Taming His Viking Woman

by Michelle Styles

  His face turned speculative. ‘Somehow I doubt you ever sit down with a horn of wine. And I’m not your father, not even remotely close.’

  ‘You don’t know me very well, then.’ Sayrid snapped her fingers. ‘I often sit down in the evening when I’m home. I know how to listen to the skalds and play tafl. I’m a very good tafl player.’

  ‘What I know intrigues me.’ He gave a half smile. ‘I’m counting on you to be a good tafl player. All of my women before you have been poor tafl players.’

  Her breath hitched. Intrigued him. Her body became infused with a light fizz, but just as quickly it vanished.

  Damning with faint praise. In her mind she heard the echoes of her stepmother’s cruel laugh to one of her father’s more poisonous quips about her lack of femininity. She pinched the bridge of her nose. And Blodvin had already proclaimed that she thought tafl to be the sport of men when she first arrived. ‘Will your daughter learn?’

  ‘I’d never considered it. Perhaps when she is older.’ He nodded. ‘Yes, it would be a good thing. You will have to play me and we can see who is the most appropriate teacher.’ He stroked his chin. ‘We can consider a wager…unless you think your skill will be less than mine.’

  ‘You haven’t said what you think about the estate,’ she said, forcing her voice to be bright as she firmly changed the subject.

  ‘You prefer to speak of the estate.’

  ‘A far better topic for conversation. You will soon see how I react to feasts and that I am more than capable of listening to music and drinking the appropriate number of healths.’ She gave a small cough. ‘I look forward to beating you at tafl, even though I probably shouldn’t.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t you?’ He appeared genuinely perplexed.

  ‘My father hated being beaten at anything.’

  ‘Little honour in winning if your opponent deliberately loses.’ His eyes flashed. ‘If you ever do that, you will know my anger.’

  ‘The day I lose deliberately is the day I stop being true to myself.’ She drew the cloak tighter about her. Her scars pained her slightly. ‘I should go and change. You were right. I’m not a shield maiden any longer.’

  His eyes darkened. ‘Do you have clothes which fit? I do not want a repeat of earlier. My wife will be decently dressed in front of other men.’

  ‘I do have a few old gowns. My stepmother used to insist that I dress like a woman when I was not training.’

  Her throat closed about the words. She could so clearly remember coming home after her first voyage, all excited about her success and her stepmother refusing to acknowledge her until she had changed. She had come out to the barn and screamed her rage out.

  ‘And you hated that.’

  ‘How can you tell?’

  He caught her chin between his fingers, holding her in place. ‘I’ve been studying you. Intently.’

  His thumb rubbed her lower lip. Off to one side, she heard the soft whoosh of the horses in their stalls. She hated that her body longed for his touch.

  ‘What clues?’ She barely recognised her voice.

  ‘That would be telling.’ He pushed her hair from her forehead. ‘Stop being angry with me for wanting to enjoy my wife. Stop finding reasons to deny the woman you are.’

  His mouth descended, claiming hers. Hot and heavy, but asking. Her traitorous lips parted as that rebellious part of her rejoiced that her mind had misread everything.

  His tongue entered and stroked her, penetrating her inner recesses.

  Her arm curled about his neck and held him there as she drank from his mouth, revelling in the faint taste of sweet wine.

  She knew it was a madness to want more or to think that this was anything beyond his need for her land and wealth, but her heart no longer listened. No one was here in this dimly lit place. Her body had hungered for this ever since she woke to discover herself curled up next to him.

  The small banked fire inside her sprang to life as the kiss intensified and grew, intoxicating her with its illicit invasion. Her heart soared and she arched her body forward, seeking intimate contact with the hard planes of his body.

  His hands roamed her back, pulling her closer and she was left in no doubt of his arousal as it hit the apex of her thighs. Instead of frightening her, it called to something deep within her. She arched forward, seeking more, needing more.

  His fingers came around and cupped her breasts, gently flicking her already erect nipples.

