Viking's Love (8 page)

“
I thought Wulfstan would challenge me,
not her,” Joran admitted with a dark look, his eyes never leaving
Allisande, who awaited the signal to begin the match.

Grogan watched the small lady hold her little
sword aloft with a dainty flick in the air and made a disgusted
noise. “Ivar has strange tastes in entertainment. I don’t think I
can watch this.”

“
I can’t look away. I’ve done this to
her.”

Grogan returned to his seat, allowing others
to wedge into his spot to watch. Joran stood at the edge of the
grate, his implacable features showing little emotion as he caught
Allisande’s eye. She had the nerve to wink at him right before the
signal was given. A Viking horn blared, signaling the challenge was
to begin.

****

Allisande could see Hakon was more than a
little inebriated. He staggered forward with a grin, his huge sword
swinging towards her and missing by a wide margin. She ducked
efficiently and sidestepped his lunges without hardly any
effort.

The crowd all booed as she managed to avoid
being run through when Hakon imbedded his sword in the dirt wall
behind her. The Viking cursed and muttered as he jerked it free and
swung back towards her, his eyes filled with drunken rage.

“
Come meet my sword, English bitch!”
Hakon snarled as he advanced on her.

“
Come and get me, Viking
dog!

Cheers went up as Hakon chased her about the
pit. Allisande parried off his attack. The clash of swords drowned
out the sound of everything else. She knew the Viking was tiring as
he swung wildly, missing her and giving her the advantage. She
stabbed him in the thigh, making him howl in fury as she leapt away
at the last.

Hakon glared to know a wee bit of a lady
managed to draw first blood. He began to eye her with more wariness
now, his circling giving her ample time to assess his more sobered
demeanor. His blood dripped down his leg, his pants ripped to show
a long wicked gash.

“
What say you now, Viking?” She taunted
him, knowing he hadn’t the skill or the intelligence to not see he
was being lured to come closer, thinking her cutting him a fluke in
his drunken state.

Hakon grinned, showing poor teeth. “You got
lucky, English.”

Allisande poised to meet his advance, her
sword outstretched, her eyes narrowed to see he left his chest
exposed. He swung his sword again. She ducked and swung back, her
blade slicing his tunic open wide, leaving another gash in his
chest. He snarled and went wild, his sword meeting hers in another
clash of steel, pushing her backward.

Allisande danced gracefully out of his reach,
breathing heavily from the exertion. He was as strong as an ox, if
he was as dumb as one. She gauged the distance behind them as he
stalked her. She leapt to his side, kicking off the dirt wall to
gain momentum as her blade cut his arm in a flurry before she
landed on her feet and stuck him again, this time in his ribs.

The crowd booed loudly to see Hakon bleeding
profusely, his snarls of fury and anger making her smirk despite
the grim situation. The giant saw it and ran after her, his sword
waving wildly.

She jumped back and ran into the wall. Hakon
grinned and thought her trapped. She met his sword with little
hesitation, warding off each slashing blow, her small sword true as
it sliced off his ear lobe before she ran to the opposite side of
the pit.

The cheers and laughter above encouraged her
as she watched Hakon wipe at his bloodied ear. She chanced a look
upward and saw Joran grinning in obvious amusement to see her
besting the giant. Their eyes met a mere moment and she could see
relief in his gaze before Hakon recovered and lunged forward.

She sidestepped him, running up the side of
the wall to kick off and stab him in the shoulder before she landed
to his right, springing off the balls of her feet to leap away and
avoid his downward plunge.

He was growing frustrated, his pale eyes
glittering in fury to be denied a quick end to the battle. He knew
she played with him now, running away at the last to avoid his
heavy blade each time.

“
You appear to be bleeding everywhere
but the mouth, Viking.” Allisande smirked at his howls of fury in
response. “Come and we will see if I can give you a prettier
smile.”

This caused many to guffaw in delight above.
Ivar chuckled despite himself, impressed with the tiny
Englishwoman. “The wench has a point, Hakon,” Ivar roared over the
din down at the man. “You’re making a fool of yourself!

