by Quinn, Paula
He sucked in a ragged breath. “I’ve already explained the purpose of marriage.”
“I don’t wish to share a bed with a man who doesn’t love me.”
“Passion will warm your bed.”
She shook her head, refusing to accept it. “I want more.”
“You can’t have it,” he said sternly.
She whirled around, hiding the tears that wet the corners of her eyes. “Tell me about Eira.”
“Curse you, woman.” He grabbed her arms. “She is alive and well.”
“If the woman you love is alive, why did you kiss me, milord? Why did you try to seduce me?”
Konal turned her around, his forehead nearly touching hers. “A man can love one woman and want to fuck another.”
His words sickened her. “You were right about one thing, milord,” she said in a controlled tone, her stomach in knots. “I am a fool, for believing in you.” She pushed him away with all her strength and ran in the direction of the hills, desperate to find a place where she could be alone.
Chapter Seventeen
Konal didn’t move a muscle—he’d never meant to hurt her, only to put her off emotionally, and protect himself more than anything. But the pained expression on her pretty face told him he’d had a serious lapse in judgment. He eyed the empty wineskin. Blaming potent drink would be a sad excuse for bad behavior. But what did Silvia expect? For him to drop down on a knee and confess undying love and devotion? It just wasn’t possible.
All his instincts told him to walk away, go inside, and send one of Fiske’s sons to fetch her back to the gathering. Let them deal with her now. Her welfare rested on their shoulders.
Or did it?
It was then he knew his own future wasn’t as clear as it had been a week ago.
Something about Silvia had penetrated the armor-clad layers of his heart. Even thousands of miles of ocean couldn’t change that. With a frustrated sigh, he strode across the field, headed in the direction of where she’d gone. She must be made to see the value in marrying someone who could protect her. And while he expected some resistance, Konal knew how to bring the stubborn girl to heel.
Simple words weren’t enough, nor the threat of another spanking. She must see it in his eyes and hear the resoluteness of his voice at the same time.
He found her sitting underneath a tree, back resting against the thick trunk with her head bowed.
“Why did you follow me?” she asked without looking up.
“Come back, it’s growing dark. I can’t allow you to stay outside by yourself. The men who attacked us may be waiting for the right moment to strike again.”
“That’s what worries you?” She met his gaze then, palming tears off her face.
“Aye.”
“Then leave me alone, milord.”
“Don’t misjudge my words, Silvia. I care enough to see you settled before I go.”
She momentarily closed her eyes like she was trying to gather her wits. “I thought you were an honorable man.”
“I am.”
She laughed bitterly. “Men under your command killed my father—though I’ll never know who. You refuse to send me home. Yet you also saved my life twice, milord. I’m very confused. Resentful that you wish to imprison me here.”
Losing patience, he growled. “Get up, Silvia.”
“I prefer to stay under the shelter of this tree. Surely there’s a willing bedmate amongst your servants who would gladly fuck you.”
Coming from her mouth, those words ripped through him more fatally than a blade. “You’re bitter because I loved another woman.”
Her eyes lit up. “Hardly.” She stared at his crotch, then shook her head. “You overestimate the value of what’s between your legs.”
Did the wench remember everything he said? He’d told her something very similar in Jorvik. Only he didn’t mean it then or now. “Why do you still defy me, Silvia? Your life is in my hands. I can do whatever I wish with you. Kiss you. Caress you. Embrace you…”
“Rape me.”
“Kill you,” he emphasized.
She gasped at his harsh words but rose, determined to show him how she felt. Standing directly in front of him, she swept her hair over her right shoulder and offered her slim, white neck. “I see you carry many blades at your hip. Please … choose one and put me out of my misery finally. Let all this end. Send me to meet my god and sire. For surely it would be a better end for me than being forced to stay here and live a lie.”
