Taming His Viking Woman

by Michelle Styles

  ‘We need to go to the markets ourselves, instead of paying a premium for other traders to go. The Viken give an even worse return than the Götalanders.’

  ‘And Kettil disagrees?’

  ‘He refuses to fund me.’ She winced the instant the words emerged from her throat. It sounded like she was begging to be part of his next felag. She straightened her shoulders. ‘But one day, I will go as the leader of my own felag. I will get enough gold for the proper-sized ship.’

  ‘You are very determined.’ His soft voice curled about her insides. Sayrid concentrated on breathing. Hrolf was used to women falling at his feet.

  ‘Have you seen any pretty women to assist in your quest for a wife?’ she asked to distract her thoughts from the shadowy hollow in his throat.

  He gave a rich laugh and took a step closer. ‘What is it about feasts that brings out the matchmaker in every woman?’

  Sayrid carefully shrugged. ‘You must be seeking a wife or you would not have offered for Blodvin.’

  ‘I can find my own wife,’ he said without moving away. ‘My requirements are very exacting.’

  His gaze honed in on her mouth as sure as an arrow shot from a hunter’s bow. The very air between them crackled with energy. She knew all she had to do was to lean forward and she’d see if his lips moving over hers matched her dreams.

  A loud laugh punctuated the air and broke the spell. Sayrid rapidly stepped back. She hoped the shadows hid the burn in her cheek. If she’d given in to her impulse and kissed him, he would have recoiled in horror or, worse, laughed at her folly. How could she ever forget for a heartbeat what she was and what people thought of her?

  ‘Then I wish you every luck with that. I…that is we…should return to the feast. The skald has finished with the Tryfling saga.’

  ‘Together? Aren’t you afraid people will talk?’ His voice rippled over her skin, doing strange things to her insides.

  ‘About us?’ She made her voice drip with scorn. ‘Please give me some credit for knowing my reputation. Stealing kisses in the dark with a sea king would be dismissed as far too fantastical to be credited.’

  ‘Some people are blind.’ He put a firm hand on her back. ‘After you, Shield Maiden.’

  The noise fell to a deafening silence as everyone turned to look at them. Several people’s mouths fell open and three women started whispering, putting their heads together and pointing.

  One of the more drunken guests called out in jest that Hrolf the Sea-Rider was seeking to bypass the required challenge for her hand. Someone else took up the cry and the word ‘challenge’ reverberated from the rafters.

  Sayrid’s cheeks burnt fire. She bared her teeth in a fierce scowl designed to silence the crowd.

  When the jesters fell silent, she started towards her place. However Hrolf grabbed her elbow, pinning her to his side.

  ‘Keep still,’ he commanded.

  ‘Why? These people are best ignored. I am going to walk back to my seat and forget this ever happened. There will be no challenge.’

  Hrolf held up his palm, calling for silence. The room became a sea of expectant faces. ‘There is something I wish to declare.’

  Sayrid frowned. Hrolf couldn’t take these jibes seriously. A great hollow opened in the pit of her stomach. She knew what was coming next—humiliation as he made it clear that he had no interest in her. She twisted her elbow.

  ‘Let me return to my seat in peace.’

  His face became hardened planes. ‘You might wish to stay.’

  ‘Doubtful. You have had your fun, now let me go.’ She took another step towards the high table.

  ‘Have it your way, but I did warn you.’

  ‘Go on, Hrolf the Bold. What does a sea king want with this feast?’ Kettil called from the high table where he sat with his wife. ‘What does he want from the Shield Maiden?’

  Hrolf reached out and captured her wrist, pulling her towards him. She missed her step and went tumbling against his hard body. ‘I wish to take up Avil the Ironfist’s challenge and fight for the hand of his daughter.’

  Sayrid stared at the large Northman in disbelief. She had to have heard wrong. He wanted to marry her? He desired her? What new form of torture was this?

  ‘Now I know you have had too much ale!’ she gasped out, pulling away from him.

  ‘There is only one way to win the hand of fair Sayrid,’ someone called out. ‘Fight her.’

