Ragn had been surprised at the number of ribald jokes and riddles the Gaelic women knew. Thankfully most had gone over Svana’s head. She noticed, though, with each new round of jokes Svana grew quieter and more withdrawn. ‘The wedding went better than I hoped.’
Svana’s eyes became more troubled and she gave a half-shrug.
‘Two days of feasting if you count Maurr the Forkbeard’s visit,’ Ragn continued, making her voice sound bright. ‘Although you can hardly call what we’ve just had a feast, more a meal with friends and retainers. And it is far more pleasant.’
She waited for Svana’s smile. Instead the girl gave a nervous nod. Ragn covered Svana’s cold hand with hers. ‘What is the matter? Are you worried the marriage will change things? After tonight, it will go back to being how it was.’
Svana sighed. ‘I’ve been thinking about the brooches and Mor-Mor. They were her favourite. You used to wear them on feast days because they were lucky. You sold your luck, Ragn.’
‘Don’t think about them. They are gone.’ Ragn snapped her fingers. ‘Most likely melted down. One less thing to worry about. And I make my own luck, remember?’
‘What if Vargr discovers them? He’ll know we are still alive, particularly if Maurr speaks about me and the rumours get back to Kaupang.’ Svana bit her lip. ‘He will come here and it will all be because of me and what the witch woman said.’
‘The witch woman also told him not to travel over large bodies of water. He won’t come here even if he discovers where we are, which he won’t.’
Svana gave a barely perceptible nod as the other women told a few more jokes about the marriage bed.
‘Stop worrying.’ Ragn patted Svana’s hand. ‘We are safe here. The dogs look after you.’
This time Svana’s smile was real. ‘They are my friends now. And they have the biggest jaws I have seen.’
‘Vargr would run from them.’
‘Are you sure?’
Ragn leant forward and kissed Svana’s cool cheek. ‘More than anything.
‘The master is coming!’ one of the women called out.
Ragn climbed into the bed as the women fussed around her, rearranging her under-gown so a shadowy V showed where her meagre breasts started. Ragn resisted the urge to hunch her shoulders.
The door crashed open. The noise from the drums and shields banging to ward away the bad spirits flooded into the chamber. The heartbeat Gunnar strode in on, the women, including Svana, vanished, leaving her alone with him. He’d shed his cloak and tunic, but had retained his trousers. Ragn curled her fists and looked up at the ceiling, willing her breath to remain even.
‘Everything is being properly done,’ he remarked as the clanging and banging increased. ‘They are driving the spirits away with gusto.’
‘Will Svana be all right? Her cheeks were flushed.’
‘Owain’s wife promised to make sure she was tucked safely in bed.’ His eyes danced. ‘Relax. No one expects you to emerge from this chamber tonight, least of all your sister.’
‘Svana believes she is some sort of matchmaker. She is over-excited.’
‘The dogs know to fetch me if anything happens.’
Unable to stay lying on the bed, waiting, Ragn rose and began straightening the furs, struggling to think up another argument for her leaving this room and failing. After the top fur slithered to the floor for the third time, she stepped away, wiping the sweat from her hands on her under-gown.
‘That is good to know.’
Gunnar tilted his head to one side, but remained near the door. ‘Has the day exhausted you?’
Ragn quickly shook her head. ‘Sleep is the furthest thing from my mind.’
The dimple flashed by Gunnar’s mouth. ‘Excellent. What I plan on doing does not require sleep.’
‘You brought a torch,’ she said, trying to recover from her accidental innuendo. ‘You are obviously not in the mood for sleep either.’
Gunnar lifted a brow and began setting up the tafl board. ‘Do you play? Eylir and I used to play every evening.’
‘Years ago,’ Ragn admitted, looking at the board with a deep longing. ‘When I was a girl, my father and I would sometimes play. I thought myself quite accomplished. My husband hated the game and I have rarely played since.’
There was little point in detailing the temper tantrum Hamthur had thrown when she’d won six games in a row and how he’d refused to play ever after. He had even gone as far as to throw the board on the fire.
‘Let me guess. You took far too much pleasure in beating him.’
‘I liked to win in those days,’ Ragn admitted in a whisper. She had clapped her hands and demanded the ribbons he’d promised while he stomped about the hall. ‘I showed him up in front of his friends. He hated losing.’
She winced at the memory of his fist hitting her back as she attempted to move the board, making her spill the pieces across the floor. He’d been completely contrite afterward and apologetic. And she’d been careful never to play again.
Gunnar tapped his fingers together. ‘Come over here and examine the board. It will all come back to you.’
She grabbed a fur from the bed, wrapped it about her shoulders and walked over to where he had placed the board. Her stomach knotted. ‘It has been a long time.’
‘Shall we try a friendly game?’ He placed the King piece in her palm. His thumb deliberately brushed the sensitive inside of her wrist, sending a warm tingle up her arm. ‘We have all night.’
‘Playing a game is a good idea.’
Her fingers tightened about the piece. She wanted to play again and have the exhilaration of matching her wits against an opponent. She wanted to win or if she lost, she wanted it to be because he played the game better than she did.