Spoken like a true Valkyrie—he could see her wearing the golden armor, a shield and sword in her hands, standing before Odin himself, arguing endlessly. She didn’t fear death. He held her steely gaze, pressure building inside his chest.
“Well, milord?”
“How could you ask me to do that?” Instead, he tugged her close and slanted his mouth across hers, catching her tongue between his lips, taking what he’d wanted more than anything. Another taste of Silvia. Possibly his last, for after tonight, she might belong to another man.
He kissed her passionately, his fingers wandering freely, seeking the softest places on her body. He loved her intensity, the way she fought for what she believed in. And her scent … it never failed to put him in a daze. Surprisingly, his little Valkyrie in the flesh didn’t resist. She clung to him, her tiny hands slipping up his arms, then laced together behind his neck. She leaned into him, her full breasts pressed against his chest.
“This must be an abomination,” she whispered at last. “For how can I offer myself so freely to a man who thinks me no better than a slave?”
She couldn’t be more wrong. He tried to recover from the intimacy, his mind muddled by more than excessive mead drinking. “I hold you in higher regard than I do most women.”
“Then prove it,” she challenged. “Set me free.”
“Never.” He must always know where she was. If he let her go, she’d disappear forever, and likely die at the hands of a bloody Dane. “You belong to me.”
“I belong to no man,” she spit.
“Wrong again.” He gripped her arm and gave her a gentle shake. “I assure you, I’m as real as any man can be, Silvia. Surely you can attest to that—your hungry fingers once caressed my bollocks with enthusiasm.”
“Pig.”
He grinned proudly. “So I am.”
She jerked free and turned around, then took two steps before Konal, consumed by anger and protectiveness, swept her into his arms.
“Did I not tell you before? Your mind is no longer your own. Don’t move unless I give you permission. Don’t think without my approval.”
She kicked and struggled to get away, but Konal held on, his breeches getting tighter from arousal. There was no relief. Not in Northumbria. All he could envision was stripping her, laying her across his bed, and showing her how he really felt. All that pent up aggression and frustration would bleed out of him the moment he filled her with his seed.
But he’d already offered her hand to one of Fiske’s sons. Taking her maidenhead would only complicate things.
So instead of doing what his mind and body screamed for, he carried her inside the hall. The music stopped and all his guests watched as he kicked her chamber door open and dropped her on the bed.
“You will spend the rest of the night in here. Think about the way you speak to me before you dare come out in the morning. All my patience and good cheer is spent, Silvia. In the morn, you will present yourself in the hall, ready to choose a husband.”
He didn’t bother giving her a chance to respond. He slammed her door shut and directed one of his men to stand guard through the night.
“Bring me more mead,” he demanded as he strutted to the high table. “And more music. I would watch the girls dance. And enjoy the banter of the men.”
*
Christ in heaven. The constant struggle with Konal had finally caught up with Silvia. Exhausted, she turned on her side and tucked her knees into her chest. Even breathing normally felt like a chall
enge. How could she ever face these people again?
Konal had humiliated her beyond belief.
Instead of letting her sorrow come out in the form of tears, she rolled off the bed and walked to the corner of her room where her leather bag sat. As if summoned by the angels, she opened it and rummaged around until she found the treasure her father had left her. The scrolls.
By the light of the single wall torch, she broke the seal on the first missive, praying she’d chosen the right time to do so.
After reading the first few lines, she looked away, took a deep breath, then stared at the page again, emotions swelling inside her chest. This wasn’t a sacred text, but a personal letter from her sire. It spoke of her earliest years in the monastery. How much joy she brought him. It attested to his undying love as a father. How all the monks celebrated her young life and curiosity.
