The Viking Warrior's Bride

by Harper St. George

  As she made her way down the stairs, she found herself looking for him before she’d even stepped foot off the stairs. She’d let him dress and leave before she’d let on that she was awake. She was anxious to see if he liked her transformation. But that wasn’t right, she reminded herself. She shouldn’t care what he thought of her attire.

  It turned out that he wasn’t in the hall, so she conferred with Rodor on the arrangements to be made and spent the rest of the early morning helping to prepare for their trip. They’d visit three outlying villages and pass a few farms along the way. Most of her and Vidar’s needs would be taken care of by their hosts, but they’d bring extra food for the warriors they took with them.

  When her horse had been brought around, she finally saw Vidar. He stood holding the reins and waiting for her. He wore one of his nicer tunics in dark blue. It stretched across his shoulders, emphasising their breadth, and he wore a hide belt just above his narrow hips. His trousers were tucked into knee-high boots. He made a fine figure standing there waiting for her and a tiny part of her was proud that he was hers.

  Proof that she was going mad.

  ‘Good morning, Wife.’ He smiled at her, but his eyes seemed to know her thoughts.

  ‘Good morning.’ But she didn’t say anything else and focused on mounting with as little assistance as possible. It was clear that she couldn’t keep her head when he touched her. She was certain that he had direct access to her thoughts when he chuckled and walked to his own mount.

  * * *

  They had ridden out in silence and reached the first village in the early afternoon. A messenger had been sent ahead, but the villagers still seemed a bit stunned to see them when they rode through the gates. It was one of the oldest villages on Alvey land and the walls were a mixture of stone and earth that rose high above the small houses inside. The last time she’d come here had been two years ago when she’d visited with her father to deliver the news that three of the village’s sons had fallen in the battle that had taken Cedric and Cam. It hadn’t changed at all in the ensuing years. It still smelled of wood smoke and damp soil.

  Tiny wood-and-plaster houses, half-covered with moss and ivy, lined the inside of the wall. They were surrounding the large building in the middle which was the hall where Scur, the chieftain, lived with his family and his warriors.

  The villagers stared at them with uncertainty from the doorways of their huts or from where they paused in their work. The elders were lined up in front of the hall, gazing at them with wary eyes and neutral expressions. ‘Good afternoon, Scur.’ As a boy came to help her dismount, she greeted them all by name. Vidar came up beside her and they all greeted him with the deference he was due. They were welcomed inside where they ate a meal and spoke with Scur and his men.

  * * *

  Finally, near the end of the meal Gwendolyn broached the subject they had come to discuss. ‘We’ve decided to continue the celebration of our own fortuitous union throughout the summer.’

  Scur looked from her to Vidar and back again. His wizened face wrinkled even more as he pondered her statement. ‘In what way, Lady Gwendolyn?’

  ‘There will still be battles with the Scots in the north from time to time, but in the meantime, we need food to feed our new warriors. While it’s true our own people produce more than our own share, we need farms to help supplement. Some of Vidar’s men have indicated that they’d be willing to run the farms, but that means we’ll need strong women to work beside them. We’d like to encourage our noble, Saxon maidens to consider the task.’

  Scur frowned and glanced to his men, who also appeared to not like the idea. ‘What of our own Saxon men?’ one of them asked.

  Scur shook his head. ‘With respect, my lord, you’ve brought warriors here and it’s upset the balance. If our Saxon women take up with your men, there will be none left for our men. What are they to do? They’ll be forced to leave us and we can’t stand to lose a worker.’

  Vidar nodded and his voice was pleasantly smooth and calm when he spoke. ‘Aye, Scur, I hear your concern. We are prepared to gift every couple who marries before winter a satchel of coin and few sheep to ease their path in life.’ Scur started to speak, but Vidar raised his hand to hold him off. ‘And if a marriage results in a girl leaving her village or farm, her family will be paid for the loss of her labour.’

  Scur settled back into his seat, temporarily silenced as he weighed that piece of information. Gwendolyn couldn’t help but smile at her husband. He carried himself well here. He might think of himself as a warrior, and he was that, but he was also a lord capable of handling his own with grace and fairness. When she’d first met him, she had expected him to come into the villages dictating orders, much as he’d done with her, but she was seeing another side of him that she liked...nay, that she liked and respected.

  As Scur and his men talked with each other about this new proposal, Vidar caught her gaze. Something must have been different about the way she looked at him, because he tilted his head a little and narrowed his eyes in question as a faint smile played around his mouth.

  Finally, Scur turned back to face them. ‘What you suggest is generous, but it doesn’t solve the problem of our men being outnumbered.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Gwendolyn answered him. ‘Our Saxons will be outnumbered for a time, yet before he left Jarl Eirik promised to send more men and supplies to us nearer the end of summer. He wanted to give Vidar an opportunity to settle into Alvey and for us to not be overwhelmed with the new warriors. I believe by summer’s end, we will have the farms and homes nearing completion. There will also be women in the group. Women who are hoping for a life here.’

  ‘Dane women?’ one of the men sneered.

