He wanted her for reasons that had nothing to do with her person or her mind and everything to do with her land. She knew the way the world worked and it was no good her heart whispering that he might be interested in her. Thinking that way was an excellent means of getting hurt.
He covered her hand. ‘Leave it. Leave everything. You need to be in bed.’
‘But…but…’ She withdrew her hand. Blunt nails and calloused palms from years of practising with a sword and piloting her ship. A great lady’s hand should be delicate with no discernible blemish, her stepmother used to declare, stretching out her fine-boned fingers. How could he be attracted to one such as her? She’d no wish to become an object of pity, lusting after her husband. Too many women like that littered the markets where she visited. She’d heard the laughter and obscene jokes about them at the docks and on the ships. ‘I like to clear up the messes I make.’
He didn’t move away from her as she expected, but continued to look at her with a hooded glance which sent her heart racing and made her knees weak.
‘Truly I do.’ She hated how her breath caught and made her voice sound as if she’d just negotiated a particularly difficult section of the blockade. ‘Allow me to show you that I can do something besides fight.’
Capturing her wrists, he lightly held her arms above her head. He searched her face before rubbing his other thumb along her lips. Heat radiated outwards from her mouth.
‘Go to bed,’ he commanded. ‘They will not disappear in the night.’
Her glance shot towards the mountain of furs, the thing she had been avoiding looking at. She had to hope that it would be over quickly and wouldn’t hurt too much. Her stepmother had taken great delight in detailing how much men could hurt a woman and how she must lie back and take it. And how disgusted he would be at the scars on her back. It had been one of the reasons she fought so hard in the early days. ‘Bed? With you? Is that an order?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ll sleep on the floor.’
‘On the floor?’ Her heart leapt and then plummeted. Both Auda and Blodvin were certain to ask about the wedding night. They would want the intimate details. She’d have to confess that her groom preferred the hard floor to sharing a bed with her. She regarded the mound of furs, rather than look in his pitying eyes. Silently she cursed her wayward mind. ‘Why?’
‘My muscles ache from our fight, Shield Maiden. Yours must as well.’ He gave a husky laugh. ‘I want to ensure you are properly welcomed into this marriage of ours. And while my mind might be willing, my flesh most decidedly isn’t. It is that simple. The ground feels softer than a feather bed when you are exhausted.’
Sayrid tucked her chin into her neck and pretended to examine the tafl pieces. Of course his body ached. He had fought just as hard as she had.
‘I’ll take the floor. You won the bout. You should have the pleasant sleep. I’ve slept on rough ground before,’ she said decisively. ‘I’m used to it. As you said—I’m so tired I won’t notice the difference.’
A muscle jumped in his cheek. ‘My bride’s comfort comes before mine. What sort of arrogant men did your family produce?’
‘What does that have to do with anything? You take the bed if your muscles are in agony.’ She attempted a back stretch. Her muscles screamed. A small groan escaped her lips.
‘You are in pain as well.’
Her lips parted to deny it, but he grabbed her elbow.
‘You will find me a tolerant husband, Sayrid, but never lie to me, not about something as important as your health.’
She wrenched her arm away. ‘You are guessing.’
‘You move like a warrior who has fought too many battles. Do I have to strip the remains of that dress from you to discover where you are hurt?’
Sayrid blinked twice, trying to rid her mind of the image of him running his hands down her body. All would be well until he discovered her scars. She had to keep her undershift on. ‘You noticed? Nobody ever notices. The skalds have it that I’m impervious to pain.’
‘Sagas seldom tell the truth.’
She gave a half smile. ‘The only real bruising is to my pride.’
‘And to your face.’
‘That has ceased to hurt.’ She carefully fingered it and tried not to wince at the pain. ‘I’m sorry it frightened Inga. I know what it is like to want someone important to like you.’
His laughter filled the room, warming her. ‘Sayrid, Sayrid, what am I going to do with you? Take the bed and be done with it. There will be plenty of time to consummate our marriage. If you are worried about old women gossiping, a chicken can be killed and your thighs rubbed with blood.’
