Authors: Kerri M. Patterson
Valdrik
stared at Finna as her troubled emotions spilled through her so visibly he
could feel her doubt and sorrow, her regret for voicing such a statement. Her
hands shook as she smoothed the man's hair away from his battered face.
"Forgive
me," she said at last. "They
were
the only family I knew for so long. Please do not kill them. I beg for their
lives. Send Bailish back to Aldar with word that I shall not return and let me
keep Grahund here, safe."
Valdrik
stiffened.
She
paused, looking at her father. "As a slave," she added.
Valdrik
bent and grasped her arm then, pulling her from her knees. "Whatever it is
you are trying to save this one from shall not work," he whispered
harshly. "I will not have it. You shame your sire and your husband by this
outburst. Leave this man be and let your father have the heads of these
men."
Finna
pushed him off and staggered back, glaring icily at him. The man groaned then,
muttering something hidden in slurred speech.
Hadarr
sighed as he looked at his daughter and then sheathed his sword. He reached up
to rub his forehead. "I will not have this night blemished because Aldar
chose such a time to attack us. We shall hold counsel tomorrow to decide what
to do. Be done with these men and post an extra watch. With his men on our
lands, who knows what might befall us this night." With a swipe of the
Jarl's hand, men made to take the captives.
Finna
turned her back to him and watched as they picked up one man and then the
other. The one she had not given much care for was able to find footing and
stumbled along with little aid, but the one she'd bent over, two men were
forced to lift him by the arms and legs, half dragging him from the hall into
the cold night.
Valdrik
could not conceive why that one would be so special to her.
Could he have been her lover?
he
wondered, and a shocking bolt of rage twisted through him at the notion.
Hadarr
raised his arms and went back to his seat at the dais, motioning for the lute
players to continue. The feast picked up as it had been, though now people
began to talk of what had just happened, many looking askance in Finna's
direction.
Valdrik
gently took his wife by the arm and turned her around. He led her back to the
table, and once she took her seat, he pushed her chair in.
"Where
are they being taken?" she asked. Her head remained bowed and her stare
fixed on the table.
He
shrugged as he sat. "To an outbuilding where they shall be guarded and
cannot escape."
Finna
went ashen. "I know I should not care for them now, for most likely they
knew what Aldar had done, but I cannot help it. To me, they are not only
warriors who have attacked this place, they are people. I knew them, lived
amongst them, trained with them."
Valdrik
nodded. He could understand that. Gently, he reached out to cup her cheek, but
when she tensed against his hand, he frowned and pulled back.
Before
he could ask her about the men, servants paraded up the dais steps and set
lavish food before them. This time, Valdrik filled Finna's trencher with the
tenderest meats, but as he ate, he noted she had not touched her meal. It
angered him that Aldar had now destroyed one more thing for her.
True,
she had not wished this night. Not now. But he had hoped to change her feelings
and one day she could look back on their wedding with fondness.
Of
course, no matter that the captives had been removed from the hall, they were
present on her mind, and a blemish indeed blighted the night.
Valdrik
stabbed at his food, ready to be done with the hall, ready to be in his own
dwelling with his wife. He finished, and still she had not eaten. Finna sipped
at her ale with her stare fixed to her lap.
He
wanted to make her happy.
He
wanted to remove her thoughts from her uncle.
Valdrik
found he could wait no longer and reached out to touch his wife's arm as he
scooted back in his seat. "Come," he said. "'Tis time we
retire."
Finna
paused, her wild blue eyes turning frightened. She looked down to her trencher
and then back to him.
Cheers
went up as he stood and pulled her to her feet. It took a good deal of strength
to drag her behind him to the steps, but once they started down, Finna near
tumbled into his back.
Others
joined around them and prepared to escort the newlyweds to their bed.
Valdrik
reached to lift Finna's chin with a crooked finger. She surprised him, for she
allowed him without backing away this time. Her eyes were wide and frightened,
like a doe.
Slowly,
he lowered his lips to hers, sealing his mouth against her lips. Her mouth was
so soft and supple. He kissed her light and reverently at first, exploring the
idea that he did indeed like kissing her.
At
the moment, he had the distinct feeling she liked his mouth on hers, too,
though his hellion of a wife would never admit such a thing. Valdrik pulled her
flush against him, receiving only the slightest hesitation, and forced her lips
open with his, tasting the sweet recesses of her mouth.
While
she still did not elicit his tenderness, she had touched a haunting chord of
desire within him. One that had yet to be fully sated and this kiss only drove
him harder toward claiming what was his.
Stieg
and Ragnarr howled behind them, the commotion reminding him that they were not
yet alone. As he broke away from his bride, his men swept him off his feet onto
their shoulders. Finna gasped as she, too, was taken up and set on the
shoulders of two men, her cheeks stained rosy.
For
a shieldmaiden, Valdrik could swear he had never seen any person look so
frightened.
Chapter Fifteen
Finna
whirled on Valdrik as he dropped her to her feet within his dwelling. His home
was set away from the longhouse as her home on Aldar's lands had been. She
immediately backed away from him and stopped, slowly turning as she scanned the
room with an imprudent gaze. The interior was neatly kept, but still laden with
the things of a man. Shields hung on the walls, axes, too. A whetstone lay on
the table with an assortment of blades in need of sharpening.
Someone
had roused a fire in the hearth to ward off the cold, and though the room was
warm, when she looked back to her husband, Finna shivered under his glacial
stare.
"What
was that man to you?" Valdrik asked.
