‘That is for me to decide.’ She bit the words out, but, seeing that there was no immediate danger to her, Rurik put a hand on her shoulder.
‘He is right. I must prove myself,’ said Rurik.
Once more taking in the giant, she turned to her husband and lowered her voice. ‘You do not. I chose you. That will be enough.’
‘Perhaps for you, but not for them.’ He gestured over his shoulder and she saw her own warriors spread out farther past the courtyard, between the stone outbuildings and homes farther out. ‘Our own men need to know that I am capable of leading them. It would have come to this eventually.’ The backs of his fingers stroked her chin before he turned back to the Jarl. ‘I will fight any man you choose.’
A cheer went up through the Danes while her own men looked on in silence, but their eyes were gleaming with anticipation. The prospect of any sport seemed to be too much of a temptation to resist. It did not matter that her own heart seemed to have swallowed itself whole. Perhaps Rurik was right and the warriors needed to see this demonstration of brawn to begin to respect him.
‘Valgautr!’ Jarl Eirik’s voice carried to every warrior.
The one who had nearly decapitated Rurik, the near giant, turned to face the Jarl and her stomach plummeted. He could not mean for Rurik to battle that beast. Even as Valgautr raised his sword high above his head to gain a roar of support from the Danes, she did not want to bring herself to believe that this was happening. With one blow of his fist, she feared that he would shatter Rurik’s skull and she said as much in private after she had made her way to the Jarl.
He actually laughed, throwing back his head in a way she had never seen him behave before. She tightened her fingers around her dagger’s hilt, itching to drive it into him. Not to kill him, but simply to stop him laughing. It wasn’t worth it. She had learned her lesson about vengeance, but it did not stop the fantasy from playing through her mind.
‘Why do you laugh?’ she asked, her gaze on Rurik who had moved farther away from the house to a more open space.
‘Because you are likely correct in your assessment.’ He stood with his arms crossed and his legs wide as he watched on with obvious pride. Catching her rage-filled gaze on him from the corner of his eyes, he softened his stance. ‘I won’t allow it to progress that far. Valgautr needs a bit of sport or he becomes ill-tempered.’ When that still did not placate her, he sighed and dropped his arms, turning towards her. ‘If you truly wish for Rurik to stay as your husband, then he must overcome some obstacles to prove himself before your men as well as mine, or no one will accept him and you’ll have a revolt on your hands.’
She took in a frustrated breath and watched as Cedric, who had disappeared briefly, returned from the house, sword in hand. The exhale stopped in her throat when she recognised it as Wilfrid’s battle sword. It had been hiding in the armoury these last few years. Rurik sheathed his dagger, murmuring something to Cedric as he took the sword in hand and gave it a few practice swings.
‘What do you mean if I wish him to stay? He is my husband. It is done.’
He gave her a dubious glance and looked back over to where the men were about to face off. The giant swung his sword around and around in a big arc over his head, gaining the approval of the Danes. ‘He does not have to keep being your husband if you do not wish it. There are ways to do away with it if he has forced you or coerced you in some way.’
His voice lowered and had become almost gentle, as if he were attempting to determine if those things were true. Touched by his concern, she hurried to reassure him. ‘He has not forced me.’
‘What of Wilfrid or Cedric? I know they can be...’ he paused as if seeking the right description ‘...bullheaded in their hatred of Danes.’
Shocked by this concern from him, she said, ‘They distrust and resent your high-handedness. Can you say that you were not here to force me to wed one of your own men?’
‘You must wed, Lady Annis. There is no question of the need for that. Glannoventa’s future must be secured. I do not wish to see you suffer needlessly for that, however. The man I selected would have treated you well, not only because he is a kind and honourable man, but because he would have had to answer to me. We know nothing of this Norseman.’
She had never quite thought of that particular benefit to marrying one of the Jarl’s men. ‘I did not know that you cared,’ she said, keeping her voice light.
‘I have known you as a child and now as a woman. I would see you content.’ When he looked down at her, his eyes betrayed his concern.
‘Rurik is like no man I have met. He is both fierce and kind. I feel that I could be very content with him as my husband.’ Content did not begin to describe the happiness that welled inside her this morning when she had awakened next to him. Given time, she knew that seed of bliss could grow roots that would wind themselves deep into her heart. She did not believe that she was mistaken in thinking Rurik felt the same.
The Jarl grunted and turned back to the men who had begun to circle one another. The giant was the first to move, his sword swinging down in a death blow that whistled through the cold morning air. Every muscle in her body tensed and her heart paused, only resuming when Rurik deftly shifted out of the way, his own sword coming up to block the attack with a loud clang.
Valgautr heaved a grunt, pushing Rurik back with his greater weight. Rurik feinted one way, but spun the other, bringing his sword down in a move that should have been a devastating blow across the giant’s shoulders. Except he twisted almost as fast as Rurik, so he was able to block in the last moment. She wanted to cover her face to keep from watching the spectacle, but she knew it would be folly to show such weakness. Instead, she watched with her hands clenched into fists at her side, barely breathing.
As if aware of her distress, Jarl Eirik put a hand on her back. ‘Calm yourself. Valgautr will not disobey my wishes. Loyalty is his greatest strength.’
