She met his stare and didn’t waver. ‘I’m ready.’
He reached up and took his sword out of the scabbard on his back. She grinned as if that in itself was some great victory. She had no clue how he’d best her, but she was about to find out. When he won, he’d take her upstairs and spank her again, only this time he wouldn’t stop when he felt how she responded to him. This time he’d keep her in bed for the rest of the afternoon.
She got into her stance and gave him a moment before saying, ‘Ready?’
His response was to lunge forward, causing her to take a few hasty steps backwards. He purposely didn’t lower his sword because his intent wasn’t to harm her. He simply wanted her to realise that he was larger and stronger and she was no match for him. However, she didn’t back up very far before she met his with a swing of her sword, forcing him to bring his down to block her. He was surprised by the force of her swing and how fast she moved.
It was clear he had the superior strength, but she moved so fast that as soon as he thought he’d effectively blocked her, she made her way around to his unprotected side. He turned just in time to block her again, but that didn’t stop her from immediately attempting to bring down another blow. He’d seen her archery skill, but her skill with the sword was nearly as great.
‘Give up, Wife. You’ll tire before I will.’ She was already panting a bit, but then so was he.
She gave a shallow laugh and pulled back to keep space between them, intending to charge him again. ‘I wouldn’t place your hopes on that.’
He had to admit she was angry enough that she could probably go a long time before tiring. But then so could he. They fought in circles for a bit. She moved so fast he had no choice but to follow her when she ducked his swing and blocked each one. She was impressive and he noticed from the corner of his eye that some of his warriors had stopped watching with humour etched on their faces. They’d started watching with real interest.
She was a true warrior, holding her own. She’d defied the world around her and those who would have seen her never pick up a sword, and she learned how to hold her own against all odds. There was something appealing and awe inspiring about that. As his annoyance and anger started to drain away, he began to notice subtle things about her. The determined look on her face that kept her focused on besting him. The fragile curve of her cheekbone that contributed to the juxtaposition of her personality. The fragility of her features over a core of hardened steel. She was soft and strong, gentle and tough, and about a hundred other things that he couldn’t articulate at the moment.
But she was his. That thought rose to the top, encompassing all the others. She was his and he wanted her in his life. He wanted her ruling beside him.
‘Do you see now how someone with less strength than their opponent can wage a valiant battle?’ she asked, her breath coming out in short huffs.
He did see. She was magnificent. ‘Aye. I see, Wife.’
Seizing on a break in her concentration when one of his men slammed the door of the armoury, Vidar tugged her arm and sent her falling back against the wall of the building. He took the advantage and pressed her sword arm out to the side, holding it secure against the wall with his own. His torso held hers to the wall and it was as if simply being pressed against her was all it took for his body to recognise her. He came alive. She was breathing heavy from exertion, her lips parted and all he wanted to do was kiss her. The best part was that she felt the same way. Her pupils were so large he could barely see the sliver of blue and she stared at him with the same naked longing he’d seen on her face last night.
He’d never believed in the emotion he’d seen in some of the men’s faces when they left their homes and their women behind. A woman was a woman. There were plenty of them in the world. Like the men, they were all different, but Vidar had never seen a reason to covet just one over all the others. It had seemed an inefficient use of his time and thoughts.
But he’d never met this woman who was his wife. He coveted her above all others. She stirred something inside him that no one had ever touched. Feelings of protectiveness, affection, admiration and a deep need to have her look upon him with approval and respect, all comingled in a way he couldn’t tell which was which or why he even felt that way. He only knew that he wanted her above all others.
‘I was wrong,’ he said and she blinked in surprise. ‘All this time I wanted to tame you so that you’d be under my influence. But I realise now that I don’t want to tame you. To tame you would be to extinguish the fire in your eyes and heart. I want to burn with you.’
She gasped and the anger and resistance drained from her features. ‘Vidar?’ she whispered.
‘Will you let me?’ It wasn’t until she nodded and his body sagged with relief that he realised how much he’d been afraid she wouldn’t accept him. He wanted to pull her close, but he was aware they stood in view of all who were watching them. So he stepped back, dropping his sword arm down to his side.
She pushed away from the wall and put her hand into his. He squeezed her fingers. ‘Come with me,’ she said and gave him a tug.
He ignored the warriors as they made their way to the hall and up the stairs to their chamber. She placed her sword on a shelf as he closed the door behind them and then shrugged out of his scabbard. When he turned to face her again, preparing himself for another discussion about needing to make decisions together, she fisted her hands in his tunic and drew him down for a kiss. He pulled her hips in close to him and she groaned in response, and he knew that she wanted far more than a kiss. He knew that she was ready to accept more with him in their relationship.
Lifting her up, he walked them backwards to drop her down on the bed. She smiled up at him and held out her arms. He was forced to swallow past the sudden ache in his throat as a wave of affection overcame him. As he followed her down, he loved that she was his. He loved that she wanted him. But most of all, he loved that she was Gwendolyn and all that came with her.
