Surrender To The Viking (2 page)

‘Jarl Finn and his men will be staying with us for a while,’ said Ottar. ‘You will make whatever arrangements are necessary.’

‘Yes, Father.’

Ottar went on, ‘This is my youngest daughter, Lara.’

Finn made a courteous bow. ‘I am honoured, lady.’

The blue-green eyes surveyed him coolly for a moment and then she inclined her head in acknowledgement.

‘The honour is mine, my lord.’

The tone was polite but also aloof. The words were not accompanied by a smile, or a blush or the lowered gaze that he might have expected. It was as though she were merely observing the outward forms of courtesy but was inwardly unconcerned about whether she pleased or not. It was far removed from his usual experience with women. Then again, the women with whom he’d associated in recent times had a vested interest in pleasing a man. This was the daughter of his host so it behoved him to make an effort.

‘I did not know that Jarl Ottar had so fair a daughter.’

‘Didn’t you?’ she replied.

Finn was momentarily taken aback, which it seemed she had intended. He recovered quickly. ‘No, I regret to say I did not.’

‘Why regret?’

‘I could have brought a suitable gift.’

‘I have no need of gifts.’

‘A gift does not have to supply a need,’ he replied. ‘It may be given as a token of regard.’

‘True, but since we have only just met the gesture would seem excessive.’

He knew he should probably drop the subject but at the same time couldn’t resist pushing it a little further. ‘So you would not appreciate a necklace of amber beads or a gold brooch?’

‘That would depend upon the giver. If it came from my father or brother I would treasure the gift.’

‘But not if it came from a visitor.’

‘No, my lord, for then I should suspect an ulterior motive.’

‘Oh, what motive?’

‘I should have to ask myself what would be expected in return.’

It was bold and blunt and provocative. No doubt that was quite intentional too and no doubt he should let it go, but the underlying challenge was becoming irresistible. ‘A gift should not come with strings attached.’

‘No, but they usually do in my experience.’

‘Is your experience so great, then?’

‘Great enough to make me wary of gifts—and givers.’

It was politely spoken but it was a rebuff all the same. She was quite impervious to compliments of any sort and, by extension, impervious to him. Nor, he suspected, was it a ploy to increase his interest. On the contrary he was fairly sure that she didn’t like him. He didn’t know whether to be amused or piqued.

Before he could think of a suitable reply her father cut in. ‘You must excuse my daughter, Jarl Finn. She has a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue.’ He frowned at her. ‘That is why she is still unmarried at eighteen and is like to remain so.’

Finn winced inwardly at that, but the girl didn’t bat an eyelid. If anything he thought he saw a gleam of amusement in her eyes. However, it was so fleeting he couldn’t be certain.

‘Yes, do excuse me, my lord. I’ll take my offending tongue elsewhere.’ She inclined her head respectfully. ‘Father.’

Jarl Ottar frowned. He was on the point of saying something more but evidently decided not to although his annoyance was apparent. Looking on, Finn was more intrigued than ever. Nothing here was what it seemed, he was sure of that. He was too experienced not to recognise a skilled performance when he saw one and the past ten minutes had been exactly that, but a performance to what end? His gaze followed Lara’s progress across the room: it was unhurried, almost studiedly so. His lips twitched. She must have anticipated that he would be watching her. Any moment now she would look back. Women invariably looked back, which meant that they were not as aloof as they pretended.

Lara did not look back and a short time later was in conversation with two servants. When they departed to carry out whatever instructions she had given, she left the hall by the rear door. Still she did not look back. Finn sighed, feeling mildly aggrieved.

Chapter Two

W
hen she was away from the hall Lara relaxed a little. It was hours before she’d need to face the company again and then her role would be confined to ensuring the smooth service of food and drink. She would not be required to take part in the conversation. After the past ten minutes that was a relief. Jarl Finn might have a polished manner but he also had a high opinion of himself. She conceded that he was good at holding his own in an argument. At times she had half suspected that he was enjoying himself. That probably wasn’t the case; she took good care to ensure that men didn’t enjoy her company so it must be that he didn’t like to be bested.

