Читать книгу Surrender to the Viking - Joanna Fulford - Страница 10

Chapter Three

Somewhere amid these thoughts he dozed off and eventually slept until dawn. Around him his sword brothers snored on. Wanting to stretch his limbs he rose quietly, taking care not to disturb his companions, and slipped out of a side door. The morning smelled of dew and damp earth. It had rained in the night but the clouds had passed over and the new day looked promising. That was just as well when there was so much to be done. He was mentally listing it all when he glimpsed movement out of the corner of his eye.

Automatically he whipped round, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword. He wouldn’t put it past Steingrim to sneak up on his foes as they slept. However, far from being the enemy’s bulky form, the figure was slight and female. A proper look revealed her identity. He relaxed. She hadn’t noticed him at all and was heading away from the buildings along a track that led towards the trees. For a second he hesitated, debating with himself. Then curiosity won.

* * *

Lara reached the promontory a few minutes later and, having divested herself of the cloak, drew the sword from its scabbard and began to warm up as Alrik had taught her. Then, closing her mind to everything else, she went through the drills, slowly at first, letting each movement flow into the next, then faster until the blade became almost invisible and the air hissed with its passing. Left, right, thrust, parry...left, right, block, feint, turn... Suddenly she froze, seeing the still figure just yards away at the edge of the trees. Shock was swiftly replaced by a range of uncomfortable emotions.

Jarl Finn! How in Hel’s name had he found out? He must be enjoying the discovery enormously. No doubt the tale would be all over the steading by midday. She’d be a laughing stock. Her father would be furious...

Finn pushed his shoulders away from the tree he’d been leaning on, and strolled towards her. Lara lifted the sword, strongly tempted to run him through. It wouldn’t be easy because he was armed, trained, battle-hardened and much bigger. All the same she’d be willing to try. He halted a few feet away. She glared at him, bracing herself for mockery.

‘Not bad,’ he said, ‘but you need to raise your elbow a little higher when you parry.’

Lara blinked. ‘My elbow?’

‘Yes, like this.’ He drew his sword and demonstrated. ‘It prevents your enemy from delivering a downward stroke to your shoulder, you see.’

‘Oh.’

He demonstrated once more. ‘Now you try.’

Gathering her wits she resumed her stance and tried to copy him. It wasn’t quite as easy as he made it look. He stepped behind her, placing a hand under her elbow. ‘There.’ The hand moved on and his fingers closed around hers, the touch warm and strong. ‘Now, turn your wrist a little.’ His grip tightened just a fraction. It didn’t hurt in the least but her arm had no choice save to move as he dictated. Retaining his hold he took her through the manoeuvre again. Lara tried to focus on the sword, not on the man who was now standing so close to her. Gods, he was big, and disconcertingly strong with it. Had she really been mad enough to contemplate taking him on? He’d have snapped her like a twig.

‘That’s it.’ Finn released his hold. ‘Now run through that sequence again.’

He stepped away to give her space. She hesitated, torn between annoyance at the commanding tone and a wish to improve. His gaze met and held hers. One eyebrow lifted a little. The challenge was plain. Lara’s chin came up at once. Assuming the correct stance, she began to repeat the moves, aware all the time of the man looking on and the cool grey eyes that missed nothing.

‘Better,’ he said. ‘Again.’

She took a deep breath and took a firm hold of the hilt. You can do this. You want to do this. This time she made herself concentrate, performing the sequence once more.

‘Keep your body sideways to your opponent. You haven’t got a shield, remember, so you need to reduce the size of the target.’

Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? Lara adjusted her position and then repeated the exercise. He watched critically, commenting on each move, instructing, encouraging and even offering an occasional word of praise. Nor could she detect anything remotely patronising in his manner. It was quiet and businesslike, requiring the like response from her. Gradually she began to relax a little and to enjoy herself. It was fun and she’d learned more in the past half an hour than in the previous three months. Knowing the basics was one thing but this had just taken the art of sword craft to a whole new level. She listened attentively now, obedient to his every command, understanding the reasons for what he was saying.

It was tempting to stay and continue for a while but the sun was above the hills now and a new day beginning. Reluctantly Lara lowered her sword.

‘Is something wrong?’ he asked.

‘No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just that I have to get back. People will be stirring soon, if they aren’t already.’

‘You’re right. I’d lost track of time.’

‘I also.’

He watched her sheathe the sword. ‘Who taught you to fight?’

‘My brother, Alrik.’

‘How long have you been practising?’

‘About three months or so.’

‘Not so long, then.’

‘That must be obvious to you.’