  Gwendolyn frowned. She had understood the reluctance to accept a leader from the ranks of what had once been their enemy, but to make war on the women seemed unfair. ‘Some Dane, but I believe most will be Saxon.’ She looked to Vidar for confirmation.

  ‘Aye, mostly Saxon women from the south, though some of our own women have begun to make the crossing,’ he explained.

  That same man said, ‘Those women will have their children speaking the devil’s tongue. We’ll be speaking it before you know it.’

  ‘They’ll likely speak the Danish tongue along with your common tongue.’ Vidar kept his voice neutral and diplomatic as he answered.

  Gwendolyn answered as gently as she could, ‘The choice of what language they teach their children is exactly that—a choice. However, our lives will continue on as before. Formal business will still be conducted in the common language. All are welcome to our hall and our table where some Danish may be spoken, but the common tongue will be as prevalent as ever.’

  ‘And what language will you teach your own children, Lady Gwendolyn?’ Scur raised a brow as he looked at her.

  She was struck speechless for a moment. She had no answer readily available because she hadn’t considered having children with Vidar. Her husband came to her rescue and covered her hand with his. His fingers tucked beneath where hers rested on the table and gave her palm a gentle stroke with his fingertips. Her gaze flashed to his face, but he was staring at Scur. It was a strange thought, but it was as if his hand had wrapped itself around her heart, holding it gently so that she could feel its warmth in her chest.

  ‘Like most children, their first language will be the one that their mother whispers to them as she holds them to her breast. They’ll grow up secure in their Danish and Saxon roots, with a foot in both worlds.’ She couldn’t take her eyes from him as he spoke. He seemed so passionate and yet calm and certain that she believed that their children would do just that. Even though she had no intention of children with him.

  Turning her attention to Scur, she added, ‘My father wanted this union because he saw what would happen to our people without it. We must embrace the change upon us so that we can
continue to thrive and defeat those who would do us harm. My father was a brave and honourable man.’ Most of their heads nodded in agreement. ‘We can do no less than honour his wishes and do what is best for our people.’

  Vidar gave her hand a squeeze, drawing her attention back to him. His lips tipped up in a faint smile and he inclined his head. ‘Thank you,’ he mouthed. She realised in that moment that, despite how she had fought against her fate, she very much believed what she had just said.

  After that the conversation continued on a much more positive note. No one explicitly said that their daughters would be granted their blessing if she chose a Dane, but their expressions weren’t quite as suspicious now. She hoped that meant the people would consider their words and they’d find a peaceful way to incorporate the Danes into life at Alvey. The last thing she wanted was a war that tore her home apart. Would the best way to ensure that be to have children? Simply thinking about it made her blush and she shook off the thought so that she could focus on the conversation before her. There would be time to think about that later. Much later.

  The conversation turned towards the new crops that were being planted and then Vidar said that they needed to be on their way. Their next stops were two farms further out that they hoped to visit tomorrow. Tonight would be spent in camp and they needed to put distance behind them before the sun went down. Saying their goodbyes, Vidar helped her to her horse and then mounted his own, leading them out of the village. This time the children ran beside their horses until they reached the forest. Gwendolyn was feeling very optimistic about the future.

  * * *

  She didn’t get a chance to talk to Vidar about his thoughts on the visit until they stopped a few hours later. A few warriors had already ridden ahead to find a location for their camp, so there were already fires lighting up the twilight when they’d arrived. Gwendolyn had taken her bedding and set it up beside the large fire in the centre and a boy had settled Vidar’s beside hers. She’d almost smiled at how closely the boy had set it to her own, wondering if he’d taken that initiative himself or if his master had ordered it.

  It wasn’t long before Vidar joined her, bearing two bowls of roasted meat and the familiar ceremonial tankard tucked against his chest and held there with a forearm. She shouldn’t be surprised—or strangely touched—that he’d brought it on their trip. Handing a bowl to her, he sat down beside her and placed the tankard between them. The delicious smell of the roasted venison made her stomach grumble in anticipation. ‘What are your thoughts about our talk with Scur?’ she asked, taking the first bite.

  ‘I’m hopeful he’ll see reason.’

  ‘And I am as well. I think he understands the necessity of our working together.’

  The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. ‘And do you understand that, my lady?’

  She tried not to smile as she took another bite and chewed it thoughtfully before answering. ‘Aye, I consented to my father’s will, didn’t I?’ She glanced at him from the corner of her eye to see him nod, before turning her gaze to the men who were taking care of the horses. They brushed them down with care one after the other before leading them to a corral they’d made in the trees with rope.

  ‘You did,’ he said. ‘And I admit that when we work together, we make a good team.’

  ‘When we work together.’ She repeated his words back to him. ‘It would be preferable to work together in all things, wouldn’t you say? Rather than picking and choosing.’

  He was silent for a moment, the air growing thicker between them. ‘Do you refer to your punishment?’

  She couldn’t tell if he was angry or not and she didn’t dare look at him to verify. ‘That wasn’t working together.’

  ‘It wasn’t, but you disobeyed me.’

  She couldn’t resist looking at him then, hoping that he’d see how he’d left her little choice. ‘Because you gave me orders, like a child or one of your warriors.’ He opened his mouth to respond, but she continued. ‘And yet I am neither of those.’