  The belt she’d wrapped around her middle gave way under his gentle persuasion. And her too-large trousers fell to the ground, leaving her standing barelegged in the tunic.

  The shock of the cool air hitting her skin made her pull back. What had she been doing? Pressing her body against him, practically begging like one of the serving girls. Anyone could have walked in.

  She should have more dignity. Such things between husbands and wives happened at night, in the dark. She wanted him to treat her with the proper respect. Her stepmother had been clear on that—men needed to know where the boundaries lay. A man should respect his wife, not treat her as he would another woman.

  She bent down to retrieve the trousers.

  ‘Leave them.’ He captured her wrist, preventing her from moving.

  ‘But…but…’

  Hrolf gave a very pleased male laugh as he ran a hand down her exposed flank. A shaft of sunlight caught his powerful throat. Her traitorous heart began to beat very fast as it whispered about the possibilities.

  ‘What is so funny?’ She narrowed her eyes and tried to concentrate on the large pile of hay.

  ‘I never realized the possibilities of trousers before.’

  ‘Do they have possibilities?’ She crossed her arms over her aching breasts. Even in the dim light she was aware that he could see her body, full of hard lines and sinewy muscle instead of soft feminine curves.

  ‘You really know very little about men. I keep forgetting that.’

  ‘I know quite a lot about being a warrior,’ she replied indignantly, clinging to the swift anger as a drowning man might cling to a wooden spar floating on a storm-tossed sea. ‘It is enough. What more is there to know? I can compete with any man.’

  ‘There is more to being a man than simply fighting and competing.’ A dimple shone in the corner of his mouth. ‘You are very refreshing, Sayrid.’

  Her entire body burnt. ‘Refreshing?’

  ‘You are ignorant of your charms. I look forward to showing you what can pass between a man and a woman.’ He ran a finger down the side of her throat to where her shift caressed her skin.

  ‘Here? Now?’ She glanced over his shoulder.

  ‘We are alone and alone is good. I’ve burnt for you long enough. I thought I would run my sword through Bragi earlier just for looking at you in that too-tight gown. Little did I realize how delectable you could be in just a tunic.’

  ‘But I thought…’

  He leant forward and nipped her nose. ‘You thought wrong. In future, remember I’m a jealous husband.’

  He took the bottom of the tunic and pulled it over her head, leaving her clad only in her short shift.

  Her breasts became heavy and her nipples showed through the thin fabric. A primitive urge to be closer to him filled her. She moaned slightly in the back of her throat and grabbed on to his shoulders. The muscles rippled under her fingertips.

  He cupped her breasts, gently rubbing and teasing them until her nipples ached. A delicious warmth radiated outwards. She held her body completely still, not daring to move in case he stopped.

  He lowered his mouth to where the dusky rose showed faintly under the linen. His tongue lapped and a warm pulse went through her. Round and round. The material became damp, adding to the sensation as it slid over the now aching point.

  Her legs became liquid and she clung to him, afraid he’d stop and afraid that he would continue. If he saw her back…

  ‘Please.’ The word was torn from her throat.

  He lifted his head and smoothed th
e hair from her forehead. ‘I need this. But if you need me to stop, say now. We can wait for darkness and our bed.’

  She licked her swollen lips. The thought of him leaving her was unbearable. Just this once she wanted to hold all her demons at bay. She wanted the fantasy to be real. ‘I need you. Keep going.’

  He shrugged out of his tunic, revealing the gold of his chest before he laid it down and her discarded clothes on the pile of hay. He gently eased her back on to the makeshift bed.

  The dusty scent of summer grass rose up around her, enveloping her in its sultry sweetness. He pushed her shift upwards and revealed her body. Her hands went automatically to hide her breasts, but he shook his head.

  ‘No, never.’ He moved them. ‘I want to see. Never hide from me, Sayrid. You have nothing to be ashamed of.’