"Grahund?"
She shook her head, unsure what he was asking. "Only a man I fought
beside." Her brow furrowed, surprised at the amount of anger leaking off
him.
"Nay,"
Valdrik said, taking a step closer. "There is more. Was he your
lover?"
Finna
suffered a moment of disbelief before choking on a laugh. "Nay." Oh,
had he any idea…
"If
you are lying to me I shall find out the truth, woman." His eyes dropped
to the apex of her legs.
She
narrowed her eyes on him, her stare full of righteous indignation. "I've
not been with a man,
any man
,
before."
Valdrik's
lip twitched upward in a snarl. "Whether you are a virgin or not doesn't
matter. You are
mine
now. And I'll
not have my wife sharing her body or affections with another man," he
said, his eyes roving back up her. "Do not think to go to those men,
Finna. For whatever reason. I warn you now, there shall be consequences if you
do."
Finna
quivered inside as he came closer until his chest was at her face, only a
breath away. He brought his fingers up to brush her cheek, and the gentle
caress sent tingling shivers through her. She stared up to him, expectant of
what was to come.
Pain.
Her
mother had warned her of the first time. She searched his gaze for a long
moment and found nothing there besides coldness and possession.
Her
spine stiffened as the chilling waves rolling off him washed through her.
"It
truly does not matter to you who I am, does it?" she asked. "You
could not care less if I were ugly or beautiful, kind or cruel, honorable or
not, raised in the dirt of a byre or on a golden throne—so long as I am your
means to gaining power." She forced sternness into her tone. "You may
only care for position, but I shall
not
be treated as chattel and ordered by you as though I am a thrall. I am your
wife, and I demand your respect."
Some
of the frost melted in his blue eyes then. "The truth is, I like you just
the way you are, full of fire and ice," he said. "But you are right.
What you are now does not matter. In time, as my wife, you shall become what
suits me best. You shall cease with your antics against me and respect me as
your husband, and one day, rule over your people by my side." He lifted
his hand and trailed a finger down her neck to her breast. "In return, I
shall treat you with the admiration you deserve as my wife." He paused.
"Finna," he said softly, cooling some of her rage.
He turned her face in his hand to capture her
gaze. "When the day comes that you wish your own revenge against your
uncle, I shall give you that as well."
Her
lips thinned into a hard line. Never had she had such mixed feeling for one
person. Truly, she did not know whether to trust and like this man, or bash him
in the head.
She
understood his desire for position and to have men enough to avenge his family,
but if he did not care for her, why seek to change her in any way? Why did he
care?
"I
shall
never
be anything other than I
am now," she said clearly.
His
stare flicked up to hers. "Nay? I am not asking you to be anything
different. You may keep your fire, Finna." His voice dropped a degree, his
eyes scorching a path down the valley of her breasts. "I would not
extinguish that flame, for it may prove pleasurable for me. All I am asking is
that you temper your resentment. Do not fight this anymore. I need a wife, not
a warrior, that is all." He reached up and turned her face to him. His
eyes clashed with hers. "You wish the love of a husband, aye?"
She
stiffened, but did not answer him, would not dare drop her defenses to allow
him to know such a thing, though it seemed he saw straight through her armor
and into her heart.
"That
is not something that comes with a ceremony or a ring," he said.
"That is something that grows over time, and if you wish for something
like love to blossom, you must nurture it. If I must bend so that we may become
one, so that I please you, then so must you bend, aye? 'Tis only fair that way.
You wish me to not be with other women." He shrugged. "That is fine.
I shall not be, but I do not wish you to see the prisoners. I do not know your
affections for them, and I have changed my mind. I do not wish to know—only
that whatever it was has ended."
She
growled at him. "There was no
affection
between us."
"Good."
He smoothed his hand over her hair.
He
was too close. She had not realized how close they had come to one another
until his body pressed into hers, and his fingers raked through her hair to the
back of her head, anchoring her from leaping out of his embrace.
Finna
shivered, the tips of her breasts pearling under her dress, against his chest.
Suddenly, the fabric did not seem so soft anymore. The coarse texture tortured
her, and her kirtle tightened around her body like a serpent squeezing its
prey. She could not move away from him even if he were not holding her.
Would
he kiss her again?
Her
breath seized in her lungs, coming in weak, shallow pants causing heat to rush
into her cheeks at the embarrassment of the sound, so loud to her own ears. It
was not right he should affect her so with his mere nearness, that he could
control even the rhythm of her heart.
"We
do not yet know one another, wife. In time we shall, but for now we will make
the best of this," he said, his fingers slipped from her hair and to her
neck.
Though
her warrior-heart resisted, Finna gave him a short nod. She looked away, but he
only turned her head back until she met his stare again. She did not care for
the way he stared at her mouth, hungrily like a wolf, as though he might devour
her, for his uncensored lust made her feel even more out of sorts. Finna
swallowed against his rough palm where he cupped her neck gently at the side of
her throat.
"
And
—" he paused, the silence heavy
around them. "Now that you are my wife, you shall only wear women's
clothing. No more leggings, no more attire of a warrior. 'Tis not proper for a
woman of your status."
Finna
reared back at that. "Why not?"
"Because
I say so. 'Tis fitting, and pleasing to me, for you to wear dresses now."
"That
is ridiculous!" she spat.
Valdrik
pulled away then with a chuckle and crossed the room to sit before the hearth,
stretching out his hands to warm them. "Methinks you and I shall learn a
lot about one another over the winter."