“I always wanted a brother or sister,” Emma replied, “but my only brother died at birth—along with my mother. My father always blamed me for not being a son.”
She blinked in surprise as he cupped her chin and tilted her head back to meet his gaze. His gentleness was unexpected. “As I said at our first meeting, were you a man, you would have been a formidable foe.”
His words of praise strangely thrilled her. “But I am not a man.”
“No.” His sea colored eyes searched hers and then dipped to her mouth. A tiny shiver rippled through her as he stroked the pad of his thumb gently over her lower lip. “You are not.” The pleasurable sensation of the touch surprised and overwhelmed her.
The next thing she knew, his lips were moving over hers. The kiss was hot and moist and muddled her mind. Emma shut her eyes seeking clarity, but the act only intensified the sensations of his masterful mouth melding with hers, of his big, powerful body and musky, male scent. She hadn’t invited the kiss but couldn’t seem to find it in herself to reject it either. How could she let this happen? This man was her mortal enemy!
Had he not just admitted to raiding and pillaging since he was a boy? How many times had he plundered innocent people in all those years? How many unconfessed sins blackened his pagan soul? Yet, he and the men under his command had exercised restraint. Her emotions were suddenly at war with her brain. Had his mother not been taken captive… would he not have been her countryman?
She tried to shake away the unsettling thought and pull away, but her limp limbs refused to obey. He cupped her face between big, calloused hands and deepened the kiss. She was swimming in confusion and trembled as his hot, wet tongue stroked over her lips. She despised her weakness in yielding, and even more, for finding pleasure in it—yet, the pleasure was undeniable. It was as if his lips had awakened in her an acute awareness of her womanhood.
She responded with a moan and clutched the soft wool of his tunic. His mouth became still more demanding. One of his hands slid down to cup her breast and the other grasped her buttocks, pulling her against his big strong body. Emma stiffened in sudden awareness of his arousal. Large and hard, it pressed against her belly.
Though a virgin, she was well aware of the danger. Just as he breached her mouth with his tongue, he would soon seek to breach her maidenhead with his…
“No!” She shoved against his chest with a gasp as he began backing her toward the bed. “I will not do this! Please don’t make me!” she beseeched breathlessly.
“Make you?” He raked a hand through his hair and exhaled a lungful of mumbled curses. “If I intended to force you, you would already be flat on your back.” He shook his head. “I begin to think you are far more trouble than you are worth.”
Emma didn’t understand why the remark stung.
He turned and strode toward the door.
She was so shaken by the kiss that she’d almost forgotten her plan—until he reached for the latch. “Wait!” she called out.
His broad shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t turn around.
“Please,” slipped as a whisper over her tongue. Everything hinged on his granting her request.
He turned back to face her, his posture rigid and gaze narrowed. Any sign of softening toward her had vanished. “What is it?” he demanded.
Emma licked her lips as her mind scrambled to offer him something by way of appeasement. “If I agree to do as you wish, will you first grant me leave to bury my father?”
She held her breath as he studied her in silence, pensively stroking his beard. “Your father faced death with valor and deserves all the respect and honors befitting a great warrior. You will honor him in a suitable fashion.”
Ivar locked the door behind him, leaving Emma in a daze. What manner of man was this? He’d been enraged when he entered her bedchamber. The moment she’d seen his face, she’d feared she’d pushed him too far. She’s expected far worse than what she’d received. Other than his barbaric threats and the blows to her backside, which had done far more damage to her pride than to her flesh, he’d exercised remarkable restraint. In truth, her own father probably would have ordered her horse-whipped.
She was even more surprised that he’d released her the moment she resisted.
She reluctantly conceded that this barbarian did indeed adhere to a certain code of honor. He was also intensely loyal to his brother, and by the way he’d spoken of them, he cared a great deal for mother and sisters. Furthermore, he’d not only granted her permission to bury her father but had even commanded that he be venerated. She’d expected him to demand payment in advance for granting her request, but he’d left without demanding a single concession. Until this moment, she wouldn’t have believed that any Norseman possessed honor, but now she wondered if good and evil alike existed within these heathens. Perhaps he wasn’t just a godless pagan, but a mortal man who shared the same strengths and failings as any other?