  He inclined his head, but the traces of an ironic smile touched his lips. ‘Any challenge of this nature needs to be issued in front of everyone. I’d no wish to disrupt proceedings earlier, but I’ve waited long enough. I will win the prize your father promised all those years ago.’

  A hard knot formed in the base of her stomach. Her father’s words had been designed to teach her the ultimate lesson in humiliation. Was that what Hrolf desired also? She longed to see his arrogant face humbled.

  ‘Why? Because your chosen bride preferred another?’ she asked in a furious undertone. ‘Go ahead. Have your boorish joke, laugh about it with your friends and comrades, but I don’t fight with ale-soaked warriors. There is no sport in it.’

  ‘I assure you I’m quite sober.’ He tapped his fingers together. ‘But you do bring up a good point. You were responsible for me losing a bride. I require retribution. Will you fight and prove yourself worthy of the title or no?’

  ‘You think you can defeat me?’

  ‘There is one way to find out.’ His stone-cold eyes met hers. ‘Fight me.’

  Sayrid stared at him in disbelief. This could not be happening to her. No man had wanted her. Ever. How many times had her father told her that? How many times had she heard the whispers which followed when she entered a new market town?

  ‘How do you answer, Sayrid Avildottar? The entire hall waits,’ the jaarl said. ‘A warrior such as Hrolf Eymundsson deserves a proper response when he issues a challenge.’

  Sayrid swallowed hard. She hated that her pulse raced at the thought that Hrolf might want her. She rejected the idea instantly as absurd. Standing there, all arrogant in his sea-king finery, he was confident of victory and clearly planned to reject her as a wife after she’d lost. He’d then lay claim to the lands as the better warrior.

  She jutted her jaw out. She knew how to fight and how to win. She could defeat any man, but she also knew about choosing her battles.

  ‘And your answer, Shield Maiden?’ Kettil enquired in a silken tone.

  She took a deep breath. ‘My father died four years ago. That particular challenge has no relevance under our laws and customs.’

  The entire hall erupted in pandemonium as people took sides. Kettil rapped his staff on the floor. ‘The maiden is within her rights. A dead man’s challenge does not have to be honoured.’

  ‘Then I make another.’ Hrolf’s eyes sharpened to daggers. ‘Sayrid Avildottar, I challenge for all the land you command against my ships and gold.’

  Sayrid blinked. ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘If I win, your lands become mine. If you win, I go into your service and my entire fortune will be at your disposal for one year.’

  The entire feast went silent. No one moved. Even the servants stayed still like frozen statues.

  Sayrid clutched her hands together. Hrolf was offering her gold and ships. Enough to go to Byzantium? This was her opportunity if she was brave enough to take it. But…there had to be a catch. ‘No man wagers such a thing. Your entire fortune on one contest? Are you mad?’

  ‘Are you afraid to lose?’ Hrolf stood there, muscles taut, his face seemingly carved from ice. ‘Are you willing to admit I am the better warrior?’

  Sayrid examined the floor. If she refused, Kettil would have grounds never to entrust her with a felag. He might even take the lands away on the pretext that Regin would never be as good a warrior as Hrolf. She could almost hear Kettil forming the words now.

  How could she make sure her family was safe then? And if she accepted? Her heart beat a little faster. S
he could wipe the floor with him. Her earlier hesitation had been nerves.

  ‘Give me a moment. I need to consider.’

  ‘The offer is only good for tonight, Shield Maiden.’ Hrolf gave an arrogant laugh. ‘Time to test your powers against a real warrior, or are you afraid of the truth?’

  ‘The truth?’

  ‘You won’t fight because you know you will lose.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Because you have been living on a misplaced reputation and are past your best.’

  She raised her head and met his stare head-on. ‘I’ve never run from a fight in my life. I accept with pleasure and I look forward to putting your ships to good use.’

  His proffered hand was well shaped with long fingers and well-groomed nails, but it was also the muscular hand of a warrior. Sayrid gulped and returned his clasp with all her strength. She could defeat him, just as she had defeated every other man who tried. This time, she hoped that he wouldn’t hate her for it.

  ‘It is settled, then. We meet after dawn has broken.’

  She started. ‘Why not now?’

