The Viking Warrior's Bride

by Harper St. George

‘Do not lie to me again.’ He gave her a moment to speak, but must have taken her silence for defiance, because he raised his hand and smacked her again. This time it was low, near where he’d touched. She cried out as the vibrations from it moved through her aching sex. She squirmed with genuine desperation now. God help her, but she yearned for Vidar to stroke her.

  Nay, she wanted that male part of him to push inside her and fill the ache. He was as rigid as he’d been earlier. She could feel him against her hip.

  He paused and she braced herself for another thwack, silently begging him to do it again. But he didn’t and she bit her lip to keep herself from groaning when his palm ran over her bottom and down to the backs of her thighs. His fingertip dipped down between her thighs, so close to the source of her frustration, but still not touching it. She whimpered when he pulled his hand away.

  He spoke, but it was in his own language and it came out on a harsh breath. Something about the tone of his voice mixed with the foreign harshness of his words nearly sent her over the edge and made her plead with him to take her. Instead, she kept her eyes closed tight, silently begging him to touch her while at the same time hoping he wouldn’t. If he did, she didn’t know if she’d be able to stop herself from responding, but she had in no way come to terms with wanting him. He was her enemy, but that somehow only sweetened the allure, just like pain had become pleasure. Everything was all mixed up.

  But he did touch her. She groaned aloud when his fingertips ran down the seam of the lips guarding her sex.

  ‘You’re wet for me,’ he whispered, his voice filled with a strange awe that she wasn’t certain how to explain.

  He was right. It was all for him. How was it possible she wanted him, but hated him at the same time? What was happening to her? She shifted, unsure what she meant to do, but his other hand moved to the back of her head, his fingers tightening in her hair as he held her still. Without even thinking, she obeyed his silent command and the air left her lungs as she relaxed. He was in control, she could simply close her eyes and feel.

  Two of his fingertips pushed between her lips, finding evidence of his effect on her as they slicked over her flesh. He pushed downward and she nearly jumped when he touched a part of her that was so swollen and aching, stars exploded behind her eyelids when he touched her there and her whole body pounded. ‘Vidar,’ she cried out softly.

  ‘Gwendolyn.’ His own voice was strained with what sounded like need as he made circles around that sensitive place.

  Despite herself, she moved her hips in rhythm to him and pressed against his erection at the same time. He muttered something beneath his breath and after a moment dragged her up from his lap. As easily as if she weighed nothing he tossed her on to the bed and came down on top of her. She didn’t even think as she clutched his shoulders and welcomed the weight of his body on hers. He grabbed at her trousers, pushing them down past her knees as he came to rest between her thighs. Though his clothing was still between them, his hardness was pressed against her intimately.

  Aye! She needed his hardness there. She moaned at the contact and he covered her open mouth with his. His tongue plundered her mouth, stroking against hers in a way she’d never imagined was possible. But it was exciting and answered to that inexplicable need that called for his complete possession of her. She found that she loved drinking the sweet taste of mead from his tongue.

  He whispered her name again as he pulled back only enough to take in a breath and his hand found its way beneath her tunic. She knew he was intent on reaching her breasts and her nipples ached for his touch. It was as if her entire body was coming to life for him. For Vidar. And it was begging him to touch her everywhere.

  Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. Not with Cam. That one time had been quick and she’d been almost fully clothed. This terrible and glorious need hadn’t overtaken her.

  And this wasn’t Cam. This was Vidar. A Dane. A man who had tried to punish her for protecting her own people. A man who only wanted to control her.

  What was wrong with her? How could she betray herself so easily? His rough palm moved up her ribcage, but she grabbed his wrist before he could touch her breast. ‘Nay.’

  ‘What?’ He pushed up with his other hand to look down at her. His golden hair fell down over his strong shoulders and he looked so appealing that she very nearly pushed her principles aside. But who would she be if she gave in to him? She was too afraid to find out.

