Longing for Her Forbidden Viking

by Harper St. George

  Elswyth must have understood her expression, because she squeezed her tight. ‘If only Rolfe were here. With Father and Galan gone, I’m sure his opinion would hold some influence with the Jarl.’

  Ellan shook her head. ‘Lord Vidar is my guardian. I was left in his care by Father. I’m afraid Rolfe’s opinion wouldn’t matter very much.’

  Her sister’s answer was to place a kiss to her temple. ‘Stay strong. We managed Father for years. We can manage this Tolan and even Lord Vidar if we have to.’

  Ellan wasn’t nearly as certain as Elswyth seemed to be as the men began to filter into the hall. Ellan held herself to her full height, refusing to let them see how truly afraid she was. When Lord Vidar stepped in, he gave her a nod and walked to his place at the long table. Desmond and the elders came in behind him. Behind them came the Saxons and Danes who had arrived.

  Taking Elswyth’s hand, Ellan led them to their usual table in the far back corner. She would hide away for as long as possible, but she could not take her eyes from what was happening. There were several men with white and greying hair in the group, but she could not tell which of them was her betrothed. All the other Saxons in their group were warriors. Their shields and axes were sheathed, but their eyes shifted around the hall as if suspecting an attack.

  The Danes came in behind them in groups of two, filling the hall to nearly bursting. Aevir was in one of those groups, walking beside a large man she recognised as one of his men. Someone had procured a stick for him that was the thickness of her wrist and as tall as his shoulder. He used this to keep pressure off his injured thigh as he walked to take his place near Lord Vidar. It was where Rolfe would have sat had he been present. She tried repeatedly to pull her gaze away from him, but it always seemed to slide back, checking his colour, looking for signs of pain or strain on his face. He held himself very stoically, though, so she couldn’t tell how he felt.

  Since he had left her home the day before, she only saw him at meals, and even then it was across a distance. She missed him. She wanted him to look her way and give her that smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. The one she had only seen him give to her. It was a foolish wish and she was disappointed in herself immediately for even having it.

  Turning her attention to the Danes still coming in, she was startled to see Henrik staring at her. His face was impassive, but he couldn’t seem to take his eyes from her as he made his way to Lord Vidar’s table, though he sat further down towards the other end. She tried to give him a smile of encouragement and gratitude, but was afraid her face was too stiff to do more than a slight upturn of her lips. When he sat, he was lost in the throng of men who had gathered around. There were so many of them that a lot of them had to stand along the perimeter of the room and behind the tables. She could understand the wary looks the Saxon warriors were giving them all. Had she been in their place, she would be suspicious and ready for violence, too.

  ‘Welcome to Banford,’ Lord Vidar was saying. ‘Come share a meal and let us talk.’

  Several men took places across the table from Aevir and his men. Desmond was one of them, along with two other elders and a man with dark hair that was greying at the temples. One of them must be Tolan. She craned her neck to get a look at their faces, but they sat too far away. She could only content herself with watching Aevir’s expression, which didn’t change as he spoke to the group. As everyone settled down to eat, the multiple conversations going on in the hall made it impossible to hear what they said. She assumed the discussion was benign when Lord Vidar threw his head back and laughed. The real talk would start after the meal.

  A serving girl came over and offered them food from a platter laden with fragrant meat, but Ellan was too anxious to eat. Her stomach was tied in knots. Elswyth thanked her and chose a few pieces of mutton for them to share. Another girl came by and set down a platter of roasted root vegetables. Try as she might, Ellan could not eat, so she sat with her mead instead, her gaze on the main table as Elswyth tried and failed to distract her with conversation.

  The wait was interminable. Finally, the women serving the food began to carry fewer platters and more pitchers of mead. Men settled back to enjoy their tankards and all eyes began to turn to the main table. The platters had been cleared away and the conversation had clearly changed to the reason for the Saxons’ arrival. Other voices hushed and little by little Ellan was able to hear.

