Taming His Viking Woman

by Michelle Styles

  ‘I made mistakes today, but it’s not finished,’ she said finally. ‘There will be a way around this problem. I simply need to discover what Hrolf Eymundsson truly wants, get it for him and he’ll depart. Sea kings seldom remain in one place for long. Then we can go back to the way we were.’

  ‘Any man would be proud to have such a beautiful bride,’ Blodvin said, clapping, but the pucker between her eyebrows told a different story. ‘Quite transformed. Honestly, Sayrid, you would have men breaking down your door long before now if you had worn dresses instead of…what you wore. You have far more curves than I thought.’

  Sayrid gave her new sister-in-law one of her severest looks. ‘Any man who breaks down my door will get the sort of reception he deserves—the point of my sword in his belly.’

  Blodvin retreated a few steps. ‘I was merely trying to be helpful. My mother always told me to find the good in any situation. But I will admit that I’m struggling here. Sayrid, you’re just so…so obstinate. You don’t want to listen to any of my compliments.’

  ‘I will take you to the pond so you can see that Blodvin is telling the truth,’ Auda said, grabbing Sayrid’s elbow and restraining her from tearing off the flowers. ‘If you wipe that scowl off, you will look pretty.’

  Sayrid forced a smile. ‘Better?’

  Blodvin gave a delicate shudder. ‘You should be grateful Hrolf Eymundsson has made it so you won’t have to fight again. You just need to manage your household. You can do that, can’t you?’

  ‘The pond. Now.’ Sayrid slowly clenched and unclenched her fist. One of the first things she would do when they returned home would be insist that Regin and his new wife move to a hall of their own.

  Sayrid concentrated on keeping her head still as the flower crown threatened to slip off. The autumn sunshine warmed her back. Being outside made it easier to breathe, but she still struggled behind the pair who were busy gossiping.

  ‘Slow down. My body aches and these flowers won’t stay still,’ Sayrid called out. ‘I only hope Hrolf is suffering as much as I am.’

  ‘No, you don’t. You want him up to tonight’s task.’ Blodvin gave a little laugh which bordered on the dirty.

  ‘I suspect he will be good in bed,’ Auda added, with a speculative gleam in her eye. ‘His torso was impossible to miss before the fight. He has huge shoulders and feet. You know what they say about feet…’

  Blodvin giggled. ‘It’s true. Regin—’

  ‘You’re unmarried, Auda,’ Sayrid said, using her I-expect-to-be-obeyed voice. When had her sister grown up? And she most definitely did not want to hear about her brother’s anatomy from his wife. There were certain things which should remain…well…private.

  ‘Do I need to explain what passes between a man and a woman in secret to my older sister?’ Auda adopted an innocent face.

  Sayrid’s cheeks overheated. She knew precisely what went on. Or the theory at least. And the thought that Hrolf might do that to her made her insides do funny things. ‘I can really do without this sort of conversation right now. I declare you two are worse than the men for tittle-tattle and pointless gossip.’

  Auda ran back to her and gave her a quick hug. ‘He is a man and you’re a woman. You’ll work it out.’

  ‘I know very well what I am!’ Sayrid attempted to loosen her overly tight back muscles and knocked the crown sideways.

  She made an annoyed noise and crouched down to look in the pond. Despite their now bedraggled appearance, the flowers did soften the harsh planes of her face and her eyes appeared larger.

  There was an unfortunate bruise on her right cheek where she’d taken a blow, but little could be done about that. Sayrid touched it gingerly.

  ‘I could put some paint on the bruise before we go to the ceremony,’ Auda offered.

  Sayrid shook her head. ‘Hrolf is marrying me for the land and the loyalty of my people. Without it, he’d never have looked at me twice. I doubt he will even notice a little thing like that.’

  ‘Try to make the marriage work, Sayrid. For all our sakes,’ Auda said. ‘He is not the sort of man I’d wish you to have as an enemy. They say he is more ruthless than Lavrans and you know what he did to the north of here.’

