Taming His Viking Woman

by Michelle Styles

  Two of his men stood guard ten paces outside the house. Had they been closer to the door, Hrolf would have known the house was a trap. He wanted to rid himself of the notion that she had fainted on purpose, but his brain kept circling back to it. Could he really trust the woman he’d won as a bride?

  ‘Who are the guards who stand at the door? My gaolers to ensure cooperation?’ Sayrid asked in a crisp tone. ‘Is this the next lesson I should learn?’

  ‘My bodyguards. From Rus. They are Magda’s kin and have no part in my lessons.’ He paused and gave her a hard look. She was a warrior. She had to have seen the men and weighed up how well armed they were and what threat they posed. ‘You waited long enough to ask.’

  She gave a quick laugh. ‘Maybe I feared the answer.’

  ‘And here I thought you were afraid of nothing except the marriage bed.’

  ‘I find it best to keep my fears private. Exposing them makes you seem weak and helpless.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘And I take pride in my strength.’

  His heart unexpectedly twisted. He hated to think what she had been through on her various sea voyages. It had been hard for him during the first years—the testing and the proving able in battle. It must have been far worse for her.

  He pushed it aside. Sayrid was born a woman, not a warrior. She had fought for her life.

  ‘The last thing you are is weak or helpless. You have nothing to fear from me or my men. They know you are my bride and will treat you with respect.’

  ‘I want to believe that. Truly I do.’

  Hrolf weighed up the risks of being attacked before he nodded to his bodyguards. ‘You may join the feast now. I have no more need of you tonight.’

  They each in turn bowed low and wished the couple good fortune before leaving.

  ‘You did that for me?’ Her cheeks became stained pink. ‘Most unexpected.’

  He clenched his fist. It was a little thing, not important and yet Sayrid’s eyes shone. Had anyone ever done anything for her? Ever?

  ‘We won’t be disturbed further tonight,’ he said, opening the door with far more force than he intended. ‘There will be no reason to fear and no one but you is keeping you here. But I’m pleased you are here with me. I want to give you pleasure. Shall we go in?’

  The room had been prepared as he requested. The coal smouldered in the fire pit, sweet wine and a light supper stood on the table next to a tafl board and finally a profusion of furs were heaped on the bed. A scene designed for seduction, but not tonight. Tonight was for finding out more and taming his wild bride. Lessons leading up to a pleasurable seduction for the both of them.

  She tilted her head to one side, revealing the sweep of her long neck, but making no move to enter. His body thrummed with desire, but with difficulty he reined it in. Her eyes kept darting about as though she was searching for an exit as she waited on the threshold. ‘You are not going to carry me?’

  ‘I will allow you to walk as you wanted to.’ He stretched out his back. His muscles protested at the simple movement. The fight had taken more out of him than he realized.

  ‘I did warn you.’ She gave a throaty laugh, which caused his groin to tighten and made him forget the aches in his body. ‘You should never have attempted it earlier.’

  ‘Are you challenging me to do it again?’

  ‘I like the night air.’ She balanced on the threshold. ‘Allow me to stay outside a little longer.’

  ‘My mother used to like the night air as well.’ Hrolf frowned. He rarely spoke of the distant past, before he became a sea king and when he had to fight for even a morsel of bread. He might have stayed at his uncle’s hall, but his uncle did play favourites. He doubted that Sayrid would understand.

  She might have chosen an unconventional life, but she had never had to fight for survival in the same way he had.

  ‘Should any come past, I will carry you in. Enjoy the air, but know that I will protect you.’

  ‘The night air has never held terror. Outside has always represented freedom.’ Her white teeth nibbled her bottom lip, turning it the colour of summer raspberries, but she stayed on the threshold.

  Hrolf reined in his temper. Did her finding peace outside have anything to do with her becoming a warrior? ‘I look after my women. I don’t keep them prisoner.’

  ‘Inga’s mother died and Inga was left alone.’

  ‘And what of it? She had accepted another man’s protection.’