Ivar hadn’t planned to kiss her. He rarely kissed a woman. But her lips were impossible to resist—and the moment he’d tasted them, his lust had roared to life. He was nearing the point of no return when she’d pushed him away, but her passionate response had further stoked the fire in his loins. Now raw need pounded in his veins, echoing the throb of his bollocks.
Leaving her chamber, Ivar felt all too much like a ravenous beast. Then again, he’d never before denied himself for such an extended period. He’d never wanted for a willing woman before, but suddenly there was only one that he wanted.
In the beginning, he’d told himself he sought her goodwill purely to help strengthen Valdrik’s position in Brittany, but he could hardly deny his growing fixation with Emma. Was it just the challenge? No man could deny the appeal of the unattainable. Was it not so with Freyr and his giantess Gerda? Possessed with both beauty and bravery, Emma was in every way his own Gerda. He viewed her as his gift from the gods and vowed to prove himself worthy.
Her baffled expression when he’d granted her request almost made him laugh. Little did she know that he would have honored the count in death—even if she hadn’t asked. It had pleased him to have appeared magnanimous. He’d finally cracked her armor—it was only a matter of time before she would be his.
Chapter Eight
Pressing fingers to her bruised and kiss-swollen lips, Emma still couldn’t comprehend quite what had transpired. She was as bewildered by Ivar’s kisses as she was to her body’s response to him. She could never have imagined kissing the very man whose heart she’d wished to cut out only hours ago. She still despised all that he stood for, even if she hated him just a little bit less. Was she softening? How could she succumb to the man who’d come to conquer Quimper?
Her breath caught at the rattle of the latch. Had he changed his mind and returned? She bolted upright as the door opened and exhaled in relief as Havoise entered with a supper tray. She’d refused to sup with him, but he apparently had no intention of starving her for it.
Havoise’s wrinkled face was furrowed in concern as she approached. “Are you unwell milady? Or did that beast—”
“No, Havoise,” Emma reassured her. “He didn’t accost me.”
“I fear for you, mignonne. I prayed to the Holy Virgin for your protection.” Havoise set the tray down and crossed herself.
“Thank you,” Emma replied. “I need your prayers.”
“Why is that?” Havoise asked.
Emma lowered her voice to a whisper. “I would have you pray that God in His divine mercy will grant me an opportunity to escape.”
The maid wrung her hands with dismay. “You know I would do anything for you, Mignonne, but what will happen to us if you leave?”
“I’m not abandoning you,” Emma promised. “I will return to Quimper with an army.”
Havoise looked bewildered. “Where will you find one?”
“I have a plan,” Emma said. “But I will need help from you, Budic, and Father Pascweten.”
“Of course,” Havoise said. “But how w
ill you do it? There is a guard posted at your door.”
“I have been granted permission to lay my father to rest,” Emma replied. “Since they do not know our customs, no one should question if I retire to the chapel for a time of private prayer. If Father Pascweten could hide a priest’s cowl behind the altar, I will disguise myself in it and slip away. I just need Budic to secure me a horse for my escape.”
“But ’tis too dangerous for you to go alone,” Havoise warned. “Budic must accompany you.”
“What about you?”
“Nann.” Havoise replied with a regretful shake of her head. “This old woman would only slow you down.”
It was true. She would never be able to keep up, but Emma feared for her. The Viking would surely punish Havoise if he discovered she’d conspired in Emma’s escape. Emma tearfully hugged the frail little woman who’d been as a mother to her. “Is there somewhere safe you could go until I return?”
“You must not fret about me,” Havoise reassured. “I will make myself scarce enough. Where will you go?”
“To Poitou. I have waited in hope that Count Ebles would honor his troth and come to our aid, but fear he never got word.”
