Sent as the Viking's Bride

by Michelle Styles

  A gleam came into his eyes. ‘You dislike compliments? How refreshing. Most women dote on them. Why is that, I wonder?’

  ‘I’ve no need for such things and can easily list my faults. When a man uses such words with me, I know he is stretching the truth and desires something from me, something I would otherwise be disinclined to give.’

  A dimple flickered in and out of his cheek. ‘Is it a fault to have glossy black hair? Or a generous mouth? That is the first I have heard of such a notion. Things have altered mightily since I last lived in the north, but I refuse to believe they have altered that much.’

  Ragn schooled her features and attempted to ignore the obviously over-blown compliments caused by the consumption of far too much mead. Someone had to take charge of this before it spiralled out of control. Sleeping in his bed would mean having his faint scent all about her. A reminder if she needed it of how she had reacted to his impersonal kiss earlier. She refused to start believing in her dreams, the ones she had been having lately where he took her in his arms and made slow love to her, where he was considerate and wanted her to have pleasure. Impossible dreams.

  This time she kept her feet on the ground, practically assessed her non-existent charms and did nothing to jeopardise the refuge she had found for Svana.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ she said, jabbing her finger towards his chest and giving in to her anger at being trapped in this room and having her dreams exposed as the lies they had to be. ‘We have an agreement, Gunnar. That agreement does not include compliments. I won’t be forced or cajoled into doing things I don’t want to, particularly before we are married.’

  All the merriment fled from his face. ‘Have I done anything to undermine that agreement?’

  ‘No,’ Ragn admitted and immediately concentrated on the rushes, rather than the annoyance in his eyes. ‘I have experience of men after feasts.’

  ‘But they were not me.’ He gave a crooked smile which did strange things to her insides. ‘Where will you be most comfortable?’

  ‘I shall take the floor,’ she declared with a determined nod. ‘Hand me some of the pelts.’

  He failed to move. She started to drag one off the bed, but his hand shot out and stilled her. She shook it off. He sat down on the bed with a loud creak. There was no way to remove any pelts without first removing him.

  ‘You are being ridiculous, Gunnar. Move.’

  ‘You will not sleep on the floor. My mother would be appalled that I allowed a lady to sleep on the floor. It is where Kolka and Kefla normally sleep. Her shade would have cause to haunt me if I followed your suggestion.’

  ‘Suggestion?’

  ‘We were discussing the sleeping arrangements. I merely asked where you would be most comfortable and you replied.’

  ‘The dogs are guarding Svana. Your mother’s shade has enough other reasons to haunt you.’

  ‘She never has before.’

  ‘Then she is busily occupied somewhere else and will stay that way.’ She tugged at the top fur. ‘Let me get this pelt. Remember I don’t believe in shades, or curses.’

  ‘You’re being grumpy. Are you always like this after a feast?’

  ‘And you are being?’ she asked, arching her right brow. ‘Pray tell me the difference.’

  He remained seated on the bed with an impervious expression on his face. Ragn contemplated simply curling up on the rushes and trying to sleep, trusting that he would throw a pelt or two over her in due course. But he was right—the floor was hard and the rushes needed to be changed. ‘What did you think would happen?’

  ‘I expected you to choose the bed and negotiate afterwards on how many pelts you’d allow me.’ He shrugged. ‘You are the most unlike a woman I have ever met!’

  ‘Are you claiming all the pelts? Expecting me to sleep on the floor without a covering?’ She nudged the dirty rushes with her foot.

  A muscle jumped in his cheek. ‘I made it very clear that you were not sleeping on the floor.’

  She shook her head. ‘Then you do it. Have as many furs as you need.’

  ‘You already offered me the bed.’ He pointed out in a tone she distrusted. ‘I accepted your offer with gratitude. I am willing to negotiate on the amount of space you require.’

  Her jaw dropped. Negotiate indeed! She knew where this led. And it all had to do with the after-effects of the feast, rather than a desire for her.