As she turned the corner of the building she was rudely jolted out of thought by a small body cannoning into her legs. It bounced off and went sprawling.

‘What on earth—?’ She broke off, recognising the steward’s son. ‘Yngvi. I might have known.’

He sat up looking slightly dazed. Lara sighed and bent down to look at him.

‘Are you all right?’

He nodded. ‘I...I think so.’ As she helped him back on to his feet he regarded her apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, my lady. Drifa and I were playing tag.’

His younger brother nodded. ‘I was trying to catch him.’

‘I see.’

‘Did I hurt you, my lady?’ asked Yngvi.

‘No, you didn’t. You’ll be the one to get hurt if you race blindly around corners like that.’

‘Yes, my lady.’

Lara smiled. ‘Go on, get along with you.’

Needing no further urging they ran off. As she watched their receding figures she shook her head feeling fairly certain that her warning would go unheeded. At the age of six Yngvi was proving to be a natural risk-taker, and where he led Drifa would follow.

She reached the weaving shed without further interruption and resumed work on the length of blue cloth she had started a few days earlier. As she did so, her mind went back to the days when she and Alrik and Asa had played tag together; happy, carefree days, and all too short. Let Yngvi and Drifa play while they could; they’d grow up soon enough. When she was a child she’d longed to be grown up. Everything had seemed so straightforward then: she would marry and have children and keep her husband’s house. It was what all girls did. Back then it had never occurred to her to question the matter. Now she knew better. Marriage was a trap and a handsome face was no guarantee of a good heart.

For no reason Jarl Finn drifted into her mind and lingered there. Reluctantly she was forced to admit that he was an imposing figure, no easier to banish mentally than he was to brush off physically. However, putting aside the ridiculous conversation they’d had together, she had been interested in the things he’d discussed with her father. While she knew about King Halfdan’s victory at the Battle of Eid, it was the first time she’d met anyone who’d actually been present. She’d have liked to ask Finn about it. That would have been a conversation worth having. She’d have liked to ask him about the kidnapping and subsequent rescue of Lady Ragnhild too. It sounded exciting, full of action and danger. It was also the stuff of romance.

Lara caught herself there. Romance was a notion for silly young girls who didn’t know any better. Nevertheless, the king must have cared very much if he was prepared to go to such lengths to get his lady back. Clearly he wasn’t the kind of man who dealt in mealy-mouthed flattery and trumpery gifts. Ragnhild was fortunate. Such men were rare. Most were strutting, vainglorious fools with no thought in their head beyond the winning of fame. Some were cruel to boot. To them a woman was a chattel to be used and abused. Asa’s husband had been proof of that.

Her sister had been a pawn in a deeper political game, married to seal a pact with former enemies. By the sound of it Jarl Finn had enemies, powerful ones too. Hall burning was a brutal form of revenge so it was fortunate that he and his kin had been warned in time. She couldn’t wish such a fate on anyone, not even on a man as annoying as he was. Happily he wouldn’t be around for much longer: once he’d got the extra swords he needed he’d be on his way.

* * *

With that happy outcome in mind Lara found it much easier to fulfil the obligations of hospitality that evening, plying the guests with mead and ale. Given the arrival of guests with no notice she’d been forced to improvise with the meal. It wasn’t exactly a banquet but at least there was enough food to go around. As she had anticipated her father would feast his guests properly on the morrow as hospitality required.

‘I’ve organised a hunt,’ he said. ‘Some of the men will go out first thing. A roast boar wouldn’t go amiss. Maybe even some venison.’

‘Either would be good,’ she replied.

‘You see to the rest.’

‘Of course. I’ve already spoken to the servants about extra bread and ale.’

‘I’ll say one thing for you, girl, you know how to keep house and provide a good spread.’

Well, yes. It’s what I’ve been trained to do from childhood.
With an effort Lara clamped down on sarcasm and smiled instead. ‘Thank you, Father.’