Sayrid wanted the ground to open and swallow her. Of course everyone knew she had never had a man. They would be looking for blood on the sheets. ‘I wasn’t worried about that.’
‘Cease your arguing.’ He started to take the furs off the bed, but a groan escaped his lips as he lifted the first one.
‘We share the bed and end this,’ she said without allowing herself anytime to consider. It was the right thing to do. From the awkward way he held his shoulders, she knew the aches had to be setting in. The thought gave her a moment of satisfaction—Hrolf wasn’t as godlike as everyone considered.
He stilled. ‘Is that what you want?’
‘There is more than room enough for two. The consummation can happen when we desire.’ She gave a weak laugh which sounded false to her ears. ‘Custom never dictates what I do, as you well know.’
His back remained turned towards her. ‘Never let it be said that I refused a beautiful woman’s warm bed.’
‘A bed at least.’
He made a low bow. ‘After you. You look ready to drop.’
The tiny flower of hope which had grown at his first words withered. She looked ready to drop could only mean that she looked hideous. Whatever faint hope she had about him finding her attractive vanished. She curled her fist, hating that for once she wanted a man to desire her body instead of envying her fighting skills.
She straightened her shoulders and gave him a crushing look. ‘I shall sleep in my clothes.’
A dimple played in the corner of his mouth. ‘Do you normally?’
Hope flickered in her breast. She could hide her scars…a little while longer. ‘It depends on the circumstance.’
He caught her elbow. The tiny touch sent a lick of fire down her arm. ‘You must do as you see fit, but I will sleep how I always sleep—without clothes.’
‘If you must…’
‘Have you considered what the gown will look like tomorrow? You must find another.’
‘I won’t be wearing it.’ She stuck her chin in the air. ‘You only specified a dress for the wedding. I have done that. I will wear what I please from now on.’
‘And what will that be?’ He glanced about the room. ‘Forgive me, but I don’t see any clothes’ trunks in this room.’
‘My trousers and tunic!’
He gave her a look. Her stomach knotted and she retreated a step. ‘You haven’t had them destroyed, have you?’
‘Not yet,’ he replied smoothly. ‘But I prefer my bride to dress like a woman. You are no longer a shield maiden. Your dress reflects on me and my status. Fighting people who mock you is not the best use of my time.’
‘I fight my own battles. And I’ve learnt to ignore whispers.’
He gave her a hooded look. ‘I always look after my women.’
She swallowed hard. His woman! As if she was little more than a possession. ‘I will endeavour to find suitable clothes, but I can’t promise.’
‘With the gown, it depends on how much you wish to expose of your body to my men. But I will cut off any trousers you wear. You will have to expose your thighs to my men.’
Sayrid stared at him horrified. She might have been a shield maiden, but she had always dressed modestly, never flaunting her body. ‘You wouldn’t dare!’
‘Do you want to take that risk?’
Sayrid undid the
belt and pulled it over her head. She dropped all her garments on the floor before diving under the covers and pulling them up to her chin. She breathed easier. She had kept her scarred back to him. After tonight she doubted that he’d grace her bed and he would never need to know of her shame.
Hrolf took rather longer in divesting his garments. The firelight played on his skin, turning it a golden hue. When their gazes locked as his fingers went to his trousers, his lips went up in a knowing smile. She hastily screwed up her eyes and gave several loud snores for good measure.
Sayrid wished she hadn’t offered him a place in the bed. She could hardly go back on it now, having invited him. She hugged her knees to her chest and made herself as small as possible.
The bed dipped slightly as he climbed in. She clung to the edge of the mattress to prevent her body from rolling towards him. The bed was suddenly much smaller than she had thought and appeared to be shrinking with each breath she took. There was going to be no way that she could sleep.
‘Pleasant dreams, Sayrid. To protect your modesty, I have kept my trousers on. You will see that I am a man of my word if you care to look.’