  ‘Please stop. I don’t want this.’ Before he could say or do anything to sway her, she pushed hard on his shoulders and he toppled right off the bed, landing with a loud thud on the floor.

  He came to his feet with a roar, as she grabbed the blanket to pull it over her. ‘By the hounds of hades, what are you doing, woman?’

  ‘I can’t do this with you,’ she said, steeling herself for the fight that was certain to come.

  His gaze raked her from head to foot, but when he met her gaze again his eyes had softened. He wasn’t angry, but he did appear confused and, if she wasn’t mistaken, a little hurt. He didn’t say anything. He simply nodded and ran a hand over his tousled hair. Then he retrieved his tunic from where he’d tossed it earlier before leaving the room.

  She let out a breath in relief as she sank back into the pillows, her body still throbbing with need. She couldn’t believe how close she’d come to betraying herself. She didn’t know why, but somehow giving in to him had come to mean that he’d won this battle between them. And she couldn’t allow that to happen.

  Chapter Eleven

  Vidar knew that he’d been too harsh with her, but he hadn’t meant for her to take his action as a cruelty. Taking her over his knee had been a simple punishment. He couldn’t count the times Eirik had turned him over his knee as a child. Their father’s preferred method of punishment had been an open palm to the side of the head and Vidar had always hated those. They’d left him feeling dizzy and angry and rejected in a way he hadn’t understood at the time. Now that he was older, he realised that the face and head were too personal. A blow to someone’s face meant that you were out to do them harm and you disliked them immensely.

  The arse was impersonal. A good spanking was nothing more than a lesson in obedience and respect. He didn’t want to harm her and he certainly didn’t dislike her. He simply wanted her to understand the severity of her mistake in lying to him and putting herself in danger.

  However, when he’d gone back to their chamber last night, he’d found her asleep. She’d been curled up on her side, facing away from him, and she’d sniffled every so often, making him think that she’d cried herself to sleep. He hadn’t struck her that hard. And she hadn’t come down for the morning meal yet, so he was starting to think that perhaps he’d made things worse between them.

  Or perhaps it hadn’t been the spanking that had set her off. Perhaps it had been what came after—or during. Propping his elbows on the table, he dropped his chin into his hands and watched the people bustling around the room as he tried to make sense of it. Who was he trying to fool? It had never been a proper spanking from the beginning. He’d been as hard as a bloody rock since he’d tossed her on to the bed. The wrestling before the spanking had only made it worse.

  Rolfe pushed back from the table, interrupting Vidar’s thoughts. A wide grin was on his friend’s arrogant face. ‘Did the punishment not go well?’

  Vidar cursed under his breath and shot a glance down the table to make sure no one was near. Most of the men had already started filing out of the hall for the sparring field. ‘It went fine. Why do you ask?’

  Rolfe laughed. ‘The last time I saw you look so sullen was when we lost that ship on the crossing.’ He gave an exaggerated shrug. ‘Our ships are safe and so are the warriors. My bet is on your wife.’

  ‘Get outside to your duties,’ Vidar said between clenched teeth, unwilling to discuss his proble
ms with his wife.

  Rolfe shook his head. ‘I’d rather stay here and watch the entertainment.’ He nodded towards the stairs in the back of the hall and Vidar’s heart faltered in his chest.

  He hadn’t yet figured out how to deal with her. Straightening his spine, he said, ‘Go, or by the gods—’ Vidar didn’t even have to finish the threat, because Rolfe threw back his head and laughed as he walked towards the door.

  Vidar knew a moment of uncertainty just before she reached his side. The last thing he wanted was to deal with a hysterical wife. However, he managed to put on a neutral expression as he stood. She gave him a brief nod as she stepped around him to take her place on the bench. She didn’t appear angry or sad or anything. That set him on edge more than her hysterics would have.

