Sent as the Viking's Bride

by Michelle Styles

  ‘The Jul log? You want my help?’ She wrinkled her nose.

  He fought against the urge to draw her into his arms and kiss her until they both tumbled into the bed. Taking it slow was harder than he’d ever considered.

  ‘Today is the perfect day for choosing.’

  She ducked her head. ‘I want to know the truth. Was it easy to set your trap?’

  He rearranged the pieces. ‘Eylir was the last person to give me a real match and you are better than he is.’

  Her smile made his heart sing. ‘Even though my skill is rusty?’

  ‘Why would I lie about something like that?’ he asked, frowning. He liked Ragn. He didn’t love her. His heart remained buried with his family. ‘We shall have to do it again. I’d hardly want to become rusty.’

  Her tongue passed over her lips, turning them a deep rose. ‘Shall I get Svana?’

  He stood up. His body ached to touch her. If they stayed in the room any longer, he would lose control and take her. ‘I am claiming my forfeit. We go into the woods alone.’

  The colour went from her face. ‘Now?’

  ‘Otherwise you will find an excuse why the forfeit would have to be postponed. A thousand things to do in the hall.’

  Ragn regarded his hand suspiciously as if she were a frightened animal. He touched her palm and her fingers curled about his. He let go as his control started to slip. She had no idea how delectable she looked with the faint puzzled expression on her face and the way her damp hair had curled about her temples.

  He went over to his trunk and held out one of his fur-lined cloaks. ‘Put this on. It will keep out the worst of the chill.’

  ‘I have my own. Let me get it.’

  ‘Light fails to linger at this time of year. Already the shadows are lengthening and I suspect your cloak has been misplaced.’

  She struggled to give a severe look, but the corners of her mouth twitched upwards. ‘Unfair.’

  He laughed. ‘I have studied your methods, Ragn.’

  ‘I can give in gracefully.’

  ‘The fastening is tricky. Allow me.’ Up close, the network of fading scars about her neck was clearly visible. His heart squeezed. She had suffered enough. She would be safe under his protection.

  She ran a hand down the fur before starting to take it off. ‘Far too fine for every day. I can get my cloak.’

  ‘You did think I wouldn’t own such a thing?’ he asked, unable to hide the sudden sting. ‘Or that I would be unwilling to share it with my wife?’

  ‘I’m surprised anyone but a jaarl of a large holding would own such a thing. My father didn’t.’ Her cheeks coloured as she belatedly realised the implications of her words. ‘I didn’t mean to imply that it was beyond you, merely that I didn’t know such fine things existed. And I am notoriously hard on clothes. Hamthur... I should stop now. You call yourself blunt. I’m far worse.’

  Gunnar tapped his finger against his mouth. ‘You are doing it again. Comparing me to your late husband. Give me a chance to prove I am nothing like him. As far as I am aware, we have little in common, except having you as a wife.’

  Her lashes fluttered and for the first time she appeared uncertain. ‘You are nothing like him.’

  ‘Grant me the luxury of using my own things as I see fit, then. The correct response is—what lovely fur, Gunnar, it will keep me very warm in the woods. Thank you.’

  She ducked her head as her cheeks flamed. ‘I will try to remember that. Thank you for the advice and the cloak.’

  ‘Shall we go? Without any more excuses? Unless you are afraid to be alone with me because you fear lust for my body overtaking you.’

  She rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘You do have a great opinion of your charms.’

  ‘Someone has to.’

  ‘Why does choosing the Jul log require such a fine cloak?’ she asked, her stride matching his.

  ‘I’ve no wish for you to cut short the trip because you start shivering,’ he said instead of saying how it made her eyes shine and set off her hair.

  She glanced over her shoulder back towards where a chink of light from the hall shone in the weak sunshine. ‘Svana does love choosing the Jul log. She has definite opinions and is not easily pleased. Shall I call her? It will save time and a pouting child later.’

  ‘It is always best for children to have limited choices, saves tears at bedtime.’