  Anya’s death had hardly been his fault. She was the mother of his child, but she had found other lovers after they parted. She’d wanted more than he’d been prepared to offer.

  He wasn’t about to become like his father—unhinged with worry when his woman was out of his sight.

  Her blue eyes met his in a refreshingly direct manner. ‘I depend on my sword arm to keep me safe.’

  ‘And when it fails?’

  ‘I take the consequences.’ She lifted her chin slightly. ‘Just like I’m doing now.’

  Hrolf tapped his finger against the table. Something stirred in his heart at the proud defiance he glimpsed in her eyes. He ruthlessly suppressed it. Once he had bedded her and made good the promise in her kiss, then she would be his wife, but that was to ensure the loyalty of her people. He would follow his uncle’s example and guard his heart.

  ‘What are the consequences precisely?’

  Her eyes became troubled. ‘Marriage wasn’t supposed to be part of the destiny that the Norns spun for me. My stepmother told me that often enough.’

  Naked vulnerability flitted across her face, giving him a glimpse of the woman behind her scowling mask. Could this stepmother be part of the reason for Sayrid’s reaction to Inga? He dismissed the idea. Worrying about reasons changed nothing. ‘It doesn’t do to second-guess the Norns.’

  ‘I lost focus for an instant.’

  The curve of her upper lip positively cried out to be sampled. He reined in his increasingly rampant desire. He had to think with his head instead of with another part of him. Cool logic. Until he was established and the people saw the sense in having him as their overlord, he needed her good will.

  ‘I saw my chance and took it. Do you blame me?’

  She swallowed hard and the corner of her mouth trembled. ‘I made my choice before we picked our swords. Had I won, would you expect me to offer you your freedom? Do you treat me differently because I am a woman?’

  Hrolf concentrated on breathing. Something deep inside him panged. He had never thought to feel pity or any emotion beyond momentary desire for a woman. But this woman stirred up long-forgotten feelings. His father had been moved by pity when his mother had begged for one last chance to end the quarrel and he had ended up dead.

  ‘If you are unwilling, say the words. But you have this one chance only,’ he said, banishing the emotions to where they belonged. ‘Was your brother right to attempt a rescue?’

  When she finally spoke, she spoke pointedly to the embers in the fire. ‘My legs would not have carried me far. And I can barely lift a sword with the way my shoulders ache.’

  ‘No answer, Sayrid. I deserve better. Denying your sex doesn’t change that you are a woman.’

  She spun around. Her gown gaped at the neck where she’d torn it, but her eyes flashed. ‘Will I keep my property if the marriage fails? Will I be able to be a shield maiden with a blameless reputation again? Will I be able to live with my honour intact? Answer those questions truthfully and you will have my answer. Now, what is the next lesson I am supposed to learn?’

  ‘Sayrid…’ He willed her to take his outstretched arm. Once he held her, he could concentrate on giving her pleasure and these uncomfortable thoughts about the past would vanish.

  She pointedly ignored his gesture and he allowed his arm to drop. Against his better judgement, he admired her spirit. She had gambled and lost, but there was dignity in her bearing and she wasn’t complaining about how unfair life was. Every other woman he had known would have been in tears. Tears never moved him, but there w
as something about her stoic silence which opened up long-forgotten places in his heart.

  ‘The truth, Hrolf. Can you undo any of this? Can you restore my honour?’ She gave a wry smile. ‘I thought not. Then I will do my duty. You may take me now.’

  She closed her eyes, puckered up her mouth and opened her arms, more sacrifice than hot-blooded bed partner.

  He shook his head. Sayrid made it seem like he was asking her to violate sacred oaths. But he wanted her too much to argue. He wanted to unwrap her layers and discover the passionate woman underneath the mask, the one who had returned his kiss earlier.

  ‘Kettil is now my overlord and we share mutual interests. The only way you will have any influence over those lands is to remain married to me,’ he said, taking a draught of the sweet wine. It burnt his throat, but the blood pumping through his veins was hotter still.

  She blinked rapidly. ‘That was uncommonly quick.’

