Love's Fury (Viking's Fury #1) (14 page)

She nodded.

“And do you accept the challenge of being mistress of this house?”

“I will do whatever you ask, milord.”

“Including considering a match between you and one of those men sitting over there?” He gestured at Saga’s brothers.

The question shocked her. A match? What did he mean exactly? “A marriage?”

“Aye.”

“How much mead have you drank, milord?”

Konal’s rich laughter filled the room. “Not enough to cloud my mind, Silvia. Surely you know I will leave this place soon. Once I am satisfied with the improvements and trust the men managing my affairs, I will resume my life in Norway. Knowing you are safe has become an important part of my plans.”

“B-but…”

“Wait.” He held his hand up, stopping her. “Do not ask me to send you back to Jorvik. The moment we met, your fate changed forever. And though I may not have the privilege of being an active part of your life, the gods have revealed to me what I must do to safeguard your future. If you marry a Norseman, no one outside of these walls will ever know you’re a Saxon. For in this household, you will always be regarded as part of my family.”

She didn’t know what to say. One minute he was pawing at her, kissing her, fondling her body with hunger, the next, offering her protection and a husband? Should she take his concern as a compliment or utter rejection?

“Milord…” The words wouldn’t come.

“Have I surprised you?” he asked.

“Days ago you wanted to kill me.”

“Days ago you gave me every reason to seek your end.”

“What has changed?” she asked, finding the courage to look him in the eyes.

“Me.”

Dear God in heaven.
No man had ever shared his intimate feelings with her. And judging by the tone of his voice and the expression on his face, he meant it. She’d influenced him in some way and he cared for her.

“Our short history together is tainted with hatred and violence.”

“I forgive you,” he said.

A chill spiraled up her spine as she continued to stare into the depths of his dark blue eyes. If a heathen understood the meaning of forgiveness, what else did he know?

A
fter the meal
ended, the tables were moved aside, and two men with flutes performed. At first, everyone congregated in the center of the hall, listening in silence. Konal wanted to show these people how to enjoy their time together. Music shouldn’t be wasted. Eyeing Silvia beside him, he slipped his arm about her waist. She smiled up at him, her sweet lips ready for hot kisses. But he’d spare her in public and, instead, guided her to an open space between the musicians and crowd.

He bowed before her, then took her hands in his, showing her how to step to the melody.

“You dance?” she asked.

“I do many things.”

He twirled her around, then reclaimed her tiny body, his palms momentarily rested on her hips. It didn’t take long for Fiske to lead his wife in the same Norse dance, then soon several couples followed. The men and women who chose not to participate, clapped their hands enthusiastically.

After several songs, the color in Silvia’s cheeks only made her more beautiful. Breathless, she stepped back from Konal.

“I am in need of a drink.”

“I will not permit you to stop yet.” He turned and waved at someone across the room.

Seconds later, one of Saga’s brothers joined them. Konal introduced him. “Silvia, this is Gunnar, the eldest of Fiske’s children.”

The broad-shouldered man bowed. “I am honored to meet you.”

She eyed both men nervously. “I am winded, milord. Must I…”

“Saga will bring you some water.”

A new chorus began and Gunnar swept her away from Konal.

As he watched them lean and sway, the sight of her in another man’s arms pierced his heart. His personal feelings didn’t matter though. Keeping her safe did. Looking away, he strutted back to the high table and asked Saga to take Silvia a drink.

“She is a delicate girl. But my son likes the idea of marriage suddenly.” Fiske stood beside him.

“What man wouldn’t for a bride as ripe as Silvia?”

His countryman rubbed his chin. “And has she been plucked?”

Although a legitimate question, it angered Konal. “The answer is for the girl to give to the man that wins her hand.”

“Aye, milord.”

“Am I to understand that one of your sons is ready to accept my terms? Whoever the girl chooses will receive thirty acres of land and enough money to build a cottage suitable for Silvia to live in and to furnish it.”

“A more generous offer than we expected.”

“And you’ll welcome her as a daughter, protecting her at all costs?”

“I swear upon Odin’s eye.”

Konal gripped the man’s shoulder. “After this melody ends, send your other son to dance with her.” He turned to go.

“Wait, Jarl Konal.”

“What is it?”

“If I may speak freely…”

“Permission granted.”

“After raising six children of my own, it is my duty to sense when something upsets them. You are only a few years older than my firstborn. If you love the girl, why don’t you marry her?”

Konal growled, displeased his servant had spoken
too
freely. “I’ve never claimed to feel anything.”

Fiske smirked. “A blind fool could see the attraction you share.”

“Physical need doesn’t mean I love her. Any man would be tempted by her beauty and fiery spirit. But for your sake, Fiske, I will answer plainly. Even if I wished to keep her, my family wouldn’t accept her. As a slave or concubine maybe, and I refuse to expose her to the cruel world any foreigner faces in our homeland. The Trondelag is full of vicious people who look for any reason to spill the blood of a Saxon. You should know this as well as I.”

“But you are the son of a jarl.”

“And obligated to my father until I establish my own house.”

“I understand, milord.”

With a last longing look at Silvia, Konal grabbed a wineskin off the wall near the door and went outside. A dip in the creek’s cold water would help calm his jealousy.

*

Seated between both
of Fiske’s attentive sons, Silvia tried to be friendly. Gunnar had green eyes and blond hair, his brother Tarben had darker coloring like his mother. But neither could keep her attention like Konal. Occasionally, she mentally blocked out their voices and scanned the room for the jarl.

She’d watched him leave over an hour ago and his continued absence worried her.

Tarben offered her another cup of mead.

“No,” she said. “I’ve had three already—enough to make it hard to walk a straight path.”

He grinned. “You can lean upon my arm so you won’t stumble.”