Havoise scowled, “Or, like our men of Quimper, he is too cowardly to fight.”
“I don’t know the reason,” Emma said, “But I intend to find out. Please tell my people this vile occupation will end soon. I will do everything in my power to reclaim our homeland from this pagan scourge.”
Ivar returned to his brother’s chamber to find Valdrik conscious at last. “I’m glad you have come back to us,” Ivar said. In truth, he was so happy he barely held back the urge to take him into an unmanly embrace. “When did the fever break?” he asked the duchess.
“Only minutes ago,” she replied. “Thanks be to God.”
“Which one do you thank? The Father, Son, or Holy Ghost?” Ivar scratched his chin, intentionally baiting her. “You Christians seem confused on the matter.”
“There is only one,” she replied tersely. Her tone and gaze both softened as she addressed Valdrik. Her concern for him appeared sincere. “I will take my leave now. I’m sure you and your brother have much to discuss.”
“As do you and I.” Valdrik reached out to take her hand. “You cared for me? Why?”
“Because I care for you,” she replied with a soft smile that made Ivar feel like an intruder. “I will return in an hour,” she said, nodded to Ivar, and took her leave.
Valdrik’s gaze followed her like a hungry dog longing for a bone.
“Will you keep her?” Ivar asked.
“Did she tend me under duress?” he asked, his voice hoarse and weak from disuse.
“Nay,” Ivar replied. “She came of her own free will. She barely left your side,” he grudgingly added.
Valdrik’s expression grew thoughtful. “Then I do have much to think about.” He tried to sit up and fell back with a curse. “Damn it! I feel weak and helpless as an infant.”
“’Twill take time to regain your strength,” Ivar said.
“There is no time. Our position is precarious at best. I can’t be seen as vulnerable. I will be leaving this sickbed on the morrow.”
Ivar didn’t argue. Valdrik was right that a show of strength was needed if they had any hope of keeping what they’d claimed. “Then what?” Ivar asked. “Will we ride for Poher?”
“What word have you from Poher?” Valdrik asked.
“Nothing,” Ivar replied, “There has been no sign of an army either. Gisela said Mateudoi of Poher is weak—both a cripple and a coward.”
Valdrik nodded. “Then he is unlikely to fight. I will exact tribute from him. Since you have your hands full here at Quimper, I will send Bjorn as my envoy.” His brow furrowed. “Where is Bjorn?”
“He returned to look after your interests in Vannes.”
“Good.” Valdrik’s features relaxed. “Let us hope he’s also kept Gisela occupied.”
“Gisela?” Ivar repeated. In truth, he’d all but forgotten about her and his promise to send for her once he’d taken Quimper.
“Have you come to any decision about her?” Valdrik asked. “Will you solve my problem and take her to wife?”
“You said you would also speak with Bjorn,” Ivar reminded him.
He half hoped that Bjorn had already taken her to bed and off of his hands, but had little faith. Bjorn was far more discriminating about women than he was.
“I did,” Valdrik said. “I was just hoping you might save me the trouble.”
“Sorry, brother,” Ivar said. “But Bjorn is the better choice. He has the temperament for marriage. I do not. I have no interest in settling down. I will keep my word and remain by your side as long as you needed me, but beyond that… I make no promises.”
“If you would stay here with me, I have in mind to give you Quimper.”
“That’s generous of you but might prove more difficult than you think,” Ivar said with a laugh.
Valdrik’s brows furrowed. “Why is that?”
“We may have ended the siege, but the castellan has yet to surrender.”
“And this is a problem for you?” Valdrik said. “I’ve never known you to have difficulty subduing a foe.”
“My foes are not usually female.”
“Female?” Valdrik replied with a frown.
“Aye. The recalcitrant castellan is the count’s daughter, Lady Emma. She refuses to concede.”
Valdrik cocked a brow. “Ivar the Red who has killed countless hardened warriors can’t handle a mere woman?”