  She gave the briefest of nods and concentrated on keeping her arms down. Her body wasn’t womanly soft. She had worked far too long with a sword and shield for it to be anything but hard. And yet he made her feel as if it could be.

  His gentle fingers brushed her skin, creating pools of fire. Her body twisted first one way and then the other.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Searching for bruises.’ He kissed the one under her eye. ‘I want to make them better.’

  His mouth on her bare skin sent a fresh wave of heat coursing throughout her body and she forgot to think about how unwomanly she was. All she knew was that she craved this man’s touch and nothing else mattered. Her body bucked upwards, seeking his fingers.

  ‘Are they better?’ He gave a husky laugh and his fingers moved inexorably lower until they reached her apex.

  Her body twisted as fresh waves of heat went through her. All she knew was that she needed more.

  She tugged at the waistband of his trousers, undoing them and releasing him. He sprang free. She gave into temptation and touched. Steely hard, but silken like the finest velvet.

  He moaned in the back of his throat. His hips surged forward.

  A knee parted her thighs and with one movement he impaled himself, driving deep.

  The sharp pain drew a cry from the depths of her being, but just as quickly it was replaced by a powerful heat. His hips began to move and she struggled to keep the right rhythm, but then instinct took over. She began to move her hips, seeking relief. With each movement he went deeper inside and the intensity increased.

  All too quickly a greater shuddering overtook him and he gave a great cry and drove so deep inside her that she was certain they were melded into one.

  She slowly stroked his back, feeling his muscles move. And she knew her stepmother and father had been completely wrong. She was capable of being a woman, at least once in her life.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ His breath teased her earlobe. ‘I didn’t intend for this…well…I did, but not here and not like this. You should have soft furs and a down pillow for your first time. Not itchy straw.’

  She pushed against him. Instantly he rolled off and lay looking up at the roof, breathing heavily but not saying a word.

  ‘There is nothing to forgive.’ She forced her voice to sound rough and matter-of-fact. ‘We both know what happened here. I behaved little better than a kitchen maid. A roll in the hay.’

  ‘A roll in the hay can be delightful with the right person.’

  The hollow space inside her grew larger. What had she expected? Undying love? Romantic declarations? Theirs was a match of convenience. Their joining had had to take place. She supposed she should be grateful that it had happened without everyone knowing.

  ‘We both knew it had to be sometime soon. Best to get it out of the way. I can think of worse places.’

  He reached out and put an arm about her shoulders. ‘I wanted it to be different. I wanted it to be amazing.’

  She blinked hard. ‘It was. Thank you.’

  Hrolf took his arm from around her shoulders, aware that he had made a complete mess of things.

  He had not intended to bed her like that. He had known that she was a virgin and needed careful preparation, but he had behaved like a completely untried warrior, spilling his seed almost immediately and certainly before she was ready. What was worse, he wanted her again with a ravenous hunger.

  He wanted to see if her eyes really did go dark with passion.

  He sought to regain his legendary control.

  His mouth twisted as he noticed the evidence of her virginity on her thighs. He had treated Sayrid like the lowest whore instead of the high-born lady that she undoubtedly was. He had to stop thinking about his base needs and start thinking about her and protecting her. He should behave like her husband, not her lover. There was a difference. He should have treated her with the honour her status required.

  ‘It is what you wanted to hear, isn’t it?’ she said with an earnest expression on her face.

  ‘It seldom is amazing the first time,’ he said as remorse swamped him. ‘I want honesty between us, Sayrid. Saying a thing to please me won’t make it so.’

  The light went out of her eyes. She tucked her chin into her neck. ‘I will take your word for it. I’ve nothing to compare it with.’

  He hated that he’d hurt her, but she had to know the truth. And he did need honesty from her. He could count on the fingers of one hand the number of women who had been honest with him. He wanted more from Sayrid and it scared him.

  He stood up and pulled on his trousers.