She gave an imitation of a snore and his soft chuckle tickled the back of her neck. She tightened her grip on the edge of the mattress. If it was the last thing she did, she would keep to her side of the bed.
Chapter Seven
Sayrid woke with a start, half-convinced her memories of last night were a fanciful dream. But a heavy arm lay across her middle and curled against her naked back was a warm body. In her ear she heard the enticing sound of steady rhythmic breathing. Her entire being thrummed for a heartbeat.
She wanted to lie there forever, savouring the sensation and sinking into it. In the dappled morning light he might be able to see her back, something her stepmother had vowed would be sure to turn any man’s stomach.
Instinctively, she moved her elbow back, jabbing him in the stomach.
The arm tightened about her middle, hauling her back against him. Sayrid wriggled slightly as her bottom connected with his groin, leaving her in no doubt of his morning arousal despite the soft leather of his trousers. ‘You won’t escape that easily, sweetling. Our marriage will be a real one. Time for the next lesson.’
She instantly went still and concentrated on taking deep breaths. Time to consummate the marriage. Time for her to make more mistakes and prove her stepmother’s prediction true. She wanted it to be otherwise, but how could it be? She started to edge away from temptation.
‘I was quite enjoying the movement,’ he said as his breath caressed her ear, tickling her. ‘Let your instinct guide you.’
Strange sensations warred within her body. She wanted to keep moving, but equally the burgeoning warmth terrified her. It was far worse than piloting her ship during a storm.
‘I didn’t mean to… That is…’ Sayrid struggled to think of a polite way of rectifying her mistake. ‘I meant to keep to my side, not sleep in your arms. We made a bargain. You and I.’
‘Did you hear any complaints from me?’ His hand slowly ran down her flank. Her flesh quivered under his touch and her breasts began to ache. ‘I still wear my trousers. We will go at your pace. Slowly, step by step.’
Sayrid struggled to keep her mind clear. Safety was a matter of opinion. Right now, she felt anything but safe with him, particularly as his hand skimmed her thighs, first one way and then the other. Each time his fingers strayed closer to the apex of her thighs. She wanted them to continue but… She wrenched her mind away.
‘When I give my word, I prefer to keep it.’
His fingers instantly ceased their quest.
Firmly but gently he turned her so she was facing him. In the dull light, she could clearly see the shadow of his stubble and the faint beginnings of crows’ feet in the corners of his eyes.
‘It was far from taking a liberty.’ He cupped her face, drawing feather-light lines along her jaw which sent tingles racing throughout her body. ‘Who made you wary?’
‘I’ll try to remember that…for when I next find myself in this situation.’ Silently she vowed that she’d find a reason not to share a bed with him again. The longer she could keep him from finding out about how marked she was, the better chance she had of making this marriage work. And to her surprise, she wanted it to work.
He held her palm against the silken skin of his chest. For a heartbeat she savoured how the muscles rose and fell with each breath he took.
‘I intend for it to happen again,’ he said in a low husky voice. ‘We will share a bed. I positively insist. Next time we will do more than sleep.’
Their breath interlaced and her lips went incredibly dry. She flicked her tongue over them and watched as his eyes became lit with fire. He is going to kiss me. He wants to. He desires me—thudded through her brain. Her stomach knotted. She wanted him to do more than kiss her. Truly kiss her, long and slow. But also to show her that her stepmother and father were wrong. A real man could desire her…at least for a little while.
He wound a tendril of her hair about his forefinger. ‘Do you want to know what I am thinking?’
Helplessly caught in his gaze, she nodded.
He cupped her face with gentle fingers. His mouth lowered. ‘This.’
The kiss was tenderer than she had expected, teasing and persuading, not plundering and all-conquering. Delicate and yet calling to that wild fire deep within her. Giving into instinct, she parted her lips and tasted him. Fresh and clean, which made her hungry for more. She opened her mouth further and drew him in.
The kiss instantly deepened and his tongue toyed with hers, probing and then retreating, enticing her to follow.
He rolled them over so he was on top and the whole length of him pressed down on her. She arched her back to feel more of him as his mouth moved ever more deeply over hers.
