Surrender to the Viking

‘I’m delighted to hear it.’

‘You are pleased to mock.’

‘Not at all. I really am delighted. The greatest enemy to a relationship is boredom but I feel quite sure ours will never suffer in that way.’

‘Possibly not. Steingrim may slay you long before boredom sets in.’

Finn laughed out loud. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you there. Steingrim will not slay me.’

‘If he doesn’t perhaps I will.’

‘You have already slain me with your incomparable beauty and sharp wit.’

‘Would it were so easy.’

‘I am not an easy man to kill, sweet Lara. You are destined to remain at my side.’

‘What a rousing prospect.’

‘Indeed I do hope to arouse you—very soon now.’

The implications of that produced a tide of heat that rose from her feet to her face. The man is outrageous. Utterly without shame. He was also very big and very strong and he was her husband. In reality he could do whatever he chose now. However, that didn’t mean craven surrender on her part.

‘You will never arouse me, my lord.’

‘Another challenge, Lara? I accept it, gladly.’

He is truly impossible. She sought for a witty and crushing retort but wit had temporarily fled and she had to make do with the latter. ‘You are loathsome.’

‘I’m sorry you should think so. I’ll do my best to change your mind.’

‘I will never change my mind.’

‘Shall we have a wager on that?’

‘There’s no point. You have already lost.’

‘Have I?’ He surveyed her speculatively. ‘I wonder.’

‘No need to tax your brain so, my lord. You may take my word for it.’

The grey eyes glinted. With quiet deliberation Finn set down his cup and got to his feet. Lara blinked, staring up at him in surprise. Had she routed him at last? A glimmer of hope kindled in her breast. It was short-lived. Without warning he bent and lifted her bodily off the chair. Ignoring the laughter and amused glances all around them he turned to Ottar.

‘I find myself impatient to be alone with my bride. Perhaps a private place has been prepared for us?’

The hall erupted with cheers and raucous laughter. Lara went hot and cold by turns, struggling furiously.

‘Put me down, you brute!’

Finn grinned, adjusting his hold a little so that he had a surer grip. ‘I shall, sweet Lara, as soon as we reach our bedchamber.’

The words elicited renewed efforts to escape. He held her with insulting ease and, surrounded by a laughing crowd, carried her from the hall.

Chapter Five

A small hov had been made ready for the bridal couple so that this night at least they might have privacy. Lara fought her captor every step of the way but to no avail: she was borne inexorably on until they reached their destination. Before anyone had a chance to intervene Finn carried her inside and heeled the door shut behind him. Then he set her down and barred it securely. At once a chorus of indignant voices rose from outside and heavy fists pounded on the wood. He ignored them, and turned towards his bride.

For several heart-thumping seconds they surveyed each other in silence. Lara darted a look around: lamplight revealed that the hov was sparsely furnished, the single room dominated by a large bed covered with furs. The window was shuttered fast. The only door was the one by which they had entered and Finn was between it and her. She moistened her lips. In the confined space he seemed much larger than before, a dominating and virile presence whose attention was now entirely on her.

‘Alone at last.’ He smiled and removed his cloak, tossing it over a chair. Then he looked at Lara and threw his arms wide. ‘Come here, sweet wife.’

She made no move to obey. ‘I will not. I agreed to wed you, nothing else.’

He evinced complete surprise. ‘Are you saying you will not share my bed?’

‘Yes, I am saying that.’

‘It’s a serious matter to deny a man his marital rights.’

The teasing tone was much more disconcerting than an outright display of anger, and much harder to deal with.

‘You’ve got what you wanted. This was about ships and swords and nothing else.’

‘Didn’t anyone mention that it’s actually about more than that? Would it surprise you to know that you must run my hall and perform all duties connected with that?’

Her eyes sparkled with indignation. ‘Of course it wouldn’t.’

‘Oh, good. That’ll save confusion.’ He paused in apparent contemplation of some mental list. ‘In addition I must mention, in case anyone else didn’t, that I shall want half-a-dozen fine sons to continue my line and that you must produce them. Not all at once of course,’ he amended. ‘I don’t wish to be unreasonable.’

Lara experienced a fresh surge of indignation. Along with that were other more elusive emotions that she didn’t want to explore. ‘I am not a brood mare to be used at your pleasure.’