  ‘We should go. I intend on feasting well in my hall tonight. By the hanged Odin, I’ve long dreamt of this moment.’ He paused. ‘Ever since I left my father’s lands.’

  ‘Did your father have much land?’

  ‘A small farm, on the edge of Svear, near Götaland, but it was lost when he died.’ Hrolf made a cutting motion. He had tried to forget his childhood and mostly he succeeded. He wished he’d never mentioned it, but it saved speaking about the mess he’d made of Sayrid’s first bedding. ‘It was then that I learnt the value of coin and land. My father had debts. There was nothing left. I was lucky to have his sword and shield.’

  Sayrid stopped, holding the trousers up with one hand. ‘And your mother?’

  ‘She was the cause of it. She died before him. My maternal uncle took me in.’ Stark words that did not tell the full tragedy of it. His mother had chosen her own family over Hrolf and her husband following the quarrel. She had abandoned them, only to be killed on the way back to her family’s home in a snowstorm. His uncle had tried to say that she was returning to them, but Hrolf knew differently. He had overheard the fight his parents had had.

  After her death, his father had been a changed man, eating very little and drinking more. He, too, eventually died in the snow.

  ‘You left as soon as you were old enough to board a ship.’

  Hrolf started. There had been little point in staying. His uncle had made it quite clear that his own sons would gain the land and the ships. All Hrolf had had was his sword arm and his wits.

  ‘How did you know that?’

  Sayrid fastened the belt about her waist. The transformation back to the forbidding warrior woman was complete and yet there was something new in her eyes. Hrolf wondered if he’d ever tire of looking into them.

  ‘You left your uncle’s and became a sea king,’ she said. ‘It takes years to build up the sort of following you have, particularly if you started from less than nothing.’

  ‘He actively encouraged me to sail east and start afresh. I heard later that he had died and one of his offspring inherited.’ Hrolf slammed his memory trunk shut. She’d no need to hear of his long-ago disappointments. ‘It happened a long time ago and has no bearing on my life now.’

  She tucked her chin into her neck and began to fiddle with her belt. ‘I only wanted to know more about the man I married.’

  ‘Do not ask for more than I can give.’ He tried to dampen the sudden flaring of hope. She might come to care for him. She might choose him above her family, but how would he know for certain? He couldn’t take the
risk. His mother had chosen her family over her husband and young son. ‘Have you told me everything about you? Have you confided why you prefer training with men to sewing with the women?’

  ‘Everyone will start to wonder where we are,’ she said with a hiccupping laugh. ‘The bathing hut is sure to be hot.’

  ‘You should go first.’ He plucked straw from her hair and noticed where his mouth had marred her skin. If he bathed with her, he’d be unable to resist temptation and would take her far too roughly once again. Silently he cursed his desire to know more about her and why she had felt the need to hide behind her warrior’s mask. Such things were best left alone.

  ‘Would you like me to send someone to help you? Anya used Magda as a maid as well as a nurse for Inga. Time you looked like a sea king’s wife.’

  ‘I will see to my own needs.’ She brushed her trousers down. ‘I’ve no need for any help. I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.’

  ‘Sayrid, tomorrow you take up your duties as the lady of this estate.’

  ‘Leave me alone. You have done enough.’

  She fled from the barn. He fought the impulse to go after her.

  He silently cursed. He tried telling himself that it was what he wanted. This marriage was about gaining land and fulfilling a dream, it had nothing to do with the woman he had married. He had to keep his eyes on what was important and learn from his father’s mistakes. His uncle’s advice had served him well in the past. But now he kept remembering how cold his uncle was and how lonely he had seemed.

  Somehow it only compounded the heaviness in Hrolf’s heart.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘My lady Sayrid has been elusive.’ Magda advanced towards where Sayrid stood sorting out the stores of weapons. The elderly nurse held out a bright blue gown which shimmered in the bright midmorning sunlight. ‘Inga and I have searched for you. We have made the necessary alterations. You need not feel ashamed of attending any feast again. You will be properly clothed.’