He was so certain of himself that she was struck speechless. That is, until he reached for his male part with his right hand. It stood up proudly, reaching for his navel, not in the least subdued by their minor skirmish. ‘What are you doing?’
His hand paused halfway to its goal. ‘I’m taking care of what you started...unless you’d like to do it.’
‘What? Nay! I will not submit to you. I will not bed you.’
He shrugged one shoulder. ‘How about just using your mouth then? We won’t call it a full submission.’
Her mouth? She couldn’t fathom if such a thing were even possible or if he was simply taunting her. Either way, he was mad if he thought she’d touch him with any part of her body. ‘I’d rather suck on a rotten eel.’
Shrugging again, he said, ‘Then I suppose I have no choice but to take care of this myself.’ Then he took himself in hand and closed his eyes as he laid his head back on the pillow. ‘You can watch if it interests you.’
She turned away as his fingers wrapped around the thing, his thumb moving over the broad head. ‘You vulgar... Dane.’ There was no curse word offensive enough to describe him. ‘I cannot believe my father forced me to marry someone such as you.’
His response was a low moan of pleasure as his hand worked up and down his shaft. Her face burning in anger and a strange feeling she couldn’t bear to call arousal, she hurried from the chamber intent on finding Rodor and forcing...nay, begging him to banish the rude man from her bed.
Chapter Eight
The crisp morning air wasn’t enough to put a damper on Vidar’s interest in his wife. But if a few moments in bed working to assuage the need on his own hadn’t tempered it, then the air didn’t stand a chance. Nevertheless, he turned his face into the cool wind and gave it a try.
Nay. Damn the bloody woman, he was still half-rigid in his trousers. The memory of waking up to her lush bottom pressed against his hard flesh refused to leave him. He’d imagined gently pushing her forward and sliding into her from behind. It would have been slow and easy and so bloody satisfying they’d have wanted to do it all morning. His hand had been a poor substitute for her sweet passage gripping him tight as he’d made them both feel good. It was no wonder that his body wasn’t satisfied.
With an exhale of frustration, he walked towards the sparring field. He had hope that he’d be able to crack her defences by the end of a sennight together. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told her that he’d known she was aroused. Her need had been on her face and he’d plainly seen the hard points of her nipples beading beneath her clothes. Perhaps she couldn’t even admit that to herself, but she wanted him. Mutual attraction sparked between them whenever he was near her and he knew it wasn’t just one sided. The fact that she had dreamed about him only proved it. He had a feeling that his wife wasn’t nearly as prudish as she tried to let on. He wouldn’t rest until he’d drawn out every one of her hidden desires.
‘Morning,’ Rolfe said from where he lounged against the wall of the armoury, his gaze across the sparring field.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to see his wife out on the field, back in her trousers and tunic today, leading her men through a sparring session. She’d been absent at the morning meal and he might have guessed she’d try to beat him out here. Nevertheless, Vidar sighed to release his frustration as he watched. ‘What is she doing?’
Rolfe shrugged. ‘They were out there when I got here.’ Several of his men were lounging around the field, watching Gwendolyn as she led her warriors in sparring practice. They weren’t using the blocked-out pattern that he’d been teaching them. This was shaping up to be a repeat of his first morning here.
Nodding, Vidar took off across the field, gaining the notice of many of her men who faltered in their movements. She glanced over her shoulder and frowned when she noticed him. ‘What do you want?’ she asked.
‘I need the field to train.’ He wanted to tell her that she was overstepping her bounds, but was attempting to keep their discourse civil.
‘Then you’ll need to wait or find another place.’
Gritting his teeth at her attempt to waylay him, he stifled the urge to call her out on her defiance. She was bent on pushing him to the edge of his tolerance. ‘Perhaps we can discuss a schedule.’ He bit the words out.
‘Perhaps we can. Later.’ Then she turned her back on him.
He nearly growled in frustration and touched her arm to turn her back around. She had no business interfering in his work. She had no place on the sparring field. But to tell her that would only make things worse and another idea struck him as he opened his mouth. His wife had already proven that she wasn’t very good at obeying commands. So he wouldn’t give her one. Instead, he said, ‘I challenge you to a tournament.’
She blinked, her face a blank mask as she sensed the trap that she couldn’t see. ‘What sort of tournament?’
‘Five of my best men against five of yours. They’ll fight with weapons and then without. And we will see who has the better warriors.’
Her eyes narrowed on him, still suspicious. ‘Why would you want to do that?’
He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Because if you lose, you agree to give up control of training the men to me.’
‘And what of Rodor?’ She nodded over to where the man and the warriors who had been practising around him were watching them from the far end of the field. ‘Will he also have to give up control, or is it only me?’
Vidar licked his lips, stalling for time. She was prodding him and the worst part was that she was right. He hadn’t even considered wresting control from Rodor. In fact, he’d planned to welcome Rodor as a sort of second-in-command to help guide the Saxons until Vidar had gained their trust. ‘You’re my wife, Gwendolyn. Your place is not out here on the sparring field.’
