father and his bitter sense of betrayal towards Mother had led them all to this. Osric had not been a warrior. He would’ve been content living his life in peace. Father must have encouraged him to meet the Scots.

  The sharp whinny of a horse caught her attention. Sleipnir raced across the ridge separating the field from the village. Rolfe was on his back, leaning forward as the stallion ran beneath him. Her heart clenched with longing as she watched him and it was quickly followed by a surge of possessiveness. He was hers. They had taken vows and nothing could change that. His people might believe in divorce, but hers didn’t and nothing he or Lord Vidar could say or do would change that.

  Rolfe would always be hers.

  She hadn’t realised she’d started running towards him until the Dane guarding her called out. She’d caught him unaware as he’d left her to pay her respects in peace and watched some of the women in the village. His heavy footfalls came up behind her, but they only spurred her faster. Rolfe had reached Aevir and had vaulted from his horse to talk to him about something that seemed rather important.

  ‘Wait!’ The Dane grabbed her arm, tugging her to a stop. Jerking away from him, she nearly succeeded in running again, but he was too determined. ‘You can’t go there. I have to take you back to the house.’

  ‘Nay, I need to see Rolfe.’ She swatted at his hands in a way that might have been comical had she not been so desperate. She opened her mouth to tell him in no uncertain terms that she wouldn’t be returning without speaking to her husband when a great roar sounded from the forest north of the longhouse. Men on horseback flooded the valley, spilling in from the forest as if they had no end.

  Scots! That’s why Rolfe had been moving with such urgency. He must have seen them from the rise and come to warn everyone.

  ‘Go to them!’ she yelled when the Dane seemed intent on dragging her away from the sight in the opposite direction.

  ‘I can’t leave you!’ His voice was stern, but he wasn’t looking at her. He stared at the coming violence as if he itched to join in.

  ‘Rolfe needs you more. I need to lead the women in the village to safety.’ One look showed her that the villagers were aware of what was happening. They ran for the forest to the south, prepared years ago by her father for the eventuality of invasion with peace with the Scots and Danes being so uncertain. Something must have happened with her father’s truce with the Scots to make them invade. Or perhaps they only came for the Danes and planned to leave the village in peace. Either way, someone needed to make sure they all hid in safety.

  ‘Nay, they’ll be fine. Jarl Vidar arrived with his men late last night. We’ve more than enough warriors.’

  Relief overcame her. At least there was that. ‘But what if they need you?’

  The Dane wavered, but his youth eventually won out. It was clear that he’d much rather fight with the men than hide with the women, so he shoved the grip of his dagger into her hand. ‘Run!’ he ordered. ‘Do you know where to hide?’

  ‘Aye, the rise in the forest.’ She indicated the direction in which the villagers were fleeing. Father and the warriors had made certain everyone knew to hide behind the rise. It was difficult to see for anyone who didn’t know the landscape and it would give the villagers a safe point from which to view the battle. It would also give them ample time to see any attackers who might approach.

  He gave a curt nod. ‘Go then!’ But as he ran towards the battle, he didn’t even look back to make sure she followed his orders. Why would he? She was a woman and she was meant to obey.

  Only she wouldn’t.

  She ran as fast as her legs could carry her into the village. By the time she reached it most everyone had gone. A few of the men stayed back with weapons to guard their houses should the Scots get past the Danes. Sliding the dagger into her belt, she picked up a short-handled axe that had been left carelessly by the woodshed. Taking it in hand, she hurried towards the battle. Already the sounds of steel on steel could be heard ringing out as warriors clashed.

  The echo only made her legs pump harder. Her only thought was to get to Rolfe, to make certain that he was safe. She could make out his head and shoulders at the edge of the sparring field. She couldn’t see clearly from the distance, but he moved fast, striking with his sword as it seemed one Scot after another came at him. She lost sight of him for a moment as she was forced to run around the forge, the tall stone wall blocking her view.

  When next she saw him, he had two men coming after him at once. Blood dripped from his sword as he stepped over the bodies of the slain enemies at his feet. Aevir was across the way, fending off his own attackers. A man sneaked around the longhouse, walking silently but briskly into the open to approach Rolfe from behind. She called out, but her voice seemed to be lost in the noise of battle.