  ‘I’d hardly wish to be accused of taking advantage of you…in the dark.’

  Her face burnt as laughter rang out from the crowd. She balled her fists. That warrior would be laughing on the other side of his face when she was through with him.

  ‘In the morning, after the crow crows five times will be the proper time for the match,’ Kettil declared. ‘Sayrid has choice of weapons.’

  ‘I choose the sword and shield,’ Sayrid said.

  Hrolf inclined his head. ‘The sword it shall be. I should warn you, Sayrid, I’ve never lost a bout which counted. Should you wish to withdraw before the match, we can agree terms.’

  ‘Why would I want to withdraw? I have yet to lose a match myself,’ Sayrid retorted, giving him a furious glare. She was fighting for her home and her family, he was only fighting for glory.

  Sayrid sank down on a bench while pandemonium raged around her and everyone began laying bets on who would win. The enormity of what she had done sunk in. She was going to fight a sea king, someone who had carved his legend with his sword, not some youthful farmer who had never been in battle or a drunken warrior well past his prime.

  And she had to win or else she’d lose everything.

  Chapter Three

  The full moon lit the space where her bout against Hrolf would be held in the morning with a ghostly silver hue. Sayrid shivered slightly and tried to concentrate on how she wanted the bout to go. She paced the area, imagining what her first few moves would be. Everything would hinge on those first crucial blows. If she could get Hrolf on the back foot from the beginning, she would stand a very good chance of winning.

  ‘Sayrid! Here I find you!’ Her sister’s voice rang out from the shadows.

  ‘Sleep evaded me,’ Sayrid admitted, turning towards where Auda stood. ‘It seemed best to come out here and practise before the crowds started gathering.’

  ‘Blodvin is crying her eyes out, convinced we are all doomed as you are bound to lose.’ Auda pressed her hands to her eyes. ‘No one can sleep when Blodvin weeps.’

  ‘What would she have me do? Back down? Give our land away? Lose my reputation?’ Sayrid gritted her teeth. ‘She should have more faith. We have everything to gain. Finally I will have the ships and men to make our fortune. Hrolf is overly proud. He will make the first mistake.’

  ‘Regin told her that. He wanted to wager, but Blodvin clawed at his face and told him not to be more a fool than usual.’

  ‘Hopefully they are not regretting their match after all the trouble it has caused.’ She shed her cloak and grabbed her favourite sword, the one that had belonged to her father, and a light shield.

  ‘Did you have to accept? Don’t we have enough gold? Enough honour? We get by, Sayrid.’

  ‘There is a world out there, waiting to be explored. Hrolf’s defeat will mean I can realize my dreams.’ Sayrid tried to stretch a sudden kink out of her back, the one that always came before she battled. Didn’t Auda understand what would have happened if she had refused? How much they would have lost? ‘And why should I give him anything?’

  ‘You could have tried to reach an agreement.’ Auda grabbed her arm. ‘Found out what he really wanted. We have gold.’

  Sayrid tried to banish the memory of how they had nearly kissed. It was fantasy and folly on her part. In the second challenge, he’d never mentioned marriage.

  ‘If I hadn’t accepted the challenge, I would have lost my reputation and any hope of retaining such valuable and strategic lands until Regin proves himself.’ Sayrid shook her sister’s hand off. ‘I’m not going to lose everything I have sweated to build.’

  ‘But…do you really think you can defeat a warrior with his reputation?’

  ‘My own sister thinks I’ll lose.’

  Auda pulled her shawl tighter about her body. ‘Someone has to be practical and both you and Regin are the dreamers in the family.’

  ‘I make my dreams happen.’

  Auda shook her head. ‘You’re fighting for your pride. You can’t stand the thought of not being the Shield Maiden and being an ordinary woman again.’

  ‘You talk a lot of nonsense, Auda. What shall I bring you from the East? Enough silk to make seven gowns?’

  ‘I think you ought to have an alternative plan…just in case…’

  Sayrid adjusted Auda’s shawl. In moments like these, she found it hard to believe how quickly her half-sister had grown up. Auda was old enough for the truth. ‘I’m going to win, Auda. I have to. If I’d refused, Kettil would never have trusted me with a ship again. And he would have stripped the lands from me. From us. Unlike men, I have to win and keep on winning. Luckily I find it easy to do.’