  A little voice inside her proclaimed—what if she was wrong, what if the kiss they had shared was something more? She pushed it away. She’d given in to her imaginings before when she accepted Hamthur’s overly romantic proposal of marriage and the only path they led to was disillusionment and heartache.

  ‘Allow me to sleep with Svana as I normally do and this nonsensical conversation caused by drinking too much mead can stop.’ How she kept her voice even she wasn’t sure, but she was proud of the calm tone. ‘I am sure we will both get a better sleep and tomorrow will be a day for keeping our wits about us.’

  He lowered his brows. ‘Leave this room and I will bring you back here, over my shoulder.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We remain in a perilous situation. You saw how closely Maurr watched us during the feast. If he gets one inkling of the truth, there will be a reckoning.’

  ‘You are bluffing.’

  ‘It was your decision to enact this scheme. I am merely taking it to the logical conclusion. However, you suddenly seem overcome with maidenly scruples. One can only wonder what your late husband was like. Possibly he was blind and stupid. You are wrong to mourn him like you do.’

  ‘Leave Hamthur out of this! He has no place in this discussion.’

  He collapsed back on the bed. His skin contrasted with the fur. Ragn’s mouth went dry. ‘At last we agree on something.’

  ‘Perhaps I should find a place by the kitchen fire.’

  ‘You hardly want Maurr or one of his men to hear us arguing over something as fundamental as this,’ he murmured, turning his head to one side. ‘Or discovering you curled up like a thrall beside the kitchen fire.’

  Ragn put a hand over her eyes. ‘Do you think he will check where we are sleeping?’

  ‘I’ve little idea what he will do, but it is something I would do if I considered a hall worth having.’

  He put his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. The flickering light from the fat lamp made shadows on the vast expanse of his chest. It was almost as if he knew how delectable he looked with the light playing over his skin. Ragn carefully made sure her gaze was on the headboard.

  ‘In the interests of saving these lands, I will sleep in your bed.’

  ‘I thank you for your trust. It makes a good basis for marriage. And you will be sleeping here after our marriage. I do not believe in separate sleeping spaces for husbands and wives.’

  Ragn pressed her hands together to stop them from trembling. Sharing a bed and a real marriage. Mead had loosened his tongue. Everything would be negotiable in the morning, after Maurr departed.

  ‘You are right, of course. Sharing a bed with you is no different than sharing with Svana, except I doubt she snores.’

  ‘How do you know I snore?’ He rose from the bed and went over to her. The heat from his body encircled her.

  ‘I know how much mead you drank.’

  ‘You only think you know. Thinking can be dangerous at this time of night, Ragn.’ He lifted her chin, so she had to look him in the eyes. His thumb rubbed the delicate area under her eye socket. ‘There are great circles under your eyes and your skin has gone the colour of tallow. You are going to have to get more rest once you are my wife.’

  Ragn gritted her teeth. So much for the vague hope he might have engineered this because he had enjoyed their kiss. He thought she resembled a crone. Like Hamthur before the marriage, he had just been pretending. ‘Turn around. I want to und
ress. I am not doing it for your amusement tonight.’

  ‘Does that mean you might some day? With such a promise on offer, I have no choice but to obey your request.’ He dutifully turned his back, but his shoulders shook with barely suppressed laughter.

  ‘Who knows what the future holds?’ Her fingers were clumsier than usual as she silently promised that it would never happen. Her body even before the scarring she’d received from the fire was not the sort to entice a man. After they married, she’d undress in the darkness. It would preserve the mystery.

  ‘You may take up as much room as you require. I am kind that way.’

  She curled up in a tight ball with her back towards him and pretended not to hear his trousers hitting the floor.

  Gunnar dowsed the fat lamp. The mattress dipped, but she noticed he carefully lay on top of the coverlet. He immediately began breathing softly as if his head only had to hit the pillow for him to fall asleep.

  She steeled herself not to sleep, but discovered, between the softness and his proximity, her eyes became heavy.