  She wore a tunic and trousers, making him think she intended to spar with her warriors this morning. His gaze caught on her arse as she slipped in front of him and he was reminded of when he’d had her across his lap. She had the most perfect arse he’d ever seen in his life. As soon as she’d draped herself over his thighs, he’d sat for a moment mesmerised at the beauty of her nude body and a little stunned to find that her bottom had been as plump as he’d imagined when he’d seen her drop out of that tree. Her cheeks had been round and firm. He’d wanted to knead them and it had taken all of his self-control to only caress her flesh and not squeeze. He’d been so drunk on lust that he’d nearly forgotten his purpose.

  But his inebriation had only worsened when he’d spanked her, because he’d underestimated how satisfying it would be to see the imprint of his hand on her pale skin, branding her as his. It was made better by the fact that she’d cried out in pleasure, not pain. She’d liked it and he didn’t quite know what to do with that information. He’d hoped that it would lead to a night of consummating their marriage, though it hadn’t.

  At least he was now assured of her desire for him. He’d use that information to figure out how to get her to bed him. He could punish her and he could take privileges away from her, but nothing would put her under his control as firmly as having her submit to him. Their bed was the place to start.

  ‘Good morning, Wife.’ A swell of pride moved through him when she looked at him and blushed.

  ‘Good morning, Vidar,’ she said as she settled herself on the bench. She tried to keep her expression impassive, but she couldn’t hide the pink that stole across her features.

  One of the servants approached—he still hadn’t learned their names, perhaps something he needed to rectify—and offered her a bowl of pottage and some meat from the night before. She accepted graciously and stared down at the food before her.

  He sat down beside her and he found himself weighing the situation as he would a negotiation with a foe. It was good that she wasn’t upset and had apparently reconciled herself to what had happened. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was up to something. She was too measured and focused. What did she want and what was she willing to accept in its stead? She wanted to be in control, but that wasn’t something he could give up. He had no idea how much less she was willing to accept.

  Vidar gave a quick shake of his head as he determined one very important fact: he could handle an enemy better than a wife. It was best to retreat until he could figure out a way to proceed. He’d prepared himself for hysterics, not this rational creature. He started to get on his feet again, but she surprised him by reaching out and placing her hand on his forearm. His gaze latched on to that point of contact, unsure what it meant.

  ‘Will you stay? I’d like for us to talk about what happens going forward.’

  He swallowed and his gaze darted to hers. What was she up to? She stared back at him with those deep blue eyes and her face was a mask of civility. It didn’t help that he could smell her, or that his body recognised that scent. He scented her like a hound. She smelled of flowers and leather and his entire body tightened in awareness of her. Particularly after last night when he’d touched that sweet mound between her legs and felt proof of her desire for him. When he’d been so close to making her his.

  He’d never negotiated with an enemy he wanted to bed. It had to be a bad idea. Nevertheless, it appeared he had no choice if he wanted to move forward peacefully. Nodding, he eased back down on to the bench.

  ‘Fair enough. What did you have in mind?’

  ‘Last night you said that today we could start anew.’ Her voice was soft, but the husky timbre that he enjoyed so much was laced beneath the softness. ‘Did you mean that?’

  ‘Aye.’ He cleared his throat over the word. He’d actually very much like to forget last night had even happened. It had only whetted his appetite for more of her. The intoxicating scent of her arousal was firmly etched in his mind and he remembered the feel of her silky skin beneath his hand.

  She nodded. ‘Good, because I’d like that, too. I fear that our strife could overly influence our warriors and we should be working to unite them...not keep them separate.’

  He raised an eyebrow and inclined his head in acknowledgement of her words. She spoke the truth about the need to create unity instead of conflict. And he started to relax. She wasn’t up to anything after all. Her sudden willingness to compromise and forge ahead was a direct result of the spanking. He couldn’t help but smile at her in smug satisfaction and play along with her game. If she wanted to pretend that she’d come to this juncture on her own, then he’d allow her to save face.