Clasping his hands behind his back, Ivar paced the bedside. “You don’t understand. She is intractable. Infuriating. Impossible…”
Valdrik’s lip kicked up in one corner. “In my experience, nothing is impossible.”
“Only because you have not met her, brother. She will change your mind. I swear it. I’ve tried everything from bribery to bullying, and coercion. Yet, she still fails to acknowledge my authority.”
“Yet here we are,” Valdrik gestured to the chamber. “In her home.”
“Not by her choice,” Ivar said.
“I remind you, we didn’t enter the gate at Vannes by invitation.”
“Aye, but this is different. The one you chose didn’t come at you with a knife.”
“A knife?” Valdrik shook his head with a laugh. “No. My duchess has much more subtlety. As for Lady Emma, she would be a valuable bargaining tool—even if she had two heads.”
“What do you mean? What do you intend to do with her?”
“I shall do what her father should have done—and find her a suitable husband.”
A husband for Emma? That remark stopped Ivar in his tracks. The idea didn’t sit well with him. At all. “Good luck finding a man to take her!” Ivar scoffed. “She is utterly unmanageable!”
“Mayhap she just needs a man who is capable of managing her.”
Ivar speared his brother with a black look. “If you weren’t already half dead, I would kill you for that.” Foregoing a cup, he took up a pitcher of mead and flung himself into a chair. “She is no mere woman, brother. She is a giantess with the heart of a Valkyrie…”
“Ah.” Valdrik eyed his brother appraisingly. “It suddenly becomes clear.”
“What is clear?” Ivar snapped.
“It isn’t that you despise her. The problem is that you desire her,” Valdrik suggested with a bemused look. “Is my brother lovesick?”
“I am no such thing!” Raising the pitcher to his lips, he drained the contents.
Valdrik watched him in silence with that damnable smirk still playing about his mouth.
“But by Odin’s eye, this thing is consuming me! I can’t eat. I can’t sleep…. She’s driving me half mad!”
“If it is purely lust, I advise you to seek other pastures,” Valdrik warned.
“I don’t want another, damn it!” Ivar threw back his head, raking a hand through his hair with a curse.
“Nevertheless,
I won’t let you use her as a whore. I killed her father, which places her under my protection. I cannot let you despoil her.” Valdrik paused. “Given your attraction to her, ’tis not the wisest course to leave Lady Emma under your care. I had initially thought to ride to Poher on the morrow to treat with my wife’s brother, Mateudoi, but mayhap ’twould be best to send you as my envoy.”
Ivar glared. “What are you saying? You don’t trust me?”
“I’m saying that unsated lust can be a dangerous thing. It impairs judgment in the best of men, but time and distance often works the cure. You will leave on the morrow.”
“I am no politician,” Ivar remarked churlishly.
“Precisely my point,” Valdrik said.
Ivar rose with a grunt and stalked toward the door. He was furious that his brother thought he lacked self-control, but there was no arguing when Valdrik gave a direct order.
Valdrik spoke again just as he reached for the latch. “Of course, there is another alternative that comes to mind—one that could save us both considerable aggravation.”
Ivar spun to face his brother. “And what is that?”
“You could marry her.”
Ivar blinked. “Marry her?”
“Aye.” Valdrik grinned. “If you want her in your bed, the only answer is to take Emma to wife—if you can convince her to have you.”
“Convince her?” Ivar replied incredulously. “You can’t expect me to woo her?”
Valdrik shrugged. “She is a free woman. I can facilitate the marriage, but I cannot force her into it.” Valdrik added with a grin Ivar wanted to wipe from his smug face. “If you are not up to the task, Adèle is very knowledgeable of herbs, mayhap she can concoct a love potion for you?”
Ivar placed his hand on his sword hilt. “When you regain your feet, brother, I swear there will be a reckoning between us.”
Ignoring the threat, Valdrik laughed. “Sleep on it, brother. I will expect your answer on the morn.”
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