  * * *

  ‘Look after these for me, Bragi,’ Hrolf said, handing his friend his arm rings as he finished his preparations for the bout with Sayrid. ‘I don’t want to get them damaged in the fight.’

  Bragi accepted the rings, sliding them on his forearm. ‘Can you accept a woman as an overlord for a year? I don’t know if I could. You are worse than me when it comes to having only one use for a woman. Even with Anya, who bore your child, you barely had any time for her.’

  ‘Where else but in my my bed should a woman I desire be?’ Hrolf laughed. He followed his uncle’s path and kept the two parts of his life separate. He had seen from his father what happened when a man hid behind a woman’s skirts.

  Sayrid was the key to gaining control of the headland, but he would also prove once and for all time that he was the best warrior to hold it.

  He was going to win. Sayrid might enjoy a certain reputation, but it had not been forged in battle. She had not fought for everything as he had.

  ‘That does not answer my question.’

  ‘I hold your pledge. You follow me, not the other way around.’ Hrolf gave Bragi a hard look. His second-in-command was doubting his ability? Kettil might think Sayrid Avildottar could fight, but had she ever come up against real opposition? ‘Do you wish to become an oath breaker because of something which might not happen? You are worse than an old woman.’

  ‘But do you think you will win?’

  Hrolf did a few squats to loosen his legs up. ‘My sword arm forged my reputation. Every man or woman has a weakness. The question is how to exploit it.’ He thought about how Sayrid had trembled when she stood next to him. She felt the attraction as well. She would end up in his bed. By Freya’s cats, she probably hated the front of toughness she had to put up. She needed a real warrior in her life. ‘And I know her weakness. She will concede with me barely breaking a sweat.’

  Bragi clapped him on the back. ‘And you haven’t forgotten the land you owe me.’

  ‘I pay my debts, Bragi. Always.’ Hrolf did several practice swipes with his sword. It would be easy to tame this shield maiden. Kettil had cleverly talked up her prowess in order to keep rivals from claiming the bay. But he looked forward to exposing the lie and gaining the woman.
r />   ‘Where is this land of hers that you covet?’

  ‘The headland which first attracted me here and the land round to the next bay.’ Hrolf clenched his fist as he considered his rival sea king, Lavrans, and the trouble he had caused over the years. The alliance with Kettil would bring him from his hiding place to attack. ‘It will be enough to force Lavrans to act if he truly intends to cause mischief. I agree with Kettil. Someone here is alerting Lavrans to the movements of the ships and until we discover his identity, we have little hope of stopping it except by stationing our ships where they can exercise control of the bay.’

  ‘After you have dealt with Lavrans? What happens then? Will we be forced to make the trip east once again? You know how many men we lost on our last trip to Constantinople.’

  ‘We will do well here, Bragi—no more Desolation Pass or Heartbreak Rapids for us. Time for Sayrid to learn there is more to being a warrior than a scowl, swagger and a gleaming sword.’

  Bragi’s face cleared. ‘Ah, I see you are thinking with your head.’

  Hrolf turned his unflinching gaze on his second-in-command. ‘Since when do I think with any other part of me?’

  * * *

  The cleared area looked very different in the early-morning sunlight from the way it had last night—larger and more open with less chance to hide. Her stomach clenched. She’d forgotten how much she hated being the centre of attention.

  Despite the hour, a great crowd thronged around the perimeter. It seemed as though the entire village plus a good portion of the countryside were here to watch her fight. Sayrid elbowed her way through to the empty arena. She ground her teeth. She’d deliberately arrived late to put pressure on Hrolf, only to find he was even later.

  ‘Where is Hrolf Eymundsson?’ She shaded her eyes and surveyed the crowd. ‘Perhaps the great sea king has thought better of his challenge?’

  A hush fell over the crowd and they fell back, parting like waves on the shore.

  Her breath stopped in her throat. Hrolf had not only shed his cloak. He had also shed his tunic. His muscular chest and broad shoulders gleamed in the early-morning sun.