  ‘I will try, but I can’t make any promises,’ Sayrid replied, carefully schooling her features as she gave her reflection once last glance. She had spent her early life hiding her emotions from her father and stepmother. No one would ever guess how scared she was, especially not Hrolf.

  Auda and Blodvin exchanged glances as she fought against the urge to break down and cry for her lost life. She loved having the wind in her hair and pitting her wits against the sea. ‘I can make sure that everyone is kept safe…I suppose. I’m afraid I don’t trust your father, Blodvin. He accepted everything too readily.’

  ‘Surely anything like that is a matter for Hrolf,’ Blodvin said. ‘An attack against your family would be a direct insult to him. Leave it to your new husband to sort out.’

  ‘I have always looked after my family without help.’

  * * *

  Hrolf stood next to the priest and solemnly said his vows. He hadn’t planned for this at the start of the day, but sailing with fortune’s wind had always brought him good things.

  Sayrid’s dress showed that he’d been right to marry her. The shortness revealed a shapely calf and the bodice clung, revealing the hidden curves he had encountered the other night. The flowers in the crown had slipped to one side and were all wrong for her colouring. But he was touched that she had tried.

  He dreaded to think what she must have gone through for all those years—having to deny her sex and behave like a man. And it appeared that her younger brother had not taken on his role as head of the house, preferring instead to allow his sister to risk her life on the wild sea. It ceased now, Hrolf silently vowed. Sayrid would have the chance to be a woman.

  At the priest’s final words, he cupped her face. A bruise showed under her eye. He brushed it with his finger. She flinched.

  ‘Does it hurt?’

  She started to shake her head.

  ‘The truth, Sayrid Avildottar. I want honesty between us. Always.’

  Her tongue flicked out, wetting her lips and turning them strawberry red.

  ‘I’ve endured worse,’ she whispered finally.

  ‘There should never again be any reason for you to suffer an injury in battle.’

  Her blue eyes swam. ‘But…all I know how to do is fight.’

  ‘Learn how to be a woman.’

  He gave into temptation and tasted her mouth before she could utter another word. Her lips trembled briefly under his, softened and parted. A sigh emerged from her throat.

  Hrolf allowed his mouth one more heartbeat of pleasure and then lifted it. Her eyes were dilated and her lips full.

  Ribald jests rang out. Instantly she stiffened and began to scrub her mouth. ‘What was that for?’

  ‘Your first lesson in being a woman—brides kiss their husbands after the ceremony. Tradition,’ he replied smoothly, seeking to cover his body’s intense reaction to her closeness.

  ‘Lesson?’ She froze in mid-scrub.

  ‘I would hardly want anyone else trying my wife’s mouth before me.’

  Her cheeks glowed bright pink and her brow lowered. ‘I doubt you will have any cause to be concerned. I’ve managed thus far without a teacher.’

  He ran a hand down her back. She jumped like a startled animal. Silently he cursed whoever had made her like this and he was willing to wager that her family had something to do with it. But he’d never been one to shrink from a challenge. He wanted to unlock the passion he’d briefly glimpsed in her eyes the night they first met.

  ‘But you have one now.’ He captured her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘You’re my wife and will be afforded all the privileges that title brings, but I expect loyalty from you.’

  His wife. Lessons? Privileges? Sayrid’s entire body thrummed from his casual touch. Her mouth tingled from t
he earlier kiss. She dampened the feelings down. His words had another meaning.

  ‘Loyalty must be earned.’

  A flame flickered in his eyes. ‘My sentiments entirely.’

  Sayrid forced her shoulders back. She might be attracted to him, but he touched her like this only to make his public mark on her. If she forgot that, she was doomed. Both her father and stepmother had hammered the idea into her brain that no man could desire a woman like her. She hated that suddenly she wanted to believe differently. ‘You wrong me if you think I don’t know why you married me and it wasn’t for any hidden charms. You wouldn’t have looked twice at me if I hadn’t held the land you coveted.’

  His thumb traced a lazy pattern on her skin. ‘When we first met, I had no idea that you owned land and I’d have kissed you then.’

  She snatched her hand away. ‘When we first met, you wanted to marry someone else.’