  ‘Kettil worries about Lavrans’s intentions towards these lands. It is why he and I became allies. What happened today cements our alliance. I will hold the headland for him against all raiders. He wanted a strong warrior there. Your brother will never be strong. Kettil understands this now.’

  ‘My opposition to Lavrans is well known.’ Her teeth worried her bottom lip, turning it a glossy red. ‘Why would Kettil doubt that?’

  ‘How often are you there?’

  ‘When I can be, but we need gold. There is no one else.’

  ‘Regin is grown, long past the age where men show promise as a warrior or not. Can you honestly say he is ready to lead a felag?’

  She ducked her head. ‘You are the first man to challenge for the right to marry me in many years.’

  ‘It is a comforting thought in many ways that the men are so weak-livered in this country. I shall have no trouble holding those lands.’

  Her laugh echoed feebly in the chamber. ‘Perhaps they worried I took my sword to bed.’

  ‘And do you sleep with a weapon?’

  ‘When I have to.’

  He flinched at her words. What she had done had been out of necessity. Her brother had been far too weak and her father? ‘There will be no weapons in our bed. I’ll keep you safe.’

  Her lips parted before firming. Hrolf silently willed her to stay with him, but also to confide her fears. What had made her so wary of pleasure? Why had she become a shield maiden?

  ‘It is cold outside and there is a warm fire and a bed waiting,’ he said into the silence. ‘The proper place for such a thing. You are my wife, not some farm maid fit for tumbling in the hay.’

  Her tongue wet her lips, turning them the colour of autumn berries which he remembered from his childhood. He wondered if they would taste as sweet. The trouble with kissing her at the ceremony was that he wanted more, but he was greedy. He wanted her participating fully.

  ‘You’re right. I will come in.’

  He contemplated suggesting she strip, but instead he reached out and plucked the listing flower crown from her head. ‘There is no need for that here. The flowers are fading fast, but the night remains young for us.’

  He waited for her to melt in his arms. She continued to stand stiffly, making no attempt to brush the final petals from her hair. He placed the wilted crown down on the table.

  This was going to prove harder than he had anticipated. He’d planned on the next lesson being her undressing, but she was far too tense.

  He had never backed away from a challenge and the thought of tasting her lips again filled him with anticipation, but he was no unblooded warrior, facing his first woman. He needed to take his time and not rush her.

  ‘Have something to drink.’

  ‘The jaarl’s sweet wine is always excellent,’ she said, moving away from him. ‘You’re right about your daughter. In time, we will become friends. I will make it happen. It won’t be…it will be fine.’

  Hrolf narrowed his eyes. There was a wealth of information in those words. Had Sayrid’s stepmother been cruel?

  ‘Pour the wine for the both of us. Time to drink to our new life.’

  As Sayrid attempted to pour the wine, her body trembled and she spilt a little on the floor. She gave a cry. He took the flask from her, filled a horn and handed it to her.

  ‘What do you have to be nervous about? Why do you fear me?’ he asked softly. ‘I mean you no harm. I’m your husband, not a sorcerer. Your mind is closed to me.’

  Sayrid stopped in mid-crouch and stared at him wide-eyed. The steady sound of trickling wine resounded in her ears.

  What did she have to be nervous about? Everything!

  She had everything to be nervous about. She had never played the woman’s part before. Her stepmother had always told her that she was far too clumsy to be trusted. She had no idea what Hrolf’s expectations were—both as a mother to his little girl and as a woman or rather wife to him.

  Would he be like her father and be quick with his fists once she was less than perfect? Her back still bore the scars from the beatings she had taken for Regin. The only thing she excelled at was fighting. Her spilling the wine tonight was just another example that proved her stepmother’s long-ago words.

  Every other woman she’d ever seen could pour wine with grace and skill. When her father brought her stepmother home, she’d watched as this beautiful creature had poured the wine with a dainty gesture and held it out to her. She’d hung back, but her father had pushed her forward and in taking the wine she’d poured it all down her stepmother’s silk gown.

  ‘Drink. It will give you courage.’ He held out a fresh horn of wine.