‘When did you last play?’ His eyes became an intense blue.
‘I gave up after my marriage.’ She eyed the bed and then the piece. Which was more risky? ‘Perhaps I am too tired to remember the rules.’
‘I blame your childish husband. Your skills will swiftly return.’ He pushed the board towards her. ‘You be black and go first. I see the longing in your eyes.’
She moved a counter and managed to knock over six other pieces. ‘I’m terribly clumsy. Perhaps you should find another opponent.’
She rubbed her wrist where the burn had been the deepest and waited for his reluctant agreement.
Gunnar retrieved the pieces. ‘I chose you.’
‘Did you? I was foisted on you.’
A tiny smile crossed his lips. ‘Pay attention as I will only explain the rules once.’
The new Gunnar seemed far more relaxed, almost playful. He ignored her display of bad temper rather than rising to the bait as he had done before. An unease grew in her—he’d glimpsed her vulnerability. ‘I will be a poor opponent.’
He held out the King piece. ‘This one goes on first. Take it.’
She gingerly plucked it from his palm. His skin gave off a warmth which she wanted to lean into. The torch flickered and cast strange shadows on the board and on the planes of his face. She wet her suddenly parched lips.
‘Now place it on the board. Show me where you want it to go.’
‘I know where it goes. I know the rules.’
His fingers curled about hers, gently caressing them. Heat flared inside her. She withdrew her hand and placed it in her lap, trying not to think about how his touch had felt.
‘You need to make sure the piece is straight.’
‘I have done that.’
‘I think it might be best if I came to your side,’ he purred as his gaze fixed on where her under-gown met her chest. She forced her hands to stay still and not hitch the gown upwards. ‘Guide you through the first few moves.’
Her mouth tingled as if he had kissed her again. ‘You stay right where you are.’
‘What are you afraid of?’ His voice held a deceptive innocence. ‘I gave you my word. You are in control of what happens.’
‘Me? I’m not afraid of anything,’ she lied and focused on the board.
‘Anything?’
‘A few things like berserkers in the night or fire raging out of control. Sensible things.’ She waved an airy hand. ‘Things which make a difference to my survival.’
‘When did your husband start beating you? On your wedding night? Or was it later?’
She froze. He knew. She shook her head at her own naivety. ‘Svana mentioned that! She had no right to!’
He shrugged. ‘Answer the question. Did he hurt you after he lost at tafl? Is that why playing terrifies you?’
The tafl board swam. She blinked rapidly. ‘I... I deserved his anger that day. I took far too much pleasure in winning. I showed him up. I learned to manage him better later.’
‘Hush. It is not a question of managing or deserving. No true man lays a finger on his wife in anger. Ever.’
He put his hand over hers. The desire to cling to his hand swamped her. It would be easy to lift her mouth and meet his. She swallowed hard, forced her brain to concentrate on the tafl board and withdrew her hand.
‘Are we going to play? Or are we going speak about someone who can no longer do anyone any harm?’
He tapped his fingers together. ‘We play.’
They played for a little while in silence. Ragn noted with pleasure that her memory of the rules and the moves rapidly returned. She enjoyed quickly capturing some of his pieces. He then countered.
Ragn studied the board. Five moves to win. She put a hand over her mouth, weighing up the risks. The fizzing in her blood leaked out, leaving her empty. There was a studied alertness to the way he watched the board.
She made a deliberate error, leaving her King piece open, rather than making the move she knew would lead to her winning.
He scowled. ‘Return that piece to where it was. Take your move again.’
She pretended innocence and batted her lashes. ‘Why? It is my move. Allow me to make it.’
‘Allow me to win without your assistance. Allow me to prove I am different than that miserable worm.’
She bowed her head. He’d guessed. ‘Maybe I want the game over.’
‘Only someone who played well would see that opening. I want to play the real you. I want to pit my wits against yours.’
She stared at the board, thinking back over the last few moves. ‘Did you test me?’
His crooked smile made her mouth tingle. ‘I used my instinct.’
‘And when we have finished this game?’ She glanced over to the bed which appeared to have grown larger.
‘When we finish this game, you go into that bed and sleep.’
‘Because I look like an exhausted hag?’
He pushed the hair off her forehead. ‘Because joining should be a pleasure and not a chore.’
‘It has never been for me,’ she whispered.
‘Then it will be my duty to ensure it happens, but not tonight, tonight is for playing tafl.’
‘Shall we start over and play properly this time?’
He gave a soft laugh. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’
Chapter Ten
‘Ragn! Ragn!’ Svana ran up just as Ragn finished dressing after her bath the next morning.
She had deliberately chosen a dark blue gown, the one which made her eyes shine and which swirled softly about her legs. Life always seemed better when she wore it. She hoped Gunnar’s eyes would light up when he saw it. A few days of romance before his disappointment in her set in. Trusting him with her body was different from trusting him with her heart.
Ragn stopped combing her hair in the weak sunshine. ‘Is there a problem, sweetling?’
Svana gave a happy sigh. ‘Gunnar says that Kolka and Kefla can sleep in my chamber tonight. They like sleeping on my bed, so you won’t need to sleep there as well, will you?’