Chapter Eighteen
They didn’t come down from their chamber that night, and the next morning Gwendolyn found that she didn’t care that everyone had known that she’d spent that time in the company of her husband. Her body was tender and sore, and she loved that. Even more, she loved the way Vidar stared at her that morning at breakfast. The men talked around them, but his eyes kept drifting to her. There was a tenderness there that melted her on the inside. They said to her all of the exciting things he’d whispered to her last night. They had work to do today, but she was already anticipating the night ahead.
That morning set the tone for the weeks ahead. They worked together to train the warriors to work as a group. Gwendolyn acknowledged that Vidar had a point in seeing the warriors trained to fight without retreating. The boxes on the ground helped to improve their efficiency and she couldn’t fault that. He also acknowledged that there was merit to the skill Rodor had taught her that involved reliance on speed and manoeuvring. In the end, they decided to train them in both methods.
Then he took charge at night. He taught her all the ways they could find pleasure with one another and she was an eager student. As their days settled into a rhythm, the respect grew between them. Some time during those weeks, Gwendolyn had started to see that what she had found with Vidar was developing into something far deeper than mere friendship or mutual respect. She thought that perhaps they’d found love, though she hesitated to call it that. Surely it was too soon to feel that. Her affection for Cam had taken years to develop, but every time she thought that she was reminded of how differently she’d felt about Vidar from the beginning. From anger to jealousy to affection...he had the ability to touch her the way no one had.
* * *
After a month of the truce growing between them, they sat one night with their tankard of mead watching a storyteller. They’d already finished the mead from their wedding ceremony, but th
e tradition had somehow continued. Every night he brought the ceremonial tankard over and they drank together. He hadn’t commented on it, but she loved that he did it. The storyteller spoke in the Dane’s tongue, but also in her own language so that all could be included. He was entertaining the occupants of the hall with a tale of her husband’s exploits.
‘Did you really fight off five armed men at the age of ten winters?’ she leaned over to ask him, the muscle of his arm flexing under her fingers as he glanced down at her and shrugged.
‘Perhaps I was twelve,’ he said, wagging his eyebrows at her.
She smiled. ‘I feel as if these stories are invented only to portray you in a favourable light.’
‘You’ve caught on to the sole purpose of the skald. Shhh...don’t ruin it.’
She laughed and his smile widened as if he were inordinately pleased with that. ‘Did you really leave your home and go off travelling with your brother at such a young age?’
He nodded. ‘My mother had died and my father believed that it was time for me to be a man.’
She frowned and glanced back at the storyteller as she spoke, ‘That seems so young.’ Her heart broke for the boy who’d been made to become a warrior so young.
‘Are you sad?’ He tilted her head back so that he could see her face.
‘Of course. You were still a boy.’
He smiled and traced a finger along her jaw. ‘Don’t be. I was proud to go. I thought I was a full-fledged warrior.’ He laughed softly to himself. ‘I learned quickly that I was not. But my brothers taught me well.’
She nodded, but she still couldn’t figure out what sort of father would send his child out into the world like that. Cedric had trained from a young age, but her father would have never sent him to the far reaches of the world at that age. There was so much to learn about this man whom she called husband and she looked forward to discovering him. He kissed her temple and turned his attention back to the storyteller.
She tried to watch, but couldn’t focus on the man as she kept imagining a little motherless boy set off on the seas with full-grown warriors. She tightened her grip on his arm and he placed his hand on her thigh, a favourite position for him. ‘Would you...would you want that for our child?’ What if he did? Would she be able to control the fate of her children with a husband as wilful as Vidar?
He looked down at her and she was nearly overcome by the tenderness in his gaze. ‘I find that I like the idea of a child with you more every day.’
Her heart fluttered wildly. Though it had happened unexpectedly over the past weeks, she found that she enjoyed imagining a child with his golden hair. That image had been coming to her more often lately since her courses hadn’t come yet. They’d been due a week ago and she’d never missed a month. And she and Vidar had been intimate every night. She wasn’t certain how long she needed to wait to be certain that she carried a child and had hoped to talk to Annis before confessing her suspicion to Vidar, but it was difficult to wait. ‘You didn’t answer.’
His eyes grew solemn as if remembering his own experience and he gave a shake of his head. ‘Nay. Ten years is too young. What do you think?’
Her throat closed with emotion. It was such a simple question, but it calmed so much of her fears at once that she was nearly overwhelmed with it. This consideration was what she’d wanted from the beginning and it seemed that she finally had it.
‘Vidar.’ She grabbed his hand and held it tight with hers. ‘I’m still uncertain...but I think that I might be with child.’
His smiled again and it was softer, more tender than she had seen it before. He tightened his fingers around her and threaded the fingers of his other hand through the hair at the nape of her neck. ‘You really think so?’ he asked and pulled her close enough that her lips were a hairsbreadth from his.
She nodded. ‘I do.’
He kissed her. His lips were warm and soft against hers, filling her whole body with warmth. When he pulled back he was smiling down at her, the room had long since faded into the background. As she stared up into his sky-blue eyes, she knew that what she felt for him was love. As improbable as it seemed, she’d come to love this Dane. She opened her mouth to tell him, but before she could, a commotion from outside the hall drew their attention.