  ‘I married you. And you possess land which I desire. Sometimes the gods smile on mortals like me.’ The light in his eyes did strange things to her insides, pinning her to the ground, making her want to sway towards him and try his mouth again.

  Standing there, staring at him for the rest of her life was an impossibility.

  ‘Shall we go to the feast? Hopefully the skald will be on better form today. Maybe he will recite something other than the Tryfling saga,’ she said, and tried to get her numb legs moving. ‘I have had my fill of shield maidens and their exploits.’

  He blinked and she wondered what he’d been thinking about. ‘Yes, yes, of course. The skald will sing something different.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Far! Far! Is that your new wife? My new mother?’ A young girl, about six years old, dashed forward and wrapped her arms about Hrolf’s legs.

  Sayrid stared at the girl in astonishment. Her new mother? There was something otherworldly in her beauty with honey-golden hair and dark eyes tipped up like a cat’s. Something tightened in her gut. The girl had called Hrolf father and she was about the same age as Sayrid had been when her own father remarried.

  Sayrid scowled. How many times had she promised her heart that she’d never marry a man with a child, particularly a little girl? She’d be useless as a mother of girls. What did she know about weaving, sewing and cooking? How many times had her stepmother told her the simple truth of her unnatural destiny? She had decided never to put it to the test, never to allow her stepmother a chance to proclaim that she had told her so.

  Her greed for gold and ships had blinded her to the truth. She had never thought to question why Hrolf was desperate for marriage. It made so much sense. Blodvin with her honeyed manner would have seemed a natural choice for someone who needed a mother for their girl.

  She plucked at the overly tight bodice of her apron dress and tried to concentrate on Hrolf instead of on the golden-haired child hugging his legs. Sayrid knew that she’d never have dared do that to her father at that age.

  ‘We…we…ought to talk,’ she began, wondering how to explain about her stepmother and why she never wanted to be one. ‘Hrolf…I’m many things, but a mother to a little girl isn’t one of them. Your daughter will require a very different sort of mother.’

  The words came out as a hoarse whisper. However Hrolf gave no indication he’d heard. Instead he knelt down to get his head level with the girl’s.

  ‘Yes, Inga. Sayrid has married me and you are going to live in her home. It will be your home now. Forever and ever.’

  ‘Truly? I have a mother again? And no more ships which make me sick to my stomach?’ The little girl looked solemnly up at Hrolf. ‘I hate it when the waves crash over the ship’s side and my tummy pains me.’

  ‘I know, sweetling.’ Hrolf absently brushed the girl’s hair. ‘I did promise. This was your last big sea voyage.’

  ‘And you always keep your promises.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Hrolf’s gaze caught Sayrid’s. ‘I always keep my promises. Sayrid is your new mother. Sayrid, my daughter Inga, who is six.’

  Sayrid swallowed. Turning her back on the child was an impossibility, particularly when she sounded so hopeful about having a mother. She could remember being like that and it all going wrong when she spilt a beaker of wine on her new stepmother.

  ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Inga Hrolfdottar.’ Sayrid crouched down. ‘I hope we can become friends.’

  The little girl backed away, her eyes as wide as porridge bowls.

  ‘What do you say, Inga?’ Hrolf asked with underlying steel in his voice. ‘How do you properly greet your new mother?’

  ‘But she is an ugly giantess!’ Inga held out pleading hands to her father. ‘She can’t be my new mother. She just can’t be. She’ll eat me up like in the stories my nurse tells. My new mother is supposed to be beautiful and be able to sew a fine seam, cook brilliantly and weave pretty patterns.’

  ‘I’m not a giantess,’ Sayrid said between clenched teeth. Inga’s remark cut deeper than she’d have liked. She knew her limited charms and they weren’t sewing linen, weaving and cooking. If Hrolf had to have a child, why couldn’t the child have been a boy? She could have trained a boy.

  ‘Your face is marked!’ Inga’s screams reverberated in Sayrid’s ears. ‘Giantesses always have that sort of mark. It is in all the stories!’