‘You know, it would be very much my pleasure,’ he replied. ‘In spite of your vile temper you’re a comely wench. Bedding you will not be an unwelcome obligation.’

Lara backed a pace. ‘Stay away from me!’

‘You don’t mean that.’

‘I said stay away.’

‘What are you afraid of, Lara?’

‘I’m not afraid of you.’

He advanced unhurriedly. ‘No?’

‘No.’

It was a downright lie. Just then she’d never felt so scared in her life. All the same she’d rather have died than admit it. She would also have given anything to have had a sword in her hand.

‘Then come and kiss me, sweet wife.’

‘I will not kiss you.’

‘I really would like it if you did.’

Her stomach wallowed. Then her back met the wall. Desperately she edged along it, her eyes seeking some weapon, anything that might be used to hold him off. Her leg brushed a stool. She bent and grabbed it, hurling it at his head. Finn ducked and the missile flew past, crashing against the door. She heard him chuckle. Anger temporarily replaced fear and the stool was followed by a jug and a wooden bowl. He avoided them easily and came on. Heart pounding, she retreated step by step until she reached the corner. Seeing the danger she tried to dodge away but Finn was faster, dodging in front of her, forcing her back again, forbidding escape.

‘I really would like that kiss, Lara.’

‘Never.’

‘Never is a long time.’ He moved closer, trapping her there with an arm on either side of her shoulders. ‘Too long.’

‘Don’t you dare to touch me!’

‘Do I dare?’ He contemplated it briefly. ‘Yes, I believe I do. Otherwise what a world of pleasure would be lost.’

She had no idea what he meant and didn’t care. All she could see was the face looming above hers, a handsome arresting face wearing an infuriating smile.

‘I’m warning you. Get away from me.’

‘No, for if I do that I cannot pleasure you, and I do wish to pleasure you, very thoroughly.’

The words were beyond outrage and she struck him hard. His eyes glinted. Her attempt to launch a second blow ended in a gasp as her wrist was caught in an iron grip.

‘It’s no good, Lara. You won’t drive me off as you did all the others.’

‘Let go of me.’

‘No.’

He evaded a kick. Lara struggled, writhing in his hold, every particle of her being in revolt. He held her without any undue effort. His evident enjoyment of her predicament did nothing to calm her rage.

‘How dare you treat me like this?’

‘You have chosen the method.’

‘I?’ She kicked out again and missed. ‘Don’t try to blame me for your shortcomings, you devious rogue.’

‘Harsh words, ill suited to a bride.’

‘Well-deserved words! You are a rogue—an opportunist, a pirate, a low, cunning, smooth-tongued, scheming underhanded villain.’

‘Sweet Lara, did no one tell you that you must show respect when you speak to your husband, and that you must be obedient to his wishes?’

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

‘It would have a certain novelty value, I’ll admit.’ He strode across the room propelling her towards the bed. ‘Since you will not kiss me we shall have to omit that and just retire instead.’

Her heart leaped towards her throat. ‘I will not.’

He sighed. ‘Either you can remove your clothes or I will.’

She glared at him. ‘How I hate you!’

He ignored the words as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘If I do it you will likely never be able to wear that gown again, which would be a pity. The colour suits you.’

Her chin lifted. She wanted to defy him but knew that, if she did, it would end in humiliating defeat and a ruined dress. Throwing him a look of detestation she got to her feet and with fumbling fingers began to unfasten her girdle. As it came loose she let it fall to the floor. Then she drew off the shorter overdress. She paused, her eyes meeting his.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Keep going.’

The under-gown followed. Clad only in her shift now she waited, dread vying with fury. Was he going to demand that she strip? Was that to be her punishment for defiance? It occurred to her then that making her strip was likely to be the least of it. She was completely in his power and that wasn’t a comfortable thought. Was he going to hit her? Did he intend to hurt her? Once she had thought he wouldn’t offer violence to a woman, but now certainty was tainted by creeping doubt. She had never felt more vulnerable or more afraid in her life but she wouldn’t have let him know it for a shipload of silver. Her chin lifted.

The grey gaze never left her. ‘The bed awaits.’

