“They have surprisin’ good manners fer savages.” The words came out dry.
His mouth twitched—almost a smile. “They ken what’ll happen if they’re nae.”
“And what’s that?”
“They’ll answer tae me.”
It wasn’t a boast, just a statement of fact, but something inside Isolda flared hot.
“Terrifyin’,” she said, infusing the word with sarcasm. “I cannae imagine anythin’ more frightenin’ than a disapprovin’ scowl from the Stag of Uist.”
A deadly quiet settled over the men and even Ivar’s perpetual smirk faltered while Ragnar’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Is that so?”
“Aye.” She met his gaze directly, refusing to back down even as her heart hammered. “I’m sure they’re all quakin’ in their boots.”
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then, Ragnar did something Isolda had already seen once. He laughed—it wasn’t loud, but genuine and completely unexpected. The sound rolled through her, sweet and dangerous, and she found herself staring at a face that was boyishly handsome.
Och… that’s nae fair at all!
Ivar laughed delightedly. “Now that’s?—”
“Careful,” Erik’s voice carried across the space. “The wee bird might bite ye next.”
Ragnar studied her for a moment longer, then turned and plucked a dagger from his belt.
“Since ye’re so… bold with yer words,” he said, spinning the blade once with casual expertise before offering it to her hilt-first, “let’s see if ye’re as bold with yer actions.”
Isolda stared at him, at the weapon, and back again. “What?”
“The target, little wolf.” He nodded toward the far end of the yard where straw-stuffed targets lined the wall. “Let’s see if yer aim is as sharp as yer tongue.”
This was a test—not of her skill with the blade, but of whether she’d back down.Ye started this, ye daft woman. Now finish it!
She reached out and took the dagger, the hilt still warm from his grip. It was heavier than she expected. “And if I refuse?”
“Then I’ll assume ye’re all bark and nay bite, so tae speak.” His tone remained mild, but there was dark challenge glinting in his eyes.
Claricia made a sound that might have been a suppressed laugh. Ada murmured something soothing to Astrid, but Isolda caught the smile tugging at her mouth.
“Fine.” She adjusted her grip. “But when I hit the target, ye owe me somethin’.”
Now she had his attention. “A wager?”
“Aye. Winner gets anythin’ they want.” The words came out bolder than she felt.
Ragnar’s gaze sharpened with something that made heat crawl up her spine. “Anythin’?” he repeated softly.
Cannae take it back now.“Within reason.”
“Agreed.” He stepped aside, gesturing toward the target. “Whenever ye’re ready, little wolf.”
Isolda stepped toward the line marked in the dirt, aware of the men watching her. She hadn’t thrown a blade in years and thought her chances of hitting anything were next to nothing.
She took a deep breath.
Dinnae think, just throw.
She focused on the target, adjusted her stance the way she remembered, and let the dagger fly.