  ‘Do I need courage tonight?’

  ‘It has helped some.’

  The fiery liquid burnt her throat and she spluttered. He tapped her back. Even that simple touch made her intensely aware of him and what was supposed to be happening here tonight. Her stomach knotted tighter than the ropes on the mainsail in a gale.

  ‘Went down the wrong way,’ she said, ducking her head and moving away from him. ‘My father would have his head in his hands with shame. A child of his should be able to drink wine without coughing.’

  He watched her with unfathomable eyes. ‘I know about your father’s reputation as a warrior, but not as a man. Was he a good father?’

  Sayrid instinctively wrapped her arms about her waist. Of course he knew her father’s reputation. He had obviously been talking to Kettil about her, whereas she knew very little about him beyond the rumours. ‘How much do you know? A man’s public reputation is not necessarily how he acts in private.’

  ‘I know enough. He was a highly regarded warrior and amassed a great deal of land. Had a witch not cursed him, he and Kettil planned to go east.’ Hrolf’s mouth took on a bitter twist. ‘He fought in the same felag as my father and uncle for several years.’

  ‘He served Kettil well and he never dishonoured a member of any felag in which he served.’ The sweat started to pool on the back of her neck like it always did when she spoke about her father.

  He took a long considering draught of his wine. ‘But you rather less well.’

  ‘Why would you say that?’

  ‘You were forced to become a shield maiden and had control of your family’s land until your brother becomes a good enough warrior.’

  ‘He will do,’ Sayrid said much too quickly.

  ‘Your father made you fight for your honour, instead of defending it with his final breath as I would do for Inga,’ he continued on relentlessly. ‘Your brother compounded the error.’

  Sayrid clenched the horn so tightly that her knuckles shone white. He knew nothing of what she’d been through or the reasons for her behaviour. Blaming Regin was wrong. She was the eldest. ‘Becoming a warrior was something I fought for. Swordplay and tactics were my meat and drink. And I ate well.’

  Hrolf raised a maddening brow. ‘My body bears bruises because of your skill, but you will have time now to develop other skills and talents, perhaps some more suited to being the wife of a sea king
.’

  ‘I must warn you that I have little talent for the needle and thread. And I’ve no intention of meekly allowing myself to be protected. Or my family dishonoured.’

  Hrolf made a cutting motion. ‘I will never permit my wife to be dishonoured.’

  ‘Sometimes things happen which you are powerless to prevent.’ Sayrid tilted her chin upwards. ‘I claim the right to defend myself.’

  A muscle twitched in his jaw and he appeared to grow several inches. ‘You deliberately insult me.’

  She stood her ground, matching his glare. Sayrid ground her teeth. The anger felt good. Anything to stop thinking about what was supposed to happen in this room tonight. ‘I speak the truth. You sail off and who will protect me then?’

  ‘I will make arrangements.’

  ‘And if the arrangements prove inadequate?’ Sayrid straightened her shoulders and stared directly at her husband. ‘The only way you can ensure my safety is to take me with you on any voyage.’

  His jaw dropped before he recovered to let out a loud roar of laughter. ‘You are good, Sayrid. I can see why you prospered.’

  ‘Then you will take me with you if you go to the East?’

  ‘Should I go there, I will,’ he agreed. ‘But you must turn your mind to other more womanly occupations before that day. Will you accept that bargain?’

  She drained the horn in a single gulp. She forced a belch to show him that she was truly uncouth. It came out as a small hiccup instead of the hoped-for rude noise. She pressed her lips together. How could she be incapable of a simple thing like that?

  ‘Truly, I’m not domesticated. Ask anyone. Ask my stepmother. My sister…’

  He took the now-empty horn from her nerveless fingers. ‘Do we have a bargain?’

  ‘Yes.’ Sayrid took a step backwards, knocking over the tafl pieces. She bent down and started to gather them up. He might think she was the correct bride, but how could she be? Her father’s words of scorn filled her ears. She screwed up her eyes and tried to block out the words pounding through her brain.