In a man so accomplished, it was saying a lot. Annis nodded, but barely drew another breath as she watched the battle unfold over the next few moments. The only sounds were those of the swords knocking together, and the heavy breathing and occasional grunts from the two men fighting. Even the Danes had settled in, watching with fascinated interest rather than cheering their own to victory. The men seemed well matched, despite the fact that the giant greatly outweighed Rurik. What the larger man gained in brawn, Rurik gained in grace and speed. They feinted and swung their swords, crossing the courtyard and moving down the hill, requiring the observing warriors to part, like the prow of a ship cutting through the sea.
Finally, they both heaved for breath, sweat trickling down their brows despite the cold. They had progressed to the stone road cut into the hillside that would lead to Glannoventa and warriors had moved to fill in the space overlooking both sides. Annis could imagine that if no one put a stop to it, their fight could take them into the village and perhaps even into the sea. Neither was willing to give so it seemed they could go on for ever. She stood on the retaining wall above the curve in the road that lead to a steeper decline. If they made it past this point, the battle could turn deadly if one should lose his footing and take a tumble.
‘Enough!’ Jarl Eirik’s voice rang out beside her. The swords clanged together two more times before the men were able to register the command.
The giant was the first to pause, his brows drawing together as he searched for the Jarl’s place on the ridge above them. Rurik never took his eyes from the giant, not trusting that this wasn’t a ploy to catch him off balance. Annis’s chest swelled with pride for how well he had handled himself in the fight. When only days ago she had hoped his skill was not nearly that which he claimed, now she was glad to see that it was far more than she had imagined.
‘You have proven yourself in this, Norseman,’ said Jarl Eirik. The giant hung his head. ‘You have done well, Valgautr. We only wanted to test the man. We shall no
t kill him yet.’
The giant nodded and raised his hand to Rurik who clasped the man’s shoulder. They congratulated each other as the warriors became animated around them, showering them with praise and taunts in equal measure. She could see in that moment how Rurik had been able to gain the respect of the Glannoventa warriors. The fight had been a necessary step in gaining his place among them.
In the midst of the commotion, Rurik looked up, his eyes finding her on the ridge. His gaze was heavy with meaning as the corner of his mouth tipped up in the hint of a smile. There was a flutter in her stomach as she realised he was seeking her approval. Warmth spread throughout her chest as she watched him make his way over to her, stopping every few steps to accept a congratulations. Finally, he was standing at the base of the retaining wall where she and the Jarl had looked out over the men. In one swift and unexpected move, he vaulted up, his muscles straining as he climbed to where she was and stood beside her.
‘Well done,’ she said, smiling.
His grin widened and he took her hand for all to see. It was a sort of claiming, but it was also a show of solidarity. He was hers as she was his. They were together.
Chapter Twenty
Jarl Eirik ended up staying for the better part of a month, leaving only when the weather broke. The weeks had been filled with tests and obstacles, all meant to prove to Annis that Rurik was not a good choice for her or Glannoventa. There had been physical trials during the days—could Rurik wrestle whichever man the Jarl put forth that day? Could he swim in the freezing sea faster than the Jarl’s best swimmer?—while the evenings had tested his intelligence. Was he capable of strategy and scheming to win at all sorts of games from board to dice? Could he match wits with the Jarl’s men or even the Jarl himself?
Every night in the hall he was forced to hold his own as he was plied with drink. Frequently, he was goaded into composing a lyric of poetry cleverer than the man next to him. Afterwards he would often stumble to their chamber with Annis at his side. Sometimes they would undress each other and fall into bed in a haze of pleasure. Other times he was so exhausted from the day’s trials that he was asleep before she pulled the blanket over him, but he would always make it up to her in the morning. He delighted in waking her in different ways, his hands and mouth finding all the parts of her body that made her sigh and moan.
As the days passed, Rurik had found himself anticipating when the Jarl would leave and he would have her to himself. He could scarcely believe that he had found a woman who matched him in every way. He was looking forward to starting their lives together and figuring out what it would mean to govern Glannoventa together, a challenge he had never anticipated but was firmly embracing.
However, as the time grew close for Jarl Eirik to leave, Rurik would find Annis more and more withdrawn. It would happen at odd moments, such as when he would come upon her unexpectedly alone. She would tense, her eyes far away as if thinking of the past. After a moment, she would come back to him. The pain in her eyes would slowly give way to joy as he kissed her or whispered to her.
He thought that perhaps she missed her old life, her husband and the babe that had never truly lived. But then she would seek him out among the warriors, her eyes shining with love, and he would think that he was wrong. She did feel affection for him and it was a connection that deepened every day. He had resolved to give her a babe to love as soon as possible, his own selfishness to have her to himself be damned.
* * *
Now, several days after the Jarl had left, he led the men through their paces. He had been surprised at how skilled the warriors were with their weapons, but he should not have been. Cedric was a diligent leader and had taught them well. Rurik had been focusing on training them in grappling techniques, the most recent one a simple move that would allow them to take down an opponent who outweighed them. As he called out a correction, his eye was caught by flaming red hair as his wife turned the corner of the barracks. Cedric followed her, his face thunderous. She walked with the single-minded determination of someone bent on leaving a tense encounter.