‘Lord Vidar!’ One of the lookouts rushed inside and all conversation came to a halt. ‘Some warriors are coming back from patrol. There’s been a rebel sighting and they need more men.’
Vidar was on his feet before the boy finished talking and made his way to the door. Gwendolyn was right behind him and they made their way to the gates which had been closed for the evening, but were being pulled open. Rolfe rode through and vaulted off his horse as soon as he saw them.
‘We found the large group of rebels on the other side of the fjord. There are two score at least. Too many for our small group to attack, so we came back for more.’
Wulf had been on his heels and spoke, ‘It looks as if they’re preparing to attack the village.’
‘Scur doesn’t have enough warriors to hold off that many for long,’ Gwendolyn said, turning to Vidar.
He nodded in agreement. ‘But if they haven’t crossed the fjord yet, then we have time. It was flooded.’
‘They’ll have to wait,’ she agreed, which is probably why they hadn’t attacked yet.
‘It did appear as if they were biding their time,’ Wulf added. ‘They didn’t want to march to the south to cross where the river narrowed after it split in two. And they assumed they’d be safe on the other side.’
‘That’s perfect,’ Gwendolyn said. ‘It gives us time to get there and head them off. We can fortify the village and attack the rebels.’
Vidar stared at her, but he didn’t immediately agree and that bothered her. Instead he said, ‘Can you draw a map of the area so that we can plan?’
She smiled. ‘My father had maps created. I’ll retrieve them.’ She ran upstairs to their chamber and shuffled through the scrolls until she found the few that she needed. Tucking them under her arm, she went back downstairs to find the men gathered around the table waiting. It had been cleared of the remnants of their meal, so she spread the first one out. ‘Here,’ she said, pointing to the village. Rodor took a corner to hold it out flat. ‘This is where Scur’s village is located.’ Then she pointed out the fjord and the rivers that flowed further to the south. ‘Here are the rivers Wulf spoke of, but I think the better option is to go to the north. It’s marshland up here.’ She dragged her finger on the map as she spoke. ‘But there’s a land bridge you can’t see unless you’re familiar with the area. If the rebels are camping, then I’m wagering they’re unaware of it. It’s a rise in the area and we can take a small group across. Though I think we’d risk destroying it if we took all of the men across.’
Vidar’s brow furrowed in concentration as he looked it over. ‘The river connects to our river right outside.’
She nodded and traced her finger to show where the two connected. She’d been so accustomed to going overland that she hadn’t paid attention to the pathways the rivers made. ‘You’re right.’
‘We can use that to travel across. We load our ships with warriors and we’ll surprise them,’ he said.
‘But they’re Dane rebels. Wouldn’t they be more prepared for an attack from the river? They’d suspect it,’ she said.
Rolfe weighed in with his opinion. ‘It’s likely. I’m certain our presence here is no secret and they’ll know we have ships. But it’s the most efficient way to reach them.’
‘I agree,’ said Vidar. ‘We have to go with our strengths.’ He looked at her. ‘My men aren’t accustomed to the marshes. Perhaps in a few years they will be, but now we have to attack with the ships.’
He wasn’t wrong, so she didn’t argue further as Rodor weighed in, talking about the marshes to the south and
how best to approach. Once they’d made a plan about how to approach from the south, she said, ‘I can take men to the north, across the bridge. We can attack from both sides and make our assault more effective.’
Vidar immediately shook his head. ‘It’s too dangerous. You can’t take that many men across. Not enough to outnumber them.’
‘I know that, but you’ll have more than enough coming from the south.’
His lips formed a thin line and he looked to Rolfe and the other men who had gathered around the map. Gently taking her arm, he led her off to the side, leaving them to their discussion. ‘It’s too dangerous, Gwendolyn,’ he said, his eyes entreating her to listen. ‘That sort of manoeuvre is risky. What if we’re delayed? What if we don’t attack at the same time you do?’
‘Simple. We cross and wait for you to attack first. It’s not that difficult.’
But he still shook his head. ‘It’s too risky. They could see you and attack first. You’d be outnumbered and wouldn’t stand a chance, regardless of your skill.’
She narrowed her eyes at him, starting to suspect that this was more about her than the plan. ‘They won’t attack first because they won’t see us. We’ll hide in the trees, same as we did when we chased the small band of rebels who’d stolen the sheep.’
He stared back at her and became still. She could feel his regret before he even spoke. ‘I can’t risk you, Gwendolyn. I’m sorry.’
‘So this isn’t about the plan. This is about me?’
He took her hand and pulled her in, putting his head close to hers. ‘My rule still stands. You’re my wife. I cannot see you go off to battle. Besides...’ He placed his hand on her hip so the heel pressed to her belly. ‘You could be carrying the future of Alvey...our future.’
‘But you’re my husband. I have to see you go to battle.’
The Viking Warrior's Bride Page 19