“How much we all love you,” she read aloud. “From the moment you were permitted entry into the scriptorium, you wandered endlessly, touching everything reverently, as if you knew how priceless the missives were…”
She set the precious letter aside, then opened another one, finding the same—inspirational writings from her sire. All about their lives together. The next one described her mother, told of the happiness they shared while she carried her in the womb. “Our very own piece of heaven on earth,” her father had written. “When I rest my hand on your mother’s swollen belly and feel you move within, I am reminded of the gift of life. How delicate it is, but how boldly we must live it. Never afraid to do what is right in the eyes of God. And never ashamed of our faith in Christ…”
The tears blinded her and she dropped to her knees, overwhelmed by emotions. Love and hatred collided in her chest.
The door to her room opened, but Silvia didn’t care who stood behind her. Painful waves of sorrow wracked her body.
“What is it, Silvia?” Saga’s sweet voice sounded.
She held up the scroll, knowing the poor girl couldn’t read. “Everything I ever wondered about, all the doubts and hopes I’ve ever had, have been answered amongst these pages. And there’s nothing I can do to bring my father back and tell him how much I love him.”
Inconsolable, she crawled back to her bed, hoping she’d fall asleep and never awaken again.
Chapter Eighteen
A loud noise pulled Silvia from her sleep. But as she shot up from her bed, the ear-piercing scream she heard made her freeze. Saga slept on a pallet on the floor and the girl was missing. Another shout came, this time from a man inside the hall, which made her think twice about opening her door. So did Konal’s earlier instructions to not come out until the morning. From the small, square window on the far wall, she could see the darkness. Still nighttime.
But what if someone had gotten hurt?
Cautious, she lifted the latch and peeked through. Men were scrambling for the entrance, some with weapons. As she started to exit her chamber, Saga appeared and gently pushed her back inside.
“No,” she cautioned as she shut the door behind her. “Please, stay here. Jarl Konal forbid me to let you leave this room. We must wait for his command.”
Head still swimming from the fight she had earlier with Konal, she tried to grasp what her maid was saying. “What is going on, Saga? Are we under attack?”
Saga’s expression seemed guarded and she folded her hands, looking unsure of what to say and do. “Several sheep were slaughtered in the closest field. And there’s a fire. Two of the guest cottages have been burned down.”
Silvia blinked at her, remembering the fire in the middle of the night when she was traveling with Konal. He’d saved her life and now she must do the same for him. “Stay if you wish,” she said with deep conviction. “But I will not hide while these people face their deaths. My hands are as capable as any.”
She took a step toward the door, but Saga shifted to the right, blocking her path.
“What are you doing?” Silvia asked, shocked by her interference.
“What our master bid me do. I’m responsible for your life.”
She exhaled a harsh breath. Everything had gone quiet in the hall and panic started to set in. “Do you hear anything beyond that door?” Silvia asked.
“Nothing.”
“Tis a bad sign. What if your father or brothers are hurt? Will you be able to live with yourself if you lose one of them?” She hoped her words convinced Saga to move, because the next option was physical confrontation. And though her maid was quite a bit taller and likely stronger, Silvia’s motivations were greater, for she’d felt the sting of loss recently, and that made her desperate.
A fresh wave of grief washed over her as she waited for Saga to make up her mind.
“Please…”
“Odin will punish me if anything happens to you.” She stepped aside.
Without a word, Silvia rushed from her room, ran through the hall, and outside. Women and children were gathered near the southeast corner of the cottage and she didn’t hesitate to question them.
“Where is Jarl Konal?”
A woman pointed toward the fields. “Beyond the gardens with the other men.”
“Thank you.”
“Wait,” the woman said. “We were told to…”
Silvia didn’t care.
Minutes later, breathless and hidden amongst the trees, she watched in abject terror as Konal and several of his men battled a group of attackers. There were at least seven. She covered her mouth, too tempted to call out to the man she realized she loved. Why had it taken so long to admit it? Only when faced with losing him did her heart open up.
She then bowed her head, humbling herself before God. “Spare him. Please. The world is a better place with him in it…”
“A touching sentiment,” a male voice said as he grabbed her arm. “So another beauty surrenders her heart to my arrogant cousin.”
