Taming His Viking Woman

by Michelle Styles

  Auda gave her a panicked look. ‘I’m honoured of course…that is…’

  Sayrid motioned to Auda to agree as she silently cursed Regin’s overly hasty departure. It was obvious that Kettil wanted leverage over the family. ‘My sister will be delighted to accept your kind invitation. She does love talking about needlework.’

  Auda gulped hard, bobbed a curtsy, agreeing to the request. Sayrid curled her fists. Somehow she’d unmask the true culprit and prove Regin’s innocence.

  Kettil nodded to Hrolf. ‘When you’ve finished your inspections and if it is simple wedding-night mischief, send word. Until then, my wife will enjoy Auda’s company. Sayrid, it is your choice if you wish to stay here or not.’

  Kettil strode off with cloak flapping in the breeze as Auda hurried alongside him. He still walked with purpose, but Sayrid could see a stiffness in his gait.

  The jaarl was at least her father’s age and had no children. She glanced at Hrolf. Was he the heir apparent? Was that part of the tribute the jaarl had agreed to when they exchanged peace rings?

  A shiver ran down her spine. Why had she missed this earlier? It made sense why he had made an alliance with Hrolf against Lavrans. She had been blind before.

  Sayrid hung her head. How many other little things had she missed because she was so intent on improving her family’s fortune? But she could start again now, making sure nothing was overlooked.

  Hrolf waited ten heartbeats after Kettil and his entourage disappeared. His uncle’s words about how a woman would always choose her family resonated.

  ‘Shall I help with the inspection?’ Sayrid cleared her throat. ‘I made a practice of it after Birka. My method takes less time than some of the others.’

  She started towards the nearest ship, but Hrolf grabbed her arm.

  ‘My men know what they are about,’ he ground out.

  He deliberately smoothed a strand of hair from her forehead. Her flesh quivered under his fingertips. She was far from immune. A surge of desire went through him, but he hardened his heart. Desire belonged to bedrooms and the night. Out here in the sunlit harbour, he had to concentrate on what was best for his ships and his men, the important constants in his life. ‘Why won’t you act like a woman? And why do you have to wear that dress? It is little better than rags.’

  Sayrid drew on all her experience with her father and stepmother and kept her face blank, but inside she seethed. How stinging to be dismissed with such a very few words. As if all her experience counted for nothing. Act like a woman indeed! Next he’d have her chained to a loom.

  ‘You believe I will try to deflect your men away from any evidence that might implicate my brother. As if I would do such a thing! It is in my family’s best interest to have the real culprit found.’

  ‘And if he is your brother?’

  She crossed her arms, bristling. ‘If my brother took leave of his senses, then I want to know. I will not hesitate in administering the punishment. But he will be found innocent.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t your brother make common cause with Lavrans? Other men have. Lavrans specializes in treachery and corruption.’

  ‘My father killed Lavrans’s father in a fight over a woman.’

  ‘Which woman?’

  ‘My stepmother.’ Sayrid choked back the words to stop herself saying that life would have been much easier if her father had never laid eyes on her stepmother. ‘Lavrans swore eternal hatred and vowed to pour salt on our lands. There were rumours that Regin wasn’t my father’s because he was born early.’

  ‘Lavrans is pragmatic. That must have been years ago.’

  ‘Not about Ironfist or his children.’ Sayrid stood up straighter. ‘It is why no one expected me to return from my first voyage and why I have learnt to guard my plans and listen to gossip. Give me a chance to prove what I’m capable of. You will be well rewarded.’ She hated the pleading note in her voice. ‘I want to find the culprit and clear my family’s name. Regin left because he regretted his words at the feast. My brother is like that.’

  ‘Keeping away will ensure my men trust the outcome,’ he murmured against her ear. She tried to hold her body stiff, but the warmth of his arm enticed her to lean towards him. The gleam deepened in his eyes. ‘You may change into your old clothes if it will make you feel more comfortable.’

  She pulled away from him, annoyed at her reaction to his nearness and that he was using her attraction to him against her. ‘Impossible. Blodvin burnt them. Blodvin and I will have words.’

  ‘All the more reason not to remain here.’

