Surrender to the Viking
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‘I appreciate your consideration. The ships will join you at Ravndal then.’
‘It is well.’ Finn paused regarding his companion shrewdly. ‘And now, my lord, perhaps you will tell me what I can do for you in return.’
Ottar’s gaze met his. ‘In return I want you to take my daughter to wife.’
Finn stared at him. He’d been expecting many things but nothing like this. Almost immediately he upbraided himself for not having foreseen it.
‘She has a fine dowry of silver and land,’ his companion went on. ‘I’m not going to pretend that my Lara is a biddable young woman. We both know she isn’t. She’ll need a firm hand and no mistake. The question is, are you willing to accept the challenge?’
Finn was silent, trying to order his thoughts. At first sight it might seem that Ottar merely wished to be rid of a problem but the truth went deeper than that. Marriage created enduring alliances and the jarl was a wealthy and powerful ally. Viewed objectively, the offer of his daughter’s hand was a considerable honour. Finn had not the least doubt that her dowry was handsome. Nor had he the least doubt that the ships and swords he required were dependent upon his accepting this condition. Furthermore, refusal would be regarded as a grave insult. He couldn’t afford to make an enemy when he might have a willing ally and Ottar knew that. Finn acknowledged with grudging admiration just how cleverly he’d been manipulated. There was only one viable response.
‘Yes, my lord, I’m willing to accept.’
Ottar beamed. ‘Excellent.’
‘However, your daughter may be of a different mind.’
‘Lara will be delighted.’
Finn had doubts about that though he didn’t voice them. The matter was decided now. He had not expected to marry again or indeed felt inclined to do so, but this was not just about personal inclination. It was about survival, his and that of his family. He would do what was necessary to achieve that. The immediate future was going to be more complicated than he’d envisaged but that couldn’t be helped. He turned his mind to practicalities.
‘The wedding will have to take place almost at once. I sail for Ravndal two days hence.’
‘The feast tonight can serve a double function,’ replied Ottar, ‘if you are so minded.’
Finn nodded. It made sense. ‘Why not?’
‘I’ll go and inform Lara of the arrangement and tell her to prepare herself.’
* * *
After Ottar had gone Finn left the hall and wandered down to the promontory. As he’d anticipated it was deserted now so he found a convenient boulder and sat down, his gaze on the view. However, his thoughts were not about the scenery. By now Ottar would have informed Lara of what was toward. Her reaction was not hard to imagine. Finn smiled wryly. Part of him wished he could have been a fly on the wall for that particular interview. In spite of their temporary truce this morning he was under no illusions that Lara had any tender feelings for him. Recent developments would only have added resentment to what was already a potent mix of emotions. He wished there had been time to talk to her first and perhaps offer a few words of reassurance. He might also have said other things too, about his admiration for her beauty and intelligence and spirit, but he surmised that she would have believed none of it, dismissing it as mere flattery. It wasn’t. To tell her he loved her would have been untrue. He had loved once, in another life, with a blind passion that had brought only pain and destruction. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. This time his eyes were open and the forthcoming marriage grounded in practicality. However, that didn’t mean affection would not grow later. It wouldn’t be hard to grow fond of Lara.
For the first time he let his mind move ahead a little. He didn’t deceive himself that she would be easily won, but then nothing worth the winning was ever easy to attain. Nevertheless, he did intend to win. The challenge added spice to the relationship.
* * *
Lara stared at her father in disbelief. He can’t be serious. ‘I’m to marry Jarl Finn? Today?’
‘That’s right.’
‘That’s absurd.’
‘Not in the least. I offered him your hand and he has accepted.’
For a moment she was silent, trying to take it in. He has to be joking. But as she looked into his eyes she knew he wasn’t. Her stomach lurched.
‘You...he...’ She strove to find the words to express a raft of emotions and failed. Only one word came immediately to mind. ‘No.’
‘It’s an excellent match, Lara.’
‘For the two of you I have no doubt.’
‘And for you. Thor’s teeth! You’re eighteen years old. You should have been wed long since.’
‘I will not wed at your behest.’
‘You damned well will. I’ve put up with your games for long enough.’