To his surprise, she smiled sweetly. ‘I see we’re back to that again. Why don’t you admit that this isn’t about who controls the warriors? This is about you controlling me. We can leave the warriors out of it and settle it between ourselves right now. Choose your weapon.’
He smiled back, admiring her fire despite himself. ‘Nay, woman, we’ll settle what’s between us in our bed, not in front of our warriors.’
She gritted her teeth and her cheeks turned pink. He knew she was remembering the morning and so was he. He saw her fighting him, not because she didn’t want sex with him, but because she wanted to be in control of it. They were rolling in the blankets, fighting for dominance. Winning by sheer superiority of his strength, he’d come out on top and pin her down before riding her so hard that she cried out for more.
She clearly wasn’t having the same fantasy. Yet. Drawing herself up to her full height, she said, ‘I’ve already told you, that’s not an option. We’ll settle this with weapons.’
He stepped forward, closing the short distance between them and pulling her up against his chest. She looked ready to physically fight her way out of his arms, until he spoke. ‘I’ll not raise a weapon against my own wife and you’ll not continue to defy me in front of the men. We’ll settle this in our chamber with you beneath me before this is over.’
Her body went rigid and deathly still. She looked torn between the urge to either strike him or give him a tongue lashing he’d not soon forget, but as soon as she opened her mouth, a cry sounded from outside the open gates.
Vidar let her go and turned to find the source of the sound. There was a lookout posted at the top of the wall near the gates. He cried out again, a shrill cry that carried through the suddenly dead air.
‘What’s happening?’ Vidar asked.
Gwendolyn was already running towards the sentry, sword in her hand, when she called back over her shoulder, ‘Someone’s coming.’
By the time he caught up with her, she’d already reached the bottom of the ladder that led up the wa
ll and was talking to the man in a language he’d never heard before. He stood a bit awestruck with the ease in which she conversed with the man, who wasn’t much more than a boy with barely any stubble on his jaw now that he got a better look at him. The boy stared back at him through a grime-covered face before he returned his gaze to his mistress.
‘What is he saying?’
She had the nerve to wave him off as she replied to the boy in that strange tongue.
He clenched his teeth and smacked his hand against his thigh with impatience as he waited. ‘Rodor!’ The man had come running over with everyone else and stood at the gates. ‘Do you see anyone?’
The man shook his head. ‘Not yet.’ Then he nodded to the conversation Gwendolyn and the boy were having. ‘Sounds like it’s those blasted Danes.’ Realising that he was addressing one of those ‘blasted Danes’, he paled. ‘I mean those Danes that Jarl Eirik said had been plaguing the countryside. The rebels.’
Vidar cursed. The rebels were a band of useless warriors who’d either been too indolent to earn their place as warriors, or too disrespectful to have been tolerated by their leaders. Some were even criminals who’d been banished for their crimes. It seemed the men had banded together and had nothing better to do with their time than roam the forest causing trouble. They probably had no ships to sail so were landlocked until they could earn enough money to either purchase one or have one built.
Magnus had run into them because they’d been terrorising the village home of his Saxon woman. He’d fought them back in the autumn and had won. Vidar had assumed most of them had been killed or imprisoned. Apparently, he’d been mistaken. Though he didn’t consider them much of a threat, he didn’t like the idea of them out roaming the territory so close to Alvey farms. Men like that wouldn’t hesitate to kill an entire family for the few sheep they’d be able to scrounge.
Gwendolyn had finished talking to the boy and turned to address the men. By this time Eirik had come out and was walking up to join the group.
‘Gwendolyn.’ Vidar spoke harshly and gained her attention. ‘What does the boy say? Is it the rebel Danes?’
To her credit, she didn’t seem resentful that he’d asked, only so focused on her task that she’d forgotten he was there. The knowledge stung his pride, even while he appreciated her focus. ‘Aye, they’ve been spotted five leagues to the south-east,’ she explained. ‘There are roughly two score, though a smaller band of them was seen closer. One of the farms has been sacked. Thankfully, the family was here for the wedding. The man they’d left behind to watch the sheep hid in the forest when he saw them coming, so no one was harmed.’
Another voice in the distant woods called out, interrupting her. Vidar realised that’s how the boy had received his initial communication. They must have a string of lookouts in the trees and the messages passed from one to the other until it made its way to the gates.
‘Get ready to go out in a quarter-hour!’ she called out to her warriors. ‘We’ll take half, the rest stay back in case of potential attack.’
Vidar glanced at her, a bit shocked that she’d call out orders while he and the Jarl were standing right there, but her men obeyed. Apparently they knew which men would be going and which would stay back as they ran back to get their weapons and the packs they must travel with. His own men seemed to be awaiting his command, so he nodded his head. ‘We’ll go out. Prepare for battle.’ And his men hurried to get themselves ready.
For some reason he couldn’t begin to fathom, his brother stood there wearing a smile. ‘She’s impressive, isn’t she?’
Vidar snorted as he walked towards the hall and Eirik fell into step beside him.
‘Admit it, Brother. She’s got them well trained.’