  Eirik’s words came back to him and for the first time they made sense.

  ‘She may want to be a warrior, but she’s not. However, you can’t win her over by defeating her.’

  If Vidar defeated her, if he forced her to become what she wasn’t, then he would lose because she would hate him. If he didn’t fight at all, if he ignored her and took charge, then she’d defy him and it would eventually create a rift in the warriors. The only choice was to find some way to work with her. He didn’t quite know what that way would be, because it seemed that she wanted something he couldn’t give her. Independence.

  ‘I’m impressed by your dedication to your people. Did you have a solution to offer?’

  ‘We need to agree to not disagree in front of them,’ she said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She’d pulled it back in her usual thick braid and he suddenly longed to see it down around her pale form. ‘Warriors need to know that their leaders are united. If we present a united front, then they will follow suit. I understand that there may be some discord from time to time, but if we stick together in facing it, it will go much smoother.’

  He picked up his tankard as he mulled over her words. She was absolutely correct in all that she said, but he had the sneaking suspicion that it wouldn’t be enough. ‘You’re right, Wife. But the issue lies in your use of the term leader.’

  She stiffened and a flash of anger crossed her features. There was the woman he’d come to enjoy arguing with. ‘Are you implying I’m not a leader?’

  ‘You are. You’re important to Alvey as its Lady and the warriors will accept you as such.’

  ‘Though I do lead my warriors,’ she pointed out.

  He inclined his head, conceding the point. ‘But it will take much more than me declaring it so for my warriors to accept you as their leader. I’m assuming that’s your goal?’

  She frowned, her brow furrowing. ‘Do you not control them, then?’

  He smiled. ‘Do you control yours? Do you think if you simply hand them over to my keeping that they’ll obey without resentment? Did you not send Rodor to lead them when I travelled to find the rebels?’

  Her brow smoothed out as she accepted his words and she gave a little nod. ‘I see your point.’

  ‘And there’s more.’ He set his tankard down and shifted on the bench to face her. ‘You are a woman and my men aren’t accustomed to obeying women, especially in battle.’ She bristled, but he k
ept talking so she wouldn’t interrupt. ‘The only way to gain their true respect is to show your worth and gain their respect in battle.’

  ‘Then you must allow me to battle.’ She shrugged as if the truth was obvious.

  ‘My wife will not battle.’ The words were firm, but he kept anger out of his voice. He didn’t want to be her enemy any longer. She’d denied him last night, because she had portrayed him in her mind as her enemy, and she couldn’t understand how to give herself to him while keeping him in that slot reserved for her enemy.

  He understood it. In that moment of looking down at her, he’d realised much more about her than he ever had before. She didn’t see herself as a woman who was meant to submit her own will to his. She saw herself as a warrior. Not only a warrior, but a leader. He’d never expect a leader to move over and let him lead, but that’s exactly what he’d expected her to do. And it had been a mistake he wouldn’t repeat. He’d have to work with her to slowly have her submit to his will.

  She stared up at him. The impassive mask she wore was just starting to crack when she managed to put it back firmly into place. ‘Why must I not battle?’

  ‘Because your safety must come before mine. I’m an outsider here. A foreigner and some would say an enemy. You are Alvey. The people here know you and respect you and your family. Have you thought of what might become of Alvey if you were to perish? Do you suppose some might consider us Danes intruders? Invaders that need to be pushed out of Alvey?’

  Her eyes widened a bit and he realised that she’d never considered that, or at least never considered that as a negative outcome, so he elaborated. ‘If that happens, your men will have to gather support from the farms and perhaps even the tribes from the north. I’ll expect that to happen, so I’ll send word to Jarl Eirik. He’ll send more men to secure the area. Your death could mean war between our people. And the end of the Alvey you love.’ He paused for dramatic effect before adding in a lowered voice, ‘Deep in your heart, you know that the Danes will win such a war.’