‘A game? Is that what you think it is?’
He glared at her. ‘Isn’t it? Are you trying to tell me you haven’t enjoyed sending your erstwhile suitors packing?’
Lara’s chin tilted at a militant angle. ‘No, I won’t tell you that. I did enjoy it and good riddance to the lot of them. I’ll enjoy it even more when I send Jarl Finn packing.’
‘Are you really so simple as to imagine you could?’
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to gather her scattered wits. It wasn’t easy while she was trying to fight a sensation of rising panic as well. Deep down a part of her suspected that what her father had said was true. Finn Egilsson wasn’t the kind of man who could be sent anywhere if he didn’t wish to go.
‘This man isn’t like the others, Lara. If I’d thought so I wouldn’t have offered him your hand.’
No, he isn’t like the others. He isn’t like any man you’ve ever met and that is the problem.
‘I can’t marry him. I barely know him.’
‘Don’t you?’
‘How could I? We only met yesterday for goodness’ sake.’
He surveyed her with a level gaze. ‘And do you find him lacking in wit or intelligence?’
Gods, hardly. The man is sharp enough to cut himself. ‘No, of course not.’
‘Well, then, is his manner uncouth?’
‘His manner is highly polished, as well you know.’ It’s practically got a gloss on it.
‘Do you fear mistreatment at his hands?’
She shook her head. In spite of their short acquaintance she knew he would never be violent to a woman. Just how she knew was hard to say but the knowledge came from somewhere deep inside her. ‘No, I don’t fear that.’
‘Do you find him displeasing to look upon?’
Just for a moment his face appeared in her mind’s eye; a face composed of strong lines and planes, a blade of a nose, a firm mouth, square jaw and piercing grey eyes. The kind of face you couldn’t forget: arresting, disturbing. ‘He is not ill-looking.’
‘Perhaps it is something about his birth or rank that you find lacking.’
‘He is of good birth. I know that.’
‘What is it that you so dislike, then?’
Lara was silent for a moment. Then she met her father’s gaze. ‘What I dislike is being treated like a chattel. I am not some possession to be disposed of at your whim, Father.’
‘I never make a binding agreement on a whim and I have never considered you as a chattel, or your sister, hard as that may be for you to believe. That alliance was made because it had to be, but it was made in good faith.’
‘Good faith?’ She uttered a shaky laugh. ‘Is that what you call it?’
‘I regret the outcome as much as you do. That’s why your future husband is a different kind of man.’
‘He is not my future husband. I will not marry him.’
She steeled herself for the explosion of rage that must surely follow, but it didn’t happen. Her father continued to regard her calmly. It was more disconcerting than any outburst of anger would have been.
‘You’ll marry him,’ he replied. ‘You can either do it with a semblance of grace or you can be dragged into the hall by main force. It’s up to you.’
Her hands clenched at her sides as she conquered the urge to scream, rage, shout defiance. It wouldn’t do any good. His word was given and he would not be forsworn. If she tried to disobey him he would have her forcibly brought to her wedding all right, and under the gaze of the assembled company and, worse, Jarl Finn’s mocking grey eyes. The humiliation would be unspeakable.
She swallowed hard. ‘The use of force will not be necessary.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. Incidentally, I shall expect you to wear your finest gown this evening and do honour to your husband. Is that clear?’
‘Very clear, Father.’
‘Good. I’ll leave you to it, then.’ He moved towards the door but as he reached the threshold she stayed him.
‘Does he even like me?’
‘He has not confided the matter.’ He paused. ‘However, you have looks and wit enough to win a man’s affections if you choose. Use them.’
‘Perhaps I do not choose to.’
‘Then you’re a fool.’
She looked away blinking back tears. Her father’s gaze never wavered.
‘Marriage is not easy even when both parties are making an effort. You cannot afford to be at odds.’
‘The situation is not of my making.’
‘True, but half of what happens hereafter will be of your making. Remember that.’