  ‘And you know this, how?’

  ‘One of my mother’s sayings. It strikes me as apt. Svana is over-excited about Jul in exactly the same way Asa was.’

  ‘Your mother was a wise woman. It need not have been a forfeit. I would have gone willingly with you...if you had explained your reasoning.’

  He lifted the hood of the cloak, so it covered her hair. ‘I’ll remember that for the next time.’

  ‘There will be a next time?’

  ‘I have to give you a chance for revenge on the tafl board.’

  She gave one of her tinkling laughs. ‘But we agree the forfeit in advance next time. I’ve learnt my lesson.’

  ‘I’m always open to persuasion.’

  She looped a stray strand of hair about her ear. Her hand trembled. ‘I can’t remember when I last chose the Jul log.’

  ‘Did you and your late husband choose your Jul log together?’

  She missed a step. He caught her under the elbow, steadied her and forced his hand to drop away. ‘I can’t remember if we ever did. Hamthur found it silly.’

  Gunnar picked up a stick and tossed it hard, pretended he was tossing at Hamthur’s head. It hit an oak tree with a loud thump. ‘Why did you stay married to him?’

  ‘Pride.’ She shrugged. ‘I thought I loved him. My father and grandmother longed for the match as it was the combining of two estates. Things got better for a while, but then I lost the baby I carried and never became pregnant again.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It was after a feast,’ she said in a low voice to the trees. ‘He was in a terrible temper and kicked me in the stomach. A little boy was born the next day. Perfect, but born far too soon to survive. He blamed me because I had caused him to lose his temper. I had laughed too loudly at another’s jokes. I named him Thoren and buried him next to my father. When, at Hamthur’s funeral, Vargr offered me gold for the hall, I refused in part because the thought of leaving Thoren’s grave was too great.’

  Gunnar’s gut twisted. She’d lost a child because of that monster and then had been forced to flee because of another one. Ragn’s quiet fortitude astonished him. ‘You did nothing wrong.’

  ‘I have such good intentions and they frequently go wrong. I never wanted to lose the baby, despite what Hamthur claimed.’ Her voice wobbled on the last word.

  ‘I made a mistake with the fastening.’ He kept his voice light and deliberately changed the subject. Making Ragn collapse in tears was not his intention. ‘It will be falling off your shoulders before we go five steps. I’d hardly like you to slip and land in a puddle.’

  She raised her chin and gave him a watery smile. ‘If you must, but I dislike depending on others.’

  He forced his touch to be impersonal as he refastened the brooches. He would break through her defences. Maybe not today, but soon. He would unlock the passionate woman he’d seen glimpses of. It wasn’t as if he loved her, not in that deep-down, all-consuming way that his father had loved his mother. He admired her courage and determination. She had given too much to other people without asking for anything in return. It was time someone looked after her. ‘It wouldn’t do for my wife to get cold.’

  * * *

  The woods were silent except for the steady drip of damp from the earlier rain. Ragn shivered slightly and was pleased Gunnar had insisted on her wearing the heavy cloak, despite her protests. She doubted if she had ever worn a cloak this fine.

  He also seemed
to possess an uncanny ability of forestalling her questions and making her confess things that no one else knew, including how she had lost the baby. And he had still not shied away from her.

  She breathed easier and attempted not to notice the curve of his neck or how his waist tapered down to neat hips. She had her attraction under control and she refused to be humiliated again.

  Gunnar pointed out yet another possibility for the Jul log and Ragn tried to think about it practically. The log needed to burn for several days. Although some people used the same log the entire time, it was easier to get one gigantic trunk and chop it into pieces, always using a piece of the log to light the next bit. The main thing was that the light never went out during the darkest days, giving a pathway for the Sun Maiden and her rescuer, Thor, to follow out of the belly of the wolf.

  ‘Are these all your choices for the Jul log? Do you think they will last long enough?’ Ragn asked, trying to keep her mind on the practical, rather than thinking about how Gunnar kept finding little ways to touch her. A hand to get over a log or an accidental brush of his elbow as they walked along. They meant nothing to him, but the touches made her body tingle with anticipation. The suspicion that he knew precisely what he was doing grew.