Vidar rolled his eyes skywards and nodded. ‘Aye, fine, she has them well trained.’
‘You don’t seem impressed,’ Eirik said.
‘As if you would be impressed if Merewyn had challenged your command and tried to control your warriors?’ Vidar asked.
‘She did challenge my command.’ Eirik shook his head, the smile momentarily dropping from his face. ‘But it’s not the same. Merewyn was my slave. Had she been in control of her manor and its men, I’d have had to handle her differently.’
Vidar silently acknowledged the truth of that. ‘I admit it’s impressive that she’s a woman and has trained the men to follow her. I give her that. But it doesn’t matter. She’s a wife and her place is here.’ He raised his hands to indicate the hall they had just stepped inside. ‘Not out there running around the countryside looking for rebels.’
A gasp drew him up short and he turned to see his wife standing there. Her sword was in its sheath strapped to her back and she held a satchel. ‘You don’t think I can battle them, do you?’
Vidar drew in a breath and hoped for patience. ‘It’s not that I think you cannot battle them. It’s that you should not battle them.’
‘But I will. I have,’ she said, her legs eating up the distance between them.
Mindful of the eyes of the servants and some of the wedding guests who had waited to eat their morning meal after the warriors, he said, ‘Let’s discuss this in our chamber.’
‘Nay.’ She glanced over her shoulder at the stairway as if it were something to be fearful of and he hated that he’d taunted her about taming her in bed. Perhaps he’d been too harsh. He’d never force himself on her. ‘I have fought them before and won,’ she explained. ‘Two winters ago they lured my brother and my betrothed into a trap and they were both killed.’
His eyes narrowed. This was the first he was hearing about a betrothed and an unreasonable pang of jealousy darted through his chest.
‘I led the men out and we found their camp,’ she continued. ‘We killed them all and I did that. It wasn’t Rodor, though he came along. It was me leading the men and calling the battle.’
A glance to his brother’s face confirmed that Eirik thought he should tread carefully. His brow was furrowed and he gave a subtle nod of his head. Vidar sighed. ‘Aye, I understand. You did that.’ If he were in her place, he supposed that he’d be very unhappy to have someone else come into his home and usurp his authority. ‘Fine. When I come back, we can talk and figure out a way to move forward. We’ll figure out a way to share the responsibilities. Fair?’
She still frowned at him, her lush bottom lip sticking out a bit, and he had the strange urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she wasn’t sad any more. She was doing something to him that he didn’t understand. She was making him care about her feelings. Putting his hands on his hips to keep from kissing her, he said, ‘I vow to you that we’ll come up with an arrangement we’re both happy with.’
He even did what he’d never done with a woman. He offered her his arm just as if she was one of his warriors.
She looked at it as if it might be a trick, but finally she relented and put her arm in his hand, grasping his arm just below the elbow. She nodded and mumbled a thank you.
Breathing a sigh of relief that they’d at least come to a hesitant peace, he said, ‘So you’ll stay here and make sure things are taken care of? We need someone here in case they attack.’
She hesitated and then nodded again. ‘I’ll make certain everything is taken care of here.’
He smiled and almost kissed her before he thought better of it. He’d take the victory as he had it and go. No need to get her all riled up again. Somewhere along the way he’d figure out how to give her just enough responsibility with the warriors that she’d leave him alone.
* * *
Gwendolyn waited until the warriors had all disappeared into the forest before going up to her chamber and packing her own satchel. She found it ridiculous that she not be allowed to go after these criminals who were trespassing on land the Alveys were in charge of protecting. She was an Alvey and she was responsible for
the safety of all of her people. Had the Danes not arrived three days ago, then it would have been her duty to go out and see to the criminals. The only thing that had changed was that she was married now. In theory, that should mean that the Alvey defences were stronger. But it did not because her husband was daft and couldn’t see past his own insecurity to appreciate how helpful she could be.
It was his loss, but she wouldn’t stand around wringing her hands and waiting for him to realise his mistake while her people suffered. She’d heard from his orders as he left that he would be taking his Dane warriors and half of her Saxons, led by Rodor, to find the encampment of the larger group of rebels. That left the handful of rebels who’d sacked the farm still out there somewhere, potentially raiding another farm.
Filling her pack with a change of trousers and some crusts of bread and root vegetables from the hearth, she slung it over her shoulder and hurried to the armoury. On the way she called out to Wulf and four of the men who’d been left behind and told them to get ready to go with her. Wulf had been at her side the day she’d fought the men who killed Cedric and Cam. She trusted him as she trusted no other besides Rodor to fight with her.
The morning air was alive with the excitement of the event. People stood in groups chatting about what had happened and what it might mean. Everyone had been told to stay inside the gates rather than return to their homes and many of them were frightened that their homes might not be there when they were eventually allowed to return.
Annis and her husband Eadward had been talking to one of these groups of people when they heard her call out to her men. Gwendolyn grimaced at their attention and then silently cursed as they broke away from the group and hurried over to her. She didn’t wait for them, though, and hurried inside the armoury to stock her quiver with arrows and retrieve her crossbow.
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