Forced to turn around, Silvia found a familiar face—Hallam.
“You’re responsible for this violence?” she asked.
“Yes. I’ve waited a lifetime to regain my honor from Konal. And now that I have you, he’ll have no choice but to surrender.”
With a cry, she clawed his face.
“Bitch…” he screamed, squeezing her wrist and holding on tight. “Once my cousin is dead, I’ll teach you a life changing lesson.” Then he slapped her face so hard she saw stars before her eyes.
Startled, she touched her cheek with her free hand but didn’t make a sound. She’d never give this man the satisfaction of hearing her pain. Betraying bastard…
As Hallam dragged her into the open, she searched for Konal. The sound of weapons crashing together and the grunts and moans sent a chill up her spine. Two men were lying on the ground already, unmoving. Once again violence and death surrounded her. Where was Konal?
“I won’t let you hurt him,” she said. She landed a solid blow to his cheek, then tried to hit him again.
But he was faster and stronger, and pulled her against his chest. Then he spun her around and locked her in place by wrapping his arm about her neck. “Move and I’ll choke the life out of you.” He demonstrated by applying pressure to her throat. “It wouldn’t take much to kill you, girl.”
How she hated feeling helpless and useless. If she’d only listened to Saga and stayed in her room… Now Hallam would use her as leverage against Konal.
They walked slowly to the center of the field, the bright moonlight as revealing as a bonfire.
“Hear me, Konal the Red,” Hallam pronounced.
As if he’d cast a spell, the fighting quickly stopped.
Her gaze moved swiftly across the line of men standing nearby and she found her Viking with an axe in each hand, a maddened expression on his face. His eyes went wide when he spied her, then surmised his cousin.
“All these years I’ve waited for the moment to bring you to your knees, Konal.”
“You couldn’t pay a whore to kneel before you, what makes you think I will?” He squared his shoulders
and took a step forward. “Coward. You’d use a woman as a shield? Let her go and face me as any warrior would. I’ll even give you first strike.”
Laughter sounded from the men, but Silvia didn’t pay attention to anyone else but her master. As he came closer, she could see his sweat-slicked hair and blood-streaked face—poised to claim his next victim.
“Stand down,” Hallam said, bringing a dagger to her throat. “Another step and I’ll cut her. I already sacrificed Jahn and your other guard to the gods to win their favor. Imagine what I will get if I give them something as pure as this girl.”
Konal raised his hands. “Tell me what to do.”
“Drop your weapons.”
His axes hit the ground with a thud.
“Now tell your men to do the same.”
“No,” Konal refused. “I’ll give up only if you let my men walk away.”
“You’re in no position to bargain with me.”
“I’ll fight you with my bare hands before I let you kill one of my tenants.”
Neither man was willing to give in and Silvia shifted nervously on her feet—willing to die if it meant Konal lived. Hallam must have mistaken her movement as another attempt to escape, for he yanked her head back.
“Do you know how many times I told this little bitch to be still?” He gazed down at her. “Only minutes in my arms and I, too, am bewitched. Now I understand your obsession, cousin. She is unlike any other woman I’ve known.” He licked her face, laughing as she jerked her head away in revulsion. “I’ll agree to your terms on one condition.” He eyeballed Konal. “Relinquish your rights to this thrall, in front of all of these witnesses.”
Konal growled like a rabid dog, and in a flash, a knife pierced Hallam’s forehead. A strangled sound came out of his mouth and he stumbled backward, his hold on Silvia loosened. She wriggled free and dropped to her knees, watching in horror as Hallam collapsed.
She couldn’t see anything after that, only heard someone yell it was over.
As the tears fell, she covered her face with both hands, ready to die for her disobedience. Everything Konal had done was for her. From claiming her in Jorvik, to bringing her here. The empty threats had been his way of protecting her, to convince her to do as he said so she’d live, not so he could kill her spirit.