  * * *

  ‘How can you prove you’re not in league with the Scots?’ Aevir tried to keep the temper from his words, but he feared it showed in the frayed edges of his voice. Jarl Vidar raised an eyebrow in warning, but kept his silence as he waited for Tolan’s answer.

  ‘How dare you imply that—?’ Desmond’s voice rose slightly, but Tolan, who sat at the Jarl’s left, raised his hand.

  ‘Nay, Cousin, I’ll answer the man,’ said Tolan.

  Desmond’s mouth screwed up in displeasure, but Tolan appeared calm. Too calm for Aevir’s liking. The entire meal had seen Tolan unfazed by his presence in a roomful of Dane warriors. All the others at least appeared a little concerned. But not Tolan. He parried questions like a man unafraid because he had nothing to hide. Or—and far more probable—like a man too used to telling lies. Aevir wanted to ruffle him. A man’s true character came through when he was frustrated and angry.

  ‘I admit that I came here unprepared to be accused of something so vile. How does one prove himself innocent of something he has never done? Would you like me to find a Scot for you so that you can ask him if I’ve plotted with him?’ He chuckled at his own jest and Aevir’s dislike of him grew deeper.

  ‘Aye. Good idea. Go find the Scots and bring one back.’

  Tolan’s laughter faded in the face of Aevir’s solemnity. Not quite certain if that was an actual challenge or not, Tolan sniffed and turned his attention to Jarl Vidar. He brushed a strand of brown hair from his face and gave a tug on his beard which was shot through with patches of grey.

  ‘I have not met with the Scots, Lord, but I would very much like to meet my bride.’

  The Jarl nodded. ‘Soon. I admit that we are all a bit preoccupied with the Scots at the moment. Since Godric is...not available, I find myself in the position of being Ellan’s guardian. I could not in good conscience allow her to leave with you without making certain that you are what you seem.’

  Tolan inclined his head. ‘I understand, but we must be clear that I did not come here under the impression that I was a prisoner or a suspected traitor.’

  ‘There is a difference between accusation and inquiry. With Godric missing, suspicion has clouded around him. We have questioned all who associate with him, including his family.’

  Tolan looked to Desmond for confirmation and the man inclined his head in agreement. ‘Aye, everyone in Banford has been questioned.’

  Jarl Vidar continued. ‘You also had contact with him in the time leading up to his suspected treason. It is only natural that you are questioned as well. Why have you chosen to enter into an agreement with Godric in regards to his daughter?’

  The tension drained from Tolan’s face and he picked up his mead. He took a long swallow before he answered. ‘I approached him last year. My family is well known for producing quality textile. He owns the largest sheep farm in Alvey and has been our main supplier of wool for decades. It seemed only natural to pursue a match.’

  The answer seemed prepared and not authentic, though Aevir couldn’t understand why he felt this way. ‘Why now? You’re older than the usual groom.’ If he had to guess, Aevir would put his age at a decade or more older than himself.

  Twin lines of consternation bracketed each side of Tolan’s mouth. ‘My wife died last winter.’ He glanced back at Jarl Vidar. ‘I cared for her deeply, but her babes were small and sickly. All of them perished during their first year. She died while giving birth to the last one. A stillborn.’

  He wanted Ellan to be hi
s broodmare! Aevir found himself clenching his hands into fists as he imagined the Saxon glaring down in disapproval as Ellan presented him with their first child. What if the babe was too small or a daughter? What if there was something wrong with the man’s seed rather than his wife’s inability to bear strong children? He could doom Ellan to the same fate as his late wife.

  ‘Last winter? Then you wasted no time in seeking out a new bride.’ Aevir’s voice was ripe with accusation.

  Tolan shrugged. ‘I am not a young man. If I am to have sons then I must wed again—and soon.’

  Of their own accord, Aevir’s eyes searched for Ellan across the hall. She wasn’t at the table where she usually sat and he was certain he’d seen her there earlier. His heart nearly leapt into his throat as he thought of her outside. Would she try to run away? Would someone take her? He was about to rise when his gaze caught on the gold tones in her dark hair shining in the firelight. Her eyes were wide as she stood in the crowd of warriors near the wall watching the table. Her sister stood next to her. It seemed wrong that they were discussing her fate without her being there at the table. He would have beckoned her forward, but decided that she hadn’t shied away from voicing her opinions in the past. If she wasn’t present, it was because she wanted it that way. Perhaps she was taking her time and sizing up her adversary.

