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‘My mother used to like the night air as well.’ Hrolf frowned. He rarely spoke of the distant past, before he became a sea king and when he had to fight for even a morsel of bread. He might have stayed at his uncle’s hall, but his uncle did play favourites. He doubted that Sayrid would understand.
She might have chosen an unconventional life, but she had never had to fight for survival in the same way he had.
‘Should any come past, I will carry you in. Enjoy the air, but know that I will protect you.’
‘The night air has never held terror. Outside has always represented freedom.’ Her white teeth nibbled her bottom lip, turning it the colour of summer raspberries, but she stayed on the threshold.
Hrolf reined in his temper. Did her finding peace outside have anything to do with her becoming a warrior? ‘I look after my women. I don’t keep them prisoner.’
‘Inga’s mother died and Inga was left alone.’
‘And what of it? She had accepted another man’s protection.’
Anya’s death had hardly been his fault. She was the mother of his child, but she had found other lovers after they parted. She’d wanted more than he’d been prepared to offer.
He wasn’t about to become like his father—unhinged with worry when his woman was out of his sight.
Her blue eyes met his in a refreshingly direct manner. ‘I depend on my sword arm to keep me safe.’
‘And when it fails?’
‘I take the consequences.’ She lifted her chin slightly. ‘Just like I’m doing now.’
Hrolf tapped his finger against the table. Something stirred in his heart at the proud defiance he glimpsed in her eyes. He ruthlessly suppressed it. Once he had bedded her and made good the promise in her kiss, then she would be his wife, but that was to ensure the loyalty of her people. He would follow his uncle’s example and guard his heart.
‘What are the consequences precisely?’
Her eyes became troubled. ‘Marriage wasn’t supposed to be part of the destiny that the Norns spun for me. My stepmother told me that often enough.’
Naked vulnerability flitted across her face, giving him a glimpse of the woman behind her scowling mask. Could this stepmother be part of the reason for Sayrid’s reaction to Inga? He dismissed the idea. Worrying about reasons changed nothing. ‘It doesn’t do to second-guess the Norns.’
‘I lost focus for an instant.’
The curve of her upper lip positively cried out to be sampled. He reined in his increasingly rampant desire. He had to think with his head instead of with another part of him. Cool logic. Until he was established and the people saw the sense in having him as their overlord, he needed her good will.
‘I saw my chance and took it. Do you blame me?’
She swallowed hard and the corner of her mouth trembled. ‘I made my choice before we picked our swords. Had I won, would you expect me to offer you your freedom? Do you treat me differently because I am a woman?’
Hrolf concentrated on breathing. Something deep inside him panged. He had never thought to feel pity or any emotion beyond momentary desire for a woman. But this woman stirred up long-forgotten feelings. His father had been moved by pity when his mother had begged for one last chance to end the quarrel and he had ended up dead.
‘If you are unwilling, say the words. But you have this one chance only,’ he said, banishing the emotions to where they belonged. ‘Was your brother right to attempt a rescue?’
When she finally spoke, she spoke pointedly to the embers in the fire. ‘My legs would not have carried me far. And I can barely lift a sword with the way my shoulders ache.’
‘No answer, Sayrid. I deserve better. Denying your sex doesn’t change that you are a woman.’
She spun around. Her gown gaped at the neck where she’d torn it, but her eyes flashed. ‘Will I keep my property if the marriage fails? Will I be able to be a shield maiden with a blameless reputation again? Will I be able to live with my honour intact? Answer those questions truthfully and you will have my answer. Now, what is the next lesson I am supposed to learn?’
‘Sayrid…’ He willed her to take his outstretched arm. Once he held her, he could concentrate on giving her pleasure and these uncomfortable thoughts about the past would vanish.
She pointedly ignored his gesture and he allowed his arm to drop. Against his better judgement, he admired her spirit. She had gambled and lost, but there was dignity in her bearing and she wasn’t complaining about how unfair life was. Every other woman he had known would have been in tears. Tears never moved him, but there was something about her stoic silence which opened up long-forgotten places in his heart.
