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“Only one thing could tear me away from my advisors and ledgers,” Erik started. “And it’s not my daughter.”

He knew what his master was implying. “I’m honored you’d watch me compete.”

“I wish to bear witness to the devastation the poor sod who faces you will suffer.”

Marteinn remained silent.

“From my vantage point in the great hall, I see everything—including the way you still lust after Kara.”

Embarrassed by Erik’s words, he nodded. “I wish I could deny your claim, milord. If I’ve brought shame upon you—”

Erik held up his hand. “Silence.” He scrutinized his captain. “If the gods wished you to marry her, I would have happily blessed the union. But fate dictated otherwise. And I’m afraid I am much too old to sire another daughter for you to wed. Regardless, I raised you alongside my own children, always considering you a son.”

“I am forever in your debt.”

“You’re gratitude has never been in question.” Erik grasped his shoulder. “I’m concerned with the ceaseless chatter about the irreconcilable differences between you and Kara since she wed Jarl McNally. This festival has only encouraged the gossipmongers. I’ve refrained from interfering in hopes you’d find a wife.”

“Direct me, and I will silence their tongues forever.”

Erik chuckled. “I’m afraid half the kitchen maids would meet a violent end. Then who would prepare our meals?”

Marteinn was guilty of everything his master accused him of. More reason to escape his old life. “What can I do?”

“Select a bride.”

He shifted on his feet. “I’m of a mind never to marry, milord.”

Erik tugged the end of his beard. “Better to marry than burn,” he said. “One of the wisest sayings to ever come out of Christendom. One that any man can appreciate.”

Oh, he burned—lust roared through him, so did a penchant for violence and unadulterated hatred for Jarl McNally. No wife, no matter how beautiful or obedient, would ever sate his appetite for Kara Dalgaard. “I’d do anything for you, except what you ask now.”

Erik stared him directly in the eyes. Although the jarl’s hands were twisted with age and his facial hair was white as virgin snow, he still wielded his sword as well as any man. “You’ll obey, Marteinn Dalgaard, or I’ll handpick the woman myself. And by that time, I may not be in the mood to present you with a bride that has a full set of teeth.”

Only once before had the jarl referred to him as a Dalgaard. When he was a child, after his mother had died. Marteinn never knew his father, and when all the Odin worshippers were driven out of Reykjavik upon the threat of death, his mother had fled with him to Norway and found sanctuary in Erik’s household. “Allow me time to consider your request.”

“It’s not a request.” Erik sucked in his breath, gesturing to his personal escorts standing just feet away. “Meet me in my solar after the feast.”

“Aye, milord.” Marteinn knew what would happen long before the celebration ended tonight and the jarl would not be a happy man.

Chapter Two

Marteinn tied his hair in a queue as he stood in knee-deep water awaiting his opponent. Last year, his overly eager rival grabbed a fistful of his hair, and before he could free himself, won the competition. He’d not make the same mistake again.

The crowd had doubled in size; girls smiled and blew him kisses. Finding a wife shouldn’t be so burdensome with so many attractive candidates. But when he thought about taking vows, binding himself for life to anyone but Kara, his heart withered. “Kanskje jeg skal la min pikk gjøre valg.”

On the other hand, if he let his prig do the choosing … His gaze stopped on Kara’s friend.

“Vakker,” he growled, temporarily captivated by her beauty.

“Thank you,” a gruff voice called from behind. “I didn’t realize you preferred men—Captain.”

Marteinn whirled around, facing his adversary. “Allow me the opportunity to show you what I prefer …”

The Saami grinned. “If your manhood is able to rise to the occasion once I’m finished with you, I’ll be happy to watch.”

Without warning, he launched himself at Marteinn, knocking him off his feet. He hit the water with a loud splash, sinking to the bottom of the lake. The man clamped his hands around his throat, squeezing tight.

Damn it, he’d let his guard down. He drew his knees into his chest, then smashed his feet into the Saami’s gut, slingshotting him backward.