  He looked away so that Tolan wouldn’t catch him staring and turn around to find her. No matter that he wasn’t looking at her, he couldn’t stop thinking about the fear he had seen in her eyes. This man was not right for her. If she went off with him alone, Aevir had a bad feeling that something awful would happen to her. He had to convince the Jarl not to send her.

  As the Jarl voiced more questions, drawing Tolan’s attention, Aevir allowed his gaze to drift back to her. She was watching Jarl Vidar and not paying Aevir any attention. He could not help himself but to imagine that same scene as before. Except he stood in Tolan’s place and Ellan presented him with their girl child. His heart tumbled in his chest as he imagined that precious sight. After losing Sefa and their babe, he had never allowed himself to imagine becoming a father, but with Ellan he could imagine it all too easily.

  For one wild moment he wondered at the madness that had him sitting while the fate of the woman he cared about was being decided. He wanted to stand up and put a stop to it. Every instinct within him demanded that he stand and raise his sword. The very idea that this Tolan thought he had a right to her was enough to send Aevir into a blind rage. His hands were gripped into fists and only strength of will kept him in his seat. This was not the time or the place to settle this.

  ‘Enough of this,’ Desmond said, the flat of his hand hitting the table and bringing Aevir’s attention back to the conversation. ‘I can appreciate your caution, Lord, but this man has proven that the girl’s father wanted her to marry him. Who are you to come between a man and his bride, or a father and his daughter? He’s given you no reason to believe him a traitor.’

  Several of the other elders from the next table added their voices to the mix. He couldn’t decide if they genuinely thought they were acting in Ellan’s best interest, or if this were another test of wills between Saxons and Danes. It hardly mattered. It was apparent that Jarl Vidar would not be able to intervene, at least not yet. Despite Aevir’s disbelief, there was no proof that Tolan was in league with the Scots. Without proof, the marriage would have to go forward to keep the peace.

  Jarl Vidar raised his hands and the group quieted. ‘I have heard the man, and allowed him to present his evidence. However, I must speak to the bride—’

  ‘Nay!’ Desmond rose along with his voice. ‘The issue has been decided. If you do not allow it to go forward, then every Saxon here will know that you give preference to your Danes.’ Desmond looked straight at Aevir when he spoke. It was apparent the man thought there was more to his relationship with Ellan than that of an injured man and his caregiver.

  The Jarl’s jaw clenched in anger, but he glanced at Aevir. In that glance Aevir saw the truth of Desmond’s words. It was why the marriage would have to be allowed to proceed. Aevir ground his teeth together.

  ‘This is no question of preference,’ Jarl Vidar said, his voice sharp with rebuke that Desmond would speak to him in that way. ‘Ellan should be allowed to speak. She has previously raised the issue of another suitor. I am merely giving her an opportunity to address this.’

  The murmurings of dissent continued, but Ellan stepped forward. She looked so delicate and pale that Aevir had to force himself not to go to her and stand between her and the wolves clamouring for her blood.

  Jarl Vidar forced a congenial expression when she approached, but it was strained around the edges. He didn’t like the Saxon either. Tolan turned to see her and his eyes were calculating as if he were inspecting his new bride, before they settled into a pleasant expression. Aevir wasn’t surprised that he found her pleasing. Any man would.

  ‘Ellan,’ Jarl Vidar said. ‘When last we spoke you mentioned your desire to marry a Dane. Is there a man you can bring forward?’

  Aevir glanced down the table at Henrik. The boy sat like a stone, looking forward. Henrik’s jaw tightened and his eyes flared. He rose and for an instant Aevir thought the warrior might defy his order and claim her, but instead of speaking he turned and made for the door.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ellan stood rooted to the floor. Her palms sweated and her heart tried to beat a path out of her chest. Henrik had left her and there was nothing she could do to make him stay. She even understood why he would leave her and she could not blame him. She had asked too much of him.