  Bracing her feet against the dirt, she pulled back the arm with the axe. Excitement and fear ran through her entire body, but she forced a calmness she was far from feeling and breathed in. On the exhale she let the axe fly. It whooshed through the air and somehow that sound was louder than her own cry had been. The weapon was a blur as it sailed, coming to a rest with flawless accuracy in the back of the man who would have attacked Rolfe.

  The attacker let out a s
tartling cry as he fell to his knees. Having dispatched the two men he’d been battling, Rolfe turned, his eyes finding her before landing on the man at his feet. ‘Get down!’ he yelled.

  It was only at that moment that she realised she was standing in the middle of a field, the battle swarming around her, with only a dagger in her belt for a weapon. Her heart too frozen in fear to pound, she looked for a place to hide as Rolfe finished the man off. The longhouse was farther away than the forge, so she turned back to it, hiding herself behind the solid stone wall and drawing her dagger.

  She could hear Rolfe’s voice calling to Aevir, but she couldn’t tell what he said. By this time her heart had resumed its pounding and seemed to have taken up residence in her ears. All she could hear was the blood rushing through her veins. It might have been only moments or maybe it was hours that she stayed there, but Rolfe came around the stone wall. His eyes found hers and he rushed over.

  She rose to her feet just before he caught her in his arms and pulled her against him.

  ‘Elswyth,’ he whispered against her ear, his hand going to the back of her head to hold her tight. ‘You’re safe.’

  ‘Is it over?’ she asked against his neck. He smelled of sweat and horse, but it was the most glorious scent ever. He was safe and whole.

  ‘Aye.’ His voice was little more than a hoarse croak as he tightened his arms. ‘Why didn’t you run to the forest?’

  ‘Because you needed me.’ She pulled back just enough to glare up at him.

  He grinned, his arms still so tight that she could barely draw breath. ‘Aye, I did. You saved me.’

  She’d been prepared to battle it out with him, not thinking that he’d relent and admit that her axe had taken the man down before Rolfe could handle him. So she stood stunned, not certain what to say. Rolfe seemed to know what to do because he kissed her deeply, his tongue plundering her mouth with determination. When he pulled back to take a breath, he said, ‘Thank you.’

  She shook her head, wondering how he could ever think she could do anything less. ‘I would give my life for you.’

  He looked stricken, as if her words pained him. Dropping his forehead to rest against hers, he said, ‘Nay, never do that. I love you too much. I couldn’t live without you.’ He took a deep, wavering breath. ‘I’m sorry, Saxon. For ever thinking that I could live without you. For doubting you. For believing that you were anything less than you are.’

  She laughed, though it sounded rather like a sob. ‘I forgive you as long as you spend the rest of your life making it up to me.’

  His deep laughter moved through her as he swung her up into his arms. ‘You can count on that. I love you.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It was evening before Elswyth was brought before Jarl Vidar to explain her crimes. The Scots had been soundly defeated, thanks in part to the arrival of the Jarl and his fleet of warriors. As before, this attack seemed to be a test. It wasn’t the whole of the Scots horde, but enough to check their weaknesses. It had been a foolish ploy, because far more Scots had been cut down than had escaped—though Domnall hadn’t been among either group, much to Rolfe’s displeasure. They had even taken a few for questioning. The whole of the afternoon had been taken up with dealing with the battle’s aftermath.

  Now Elswyth sat at the long table in the hall with Rolfe at her side as she recounted what her family had called upon her to do. Her chestnut hair was pulled back, but left to flow down to her waist, the fire picking up streaks of red and gold. She was beautiful as she fearlessly answered the Jarl’s questions. Rolfe was proud to see that she didn’t shirk her own responsibility—she had after all agreed to spy—but neither did she deny how she had been misled by Galan and, ultimately, her own father. She would never have stolen the jewel without the threat of Baldric’s safety spurring her on.

  He believed that now. A strong thread of honour ran through his wife, guiding her actions and judgement. It had been there all along, which is why he’d been called to her from the beginning. Perhaps she would have opened up to him earlier had he shown her that he loved her, instead of allowing Hilde to cast her shadow on their union. He stroked a hand down Elswyth’s back as she finished her story and sat silently awaiting Vidar’s judgement. She seemed to take strength from his touch, notching her chin a bit higher as she met Vidar’s harsh gaze head on.

  ‘Do I understand you to claim that you never actually gave your family any beneficial information?’ Vidar asked, his brow furrowed as he looked down at her.