  Gunnar lay in the dark and listened to the sound of her breathing.

  It had taken a while, but Ragn had finally fallen asleep. The men on the beach, the feast with its wrestling, songs and ribald jests had not bothered her, but she’d become terrified once they had gone into this chamber alone together.

  ‘What are you frightened of?’ he asked softly. ‘What did that miserable worm of a late husband do to you? If he harmed you, I swear, Ragn, his death should have been far more painful than it was.’

  She murmured some unintelligible words, but her body moved towards his, seeking his heat and somehow it felt right to have her snuggled into him, next to his heart. One hand touched his chest, brushing against his right nipple, making his entire body harden. Her indifference had to be a pretence. His mood lightened instantly. It was not him, but something else.

  Gunnar shifted slightly to ease the pain in his groin. He’d given her his word that he would not force her, but he had said nothing about seducing her.

  ‘Have you ever known pleasure in bed? Or did your husband just take?’ he asked, but again she only made a low murmur.

  He chewed on the back of his knuckle. He would discover her secrets and then he would show her how good it could be between the two of them. And as he was not in danger of giving her his heart, she would remain untouched by the curse.

  She might not believe in such things, but he knew it would seek to destroy her.

  ‘I’ll find a way of breaking it. I promise.’

  A faint noise like a mouse scrabbling had Ragn struggling to wake from a wonderful dream where Gunnar had declared his undying devotion to her before slowly but surely making love to her. She winced. She’d snuggled up to Gunnar, facing him. Her arm lay across his middle and his was about her shoulders. Anyone chancing on them would swear they were intimate. She started to move away, but his arm tightened about her as a piercing light shone in the room.

  A dark shape stood in the doorway, holding a torch aloft. Ragn started to sit up, but Gunnar’s hand held her in place, preventing her from escaping.

  ‘A problem, Maurr?’ he called out. ‘This room is taken. My wife needs her rest. Hospitality on such short notice requires a great deal of effort.’

  ‘None whatsoever,’ Maurr said, lowering the torch. ‘I mistook my bedchamber. I pray you and your lady forgive my disturbance.’

  The light faded to nothing and the footsteps moved stealthily away. Gunnar released her shoulder.

  ‘You were right to insist that we share a bed.’ Ragn slid over so that she was on the edge of the bed. Far better to move before being asked to even if her body protested at the cold and emptiness. Her face burnt with heat and she was pleased for the dark. He might have controlled his impulses, but her body seemed determined to enact her dream and she knew the folly of dreaming. All he had to do was lie next to her for her limbs to entangle with his, her face to press up against his and their breath to intermingle.

  She’d never slept that intimately with Hamthur. Not even in the early days when she thought he’d loved her instead of loving her dowry.

  Anyone like Maurr would consider that they had just been intimate. An illusion and a lie, but her body yearned for her dream to become real. She concentrated on breathing steadily and hoping against hope Gunnar did not discover the truth and use it against her.

  ‘I know his reputation.’ Gunnar flopped against the pillows. She found her body sliding towards him again. He put a casual arm about her. ‘We should endeavour to sleep. Tomorrow may be long if he finds an excuse to linger, but he will go. We will be married by nightfall. I will not take the risk.’

  Ragn inched her way to the side of the bed and breathed again, even as her body protested at the sudden chill. Her mind had not been working properly earlier. She should have been aware of the risks.

  His fingers brushed her hair from the back of her neck. ‘Relax. I have given you my word. Tonight, you merely sleep in my bed. We wait for the marriage.’

  ‘Tomorrow will bring me sleeping back with Svana despite your proclamation about married people,’ she replied, wriggling to increase the space between them. ‘I won’t allow your mead-influenced teasing to get the better of me. I know the reasons for our purely practical marriage.’

  ‘Teasing you? Perish the thought.’ His voice was full of amusement. ‘You are never dull, Ragn. I have had my fill of nameless women with accommodating thighs over the years who fill the silence with meaningless chatter about people I have no interest in.’