He regarded her suspiciously, suspecting irony, but her expression was innocent so he grunted and held out his cup. She refilled it.

‘You should be putting those skills to use in your husband’s hall,’ he went on. ‘That’s the role you were intended for.’

‘In the meantime I am happy to practise here,’ she replied.

He snorted and turned away. Lara moved on.

‘Your father is right,’ said Finn as he held out his cup for a refill.

‘About what?’ she demanded.

‘The meal was excellent.’

The jug hovered a moment and she looked up quickly, undeceived by the bland tone. It wasn’t what he had meant at all but it was safer if she pretended to believe him. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it, my lord.’

‘Clearly you are a good organiser.’

‘Women are trained to be good organisers.’

‘I suppose they are. Even so, twenty extra mouths to feed is quite a task.’

This was a first.
‘Men don’t usually consider such things. They seem to assume that food will magically appear at the given time. Then they eat and think no more of it until the next meal is due.’

He laughed. ‘There is some justice in what you say, although, having been responsible for a ship’s crew, I have learned about the importance of provisions.’

Her surprise increased.
Not a complete fool, then.
‘Yes, I imagine you have.’

‘I enjoy my food as much as the next man. Besides, a well-fed crew complains less.’

‘So the way to their hearts really is through their stomachs.’

‘Battle loot plays its part as well.’

Lara’s expression altered.
This was more like it.
Now she had the opening she’d been hoping for. ‘You were at Eid, weren’t you?’

‘That’s right. How did you know?’

‘I heard you speaking to my father.’

His eyes gleamed. ‘Were you eavesdropping?’

‘Of course. It was an interesting conversation.’

She looked quite unabashed by the admission. Finn’s lips twitched. ‘Battle might be deemed an unfit topic for the ears of a woman.’

‘Why should it?’

‘Because it’s brutal and bloody. A pretty woman should think of other things.’

She sighed. ‘Like necklaces of amber beads and gold brooches perhaps? Or maybe flirtation and romance?’

‘Isn’t that what young women usually think about?’

Lara was silent, wrestling with irritation and disappointment. For a moment she’d really thought he might be different from the others. She looked away. ‘Excuse me for asking an inappropriate question. It’s just that I was hoping for an intelligent answer. I should have known better.’

* * *

As Finn watched her walk off, he uttered a soft laugh that was compounded of disbelief and annoyance, the latter directed inwards. He hadn’t missed the sudden eagerness in her eyes when she asked him about Eid. If he hadn’t antagonised her, she might have let down her guard and they could have had a lively and interesting discussion. Instead he’d spoken without thinking and the barriers had come up at once. He was the one who should have known better. Had experience taught him nothing?

‘Pretty girl,’ said Unnr.

Finn glanced up and nodded. ‘As you say.’

‘Difficult, though. Redheads always are.’

‘So I’m told.’
Difficult
was an understatement, thought Finn.
Volatile
was closer to the truth. When that was allied to a keen intelligence and a ready wit, it made for a challenging combination. Challenging and intriguing.

‘Take a bold man to tame that one,’ Unnr went on. ‘My oldest brother, Sveinn, married a redhead. Lovely to look at but a temper like a fiend when roused.’

Sturla frowned. ‘Regretted the match, did he?’

‘Certainly not. Sveinn loves a challenge—always did. A timid sort of woman would never have suited him.’

‘Each to his own.’

‘I’m with Sveinn,’ said Vigdis, who, like several others, had been listening with close attention. ‘A spirited woman has to make for a more interesting relationship.’

Murmurs of agreement greeted this.

Thus encouraged Unnr continued, ‘That’s right. Sveinn had fancied Halla from the start, see, because she was a real looker, but it wasn’t till she went for him with an axe that he really understood the depth of his feelings.’

Vigdis nodded. ‘I can see how something like that could help you make up your mind.’

‘It did. He fell head over heels in love.’

‘So he told her right away, then?’

‘Not quite. It wasn’t until he’d wrestled her to the ground and taken the axe away that he finally managed to convince her. Anyway, they made up the quarrel and married the following week. They’ve got five sons now.’