* * *
After he had gone Lara seized the nearest object and hurled it at the wall. The horn cup shattered into a dozen pieces. As though at a signal, the water in her eyes spilled over and for a while she paced the floor, uttering a protracted growl of fury and frustration. It was all happening again! In spite of her best efforts it was happening again. She’d been so determined that it wouldn’t. She’d promised Asa but in the end it was an empty promise. The matter had been decided without any reference to her or any consideration for personal inclination. She was powerless.
At length she sank down on the edge of the bed and shakily dashed away the tears with her sleeve. Tears were weakness and, anyway, they wouldn’t help her. She had to think. The trouble was that rational thought had never seemed so far away. The only thing that was clear was just how naive she had been to imagine her father would allow her to remain unmarried. When she’d refused to make a choice he’d done it for her. This man isn’t like the others. And, gods, wasn’t that the truth?
Lara drew in a ragged breath as Jarl Finn’s face impinged on her thoughts. He was all the things she had admitted before and yet she felt no closer to knowing who he really was. Her mind returned to the scene on the promontory. That man had been very different from the one she’d spoken to the day before but which was real, the smooth-tongued admirer or the warlord? Or were they just different facets of the same character? She’d known how to deal with the first but the second was another matter entirely. The warlord was charismatic but he was also dangerous. Some of that was about his sheer physical presence, but it went deeper. It was concerned with the aura of power he wore as effortlessly as the sword at his side. Everything about the warlord spoke of a natural leader, of a man familiar with command and to being obeyed. She’d already glimpsed his strength; he’d controlled her without even trying. In a few hours from now he would be her husband and his power over her would be total. As the realities of what that meant began to sink in the knot of apprehension tightened in her stomach.
Chapter Four
Finn half expected that his intended bride would refuse to appear that evening. As her father had said, Lara was not a biddable young woman and only a fool would imagine that she viewed this marriage with favour. She was more than capable of creating a spectacular scene. The possibility created a knot of tension in his gut. He had no idea how he would handle such a scenario never mind trying to visualise how her father would react if she exposed him to ridicule. The situation had all the potential for disaster. The only thing he could do now was to play his part and see this through.
His men had greeted the news of his impending marriage with amused interest but also with absolute understanding of the reasons for it.
‘With all those extra swords we’ll crush Steingrim like a louse,’ said Unnr. ‘Jarl Ottar is proving to be an invaluable ally.’
‘Quite so,’ replied Finn.
‘He does you much honour in wishing for a closer alliance. In fact, it does all of us honour.’
The others voiced their agreement. It pleased them greatly that their lord should be offered a noble bride with a fine dowry. Quite apart from the fitness of such a match it was indisputable evidence of their host’s good faith.
‘The gods must be smiling on us,’ said Sturla, ‘and especially on you, my lord, since your bride is fair into the bargain.’
Finn nodded. Lara is fair all right, and difficult and unpredictable. ‘That she is.’
‘And a redhead.’
Vigdis grinned. ‘No man can foretell the future but I’d be willing to wager that yours will not be dull, my lord.’
Dull was the very last word that Finn would have used to describe it. The coming years would take care of themselves; it was the next few hours that weighed on his mind. Needing occupation he bathed his hands and face and combed his hair. Having done that he changed his clothes, swapping his worn hose and old brown tunic for the best blue and replacing the current leather belt for the one made of interlinking silver discs. Then he buckled on his sword and slid the seax into his belt. A red cloak completed the costume, fastened with a gold brooch wrought in the likeness of a dragon. Whatever happened this evening it would be evident that he meant to honour his bride.
His men likewise prepared themselves and dressed in their best. They were in high good humour now, exchanging jests and banter. Ordinarily Finn would have joined in but as the hour drew nearer his nervous tension increased. It also occurred to him that he had not thought about a morning gift for the bride. Silver and land were the most usual offerings. He realised it would have to be the former since that was what he had to hand. He’d have liked to offer her a more personal gift as well but there hadn’t been time to arrange it. He’d have to address that later. Right now he had more pressing concerns.
Would Lara be compliant or would she publicly reject him? Would she even turn up for her wedding or was he going to have to fetch her? Uncertainty created a sense of anticipation. He realised then that he would fetch her if he had to. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that but one way or another she was going to be his wife.