Reluctantly she obeyed him, perching gingerly between the cool linen sheets, hugging her knees protectively. For a moment or two he remained quite still. Then he bent and retrieved his cloak, throwing it over his arm. Lara followed the movement in silent bemusement, confusion evident in her face.

He smiled mockingly. ‘Don’t worry. I shan’t rape you, Lara, easy as that would be. I prefer my women to be willing participants. When you tire of your cold, virginal bed and decide to become a real woman let me know. In the meantime sleep alone if you will.’

Speechless, she watched him cross to the door and unbar it. He paused on the threshold.

‘You had best secure this after me. I cannot vouch for what drunken pranksters may attempt later.’

With an effort she found her voice. ‘Then you’re not... You don’t mean to return?’

‘No, I don’t mean to return.’ His smile lost some of its mockery and was replaced by something much like regret. ‘Goodnight, Lara. Sleep well.’

With that he was gone, pulling the door to close behind him.

Chapter Six

For a few moments Lara was too stunned to move. Then she crept to the door and listened, half expecting a trick. The sound of retreating footsteps assured her otherwise. With shaking hands she barred the door and then leaned against it, trying to assimilate what had just happened. Never in a thousand years would she have expected the evening to end like this. Her imagination had supplied a more graphic image in which she was pinned to the bed while he did his will. She swallowed hard. He could have raped her; he was frighteningly strong. Her wrist still bore the imprint of his fingers. All her efforts to resist had done no more than afford him some light amusement. His taunts were still ringing in her ears. Even his avowed wish to have sons had been nothing more than provocation. He wasn’t concerned with getting sons at all: what mattered to him were ships and swords. That was why he had agreed to this marriage. He had no interest in her; he didn’t even like her. Quite possibly, when he had resolved his immediate problem with his enemies he would put her aside citing her refusal to consummate the marriage. No one would blame him or question his right to do it either. If he put her aside she would be returned to her father. The consequences of that would be dire. Alternatively she could crawl back to Finn and beg him to take her. Her jaw tightened. I’d rather be in a midnight fire at sea. She would never submit to him or go willingly to his bed.

* * *

Finn sat down on a rock at the end of the promontory and watched the rising moon silver the dark water of the fjord. The night was still. Even the sound of revelry from the hall didn’t carry this far. The participants were no doubt imagining him locked in a passionate embrace with his bride. He grimaced. The only way that could have happened would have been to give way to baser urges. Thor’s teeth but he’d been tempted; tempted to give the little spitfire something to think about. The possibilities afforded him fierce momentary satisfaction. Had he given in to temptation it would have been no more than she deserved. If ever a woman needed to be taught who was master it was she. In the whole history of the world there had never been such a proud, contrary, wilful, infuriating little hussy.

He let out a long ragged breath. As he’d been expecting her to reject his advances tonight he ought not to have felt disappointment. It was utterly illogical and it was the fault of that earlier kiss. While he’d thought to enjoy it he could never have anticipated that he would find it so deeply arousing.

That wasn’t all he found arousing either. A man would have to be dead not to be aware of her fiery beauty. Most of all it was the challenge she represented, a challenge he’d been unable to ignore from the outset. However, physical mastery wasn’t enough. When he took Lara—and he would take her—it was going to be with her willing consent. She would submit; would yield all of herself to him. It was a heady prospect and, he admitted, a distant one. In the meantime he had more pressing concerns. When he had defeated Steingrim there would be time enough to vanquish Lara.

Having clarified his thoughts he eventually left the promontory and, since a return to the hall was out of the question, he went to the barn and found a convenient pile of hay. It was dry and comfortable at least, even if it wasn’t where he’d envisaged spending his wedding night.

* * *

Lara had fallen into an uneasy sleep and woke at dawn. For a few seconds she was disorientated, trying to think where she was. Then, slowly, memory flowed back. Along with it came resentment. She was married now and to a man who cared nothing for her save as a means to an end.

When she opened the window shutter it was to admit grey light. The only sound was birdsong. It was hardly surprising. The revelry had gone on late and no doubt the company would be sleeping off the effects. It occurred to her to wonder where Finn had slept last night. Had he returned to the hall to continue drinking? It seemed likely. Quite probably he was lying across the table in a stupor along with his companions. She shrugged it off. His whereabouts were of no interest.