  ‘Be quiet!’ Hrolf gave her a little shake. ‘Who put you up to this? You know how to behave! Sayrid’s face is bruised from the battle I won. I explained how I won my wife and our land.’

  The little girl gave a hiccup as she hid her face in Hrolf’s knee. ‘I decided myself. Magda said it was a matter for me and the gods. Should I have decided differently?’

  ‘You should decide to support me.’ Hrolf knelt by his daughter. ‘Now tell Sayrid Avildottar you’re sorry.’

  Inga shook her head.

  ‘Where is your nurse?’ Hrolf asked in an annoyed tone. ‘Why were you allowed to run out on your own?’

  ‘I ’scaped.’ Inga pointed towards an elderly woman who was advancing at speed.

  The woman came up and started loudly apologising as she caught Inga about the waist. Her words were heavily accented, but Sayrid understood that her knees were far from good and she found it hard to run.

  Hrolf’s face settled into imperious planes. ‘I know what Inga is like. She is excited to meet her new mother properly, but this is unacceptable. Keep better control of her or else.’

  ‘Just so.’ The woman bobbed a curtsy. ‘She longs for a mother.’

  ‘Excited or not, she waits until after the festivities are concluded. Hopefully by then she’ll have learnt some manners.’

  Sayrid gulped hard. Excited was not the word she would have used. The poor girl looked petrified. And there was nothing she could do about her height. She hunched her shoulders.

  The nurse flushed and said something unintelligible in a foreign language.

  ‘Inga was very rude,’ Hrolf said, drawing his brows together. ‘I will have no more tales of giants eating children. And you are to speak my language now, Magda. We are in Svear, not Rus. Take her away now!’

  Magda said something sharply to Inga and the child gave a reluctant nod.

  Sayrid’s instinct told her to bend down and speak to the girl in a reassuring tone, but Hrolf had given an order. Defying him in front of everyone would be a poor way to start the marriage.

  The nurse led the protesting girl away.

  ‘I’m sorry you witnessed that,’ Hrolf said into the silence. ‘Magda obviously put Inga up to it. She thinks I have been bewitched and no good will come of this union. She is a superstitious old woman.’

  ‘Your daughter?’ she asked, taking a step away from him and wrapping her arms about her waist. She wished she was wearing her trousers and tunic instead of this thin gown. Her entire being seemed to be made from ice. ‘You never said you had a child.’

  ‘Her mother claimed I was the father. I saw no good reason to doubt her word.’ A muscle jumped in his jaw. ‘I took the responsibi
lity.’

  Sayrid firmed her lips. Hrolf was taking care of the child out of duty. And he didn’t fully believe the girl was his daughter. Despite everything, her heart panged for the little girl. She, too, knew what it was like to long for love from your father.

  ‘And your daughter is one of the reasons you are in Svear.’

  ‘I wish her to be brought up properly amongst my people.’ He tilted his head to one side. ‘Why else would I return here? It is no secret. Surely you must have asked about me.’

  ‘Obviously not.’

  He shrugged. ‘You were the one who encouraged me to listen to gossip. I assumed you had found out everything there was to know about me.’

  ‘Is the mother…?’ Sayrid choked out.

  ‘She died while I was away on my last voyage to Constantinople. Inga was left to run wild.’ Hrolf stood up straighter. ‘Magda knows what is expected of her if she wishes to continue as her nurse.’

  Sayrid shivered in the light breeze. She had married a complete stranger because her desire for glory had outshone common sense. ‘You should have said something earlier.’

  ‘Does it make a difference? You lost. I won. What has my daughter done to you?’

  Sayrid gathered the tattered remnants of pride about her. ‘You never said anything about a child. I’m to be her stepmother. I wasn’t prepared. I frightened her. She thinks me a giantess.’

  ‘Inga has a vivid imagination and enjoys attention. But she has a loving heart.’ He lightly grasped her elbow. The impersonal touch sent a flame coursing through her body. ‘It is her nurse’s doing. I’ve warned her about stories that keep Inga awake at night, but she delights in telling them. When I returned to the village after her mother’s death, Inga thought I was a troll come to eat her up as I shouted so loudly.’

  ‘Indeed.’