A pounding at the door and distressed cries startled her and called her back to reality, the place where she ought to be. She tore her lips from his.
‘Someone shouts.’
‘Ignore them.’ He traced her lips with his forefinger. ‘They will go away. You have your customs. My people have theirs. It is a game we play.’
‘Game?’
‘Bothering a man after he has spent a night with a woman. I regret even starting it.’
‘Have you slept a whole night with a woman before?’
‘Not the full night.’ He moved his lips down her neck, taking little nibbles. ‘You are the first.’
‘And this is how you honour your wife?’ she whispered.
‘In part.’ His tongue circled the hollow of her throat.
The pounding was incessant, enough to wake the dead. He rolled off her and lay there, breathing heavily.
‘Yes?’ he shouted out. ‘Who dares disturb me on my wedding morning?’
‘Trouble at the harbour, Hrolf. Bragi sent us.’
Sayrid started to slide out of the bed, but Hrolf’s hand pressed her back against the pillow.
‘Let someone else deal with it. Bragi is more than capable.’ His hand trailed down her shoulder, drawing an intricate pattern which made her breathless. ‘I refuse to be distracted just when it has become interesting.’
‘Unbolt the door or we will smash it in.’
Sayrid’s stomach clenched. Something was truly wrong. Her mind raced with the possibilities—a raid, or a sail spotted or even a fight between her men and his. ‘Can you take the chance? We should both go.’
Hrolf sighed and rolled back on to his side. ‘It is the morning after my wedding night. I know the tricks my men can play. By Freyr’s grove, I’ve played them often enough myself.’
‘Do you dare take the risk?’
He shook his head. ‘Thank you for understanding. Not many women would.’
Sayrid swallowed the sudden feeling of disappointment which intermingled with relief. If things had continued, he’d soon discover how hopeless she was. She’d actually jabbed him in the stomach earlier. And thank every goddes
s he hadn’t seen her back or he’d have turned away from her. All her stepmother’s warnings crowded back and she wondered that she’d forgotten even for an instant.
‘Waiting could prove fatal. In my experience, problems only grow.’ She reached for her discarded gown. ‘I’m sure it won’t take long. Then you can return here. We still have to…well…the marriage needs to begin properly.’
He dropped a swift impersonal kiss on her forehead. ‘My bride is a goddess among women.’
‘There will be other times.’
‘Anticipation is an excellent thing.’ He reached over and retrieved his shirt. In a heartbeat his magnificent chest was covered. ‘You will see…in time.’
Sayrid held her body very still and hoped he would miss the burn in her cheeks. ‘Ships come before everything.’
‘Stay there so that I can think of you waiting for me.’ A flash of fire shone in his eyes. ‘I won’t be long and we can enjoy the morning as I planned.’
He left the room before she had a chance to protest. She dug her fist into the fur and fell backwards. This was not how her life was supposed to go. One kiss, a few caresses and she lacked all willpower to make her own decisions? She thought not. Mealy-mouthed women who deferred constantly to their men, even when they were capable of sorting out the trouble, were creatures to be despised.
She’d been a complete idiot. She should have demanded she go with him or at least not given him the option of saying no.
‘I may be a wife, but I’m not suddenly a doormat,’ she muttered, pulling the gown on and ripping it in another place. She rooted around and found a needle and some thread. She pulled off the gown and did a few more basic alterations. When she had finished, she examined the gown. It was shorter than ever but at least she wouldn’t burst out of it again.
‘Marriage doesn’t mean I’ve stopped being me. I want to know what is going on. Sitting around, waiting for my husband to take care of everything is something I’ve always rejected.’
* * *
‘Your reason for calling me out had better be a good one,’ Hrolf said, approaching Bragi where he stood beside the ship’s hull with his tattoos glistening and a smug smile playing on his misbegotten face. ‘Particularly as I don’t see Kettil. It will bode ill for you if you seek to anger me today of all days.’
Taming His Viking Woman Page 9