* * *
Considering the limited time available the servants had done well: they had contrived to clean and sweep the hall and the delicious smells of cooking testified to the coming feast. When Finn and his men arrived they were greeted by their host. He too had changed his clothes and donned his best in honour of the forthcoming nuptials. Under his smile however, Finn detected tension. He thought he could guess the reason for it. A swift glance around revealed no sign of Lara.
‘The bride will be here shortly, my lord,’ said Ottar.
Five more minutes passed and still she did not appear. The men laughed and talked among themselves, apparently quite at ease. No one seemed to find anything amiss. Finn took a deep breath, trying to ignore the knot in his gut. She isn’t coming. It seemed he wasn’t alone in that suspicion because Ottar’s unease became increasingly apparent.
‘What in the name of the All-Father is keeping the girl?’ he demanded.
Finn summoned what he hoped was a soothing smile. ‘It’s a lady’s privilege to keep the groom waiting, my lord.’
Ottar grunted but looked unconvinced. When another five minutes passed his expression grew more annoyed. Some of those standing nearest began to notice and to exchange glances. Finn maintained an outward show of ease. Inwardly his thoughts were quite different. She definitely isn’t coming and this is getting more awkward by the second.
Ottar’s frown deepened but he kept his voice low. ‘If this is one of her Loki tricks I’ll thrash her before the entire company.’
Finn smiled as though at some pleasantry. ‘Let us be patient a little longer, my lord.’
‘You are gracious, Jarl Finn.’
‘It is but a slight delay. I’m sure there’s a good reason for it.’ The reason being that she has no intention of being married.
‘Two minutes more,’ growled Ottar. ‘Then I’ll go and find her and drag her here by the hair if I have to.’
Finn closed his eyes. This was about to become unpleasant. The question was how to prevent it. Somehow he was going to have to forestall his companion before matters spiralled out of control.
The two minutes passed. Ottar’s face was thunderous. ‘Right! She’s asked for it...’
He began to head for the bower but after two paces he stopped in his tracks, staring at the doorway opposite. Finn followed his gaze and then he too stared.
Lara! His heart gave a peculiar lurch as he watched her cross the room towards him. The green gown was gone now and in its place a fine dress of deep blue edged with red and gold at the neck and sleeves. A matching girdle rode her waist. Her beautiful hair was worn loose. A slim gold torc adorned her neck and there was a matching bracelet on her wrist. She looked a little pale but otherwise composed. It didn’t detract from the fact that she was stunning.
She eventually reached them and dropped a polite curtsy.
‘What in Thor’s name took you so long?’ growled Ottar.
She regarded him steadily. ‘A torn hem, Father. It took a little while to mend.’
Finn recovered his wits and smiled. ‘It was worth the wait.’
Her gaze flicked to his face. ‘You are all kindness, my lord.’
Realising that the groom was not offended, Ottar relaxed, apparently mollified. ‘Well, let’s get on with it.’
* * *
Lara shivered inwardly. It had been in her mind to defy her father earlier and not turn up at all. The torn hem had been a lie, an excuse to cover delay caused by mounting dread. Minutes in which her imagination had suggested various means of escape, each wilder than the last. In the end common sense reasserted itself. If she tried to run she would be followed and eventually she would be caught. At the very least she could expect a thrashing. If that had been the end of it she might have taken that option, but it wouldn’t be the end of it. She would still be forced to obey her father’s will. You can either do it with a semblance of grace or you can be dragged into the hall by main force. She’d opted for a semblance of grace but it was a thin disguise.
The sight of her future husband set her heart pounding like a fuller’s hammer. He had never seemed more imposing a presence than he did just then. The blue tunic was ideally suited to his colouring and by some fluke it almost exactly matched her gown. The costume also showed off his broad shoulders and athletic frame to considerable advantage, enhancing the suggestion of leashed strength. It was impossible not to feel intimidated. The other feelings he inspired were more complex and much harder to define. Nor was she inclined to explore them.