‘How do you know this about the dogs sleeping on your bed?’
Svana tilted her chin upwards. ‘They were on the bed, licking my face this morning. I slept ever so well. No bad dreams. And I thought why not for always?’
Ragn put her hands over her mouth. ‘I see.’
‘Don’t you think it is a wonderful plan?’ Svana’s eyes turned crafty. ‘Gunnar agreed. I asked him first because they are his dogs.’
Ragn frowned. Her little sister was indulging in a spot of matchmaking. ‘You asked him first?’
Svana’s hand twisted her apron about her hand. ‘I peeped in and saw you asleep when I went looking for the nisser. You were snuggled up in his bed. It made me happy! Then I saw Gunnar.’
Ragn placed her fingers against her temples and bid the sudden pain in her head to go. The last thing she needed was Svana building dreams of a romance. Gunnar had been true to his word—they had finished the game of tafl and then she’d gone to sleep. Her eyes had closed the instant her head hit the pillow. When she woke, she discovered a pile of furs on the floor where he’d obviously slept.
‘It is something you should have discussed with me first.’
‘I would have done except I saw Gunnar before and you were taking a bath. I didn’t want to interrupt you. You are on your honeymoon.’ Svana put her hand on her hip. The true Svana, the fearless girl, rather than the one who jumped at shadows had returned.
She should be rejoicing instead of getting cross. Svana’s excitement was a joy to behold. She simply wished that it didn’t complicate things for her.
‘As Gunnar has agreed, how can I say no?’
Svana flung her arms about Ragn’s neck and buried her head in Ragn’s shoulder. The dogs gave joyous barks and ran around the pair. ‘You are the best and prettiest sister ever.’
‘Idle flatterer.’ Ragn disentangled Svana from her. Svana was not the true culprit here, Gunnar was. He had manipulated the situation and she knew what game he was playing. Honestly, men just liked a challenge.
‘Go on, sweetling, go off and enjoy yourself with your new bed companions before I come up with more chores for you.’
‘You wouldn’t!’
‘Want to tempt me?’
Svana ran off in flurry of barking and laughing. Ragn shook her head. Her sister was returning to the carefree girl she had been before everything had happened. She silently vowed again that she refused to allow anything to change that. But something would have to be done about the sleeping arrangements.
* * *
‘You think you have ordered everything as you wish.’
Ragn burst into the chamber with her eyes flashing and her gown swirling about her ankles. Gunnar forced his hand to move a tafl counter.
‘Your bath took longer than I expected. Join me in another match.’
Her mouth worked up and down. Gunnar leant back in chair, putting his hands behind his head. ‘I see you encountered Svana. Her excitement about the dogs is contagious.’
She sank down on to the stool opposite him. ‘I wanted to speak to you about that.’
He held up one finger. ‘First we play another game of tafl. I want to see how good you are in the clear light of day.’
‘You won last night. That should suffice.’
‘You should know once will never be sufficient with me.’ He smiled inwardly as her cheeks coloured. ‘We have time. My men have informed me that I am supposed to be on my honeymoon and that means spending time with my bride. Tafl? Or do you have another suggestion?’
Her longing gaze went to the bed. She wet her lips, turning them the colour of this morning’s sunrise. ‘No.’
‘Then we begin.’
* * *
Gunnar waited until their fourth game before he sprang his trap on the tafl board. Ragn was a worthy opponent. The violence of his thoughts towards
her late husband spurred him on in the match. His dreams last night had been of her and slowly initiating her into the joys of joining, showing her that coupling was pleasurable and not a chore. What it was like to have a real man play her body and bring her to the brink of paradise, rather than a selfish spoilt imbecile like her late husband.
‘It seems to me that I have won,’ he said after he moved his piece and captured her King piece. ‘What shall I claim as my forfeit? Shall I allow you to make suggestions?’
Ragn stared at the board for a long time. Her eyes flashed. He smiled inwardly. Underneath her calm exterior lurked a passionate woman and he wanted to free her.
‘You lulled me into believing I’d win several moves ago.’ She tapped a finger against the board. ‘That was wrong of you. I’d never have played for an unknown forfeit if I had thought...’
‘Would you rather I had played badly and allowed you to win?’
She slammed her fist down on the table, causing the pieces to jump. ‘I hate it if people make allowances for me.’
‘Then you will concede I won and I have won the right to the forfeit.’
‘You won fairly and as long as the forfeit is not too onerous, you may have it,’ she said slowly. ‘My path to winning appeared clear, but I was wrong.’
‘You underestimated me. Always a mistake. I thought you would have learned after last night.’
Her mouth curved upwards. ‘A lesson I will remember for the next time.’
He gave a soft laugh. ‘That’s the sort of fighting talk I like to hear. Perseverance. But it still does not get you out of your forfeit. You are spending the rest of the day with me.’
‘It’s my forfeit?’ Her eyes wandered to the bed. ‘Oh.’
‘I have no objections to spending it in bed, but you might prefer to go hunting for the Jul log.’
Sent as the Viking's Bride Page 14
