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His wonderfully shaped lips twitched. “May I ask after the lady?”
“My dearest friend, Mercia.”
Again, the captain bowed elegantly. “We met briefly outside today.”
“I don’t believe we had the opportunity to actually speak, Captain Marteinn.”
“Forgive me.”
Was that a hint of a smile in his eyes?
“Did you watch the wrestling match?” he asked.
Do your duty, be polite. Spare Rachelle any embarrassment. “I’m afraid that I didn’t.”
He raked his fingers through his hair, visibly disappointed.
“She’s not accustomed to the games,” Rachelle explained. “Whenever we sponsor similar activities at home, Mercia always finds an excuse to run off.”
She slumped in her chair. Her friend was trying to help, but the effort only served to make her look foolish. It wasn’t for lack of interest—she enjoyed seeing men compete. But something stirred inside her whenever they stripped down to their braes. That’s what made her avoid the games, her response to half naked men.
“A timid creature,” he observed none too kindly. “Some women aren’t meant for vigorous activities.”
Mercia cleared her throat, leaning forward. “Let me assure you, Captain, I am not timid, just easily bored.”
Their eyes met again and held for what felt like eternity. Heat flooded her belly as she took in the intensity of his stare. “I’ll remember that,” he said, then walked away.
“Another arrogant Viking.” Mercia watched him disappear into the crowd. “No wonder I can’t find a companion—these men are hardly distinguishable from the beasts they keep.”
“You fell prey to his trick.”
She shook her head, then turned back to her friend. “What do you mean?”
Rachelle patted her hand, chuckling softly. “He tested your wit. And from the way he reacted, I think you exceeded his expectations.”
Chapter Three
Mercia’s bewitching eyes were difficult to avoid. Marteinn enjoyed watching her squirm after calling her timid. From his experiences, there were only two types of females upon the earth—obedient ones and those who would defy a man at every turn. Mercia had proven herself spirited in their short exchange, which meant she’d never obey a man, unless she wanted to. And if he were being honest with himself, now that he’d gotten a closer look at her, she was as beautiful as Kara. Maybe more so.
Her dark hair hung loose about her shoulders, two braids framing her face. She wore a purple dress, modestly cut, but several layers of linen couldn’t hide her luscious curves. No woman at the games had stood out until today, and it pleased him, yet there was no time to pursue her. If everything went according to his plans, he’d be leaving the country within the hour.
“Captain Marteinn,” Jarl Erik called from the high table. “Join me.”
The moment he’d been waiting for.
He approached the dais, bowing first to his lord, then his distinguished guests. He avoided eye contact with Jarl McNally and Kara.
“It seems you have stood here many times before,” Erik observed.
“Six times, milord.”
“Aye.” Erik raised his drinking horn and gulped his mead. “Shall I forgo the formalities, or do you wish me to praise you as I often do?”
Odin help him. The less time it took to make his request, the better for everyone involved. “I am satisfied to skip the speech.”
“You always were a simple man, Marteinn. A trait I deeply admire. Tell me what your heart desires.”
His gaze naturally travelled toward Kara, but he stopped himself. “I wish to be discharged from your service.”