  ‘Nay, my lord. After seeing Alvey with my own eyes, I came to the conclusion that peace would be best. Your forces were too strong to fight, but more than that, I saw how peaceful it was there. With Lady Gwendolyn’s help, I came to believe that we could find that peace here in Banford if given the chance.’

  Vidar took in a deep breath as he stared at her, his expression still fierce and hard. ‘Then it appears your only crime is that of theft.’

  He raised a brow and she nodded. ‘Aye, my lord. Again, I am very sorry for that. I only took it because—’

  He held up his hand, palm out, to stop her. ‘I understand what prompted the theft, Elswyth. I cannot fault you for your intentions, but neither can I ignore the outcome.’

  Rolfe clenched his jaw and gently pressed his palm into her back, reassuring her. He didn’t believe that Vidar would treat her harshly, but he had no idea what his friend intended. If he set out to make an example of her... He couldn’t even allow the thought to finish in his mind. Knowing how her family had used her and forsaken her was punishment enough.

  ‘Aye, my lord. I understand.’ She stiffened under Rolfe’s touch, steeling herself for the punishment.

  ‘You stole from Rolfe, so I will remand you to your husband for him to mete out a suitable punishment. However, I would urge you in the future to come to us should you or your family need assistance.’

  She nodded, but relief was postponed at the mention of her family. ‘What will become of my family?’

  No one had seen her family since Rolfe had confronted them outside Alvey’s walls. In the rush to find Elswyth and deal with the impending Scot threat, they had slipped away. Yet with several of the villagers missing along with her family, it could only be assumed that they had wilfully left. Perhaps to join with the Scot cause, perhaps not. The next few days would tell. Rolfe burned to get hold of her father and tell the man what he thought of him and his treatment of his daughters.

  ‘It’s good that your father and brothers were not with the Scots who attacked. I won’t leave Banford until this problem is dealt with once and for all and that includes finding your father and brothers. I’ll give them the same chance I gave you to answer for their crimes.’

  She nodded and Rolfe took her hand in his, giving it a squeeze. She hadn’t given up hope that her family would turn up soon. ‘What of Ellan? She never entertained our father’s hatred.’

  Vidar nodded. ‘I’ve already sent for her to join us here. I’ll question her, of course, but if that’s true then she’ll be free to do as she’d like. She can return to Alvey or stay in Banford.’

  Unable to wait another moment to be alone with his wife again, Rolfe rose to his feet and pulled her up with him. Murmuring his thanks to Vidar, he put an arm around her waist and ushered her from the building. She smiled up at him when he tucked his fur cloak around her shoulders and let the door close behind them.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she laughed. ‘We should at least check on Aevir.’

  Aevir had been wounded in the battle, but had been tended to hours ago. Rolfe shook his head. ‘You already made him a poultice and he’s resting. It’s time to discuss your punishment, Wife.’

  She pulled a face, but he could tell it only hid a smile. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let that go.’

  ‘Of course not. Jarl Vidar specifically said that I was to punish you. I can’t defy an order.’ He swung her
up into his arms and ran with her through the cold to the farmhouse, her laughter floating behind them. The housemaid had left the fire burning in the hearth with a pot of stew bubbling over the flame before she’d left for the night. His stomach growled at the aroma, but it would have to wait. He had another hunger to assuage first and it was for something far more important than food.

  After he set Elswyth on her feet, she hurried to the hearth to warm her hands as he secured the door closed behind them. After hanging up his cloak, he walked up behind her, putting his arms around her and drawing her back against his chest.

  ‘You forgot your gloves in Alvey.’

  She shook her head. Her voice was soft when she said, ‘Nay, I left them on purpose. At the time I couldn’t keep them. They were your first gift to me and it hurt too much to look at them.’

  He breathed in her sweet scent and ran his lips along her temple. ‘At the time...but not now?’

  ‘I’m sorry I left the way I did. It was wrong.’ She turned in his arms as she spoke and looked up at him, her hands cupping his face. ‘I want us to always talk going forward. I know that there will be things you have to do that I won’t like, but we can’t allow that to come between us. We can’t forget that we are better together than we are apart.’

  Lacing his fingers with hers, he kissed down the tender inside of one slender wrist, smiling when she sucked in a breath. ‘I’m sorry for what happened with Osric. And more, I am sorry for not telling you and being honest with you from the beginning.’

  She nodded. ‘I love you, Dane. I love you far more than I could ever hate you, no matter what happens. Please believe that. Always.’