  His warm hand drew a circle in the middle of her back. ‘Do you have a suggestion?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said and pointed to a stout fallen tree. ‘This one’s trunk would serve admirably. Shall we return before darkness truly falls?’

  She gave an exaggerated shiver. The woods didn’t really bother her at night. It was more the creatures in them.

  ‘All in good time. You have to pay your forfeit first.’

  ‘Which is choosing the Jul log,’ she argued back. ‘We have done that. My mind is made up.’

  ‘I’m not entirely convinced.’

  ‘We can return here with Svana if you wish, but it will suit our purposes. I should go back. People will be wondering where I am. You will want supper. I know what a grouch you are when you get hungry.’

  He stopped in the middle of the darkening woods. ‘Getting to know each other without interruptions, Ragn.’

  ‘That hall needs someone to run it.’ She kicked a pinecone and sent it skittering away. Get to know each other? Gunnar didn’t know what he was asking. She doubted that he’d like her once he’d become used to her company. ‘Svana should have someone with her, someone who understands.’

  ‘The dogs will look after her. They will find us if there is a problem. Relax.’

  She stared up at the dark pines. ‘I am trying, but it is hard.’

  ‘Come over this way,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘One last potential Jul log. Mind the rock, it is slippery.’

  She stepped towards him and her footing missed. Her arms whirled about in the air and she thought she would fall, but he was there. His arms came out and caught her, dragging her up against his body. She put her hands on his chest. His beard tickled her cheek, sending little pulses of warmth through her. ‘Thank you.’

  He softly cursed before his mouth descended on hers. His tongue demanded entrance and her mouth parted, allowed him to drink. The heat in her middle roared to glowing fire.

  A raven crowed, alerting her to where she was.

  She dragged her mouth away and stepped out of the circle of his arms. ‘Is this wise?’ she asked, a shade too breathlessly. ‘We are supposed to be choosing a Jul log.’

  ‘You were in danger of falling.’

  She took another step back. ‘We have chosen one. There is no need to linger.’

  ‘There is something I require you to see.’

  ‘If we must.’ She pulled the fur tighter about her neck. ‘The weather appears to be turning worse.’

  ‘Humour me.’

  Gunnar led the way to a small clearing. At one end, a pond with reeds stood.

  Ragn gestured towards the clearing. ‘There are no large trees here. I showed you which one was the best Jul log. You are simply being obstinate.’

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. ‘Can you look in the pond, please? While the light remains.’

  ‘Is this some sort of soothsaying? After what happened, I don’t believe in such things.’

  ‘Tell me what you see.’

  She glanced in. Her reflection gazed back at her. Her eyes were too large and her mouth a shade too vulnerable and sunrise-red from the kiss they had shared. The twilight had rendered her skin golden.

  ‘If you’d told me I had a smudge on my cheek, I’d have dealt with it.’ She scrubbed her cheek with her hand.

  He made a disgusted noise. ‘That is all you can see? An invisible speck of dirt?’

  ‘A very ordinary face, one on the plain side with too large a mouth and eyes which are far too big and protrude outwards. A nose which is too long, but good for sniffing burning bread.’

  He took her arms and raised her to standing. His face was intent. He touched the side of her face with a gentle finger. The touch sent a pulse rocking through her. ‘Who created these walls? Who made you think you were ordinary when you are extraordinary?’

  Ragn moistened her lips, trying to soothe their sudden throb. Every fibre of her being desired his mouth moving against hers again and she hated that she wanted it. She made her voice overly bright. ‘Which walls? Show me the walls.’

  Gunnar lowered his brow. ‘Do I repulse you? Is that why you stopped the kiss we shared? Why am I not allowed to say I consider you beautiful? Why can’t you see it when the reflection stares back at you?’