  ‘I could go and see your daughter, get to know her. It went badly after the wedding. The last thing I want is for her to be frightened of me.’

  Hrolf went very still. ‘You want to do that? Truly? After the way my daughter behaved yesterday?’

  ‘You sound surprised.’ Sayrid threw back her shoulders. Displaying confidence was easy. Men, particularly warriors, only noticed the surface. She’d learnt that lesson time and again in her trips—a scowl and a swagger made her seem tough even though her insides quaked. ‘I’m determined to make this marriage work. In time, she will see that she has no cause to fear me.’

  Sayrid gave the ground a little kick. She wished she knew the proper procedure for taking leave of one’s husband. Just turning her back on him didn’t seem right. Her foot connected with a metal object and sent it sailing through the air. A finely wrought animal-head brooch landed a few feet from her. ‘Where did this come from?’

  Hrolf reached her in a single stride. ‘What have you found?’

  ‘A brooch, half-buried in the mud.’

  ‘Deliberately dropped?’

  Sayrid turned the brooch over. ‘The clasp is broken. Perhaps it fell off without the owner realizing.’

  He nodded. ‘Have you seen it before?’

  Sayrid shook her head. ‘It is not a design I recognise. Most of the women wear oval brooches, rather than animal-head ones. In Götaland, it is different. There every second woman seemed to be wearing a pair of animal heads.’

  ‘What makes you so certain it is a woman’s brooch?’

  ‘The design and the size.’ Sayrid pressed her lips together. She refused to argue with Hrolf, but this made her feel that somehow a woman was involved. ‘We should show this to Kettil. It proves my brother had nothing to do with it. He has never owned a brooch like this. I don’t recognize the craftsmanship.’ She rubbed the back to see if there were any runes to provide a clue. The faint scratches initially made her heart leap, but then it sank. ‘And the runes make no sense unless they are a sort of code.’

  ‘And you know everything your brother owns?’

  ‘He tends to show things to me. A silversmith cheated him once in Birka and I had a quiet conversation with the man in question, and Regin’s money was returned.’

  Sayrid kept silent about how precisely the conversation was conducted. Her sword and various hangings in the man’s forge did feature prominently. She doubted that the man would try to disguise poor-quality swords again.

  ‘You have done a lot for your brother. Would he do as much for you?’

  She peered at the scratches on the finely wrought gold of the brooch, trying to puzzle out the code. ‘Find the person this belongs to and you will find the culprit.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If it had been dropped before last night, someone would have picked it up or it would have been washed away by the tide.’

  Hrolf raised her chin so that she stared into his eyes. His mouth dropped down on hers and she tasted his mouth. A warm pulse went through her, turning her legs to jelly. She clung to his tunic and drank in his scent. His arms went around her and hauled her close to his body.

  Then abruptly it was over and he had to let her go. She touched her faintly swollen lips. ‘Another of your lessons?’

  ‘It was either kiss you or shake you. I chose the more pleasurable option for the both of us.’ He pocketed the brooch.

  He openly caressed the curve
of her flank. Her body quivered and he gave a knowing smile. All behind her, a loud clapping erupted. The warmth inside her shrivelled. His touch had been for public consumption, possibly to hide the discovery of the brooch.

  She pulled away as her stomach knotted tighter. ‘You need to oversee the inspection. There isn’t time for this sort of thing.’

  His thumb rubbed her swollen bottom lip. ‘See my daughter. I will find you. Know that I will always find you.’

  ‘Is that a threat or a promise?’

  He tilted his head. ‘Both.’

  She straightened her back. He was using her naked attraction to him to manipulate her. Her loyalties lay with her family and she would find a way to prove Regin’s innocence and rescue Auda as well as teaching this sea king a lesson in humility and having respect for others. ‘You married me, you didn’t enslave me.’

  Chapter Eight

  Sayrid discovered Inga and her nurse sat on a bench, heads bent, stitching. The embroidered cloth was far finer than anything she could produce. Inga’s needle positively flew.

  A wave of inadequacy washed over Sayrid. She was totally wrong for this delicate creature’s mother. Inga needed a mother who was…well…more womanly. All the cruel jibes her stepmother used to throw at her came racing back, preventing her from breathing properly.

