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‘The truth, Hrolf. Can you undo any of this? Can you restore my honour?’ She gave a wry smile. ‘I thought not. Then I will do my duty. You may take me now.’
She closed her eyes, puckered up her mouth and opened her arms, more sacrifice than hot-blooded bed partner.
He shook his head. Sayrid made it seem like he was asking her to violate sacred oaths. But he wanted her too much to argue. He wanted to unwrap her layers and discover the passionate woman underneath the mask, the one who had returned his kiss earlier.
‘Kettil is now my overlord and we share mutual interests. The only way you will have any influence over those lands is to remain married to me,’ he said, taking a draught of the sweet wine. It burnt his throat, but the blood pumping through his veins was hotter still.
She blinked rapidly. ‘That was uncommonly quick.’
‘Kettil worries about Lavrans’s intentions towards these lands. It is why he and I became allies. What happened today cements our alliance. I will hold the headland for him against all raiders. He wanted a strong warrior there. Your brother will never be strong. Kettil understands this now.’
‘My opposition to Lavrans is well known.’ Her teeth worried her bottom lip, turning it a glossy red. ‘Why would Kettil doubt that?’
‘How often are you there?’
‘When I can be, but we need gold. There is no one else.’
‘Regin is grown, long past the age where men show promise as a warrior or not. Can you honestly say he is ready to lead a felag?’
She ducked her head. ‘You are the first man to challenge for the right to marry me in many years.’
‘It is a comforting thought in many ways that the men are so weak-livered in this country. I shall have no trouble holding those lands.’
Her laugh echoed feebly in the chamber. ‘Perhaps they worried I took my sword to bed.’
‘And do you sleep with a weapon?’
‘When I have to.’
He flinched at her words. What she had done had been out of necessity. Her brother had been far too weak and her father? ‘There will be no weapons in our bed. I’ll keep you safe.’
Her lips parted before firming. Hrolf silently willed her to stay with him, but also to confide her fears. What had made her so wary of pleasure? Why had she become a shield maiden?
‘It is cold outside and there is a warm fire and a bed waiting,’ he said into the silence. ‘The proper place for such a thing. You are my wife, not some farm maid fit for tumbling in the hay.’
Her tongue wet her lips, turning them the colour of autumn berries which he remembered from his childhood. He wondered if they would taste as sweet. The trouble with kissing her at the ceremony was that he wanted more, but he was greedy. He wanted her participating fully.
‘You’re right. I will come in.’
He contemplated suggesting she strip, but instead he reached out and plucked the listing flower crown from her head. ‘There is no need for that here. The flowers are fading fast, but the night remains young for us.’
He waited for her to melt in his arms. She continued to stand stiffly, making no attempt to brush the final petals from her hair. He placed the wilted crown down on the table.
This was going to prove harder than he had anticipated. He’d planned on the next lesson being her undressing, but she was far too tense.
He had never backed away from a challenge and the thought of tasting her lips again filled him with anticipation, but he was no unblooded warrior, facing his first woman. He needed to take his time and not rush her.
‘Have something to drink.’
‘The jaarl’s sweet wine is always excellent,’ she said, moving away from him. ‘You’re right about your daughter. In time, we will become friends. I will make it happen. It won’t be…it will be fine.’
Hrolf narrowed his eyes. There was a wealth of information in those words. Had Sayrid’s stepmother been cruel?
‘Pour the wine for the both of us. Time to drink to our new life.’
As Sayrid attempted to pour the wine, her body trembled and she spilt a little on the floor. She gave a cry. He took the flask from her, filled a horn and handed it to her.
‘What do you have to be nervous about? Why do you fear me?’ he asked softly. ‘I mean you no harm. I’m your husband, not a sorcerer. Your mind is closed to me.’
Sayrid stopped in mid-crouch and stared at him wide-eyed. The steady sound of trickling wine resounded in her ears.
What did she have to be nervous about? Everything!
She had everything to be nervous about. She had never played the woman’s part before. Her stepmother had always told her that she was far too clumsy to be trusted. She had no idea what Hrolf’s expectations were—both as a mother to his little girl and as a woman or rather wife to him.