* * *
Ottar took her hand and placed it in Finn’s much larger one. Her hand was cool and it trembled a little. He glanced down at her but she wasn’t looking at him now and her expression revealed nothing. Is she afraid? Fear wasn’t a word he’d have associated with Lara. A little nervous possibly, and that was understandable. He squeezed her fingers gently. She did look up then, the blue-green eyes meeting his for a moment. Then she lowered her gaze again but not in time to conceal the strong emotions there.
It took only a short time to exchange the vows that would bind them henceforth. Ottar supplied the ring, knowing that the groom wouldn’t have had time to get one made. It was made of gold filigree, the workmanship delicate and beautiful. It was also tiny. Finn knew it would barely fit his little finger. However, it slid on to Lara’s hand with ease. Then Ottar declared them man and wife and called upon those present to attest the fact. It was done. Expectant silence descended.
Ottar looked at Finn. ‘Aren’t you going to kiss your new wife?’
Finn sensed rather than saw Lara stiffen but when he took her in his arms he was in no doubt. However, there was nothing for it now but to carry this to the expected conclusion.
* * *
Lara knew this had to come and steeled herself. She had thought herself prepared; prepared for that inevitable proximity; prepared for the strong warm hands on her waist; prepared for the symbolic seal of possession. However, as his lips brushed hers she was definitely not prepared for the resulting shiver along her spine, a shiver that had nothing whatsoever to do with nerves. His lips continued to flirt with hers, light, almost teasing. Her pulse quickened. The pressure on her mouth increased a little. She lifted her hands to his breast to push him away but his arm slid around her waist and tightened, pulling her hard against him, trapping her hands. The other arm closed round her shoulders. She gasped as her body was pressed against the lean hard length of his. Before she had a chance to protest his mouth closed on hers in a passionate kiss that ignored resistance until she abandoned the attempt and her mouth opened to his. His tongue tilted with hers, intimate and shocking like the sudden rising tide of warmth inside her. It rippled through her body to the core.
He took the kiss at leisure. As it went on a roar of approval erupted around them. When eventually he drew back she was breathless, the pallor in her face replaced by a rosy flush. Grey eyes looked down into hers and she saw him smile, almost as if he knew about that sudden flood of heat in her blood. He couldn’t know. She was imagining it. What she wasn’t imagining was his evident enjoyment of the situation. Nor was he alone. All around was a sea of grinning faces. Even her father was smiling. Embarrassment mingled with confusion.
Ottar raised his arms. ‘Let’s drink to health for the bride and groom.’
He gestured to the waiting servant who brought the ceremonial silver mead cup. Lara took it and then offered it to Finn. He drank and passed it back. She took a mouthful of liquor and swallowed it. It was cheering but it was also strong, particularly when taken on an empty stomach. She handed the cup back to her father. To get drunk was not part of her plan at all; she needed to keep all her wits about her.
‘Now we shall feast,’ said Ottar.
Finn held out his hand to Lara and obediently she placed her fingers in his, allowing herself to be led to the high table. When she had taken her seat Finn sat down beside her with Ottar on his left. The rest of the company took their places and the servants filed in with platters of food. Although she hadn’t eaten since morning Lara had little appetite. However, the meal gave her a reason to avoid looking at the man beside her, so she took refuge in the pretence of eating, forcing each morsel down and taking her time over it.
In contrast, Finn ate heartily, evidently quite untroubled by the anxiety she felt. However, he was attentive too, offering various dishes to her or enquiring whether she would like more meat or bread. Unwilling to let him see her unease she accepted another slice of the roast boar. Usually she would have enjoyed it but this evening it tasted of ashes.
The last time she had attended a wedding it was to see Asa married, an occasion that had given rise to similar feelings of impotent anger and bitter resentment. At the time she had felt them on her sister’s behalf. Tears and pleading had accomplished nothing: Asa was bound to a man she detested and who cared nothing for her. She was a means to a political end and no more. Lara’s fingers tightened on her cup.
‘Will you have something more to eat?’
Finn’s voice jerked her out of thought. ‘No, I thank you.’
‘You haven’t eaten much thus far. I’d hate to have you waste away.’
‘I’m not very hungry.’
He leaned back in his chair surveying her steadily, an unnerving scrutiny that brought creeping warmth to her neck and cheeks.