Page 17 of Taming His Viking Woman

The entire throng hushed.

‘What does the Shield Maiden say?’ someone called out. ‘Has she given way?’

‘Go on,’ he commanded. ‘Say it so they can hear.’

‘Hrolf is correct. He has won.’ Sayrid’s shoulders slumped as she bowed her head. ‘I’ll honour my oath. My lands will be his.’

‘I claim everything, including your body!’

At his words, the crowd burst into loud laughter and cheers. Hrolf’s shoulders relaxed, but he kept hold of Sayrid’s wrist. Her expression of absolute horror intensified.

In all his years of fighting, he had never met a better opponent and he had begun to despair of winning, something he’d never experienced before.

Sayrid’s instant of hesitation had happened just after he’d sent a prayer towards any god who might be listening. Obviously Freya, the goddess of love and marriage, had been following the proceedings because he suddenly had known what to do and his strength had returned. He would honour the goddess today—by claiming Sayrid as his bride.

‘Marriage is not a death sentence,’ he murmured, hating the bruised patch just under her eye. He had tried to be careful, but obviously there had been moments when his fighting instinct had taken over.

Silently he vowed that it would never happen again. He would ensure that his wife was properly looked after, not left to fend for herself in a hostile world. He would make it right. His wife should be dressed in furs and silks, not battling for her life.

‘Set the date,’ she growled, twisting slightly to free herself from his grasp.

Hrolf concentrated and clung on to his prize—half to keep her next to him and half because if he let go, he knew he’d collapse in a heap of spent muscle.

‘When would you have this marriage of ours?’ she ground out. ‘A month? Two months? How long will you give me to prepare?’

A fury swept over him. Like most women, she delighted in treachery and deception. She might have escaped him the other night by diving into the river and swimming, but he knew what she was capable of now. And he wasn’t minded to chase halfway around the world after her.

This marriage would take place now while he could bind the loyalty of those she commanded to him. She would learn her place in his household. He had no need of women warriors—what he required was a wife.

‘The cooks had best get busy. Another feast is required.’ He gave a triumphant smile which took in all the onlookers. ‘The marriage takes place today!’

The crowd broke out in loud cheers.

All colour drained from her face. ‘Today? Impossible. A wedding requires arrangements. The proper alignment of the stars, the reading of portents and your father’s sword…’

He slowly lowered their arms before letting her go. She staggered back a step. ‘Nothing is impossible to a determined man. And my determination has never been in doubt.’

‘Why the speed?’ She licked her lips and her eyes darted about the arena. She gave every impression of a cornered animal searching for the nearest bolthole.

‘I would not put it past you to decide to go on a long voyage which you claim is vital for everyone in the village or, worse, disappear into the world, dressed as a man.’ He forced his mouth to smile as he cupped her cheek.

Her entire being bristled with anger and she turned her face away. ‘Having just returned from a long voyage, I wanted some months at home.’

‘These words are supposed to act as your guarantee?’ He inclined his head. ‘Forgive me if I require more.’

‘Snaking out your foot to trip me was unworthy.’ Her mouth turned mulish, but he could see the latent hint of passion in it.

‘There was nothing in the rules, my lady, against tripping. I saw an opportunity and took it.’

‘The only reason you challenged me was to prove a point. You are the better warrior than I am. Well, you’ve proved that. You can have the land you require.’

Hrolf watched her mouth. The exertion of the fight had turned it strawberry ripe and her tunic now clung to her body. His fingers itched to unwrap her. But he refused to give any woman power over him. He’d seen what gibbering wrecks men could become. When he discovered his father’s frozen body on his mother’s grave, Hrolf had vowed never to allow a woman to touch his heart, a sentiment that his uncle had encouraged.

‘Why do you attempt to put words in my mouth?’ he asked in a cold tone. ‘I know what we bargained for. I always claim what is mine by right and I do it in my fashion.’

Her eyes became a blue flame and she pulled her shoulders back. ‘My honour is without question. Do not suggest I would dishonour my oaths again.’

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