  She blinked twice. He thought her beautiful. He created this whole ruse to get her out here, thinking if she glimpsed herself, she’d understand. It would be easy to love him, but she’d given her heart far too quickly before. Grabbing hold of her emotions, she forced her lashes to flutter. ‘You were the one to say I looked like a wife instead of a concubine.’

  ‘Since when are wives less beautiful than concubines? Since your worm of a late husband decreed it?’ he asked in a quieter tone, one which ran like the smoothest silk over her skin.

  His hands were like bands against her arms and she knew that all she had to do was to lean forward and her mouth would brush against his. She wanted to sink into his kiss and pretend.

  She glanced towards the pond and its flickering image. She wanted to believe that her eyes shone that much, her lips were that red and her skin glowed golden, but she knew it had to be a trick of the light. The light was already beginning to fade and so was her reflection. She sighed as she turned away.

  ‘Ragn, answer me.’

  ‘Let me go, Gunnar. Please.’

  He held up his hands. ‘We return now.’

  She took a step backwards and regained her breath. She concentrated on the darkening trunks of the trees. Twilight was fast falling. Soon it would be too dark to entirely see. She didn’t like to think about spending the night out in the open.

  ‘My purpose is to look after the hall. I lost my hair in that fire, my only claim to beauty. My ankles, wrists and back are scarred. What you are enjoying now is the thrill of the chase. False flattery helps no one.’

  She was proud of how matter of fact her voice sounded, even though her heart was pounding in her ears. She counted to ten, fully expecting him to storm off.

  ‘Who are you to decree when desire or attraction will fade?’ he asked, continuing to stand there, blocking her way. ‘My grandfather was entranced by my grandmother from the moment he first set eyes on her until the day he drew his final breath. I won’t pretend to love you and I certainly do not ask for something which I am not prepared to give, but I enjoyed kissing you and think you enjoyed it as well. I want you in my bed, but only if you want to be there.’

  Ragn’s breath stopped. When he spoke like that, her heart wanted to believe him, but she knew where following her heart led. Once she had allowed Hamthur’s love words to blind her. But G
unnar had not spoken of love, he had spoken of mutual desire.

  She knew she should run back to the hall. He would let her go and that would be the end of it. The end of everything. She lifted her head higher. ‘Then we will have no more of this nonsense about my beauty.’

  He swore. Loud and long so that it echoed off the trees.

  He lowered his mouth to hers and plundered it. The fire which had banked inside her raged out of control and she flung her arms about his neck, holding his mouth to hers. She drank from it. He drank back, calling to something deep and primitive within her, a self she hadn’t even known existed.

  At length, he lifted his mouth. ‘Was that the action of an uninterested man?’

  With great effort she loosened her arms, but his had come around her and held her close to him.

  ‘You want me? It isn’t just the thrill of the chase?’

  He smoothed the hair back from her forehead. ‘Why were you willing to trade your body for your sister’s safety, if the marriage bed scares you so?’

  ‘Having survived one marriage, I thought I would have no problem surviving another. I learned how to divorce myself from what he was doing to my body.’ She kept her chin defiantly tilted upwards. ‘I thought whoever was to be my husband wouldn’t be too fussy. Darkness hides a multitude of defects. And the probability was that he wouldn’t be interested in that side of the marriage.’ She lifted one shoulder. ‘My calculations were wrong.’

  Gunnar put his hands on her shoulders. His face appeared grave. ‘You have little idea of what truly passes between a man and a woman. I never ever want you to divorce yourself from what is between us. When we are in bed together, there is only the two of us. No more, no less.’

  ‘I was married for three years. You have never been married.’

  ‘Your words fail to alter my point.’

  ‘I know what my husband did with great frequency during our marriage. I had little pride left.’ She forced the words from her throat.

  ‘That was not pleasure. That was pain. The domination of one individual over another.’ He placed a kiss at the corner of her mouth which calmed the butterflies in her stomach. ‘Pleasure is very different. It is about giving, instead of always taking. Are you willing to try with me?’