Collecting up her discarded clothing she dressed once more and, when she was decent again, unbarred the door. She had no wish to remain. The hov held too many disturbing associations and the sooner she was out of the place the better. Instead she returned to the women’s bower. As she’d hoped, the occupants were still asleep enabling her to avoid their curious looks and knowing smiles. Quickly and quietly she changed back into the green gown, returning the blue one to the chest. As she did so her gaze went to the sword at the bottom, but this morning she had no desire to practise. Nor had she any desire to remain in the steading. She didn’t want to speak to anyone nor was she of a mind to be the butt of other people’s humour. The marriage had happened but she wasn’t going to pretend to like it. Until she had firm control over her anger she was better out of the way.

Taking the path through the lower meadows she headed for the hill above the farm. She would find fresh air and solitude up there and if there was any company it would only be a few sheep. That was fine by her. The less she had to see of humankind the better.

* * *

On leaving the barn at dawn Finn took a detour to the promontory but the place was deserted. Either Lara was in no mood to practise sword craft or else she had no wish to be found there. He had a pretty shrewd idea which of those suppositions was correct and was sorry for it. Their previous training session had been fun. Unfortunately, recent events were not calculated to win her confidence or soften her mood. Just then he had no idea how that was to be achieved. Lara was unlike any woman he’d ever met. It was a pity she hadn’t come to the promontory this morning because there were things he needed to impart, not least about their forthcoming departure. Since she evidently had no intention of seeking him out he’d have to go to her.

* * *

When he reached the hov he found it empty. That left the bower as the most likely line of retreat. From his point of view, she couldn’t have made a more awkward choice because he couldn’t impose his presence there without creating uproar. He’d have to send a female servant to fetch her and that in turn would arouse all manner of speculation that he could well have done without. No doubt Lara was fully aware of that and probably enjoying the thought of his chagrin. He gritted his teeth. How was it that she always managed to make his life more difficult at every turn?

He was rounding the end of the hov when he saw her, but, far from hiding in the bower, she was heading away from the steading along a track that led towards the hill behind. For a second, it occurred to him to wonder if she was running away, but she wasn’t moving like one in furtive haste; nor was she dressed for travel or carrying anything with her. Whatever her intention it wasn’t flight. The little witch was good at keeping him guessing. But this way at least they could have a private conversation.

He set off after her, his longer strides closing the distance between them. For a while she didn’t notice that she was being followed but as he gained on her some sixth sense must have given warning of his presence and she glanced over her shoulder. He saw a flicker of surprise and then annoyance in her face. Somewhat to his surprise she stopped and waited for him to catch up. They surveyed each other in silence. He saw that she had changed back into the green gown and that the jewellery was missing too. In fact all trace of bridal finery was gone. She looked pale but otherwise composed, her expression impassive now.

‘Where are you off to, Lara?’

‘For a walk.’

‘Alone?’

‘As you see.’

‘I looked for you on the promontory earlier.’

‘Did you?’

‘There are things we need to discuss.’

‘Such as?’

He sighed. Clearly she had no wish to talk to him at all although in the light of recent events he couldn’t entirely blame her. All the same this could not be avoided. She had just become part of the arrangements.

‘Tomorrow I leave for Ravndal.’

He had her attention now. ‘But that is several days’ sailing from here.’

‘That’s right.’

He didn’t miss the glimmer of hope that flickered into her face. The thought of his departure was pleasing to her. If she was anticipating his protracted absence she was doomed to disappointment.

‘My continued presence here is unwise,’ he went on. ‘Steingrim won’t be far behind and when I meet him it will be on ground of my choosing.’

She could see the point. ‘What about the other ships, though?’

‘Alrik’s will accompany us. The second will meet us a little later.’

‘I see.’

‘We’ll be leaving early.’

She nodded, controlling a sudden surge of jubilation. He was leaving tomorrow. He would be gone for days; weeks with any luck. Perhaps the gods were redressing the balance a little.

‘Was there anything else, my lord?’

‘No, nothing else—for the moment.’

‘Then I beg you will excuse me.’ She would have continued on up the path but his voice stayed her.

‘Lara.’

She paused, surveying him quizzically. ‘My lord?’

‘My name is Finn. It would please me if you were to use it.’

‘As you wish.’

‘You know, it seems to me that life would be easier if we were not at odds.’

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