Wondering what they had fought about, he indicated that the warrior next to him should take over and followed her towards the house.
‘Annis,’ he called as he approached her from behind.
She wiped at the corner of her eye as she paused and turned towards him. ‘Rurik.’ Her eyes were troubled, but she did genuinely smile at him.
Something had been wrong for days, but he had hoped it would pass over like a summer storm. Instead, it seemed to be one of those storms that came in deep winter and settled, never happy to leave until the whole world had been very nearly blighted out. Instead of questioning her there in the open, he put a hand to her waist and guided her around the corner of a building to afford them a bit of privacy.
Instead of speaking immediately, he engaged in one of his favourite pastimes of late and kissed her, allowing his lips to nibble at the corner of her mouth. ‘You are unwell?’ he whispered, gratified when she opened to him without coaxing, seeking more of his kiss.
‘I’m not unwell,’ she said, drawing back only to answer before kissing him again. Then she put her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. ‘How is this possible? How are you mine?’
He smiled and ran his palms up and down her back, holding her closer. ‘It is fate. Our lives have been threaded together from the beginning. We simply didn’t know it.’
She jerked back at that, her brows pushed together as she stared up at him. Not understanding what about that bothered her, he gently stroked her brow line with the pad of his thumb. Inexplicably, her eyes glistened.
There was the look again. The one that told him deep down that something was amiss. It had scared him every time he saw it, because it made him think that their time together could be at risk. It was a feeling he could not explain. More than fear.
‘What is it?’ he asked, taking a deep breath, suddenly certain that whatever she would say would change everything. ‘What did Cedric say to upset you?’ He resolved then and there to take the matter up with Cedric if she wouldn’t confide in him.
‘Do you remember on the night of our wedding that I wanted to tell you something?’ Her bottom lip trembled.
His gut knotted and he touched her face, needing to feel her skin against his. Nodding, he said, ‘I do.’
‘I wanted to tell you before...but then Jarl Eirik came and it seemed that there was too much facing us.’
‘You can tell me anything, Wife.’ A flash of pain crossed her face and he tightened his hold on her. ‘Is it about the assassins?’
Rurik had intentionally not mentioned them again. It wasn’t that he had given up on revenge or hunting them down. It was simply that they had found peace and a sort of happiness in the few days since the Jarl had left and now he was reluctant to let in the outside world. There would be time to find the men later when winter had left and the risk of hunting them down wasn’t as great.
She nodded. ‘In a way, but it’s even more than that.’ Her gold eyes were shining up at him, asking for forgiveness, but he didn’t understand why that could be.
‘What is it, Annis?’ he asked, hoping to relieve her of the burden she obviously carried.
She took a deep breath and opened her mouth, but no words came out. Making a sound he didn’t recognise, he brushed his lips to her brow, soothing her. Her palm flattened against his chest as if savouring the beat of his heart.
‘Lady Annis!’ a woman called, her voice shrill with alarm. ‘Lady Annis!’
Annis pushed away from him and hurried around the corner of the building. The healer from the village stood there. She was an old crone with a kindly face who came up once a week to check Wilfrid.
‘I am here,’ Annis said.
‘Lord Wilfrid calls for you. He seems rather agitated.’
‘How is he? Is it another attack?’
The woman shook her head. ‘Not an attack, but he seems more confused than usual. Please come.’
Annis gave him a worried glance and Rurik smoothed a hand down her back. Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear, ‘Go now. I’ll find you soon.’
She touched her fingertips to his cheek before hurrying away with the woman. He watched her go, tense uncertainty roiling in his belly. He turned to find Cedric, who had disappeared somewhere, probably inside to attend Wilfrid, when Alder rushed up to him, catching his eye.
‘You must come, Lord. There is a man here. He says he is your brother.’
‘My brother?’ The words fell rather stiffly from his lips. Before he could even contemplate which one it could be, Alder solved the mystery for him.
‘A man named Sandulf.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Rurik hurried to the hall where his brother awaited him, hardly daring to believe that he would find Sandulf there. A hundred thoughts ran around in his head, colliding with each other before settling on one. Something had to be wrong to bring Sandulf all this way. The last time he had seen his youngest brother had been after the massacre when he had boarded a ship bound for Constantinople. The harsh words Rurik had said to him rang in his ears. Part of him had thought he would never see Sandulf again and he could hardly believe that he had the chance to take them back.
How had he even found Rurik here? Or had he somehow traced Wilfrid’s involvement?
Two men guarded the door, reminiscent of the guards that had constantly lingered in the passages before his marriage. Rurik was only glad they hadn’t left Sandulf in the underground cell to await him. Giving them a brief nod, he opened the door to find a man standing near the hearth, warming himself at the fire. He recognised the set of Sandulf’s shoulders a moment before the boy turned his face to him. Only, it was not the face of the half-boy, half-man that Rurik remembered. Gone was any lingering softness of childhood to be replaced by the battle-chiselled features of a warrior.
Falling For Her Viking Captive (Sons 0f Sigurd Book 2) Page 19