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She gave a half smile. ‘The only real bruising is to my pride.’
‘And to your face.’
‘That has ceased to hurt.’ She carefully fingered it and tried not to wince at the pain. ‘I’m sorry it frightened Inga. I know what it is like to want someone important to like you.’
His laughter filled the room, warming her. ‘Sayrid, Sayrid, what am I going to do with you? Take the bed and be done with it. There will be plenty of time to consummate our marriage. If you are worried about old women gossiping, a chicken can be killed and your thighs rubbed with blood.’
Sayrid wanted the ground to open and swallow her. Of course everyone knew she had never had a man. They would be looking for blood on the sheets. ‘I wasn’t worried about that.’
‘Cease your arguing.’ He started to take the furs off the bed, but a groan escaped his lips as he lifted the first one.
‘We share the bed and end this,’ she said without allowing herself anytime to consider. It was the right thing to do. From the awkward way he held his shoulders, she knew the aches had to be setting in. The thought gave her a moment of satisfaction—Hrolf wasn’t as godlike as everyone considered.
He stilled. ‘Is that what you want?’
‘There is more than room enough for two. The consummation can happen when we desire.’ She gave a weak laugh which sounded false to her ears. ‘Custom never dictates what I do, as you well know.’
His back remained turned towards her. ‘Never let it be said that I refused a beautiful woman’s warm bed.’
‘A bed at least.’
He made a low bow. ‘After you. You look ready to drop.’
The tiny flower of hope which had grown at his first words withered. She looked ready to drop could only mean that she looked hideous. Whatever faint hope she had about him finding her attractive vanished. She curled her fist, hating that for once she wanted a man to desire her body instead of envying her fighting skills.
She straightened her shoulders and gave him a crushing look. ‘I shall sleep in my clothes.’
A dimple played in the corner of his mouth. ‘Do you normally?’
Hope flickered in her breast. She could hide her scars…a little while longer. ‘It depends on the circumstance.’
He caught her elbow. The tiny touch sent a lick of fire down her arm. ‘You must do as you see fit, but I will sleep how I always sleep—without clothes.’
‘If you must…’
‘Have you considered what the gown will look like tomorrow? You must find another.’
‘I won’t be wearing it.’ She stuck her chin in the air. ‘You only specified a dress for the wedding. I have done that. I will wear what I please from now on.’
‘And what will that be?’ He glanced about the room. ‘Forgive me, but I don’t see any clothes’ trunks in this room.’
‘My trousers and tunic!’
He gave her a look. Her stomach knotted and she retreated a step. ‘You haven’t had them destroyed, have you?’
‘Not yet,’ he replied smoothly. ‘But I prefer my bride to dress like a woman. You are no longer a shield maiden. Your dress reflects on me and my status. Fighting people who mock you is not the best use of my time.’
‘I fight my own battles. And I’ve learnt to ignore whispers.’
He gave her a hooded look. ‘I always look after my women.’
She swallowed hard. His woman! As if she was little more than a possession. ‘I will endeavour to find suitable clothes, but I can’t promise.’
‘With the gown, it depends on how much you wish to expose of your body to my men. But I will cut off any trousers you wear. You will have to expose your thighs to my men.’
Sayrid stared at him horrified. She might have been a shield maiden, but she had always dressed modestly, never flaunting her body. ‘You wouldn’t dare!’
‘Do you want to take that risk?’
Sayrid undid the belt and pulled it over her head. She dropped all her garments on the floor before diving under the covers and pulling them up to her chin. She breathed easier. She had kept her scarred back to him. After tonight she doubted that he’d grace her bed and he would never need to know of her shame.
Hrolf took rather longer in divesting his garments. The firelight played on his skin, turning it a golden hue. When their gazes locked as his fingers went to his trousers, his lips went up in a knowing smile. She hastily screwed up her eyes and gave several loud snores for good measure.
Sayrid wished she hadn’t offered him a place in the bed. She could hardly go back on it now, having invited him. She hugged her knees to her chest and made herself as small as possible.
