Page 11 of Taming His Viking Woman

‘My problem remains. I desire a wife and land with a bay to keep my ships.’

‘You will have to seek her elsewhere.’

‘And the Shield Maiden? What is her dowry? Avil Ironfist was a considerable landholder.’

Kettil gave a short laugh. ‘Seek elsewhere. The maiden does not require a husband. She assures me of this every time she returns from one of her voyages. And she’d make a terrible wife. I doubt she knows one end of a loom from the other.’

‘How hard can it be to defeat a woman?’ Bragi asked. ‘Who has she fought in defence of her property? A few old men and beardless boys? If you won’t challenge for that prize, old friend, I will take the honour.’

‘Leave it, Bragi. Some things make poor jests.’

‘Do not think you are the first to covet Ironfist’s lands. She holds them well.’ Kettil raised a brow. ‘Sayrid is perhaps the best fighter I’ve seen. She’s quick and has a brain which is more than can be said for many warriors.’

Hrolf ground his teeth. The jaarl appeared to think that he was a green boy just returned from his first voyage, not a grown man who had spent years honing his battle skills. ‘Which goes to show that they are worth fighting for.’

Kettil clapped him on the back. ‘A solution will present itself. For now I will enjoy the time we spend together before you go in search of the land you seek. In time our mutual enemy Lavrans will be defeated but, I think, far from these shores.’

Hrolf schooled his features. Kettil had always intended this outcome. But he was disinclined to walk away from a challenge, particularly when the prize was attractive as Sayrid Avildottar.

* * *

Sayrid breathed in the still evening air. She twisted first one way, then the other, attempting to loosen the tight muscles in her back. The sounds of the feast echoed out on to the quiet street. The skald started the first verse of the saga of ‘The Sword Tryfling and the Shield Maiden’. It was apparently one of Blodvin’s favourites, but Sayrid hated everything about it. Shield maidens never found true love except in stories.

It had been a spectacular feast, despite Bloodaxe’s and his wife’s non-attendance. Although there had been the usual niggles of people objecting to the seating arrangements and several questioning the quality of the ale, by and large the meal had passed without incident. She wished that the feeling of foreboding would go and that she could relax.

A movement in the shadows made her start. She crouched, instinctively reaching for her knife. ‘Who skulks in the shadows? Show yourself!’

‘I do my best thinking in the shadows.’ Hrolf stepped forward. The torchlight picked out the planes in his face and the curve of his bottom lip. ‘You should be in there, toasting the happy couple, listening to the skalds and basking in the glory. Your impassioned plea for the lovers carried the day, Sayrid.’

Now was not the time to explain that such gatherings always unnerved her. Everyone always seemed to stare at just the time she knocked over the ale or laughed too loudly or accidentally banged her fist on the table. ‘Regin and Blodvin are fully capable of enjoying it without me.’

‘And what do you plan to do next?’

‘Fish, and try to convince Kettil to allow me to go east and down the rivers to Constantinople, instead of returning to Birka. You have been there, haven’t you?’

His face hardened in the dim light. ‘A hard journey. Many I’ve travelled with fell on distant shores.’

‘We need to go to the markets ourselves, instead of paying a premium for other traders to go. The Viken give an even worse return than the Götalanders.’

‘And Kettil disagrees?’

‘He refuses to fund me.’ She winced the instant the words emerged from her throat. It sounded like she was begging to be part of his next felag. She straightened her shoulders. ‘But one day, I will go as the leader of my own felag. I will get enough gold for the proper-sized ship.’

‘You are very determined.’ His soft voice curled about her insides. Sayrid concentrated on breathing. Hrolf was used to women falling at his feet.

‘Have you seen any pretty women to assist in your quest for a wife?’ she asked to distract her thoughts from the shadowy hollow in his throat.

He gave a rich laugh and took a step closer. ‘What is it about feasts that brings out the matchmaker in every woman?’

Sayrid carefully shrugged. ‘You must be seeking a wife or you would not have offered for Blodvin.’

‘I can find my own wife,’ he said without moving away. ‘My requirements are very exacting.’

His gaze honed in on her mouth as sure as an arrow shot from a hunter’s bow. The very air between them crackled with energy. She knew all she had to do was to lean forward and she’d see if his lips moving over hers matched her dreams.

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