“And mine,” Gunnar added.

“If you’d be so kind as to excuse me.” She stood up, intent on searching for Konal. “I would like to take a short walk, alone.”

The tenants gathered outside wished her well as she headed for the back of the cottage. A footpath led to the creek, the place she guessed Konal would be. She found him lounging on the ground, staring at the evening sky. Not wanting to disturb him, she stopped a few feet behind him and waited for him to acknowledge her presence.

“You’ve found me,” he finally said.

The man surely had eyes in the back of his head. “Aye.”

“Did Fiske’s handsome sons disappoint you?”

“Both are determined to win my affection.”

He repositioned himself so he could see her, lying on his side. “Do you favor one yet?”

She thought about it. If she said no, he’d force them upon her again and again until she chose one. If she lied, it might earn her more time to convince him to set her free. “Yes.”

He sat up then, his eyes narrowed on her. “Which?”

“Gunnar.”

“Wisely chosen. First born sons receive the greatest shares of their father’s wealth.”

“Is that what you think interests me?”

“If it didn’t, I’d consider you a foolish girl.”

His casual manner hurt her in ways she couldn’t describe. “Please don’t make me marry someone I don’t love.”

“Love?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “A childish notion.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“You have a vivid imagination, Silvia. Your future husband will surely appreciate the years of entertainment you will provide. But in the real world, where men and women die every day from starvation or war, love is the last thing they look for in a marriage. You require the protection a Norse name can give you. A secure home. Children to deepen your bond with Fiske’s family. If love is in your future, it will come in time.”

“When did you lose faith in love, milord? After Eira died?”

Even in the fading light she could see the change in his features. Rage flashed in his eyes. He stood up, taking a defensive posture. “What right have you to speak her name? Didn’t I forbid it?”

She trembled then, a kernel of fear burst inside her stomach. “If you expect me to bend to your will, sir, then I deserve the truth. How can you force me into a marriage I do not want if you can’t explain why you don’t believe in a love match?”

He sucked in a ragged breath. “I’ve already explained the purpose of marriage.”

“I don’t wish to share a bed with a man who doesn’t love me.”

“Passion will warm your bed.”

She shook her head, refusing to accept it. “I want more.”

“You can’t have it,” he said sternly.

She whirled around, hiding the tears that wet the corners of her eyes. “Tell me about Eira.”

“Curse you, woman.” He grabbed her arms. “She is alive and well.”

“If the woman you love is alive, why did you kiss me, milord? Why did you try to seduce me?”

Konal turned her around, his forehead nearly touching hers. “A man can love one woman and want to fuck another.”

His words sickened her. “You were right about one thing, milord,” she said in a controlled tone, her stomach in knots. “I am a fool,
for believing in you
.” She pushed him away with all her strength and ran in the direction of the hills, desperate to find a place where she could be alone.

K
onal didn’t move
a muscle—he’d never meant to hurt her, only to put her off emotionally,
and
protect himself more than anything. But the pained expression on her pretty face told him he’d had a serious lapse in judgment. He eyed the empty wineskin. Blaming potent drink would be a sad excuse for bad behavior. But what did Silvia expect? For him to drop down on a knee and confess undying love and devotion? It just wasn’t possible.

All his instincts told him to walk away, go inside, and send one of Fiske’s sons to fetch her back to the gathering. Let them deal with her now. Her welfare rested on their shoulders.

Or did it?

It was then he knew his own future wasn’t as clear as it had been a week ago.

Something about Silvia had penetrated the armor-clad layers of his heart. Even thousands of miles of ocean couldn’t change that. With a frustrated sigh, he strode across the field, headed in the direction of where she’d gone. She must be made to see the value in marrying someone who could protect her. And while he expected some resistance, Konal knew how to bring the stubborn girl to heel.

Simple words weren’t enough, nor the threat of another spanking. She must see it in his eyes and hear the resoluteness of his voice at the same time.

He found her sitting underneath a tree, back resting against the thick trunk with her head bowed.

“Why did you follow me?” she asked without looking up.

“Come back, it’s growing dark. I can’t allow you to stay outside by yourself. The men who attacked us may be waiting for the right moment to strike again.”

“That’s what worries you?” She met his gaze then, palming tears off her face.

“Aye.”

“Then leave me alone, milord.”

“Don’t misjudge my words, Silvia. I care enough to see you settled before I go.”

She momentarily closed her eyes like she was trying to gather her wits. “I thought you were an honorable man.”

“I am.”

She laughed bitterly. “Men under your command killed my father—though I’ll never know who. You refuse to send me home. Yet you also saved my life twice, milord. I’m very confused. Resentful that you wish to imprison me here.”

Losing patience, he growled. “Get up, Silvia.”

“I prefer to stay under the shelter of this tree. Surely there’s a willing bedmate amongst your servants who would gladly
fuck
you.”

Coming from her mouth, those words ripped through him more fatally than a blade. “You’re bitter because I loved another woman.”

Her eyes lit up. “Hardly.” She stared at his crotch, then shook her head. “You overestimate the value of what’s between your legs.”

Did the wench remember everything he said? He’d told her something very similar in Jorvik. Only he didn’t mean it then or now. “Why do you still defy me, Silvia? Your life is in my hands. I can do whatever I wish with you. Kiss you. Caress you. Embrace you…”

“Rape me.”

“Kill you,” he emphasized.

She gasped at his harsh words but rose, determined to show him how she felt. Standing directly in front of him, she swept her hair over her right shoulder and offered her slim, white neck. “I see you carry many blades at your hip. Please … choose one and put me out of my misery finally. Let all this end. Send me to meet my god and sire. For surely it would be a better end for me than being forced to stay here and live a lie.”