  She shook her head. This was nonsense. She who had faced far fiercer foes was tempted to retreat and find something else to do? However, she’d given Hrolf her word that it was where she’d be. She hardly wanted him accusing her of colluding with whoever had done that to the ship.

  She set her shoulders and strode towards the pair as if she were going into battle. They stopped mid-laugh. Inga pricked her finger. A drop of blood fell on the snow-white cloth. Sayrid stared at it in horror, remembering how her stepmother used to berate her for spoiling fine linen.

  ‘Is there some reason you are here, my lady?’ The nurse’s face was hostile and her manner bordered on the insolent. ‘Inga always spends her mornings sewing. She is learning to be a fine lady who will make her father proud.’

  ‘That is an admirable occupation, but on a day like today the last thing I would want to do is sit still. Maybe we could go for a walk? I could show you the different shields my men use.’

  Inga clung tighter to the nurse and buried her face in the nurse’s ample bosom.

  ‘You must go for your walk. Inga is trying to finish her tapestry for her father.’ The nurse frowned. ‘He is determined that she will be a great needlewoman like his mother was.’

  ‘I’m here to visit my new daughter,’ Sayrid said, looking the nurse in the eye and ignoring the stain on the cloth. Of course Inga idolized her father. Little girls did at six. She had done. But sewing took concentration and she had hated sitting still. ‘The needlework is superb. Is the pattern from your country? I’ve never seen it before. Can I take a closer look?’

  Inga shrank back against the nurse, giving an urgent whisper.

  ‘Did the master say you might?’ the nurse asked, hugging the cloth to her chest.

  Sayrid reined in her temper. Shouting at the woman would do more harm than good. Instead she knelt beside the little girl. Silently she vowed that the nurse would learn—Hrolf didn’t order her about. She had no master. And she deserved respect. ‘I wanted to meet my new daughter. Properly, without people around. Hrolf is busy at the harbour with his ship. How can needlework be a secret?’

  The nurse gave a loud sniff.

  ‘Is it because of the ghost?’ Inga asked in a trembling voice, finally lifting her head.

  ‘What ghost?’

  ‘The lady ghost I saw last night. She stood next to Far’s ship.’

  Every nerve in Sayrid’s body came alive. She knew it! A woman had done the damage. Hrolf had dismissed the notion, but with Inga’s evidence, he’d have to listen. ‘How do you know it was a ghost? What did she look like? Can you describe her?’

  The girl stared at her with feline eyes. Sayrid tried not to wonder what her mother must have looked like. ‘You’re very tall. Your dress is very ugly and doesn’t fit you properly. Ghosts look like ghosts. Everyone knows that.’

  Sayrid hurriedly hunched her shoulders. ‘Until yesterday, I rarely wore gowns, but your father insisted. I’ve never seen a ghost. Are you sure it wasn’t a real person?’

  ‘Did my father send you?’

  The hopeful note in the girl’s voice tugged at Sayrid’s heart. She could easily remember how she once longed for her own father to pay her attention. And now it would appear Hrolf was behaving precisely as Ironfist had. Silently she vowed that Inga would not be forgotten again.

  ‘He’ll come along as soon as he has finished. And he will want to hear about the person you saw.’

  ‘Ghost. He’ll believe me about the ghost.’ Inga tilted her chin up. Unshed tears swam in her eyes. ‘He always believes me.’

  ‘Inga is easily upset.’ The nurse moved between Sayrid and the girl. ‘She says things and thinks later.’ The nurse turned towards Inga. ‘What did I say about not provoking the giantess?’

  Inga immediately hung her head. ‘I don’t want to be eaten. I want to grow up.’

  ‘I’m not…’ Sayrid gritted her teeth. Somehow she’d have to win both of them over. ‘Did you see the ghost as well or only Inga?’

  The nurse’s eyes widened. ‘My lady?’

  ‘It is a simple enough question. Did you see this ghost? Or were you too busy with your needlework?’

  The woman rapidly pulled the needle in and out of the cloth. ‘Nobody pays attention to what an old woman like me sees. It makes no difference what I say. You will send me away because it is what new wives do.’