  ‘Who is this Dane, Ellan?’ said Lord Vidar.

  Making her voice strong, because she refused to appear weak before Desmond and Tolan, she said, ‘There is no one, Lord.’

  Lord Vidar gave her a hard stare and glanced towards where Henrik had sat. Somehow, he must have known. Finding the space on the bench empty, his jaw tightened and he said, ‘Then I’m afraid that I have no choice but to enforce this agreement your father made.’

  She had expected the words, but they still fell heavily on her. A part of her had hoped that Aevir might intervene, but he sat there, a silent observer. ‘I know.’

  Tolan stood and came towards her, giving her the first clear sight of his face. His nose was prominent and his features were strong. It was the sort of face that could be considered handsome if his bearing made up for the prominence. A kind demeanour would work wonders in softening the harsh countenance. Would he have that kindness within him?

  He stopped before her and Aevir sat straighter as if he wanted to intervene, a scowl turning his eyes thunderous. ‘I am pleased to meet you, Ellan.’

  She made no move other than to dip her head. There was no way out of the arrangement at the moment, so she had decided that it was best to appear meek. The time to stand her ground would come later and she didn’t want Tolan to know what she was capable of until she struck, even though she currently had no idea the form that action might take. She would not marry this stranger.

  ‘This is good,’ Desmond said. ‘We can start the arrangements in the morning. You can be wed soon.’

  Tolan shook his head. ‘Actually, Cousin, I would prefer to go home to my village to wed. My mother and sisters have made much of the wedding. They would feel cheated if they weren’t allowed to take part.’

  ‘That’s out of the question,’ said Lord Vidar. ‘I won’t send her off alone and unmarried.’

  ‘Send an escort, then,’ Tolan replied easily.

  Lord Vidar shook his head. ‘I’m told you plan to leave in the morning. It’s impossible to make arrangements that quickly. I have men at the northern border. To send men now would leave us too defenceless.’

  ‘How long would you need to prepare an escort?’ Tolan asked.

  ‘A few days. Rolfe is due back any day. Once he returns we could accommodate yo
u with an escort.’

  ‘The low-hanging clouds promise a storm on the way. I’ll have to send some of my men home while we wait so that Stapleham can be prepared. With your permission, Lord, we’ll accept your offer of escort.’

  Ellan calmly listened to the men discuss her fate. It was decided that many of the Saxons would return home while the rest waited for Rolfe’s arrival. Only then would Ellan be forced to leave with Tolan. Rolfe and his men would accompany them south.

  When all was decided, Tolan smiled at her, a smile that hinted of victory and made her shiver. One way or the other she would be free, even if it meant running away to her freedom. She would come up with a plan before she left with her betrothed.

  * * *

  Conversation droned on around him, but Aevir could only watch as Ellan made her way from the hall to return home. Her back and shoulders were rigid and he could imagine her displeasure with the way events had unfolded. He wanted to go to her and reassure her, but he could not allow anyone to know the plans forming in his head. Plans that were only vague suggestions, hastily discarded as inadequate as soon as they formed.

  It would not be easy to stop this marriage without further decay to the relations between the Saxons and the Jarl who ruled them, but Aevir was determined to find a way. Unable to sit still a moment longer, he started to rise to go find Henrik, but a strong hand on his wrist stayed him. He followed the arm to Jarl Vidar’s impassive face and then to the man’s vivid blue eyes which were alive with fury.

  ‘There will be no bloodshed in Banford.’ The Jarl’s voice was low so that it wouldn’t carry to the others while still sharp with authority.

  Aevir swallowed, fighting the warrior instincts that urged him to fight. ‘She should not be forced to marry this coward.’

  ‘It is as her father has arranged. The only reason I am in the middle of such an agreement is because the girl has been my ward for several months. Had this betrothal come to pass last summer she would be wed and round with the Saxon’s child by now.’