Hakon bristled from Ivar’s comments, glaring
fiercely at Allisande as she circled him, her eyes gleaming in
satisfaction to see her handiwork in ridiculing the towering Viking
before his leader.

“
You will pay for that, bitch!” Hakon
lumbered forward, cutting off any avenue of eluding him. “I’ll
enjoy cutting off your pretty head!”

Allisande dropped at the last minute to her
knees and crawled between his legs to escape, hearing the chuckles
above at her daring. She wasted little opportunity to jump to her
feet and stuck the Viking savagely in his side, making him gasp in
pain.

Hakon was breathing heavily, his gait slowing
as he turned and flew at her in a rage. She knew she had to take
him down now. She was tiring under his stronger blows. She
deflected each with such skill many gaped above in obvious
surprise.

She saw an opening when his sword glanced off
hers. Her wrist felt the impact of the blow and she grimaced before
she swung quickly and sliced into his chest once more. Hakon gasped
and looked down to see his bloodied tunic soaked now.

She gave no quarter as she lunged in for the
kill, slashing quickly and laying open his sword arm all the way to
the bone. His sword fell from his hand. She drove her blade deep
into his shoulder before she withdrew.

Hakon cried out in pain. He slid to his
knees. Many cheered from above as he fell forward into the dirt.
Allisande knew she wounded him grievously, but he would live. He
lay inert, expecting her to move in to finish him.

She glared up at the crowd, her violet eyes
spewing with hatred. “Have you seen enough?” She shouted as she
kicked the dirt at her feet, sending a spray of it upward towards
the steel grates. The crowd seemed to grow quieter now, seeing the
Englishwoman was in a fury. “Do you wish to see more? Send me
another of you!”

“
It is finished,” Joran told his sire,
seeing Ivar’s eyes light up at her words of challenge. “No more!
You have what you demanded of her!”

Ivar looked disappointed and shrugged. “Very
well, get her out. It appears the little English girl has won her
life. Now you can make it miserable as your slave, my son.”

Joran shouted at Sarne and Grogan. The pair
helped him open the grates in the floor. He reached down inside,
stretching out a hand to his slave. Allisande withdrew from his
offer of help and proceeded to climb out on her own, finding
footholds in the dirt wall.

Two burly thralls jumped inside the pit to
assist Hakon out. The man eyed her with grudging respect as he was
lifted from the floor and borne out of the pit.

Joran eyed his lovely slave with admiration
as she crawled out of the pit on her own. He confiscated her
bloodied sword. He handed it off to a chuckling Grogan, who grinned
ear to ear before he withdrew to seek out more mead.

Allisande refused to look at him. She was
still bristling in outrage. He could see the battle with the huge
Viking depleted her strength. He drew her to a chair, pushing the
tankard of mead towards her. “Drink it this time,” he commanded and
she complied, her hand shaking slightly as she lifted it. “You did
well. Why did you not kill him when you had the chance? I thought
killing Vikings was what you now lived for, Girl.”

She eyed him with little humor in her gaze.
“Because it was what your father wanted. I’ll not give him the
satisfaction, or these bloodthirsty barbarians that follow
him.”

Joran shrugged, his blue eyes filled with
amusement. “Hakon might disagree when he is heckled for the rest of
his life for being bested by a woman.”

Allisande drank the soothing mead, relaxing
to know she’d live to make all of those suffer who merited her
hatred, including the man who was now her master. Her violet eyes
narrowed as she saw how puffed up with pride and arrogance he
was.

“
A pity you did not meet me down there,
Viking. I would have not been as merciful with you.”

Joran chuckled at her and his lips curved
into an engaging grin. “No, I can see you have much skill with that
little blade, Lady, but I am not Hakon. I would have had you in a
minute.”

“
Hah! One of these days, we shall see,
Master!”

Joran frowned at her rash words of challenge.
“You best take care with your threats, Allisande. You are a slave,
whether you choose to acknowledge it.”

Allisande chuckled and tipped the tankard
back. “We shall see about that too, Viking. You will find I don’t
take authority well.”