  Sayrid clenched her jaw. Losing her temper was not going to help the situation, but she was certain Inga and her nurse had seen a real person. They could be the key to clearing Regin and allowing Auda her freedom.

  ‘You look after Inga,’ she said sharply. ‘Inga must have been out of bed to see this lady by her father’s ship. It stands to reason.’

  The woman went pale. ‘All I want is for Inga to please her father.’

  Sayrid knelt down beside the nurse. ‘I wanted to know if you saw it as well. It is a simple enough request. I’m not looking to get you in trouble or send you away, simply to solve a mystery.’

  ‘Inga escaped when I went to get a drink. I was a few steps behind and the ghost had gone,’ the woman admitted. ‘Ghosts have a way of doing that.’

  Sayrid clung on to her temper. It was wrong of the nurse to allow Inga to go down to the harbour, but it was also the best lead they had. ‘Did Inga say anything more about the ghost at the time?’

  ‘She said that the ghost was dressed in white with long blonde hair.’ The nurse glanced at Inga. ‘To my mind it sounded like Inga’s mother come to warn us.’

  ‘I lost my mother when I was about your age. Seeing her ghost would have been wonderful but frightening all at the same time. Was it like that for you?’

  ‘Your mother…died?’

  ‘From a fever,’ Sayrid confirmed.

  Inga held out the cloth. ‘Would you like to sew with us? My mother used to sew with me.’

  Sayrid gulped hard. Surely sewing on fine cloth was no more difficult than sewing on coarse sail.

  ‘I could sew with you for a while and maybe you will remember more. I do so love a good ghost story.’

  The nurse and Inga exchanged glances. Inga whispered something and the nurse’s mouth twitched. She quickly shook her head.

  ‘Do you want to?’ the nurse asked. ‘The pattern is quite complex.’

  Sayrid set her jaw. ‘I can sew.’

  Inga clapped her hands and whispered something else. The nurse’s frown increased. ‘If you are certain you want to.’

  Sayrid settled herself next to the pair. How hard could putting a few stitches in a cloth be? ‘I wish to get to know my new daughter better. For that I will sew.’

  Inga gave her a shy smile, but there was a twinklin
g in her eye which Sayrid knew meant mischief. ‘I would like that.’

  Sayrid chose to focus on the smile. She would find a way to make friends with the girl. She would not repeat her stepmother’s mistakes.

  * * *

  Hrolf stepped back from the final ship. The only one which showed any signs of tampering was his main ship. Either his flagship had been deliberately targeted or the saboteurs had been interrupted. Both options left him distinctly uncomfortable. The sooner he and his family were in his new hall, which could be properly defended, the better. Other than the brooch Sayrid had found, there had been no clues.

  ‘You have a theory?’ he asked Bragi.

  Bragi shrugged. ‘An unwelcome mystery, but this was no wedding-night mischief.’

  ‘A warning perhaps. Or perhaps they were disturbed by revellers if Sayrid’s theory is correct. It is hard to know.’ Hrolf fingered the brooch. His new wife had a quick brain, something he’d rarely encountered in a woman. Following his uncle’s creed, most of the women he’d intimately known were for bedding only. Even Inga’s mother had bored him once she opened her mouth with all her talk of sewing and weaving.

  The marriage was for a specific purpose—to provide land and ensure Inga was brought up in the right way. If he forgot that, he was doomed just as his father had been.

  His father had quarrelled with his uncle over a piece of land one jul feast and the family had left abruptly. When they arrived home, his mother discovered she’d left her precious mirror behind. His father refused to return for it and forbade her to go. But she went anyway, declaring that her brother was right about him. When she didn’t return, his father refused to search for her. When her frozen body was discovered, she had the mirror with her and grief and guilt had unhinged his father’s mind.

  He’d already seen the tricks Sayrid was willing to play to get her own way.

  ‘What do you make of this?’ he asked, holding out the brooch. ‘Man or woman’s?’

  Bragi examined the brooch with a frown. ‘The working is very delicate, more like a woman would wear. But it would be good for trading purposes. I couldn’t tell the identity of its last owner.’