‘Yes, it is,’ he replied, ‘but Miklagard wasn’t built in a day. You’ve made progress but you need more practice.’

She nodded, glad that he hadn’t lied to flatter her and encouraged that he should think she had improved if only a little. ‘I’ll persevere.’

‘Good.’

Lara retrieved her cloak and used it to swathe the sword before tucking it under her arm. ‘I must go.’

‘And I need to go to the landing and visit my ship.’

‘Are you afraid something may have happened to it in the night?’

The grey gaze cooled. ‘My men and I are being pursued by a large mercenary force. I take nothing for granted.’

She bit her lip. ‘Forgive me. I’d forgotten about that.’

‘When you’re dealing with an enemy like Steingrim the day you become complacent is the day you die.’

Lara was silent, mentally berating herself. Idiot! Now he’ll think you’re an empty-headed little fool. Up until an hour ago she wouldn’t have given a sheep dropping for his opinion, but now somehow it mattered.

‘I beg your pardon, my lord. You speak from experience that I do not have.’

The tone was unwontedly humble and for a moment his eyes registered surprise.

‘As you say.’

With that he bowed and walked away. She watched the retreating figure for a moment or two and then hurried after him.

‘Jarl Finn?’

He looked round, surveying her steadily. ‘Lady?’

‘Thank you for your help this morning.’

The tone was sincere, unexpectedly so. He was about to make an appropriate reply but she was away, running off down the track towards the steading. He watched her go and then followed, albeit at a more relaxed pace. When she reached the fork in the path she slowed and stopped, hesitating for a moment. Finn stopped too, waiting. Would she or wouldn’t she? Lara took another step and then another. He sighed. She checked again and then darted a glance over her shoulder. For a second or two her gaze met his then she was off again. Moments later she was lost to view. Finn smiled to himself and continued on his way towards the landing.

* * *

The ship was fine and the guards on duty reported no sighting of an enemy craft. Finn relaxed a little. For the time being at least it looked as though they had shaken Steingrim off their trail. Next time they met it would be when Finn chose and he’d have the warriors to end it once and for all. Today he would settle the details with Jarl Ottar. Tonight’s feast would seal the agreement.

As he strolled back to the steading to speak to his host, Finn let his mind drift to his recent encounter with Lara. When he’d decided to follow her he’d no idea what his decision might lead to. He hadn’t expected to be so thoroughly entertained or, he admitted, so impressed. Her brother had taught her well and she’d evidently taken the lessons seriously. He hadn’t lied when he’d told her she’d made progress. However, he’d been very careful to avoid any suggestion of flattery or flirtation, adopting the tone he might have used with his men. It was the right strategy, although he hadn’t been entirely sure of that at first. He hadn’t missed her initial hesitation but, as he’d hoped, her eagerness to learn had overcome natural caution. She was a quick learner too. He had but to tell her something once for her to remember it. If she’d had someone to practise with she’d have been even further ahead by now.

He shook his head, not quite able to believe he’d been complicit in this. Her father certainly wouldn’t approve if he knew. As far as he was concerned the roles of the sexes were quite clear. Finn had to admit that he found it utterly incongruous to see a pretty girl wielding a sword. And Lara was a very pretty girl: small, slender, fine-boned—exquisite. The very idea of her in combat was ludicrous. It offended every masculine notion of what was acceptable. However, the early morning practices were harmless enough, providing an outlet for a rebellious spirit. Besides, in some measure, she had given him her trust and he would not betray it. In any case he wasn’t going to be around for very long.

* * *

As he’d anticipated Jarl Ottar was keen to speak to him and later that morning the two men adjourned to a quiet corner where they could speak privately. Finn sat down and waited for his host to open the conversation.

‘I have thought on the matter we discussed before,’ said Ottar. ‘I will supply you with a warship and the crew to man her. My brother, Njall, will provide another.’

Finn was momentarily incredulous. Two big warships would carry a hundred and sixty men. When combined with his own he’d have more than enough to defeat Steingrim.

‘That is generous, my lord.’

‘In addition I will ensure that each ship is well provisioned and her crew armed for the task.’

‘I thank you.’ The cost of provisioning a warship was considerable, never mind two. It was far more than Finn had been expecting. He was grateful too but such munificence came at a price. Clearly Ottar was expecting something considerable in return.

‘It will take a little while to organise this, of course,’ the jarl went on, ‘but not too long, I hope.’

‘In the meantime I will head down the coast to my estate at Ravndal. Our continued presence here will not go unremarked and eventually Steingrim will learn of it. I’ll not risk subjecting this steading to an attack.’

‘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.