Joran’s eyes darkened. “I have until spring
to make you bend. It would appear I have my work cut out for
me.”

Allisande bristled, reminded she’d have to
endure his company until then. “You will regret bringing me with
you, Viking! I do not bend!”

“
You will bend for me before we part
ways, my sweet slave.” Joran’s blue eyes filled with amusement.
“And you will like it too, I think.”

Allisande blushed at his obvious innuendo,
her violet eyes smoldering with anger. “Whatever you say, Master. I
would sleep with one eye open should you force me to that.”

“
Force won’t be necessary, Allisande,”
Joran replied with an infuriating smile. “I think I can make the
she-cat purr with pleasure.”

Allisande ignored his boast, sipping her mead
as Grogan and Sarne returned to sit with them. Sarne was obviously
impressed with her skill at swords. Grogan eyed her with grudging
respect too. The two drank in pleasant moods as the hall filled up
with merrymakers.

Ivar was once more at the high table,
laughing with his men over the entertainment. Wulfstan glowered in
silent rage at his side, his frosty gaze never wavering from
Allisande. Joran nodded to him and the man finally looked away.

“
It appears Wulfstan isn’t appeased at
all, Joran,” Grogan commented, his pale blue eyes filling with
unease. “He will not relent.”

Joran watched his half brother scowl into his
cups with a shrug. “He can do nothing now. She has won her
life.”

“
Do we make for home now, my Chieftain?
Janna will be angry at the delay.”

Joran laughed at mention of his friend’s tiny
blonde wife. “It is you who curses the delay, not she! Don’t think
she misses you! Is she not carrying her fourth child now?”

Grogan looked pleased, his eyes twinkling.
“Another son it is, too. It would be my fourth in so many years.
When will you take another wife and have sons?”

Joran shrugged. “It would appear I’m more
uneasy of marriage than you, my friend.”

“
Merta will not like knowing
that.”

“
Merta has known from the start my
thoughts on the subject.” Joran avoided further talk of his leman,
seeing Allisande’s attention was on Hakon being tended across the
hall.

“
Your bedmate will not like you
bringing home the spoils of war.”

Joran grinned and tipped back his tankard.
“She goes home. I see no need for us to continue with this. It’s
time Garran found her a husband.”

“
You don’t know women, my friend. She
will not go quietly so you can enjoy your English beauty, mark me
well.”

Joran never took his eyes from his
dark-haired slave, imagining her already warming his furs for the
long winter months ahead. “But go she will, Grogan. I have another
on my mind now.”

Grogan was delighted to know the redhead was
being ousted from Joran’s longhouse. His wife despised Merta and
complained of her constantly. “There will be trouble.”

“
When dealing with women, there is
always trouble,” Joran complained and his lips tightened. “Why do
you think I take such pains to avoid them?”

“
I think we can both agree the
Englishwoman is no normal woman, Joran. Be careful you keep her
little sword hidden.”

“
You think I don’t know it? The girl
would carve me into pieces if given half the chance. Do not worry.
My new slave will learn her place.”

Allisande swiveled in her chair and drank her
mead, disinterested now in the goings on within Ivar’s hall. She
appeared tired as she sat back in the chair, eyes growing
heavy.

“
Come, we leave now,” Joran ordered as
he stood. He refrained from tying her up.

Allisande seemed surprised when Joran didn’t
rebind her hands. He merely clamped an arm on her wrist as he drew
her away. He led her out of the hall, past Vikings who eyed his
slave with more than a little interest now.

They leered down at her as she passed. She
spared them not a glance. He was protective as he shouldered
through the crowd, pushing her ahead of him.

It was dark outside now. When they were
outside Ivar’s longhouse, Joran swept her up into his arms,
carrying her as they walked back to the ship. She hardly protested,
too tired to do more than appreciate his holding her. The feel of
his hard chest against her own and his strong arms holding her
protectively was her last thought before she fell asleep during the
trek back to the ship.

Allisande didn’t waken as they arrived to the
ship. His men were obviously relieved to see his slave was still
alive, grinning in relief before Sarne and Grogan regaled them with
the tales.