Ketill shook his head in admiration. ‘Your brother sounds like quite a romantic.’

His companions nodded.

‘I think he is,’ replied Unnr, ‘though of course he’d never admit it.’

‘Action speaks louder than words, eh?’

‘Correct. And love’s a funny thing. Take my cousin Snorri for instance...’

* * *

As the others pressed closer to listen Finn detached himself from the group and moved aside. The conversation had taken an unexpected turn, evoking memories that he’d have preferred to leave alone. Unnr was right though: love was a strange thing. It entered in by the eyes and embedded itself in the heart. Its removal left a wound that never healed. Betrayal was always ugly no matter what form it took. Unnr’s brother was lucky in his choice of wife: evidently deception was not part of her nature. A man knew exactly what to expect from an axe. Moreover, he could see it coming. He didn’t know about betrayal until it was too late.

He should have read the signs, but he’d been so besotted with Bótey that he’d been blind. When he’d finally understood how blind, love had given way to jealousy and killing rage. She knew what his reaction would be and sought to put as much distance between them as possible. Not enough distance though, not nearly enough. He’d caught up eventually. Slaying his rival was a matter of natural justice, an act for which none would condemn him. A man must defend his rights and avenge himself on those who wronged him. That was the way of things. He had no qualms about killing his wife’s lover. It was what followed that sickened him and for that, in his own mind at least, he would stand forever condemned.

* * *

He and his men slept in the hall that night, or rather his men slept and soundly too. Finn found it much harder. His mind was too busy, not least with concerns about the immediate future. If he didn’t take care of Steingrim it was over. He and his men would be hunted down and slain. The mercenary force wouldn’t give up until that was accomplished. However, Finn had no intention of allowing them to keep the advantage. When he had the extra swords he needed the fight would be taken to his enemies, and when they least expected it.
We’ll choose our own ground.
Leif was right about that. He wondered how his brother was faring and whether he’d got his woman away safely. Presumably he had: once Leif had a goal in mind he invariably achieved it no matter who tried to stop him. Anyway, Astrid was a pretty girl.

Finn acknowledged the fact even though he felt dispassionate about it. His taste ran more towards dark hair, dark or deep red. For a moment Lara’s face floated into his thoughts. It was remarkable that she was still unmarried at eighteen. She could not have lacked for suitors. Surely among their number had been those who were not deterred by the kind of challenge she represented; any red-blooded man in fact. It suggested that Lara must have rejected them. Had she used an axe? He smiled to himself. It wasn’t hard to visualise such a scenario. The fey didn’t seem to like men very much. She certainly didn’t like him. There were admittedly some grounds for her dislike, but it didn’t explain her antipathy for the male sex as a whole, and that made him curious.

When his marriage ended it had been a while before he’d embarked on any kind of sexual adventure. At first it was the sort a man paid for; uncomplicated and mutually beneficial. Later there were longer liaisons with palace courtesans; more complicated and more expensive but more enjoyable too, while they lasted. He was all in favour of the giving and taking of pleasure and was generous when it came to rewarding the objects of his attention, but he never offered more than that. His terms were made clear at the outset. That way there could be no misunderstandings and no one got hurt.

Had Lara suffered a disappointment? Was her manner a defence against being hurt again? He didn’t know why his thoughts should keep coming back to her. He regretted his thoughtless words earlier: they had cost him an entertaining discussion. All conversations with her were entertaining. He had never met a woman who challenged his opinions before, or who held her own in argument with such accomplished ease, making him think on his feet. She made no attempt to flirt either and clearly resented it when he did. That too was novel. Women invariably enjoyed flirting with him. Some went out of their way to do so and the invitation they extended was blatant. Usually he was happy to oblige them with an hour of his time. He couldn’t imagine Lara seeking five minutes alone with him, never mind an hour. Probably it was just as well. There was no question of any dalliance with her, even if she had been so inclined. To take advantage of his host’s goodwill in that way was dishonourable. It would also jeopardise his mission here and that would be foolhardy in the extreme.