  His mouth snapped shut and he stared at her for so long she was certain that he must be angry. Except he nodded and his voice was low when he spoke. ‘You are neither. You are my wife.’

  ‘I’m the leader of Alvey,’ she reminded him.

  ‘We are the leaders of Alvey,’ he countered.

  She nodded. ‘Aye, we lead Alvey. But we cannot do that if we are divided.’

  He took in a breath and let it out slowly. ‘You’re right.’ Her heart leapt into her throat at his acknowledgement. ‘I should have explained to you so you’d understand why I wanted you to stay behind.’

  ‘And you must learn to trust that I have been leading these people for a long time. I know them and I know what they need.’

  He nodded, looking down at his bowl, and if she wasn’t mistaken he seemed a bit sheepish. ‘I was impressed with how you spoke with Scur. I believe that you do know your people and what they need.’ Finally he looked up and the light reflected from the fire seemed to bring out the blue of his eyes. ‘I was wrong to not give you more credit when I arrived. I’ll seek your counsel in the future.’

  She couldn’t help but smile back at him. For the first time, she felt as if he valued her. It lightened the weight on her chest and made her feel almost giddy. But she wasn’t ready to forgive him all of his transgressions just yet. ‘And I shall seek yours.’

  His eyes narrowed as he seemed to ponder if her comment was meant to provoke him. He still didn’t understand that she was not here to submit to his will. He was not a king and she was not one of his subjects.

  ‘We lead together or not at all,’ she said.

  He gave a nod, his gaze going off across the camp, but she wasn’t certain if he was agreeing or simply going along with her to satisfy her for the moment. It would take time for that idea to sink in, perhaps. In the meantime, she wanted to get something settled between them. ‘There will be no more spanking.’

  The corner of his mouth twitched and a subtle change came over him. The skin around his eyes crinkled and his stare had lost its intensity. He was back to being teasing. ‘Even if you ask me nicely?’

  Heat flushed her entire body. Of course he’d known that she’d found pleasure in the act and he’d bring it up. The man was as insufferable and as arrogant as they came. But he was also more than that. He’d just agreed to seek her counsel and be more respectful of her position among her people. Infuriating. She’d label him infuriating.

  His comment didn’t bear a reply so she popped the last chunk of venison into her mouth and rose to take her bowl back to the wagon where their food supplies were kept. She took her time, talking to some of her warriors and even going out of her way to include a few of the Dane warriors in the conversation. The ones who were learning the crossbow with her had already seemed to accept her unorthodox inclusion in their ranks. They spoke with her openly and without reservation, and she was happy for the progress being made.

  When she returned to her blankets, Vidar had pulled his even closer and was stretched out waiting for her. Uncertain what he meant—they were surrounded by the warriors—she stared at him with suspicion when he patted her blanket. Her pulse speeded up, but she took her place beside him. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked when he indicated that she should lie down.

  ‘I’m presenting a united front. Isn’t that what you wanted?’ His voice sounded mildly amused as he tossed her words back at her.

  ‘Aye, but I’m not bedding you here.’

  He chuckled and rolled over on to his side to face her. Realising that he was still in his teasing and playful mood, she relaxed a little and laid down.

  ‘Does that mean you will bed me when we’re home?’ he asked.

  She blushed again and wondered how often she would be blushing around him. ‘That’s not what I meant.’ But they were both thinking of how he�
�d touched her between her legs and how ready she’d been for more than touching. She could tell because of the way his eyes became hooded, and, though she couldn’t begin to identify it, something thick and almost tangible moved between them. It pulled them closer to each other.

  He surprised her by placing his hand on her hip. It wasn’t threatening or even proprietary. It was simply there and the warmth of it spread throughout her body. ‘We worked well together today. I’m proud of that.’

  ‘I’m proud of that, too.’ She was surprised by how pleased she’d been with how well the day had gone. ‘I have hope that it means good things for the future.’

  He smiled and leaned down towards her. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart thundered in her ears as he moved closer. His expression was teasing and she couldn’t quite understand what he meant to do because she was quite possibly going daft.

  He stopped and she could smell the honeyed mead on his breath as it brushed across her lips. Then he pressed his mouth to hers. It was a soft, yet firm pressure, and it didn’t ask for anything. It simply lingered, his lips soft and warm. When he pulled back, he whispered, ‘Sleep well.’ And then he laid himself down beside her.

  She stared up into the sky, her gaze drawing a line between the few stars that had managed to show themselves from behind the clouds. The pounding had shifted from her ears to now encompass her chest and her legs, but especially her hip where he still touched her.

  Dear Lord, had the man decided on slow seduction? The idea terrified her, because she knew that she wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Vidar spent the next day observing his wife. He noticed that she handled her horse as well as any warrior he’d ever seen. Some of the north-facing hills were still slick with mud from the storms that had passed through and the little bit of sunlight they were granted during the day hadn’t had a chance to dry them out. Yet her horse never faltered. She controlled his reins as expertly as someone who’d been manoeuvring in difficult situations for years.