  ‘You delight in seeing me off balance.’

  He sighed and removed his arm. ‘You refuse to listen.’

  ‘I state the truth. We are sharing this bed out of necessity. That particular problem will cease in the morning when Maurr goes.’

  ‘If you say so, it must be true. You know the etiquette of the thing. I am merely a simple warrior.’ The way he said it made her pause. He seemed determined to teach her a lesson.

  ‘You are anything but simple. Your proclaiming it is how you disarm other warriors and, dare I say, women.’

  ‘I wonder who you are trying to convince.’

  ‘Goodnight, Gunnar.’ Ragn tightened her grip on the mattress’s edge. She vowed her eyes would not close again tonight.

  She silently resolved that she wasn’t going to give in to her desire or her wild hopes. In that kiss they had shared, he made her feel beautiful as if Hamthur’s words had been from spite rather than from substance. She knew she was spinning dreams again. The trouble was that she wanted to keep spinning them; she wanted to believe.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘Here I leave you,’ Maurr said, making the formal gesture of departure. ‘I need to travel on to the next holding. But I will inform Kolbeinn and Ketil of your hospitality, far more bountiful than I had been led to believe.’

  Gunnar returned the gesture. Finally. He’d been up since before dawn waiting and Maurr kept offering excuse after excuse. Once the man and his men were gone, he’d get on about the pressing business of wedding Ragn and then wooing her. He wanted an enthusiastic bed partner, not one there by duty.

  ‘Any improvement is down to Ragnhild’s influence.’

  Maurr gave a half-smile. ‘You can tell a lot about a man from the table he keeps and the woman he marries, or so my mother used to claim with a slight smile. Yours is clearly a paragon and mine...well, I married her for her beauty, instead of her skill at keeping a house. Her mother swore she’d learn, but I haven’t seen any evidence of it yet and we’ve been married nearly a year. I know who made the better deal.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Gunnar murmured.

  ‘We will meet again soon. Our wives will become friends. Perhaps Ljot will even learn to cook. I swear that woman burns porridge deliberately. We can do great things together with this island. Far better than we coul
d have done back in the north where a man would steal your land and your wife as soon as look at you.’

  ‘The gods were with me when I married Ragnhild.’ Gunnar struggled not to yawn. He frowned as the full weight of Maurr’s statement sunk in. ‘You wish to be allies?’

  ‘Kolbeinn hinted that you might be reluctant to follow the King’s decree and I should be prepared to take steps, but I see I mistook his words for something else.’

  ‘Kolbeinn is a master at such deception. He cares nought for the outcome as long as he wins, but today he wins with our alliance.’

  Maurr tugged at his neckline. ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Have you started on your hall? I might be persuaded to sell you timber for the right price.’ Gunnar smiled inwardly, enjoying Maurr’s discomfort. The man knew he was bested. Now was the time to make him an ally, rather than creating an enemy as Ragn had suggested. He looked forward to informing Ragn the arts of hospitality were no longer a mystery.

  ‘First I must visit several more farms and ensure all is well. Kolbeinn entrusted me with this task.’

  ‘And see if they might be persuaded to trade locations with you.’

  The man laughed. ‘No hard feelings between comrades. I want the best for my wife and child-to-be. I’ve fought hard enough to win my lands.’

  Gunnar pursed his lips. He had considered as much. This expedition had been a fishing one. A man to watch, but not a friend. ‘Then we shall be neighbours in due course. I look forward to it. Just know that this bay was also windswept and unhospitable when I first arrived.’

  Maurr peered over Gunnar’s shoulder. ‘A pity your wife isn’t here this morning. I enjoyed her conversation. She is not the usual sort one finds on the Western Isles. Far too fine, if you take my meaning. Such women normally remain in the north. Is there a tale behind her arrival?’

  Gunnar barely refrained from hitting Maurr as primeval jealousy coursed through him. Ragn was his and his alone. ‘Things are unsettled in the north.’

  ‘It would be bad if you were dragged northwards.’