Читать книгу Surrender to the Viking - Joanna Fulford - Страница 11

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.

‘This has been a difficult day for you, hasn’t it?’

Difficult doesn’t begin to describe it. ‘That’s one way of putting it.’

‘I regret the suddenness of this arrangement but circumstances dictated it.’

‘Why should you regret it? You have the ships and swords that you came for.’

‘So I have, but I’ve achieved far more than that,’ he replied.

‘Ah, yes, a bride with a rich dowry.’

‘A fair bride with a rich dowry.’

Lara looked away and took another sip of mead to try to quell the surge of resentment that his words had revived.

‘That wasn’t flattery by the way,’ he went on. ‘It was a statement of fact.’ He continued his scrutiny. ‘That gown becomes you very well incidentally.’

When she made no reply he smiled faintly. ‘That was your cue to say, Yes, I know.’

She did look at him then, her gaze smouldering. ‘Must I speak on cue now for your entertainment?’

‘There is no must, Lara, although you are invariably entertaining.’

‘I’m glad I amuse you.’

‘How could you not when your company is so enlivening?’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Company that I greatly look forward to sharing.’

‘I wish I could say the same.’

He laughed softly. ‘That’s better. For a while there I was afraid you had laid down your sword.’

The warmth in her cheeks intensified. ‘If you thought that, then you were gravely mistaken, my lord.’

‘I’m delighted to hear it.’

‘You are pleased to mock.’

‘Not at all. I really am delighted. The greatest enemy to a relationship is boredom but I feel quite sure ours will never suffer in that way.’

‘Possibly not. Steingrim may slay you long before boredom sets in.’

Finn laughed out loud. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you there. Steingrim will not slay me.’

‘If he doesn’t perhaps I will.’

‘You have already slain me with your incomparable beauty and sharp wit.’

‘Would it were so easy.’

‘I am not an easy man to kill, sweet Lara. You are destined to remain at my side.’

‘What a rousing prospect.’

‘Indeed I do hope to arouse you—very soon now.’

The implications of that produced a tide of heat that rose from her feet to her face. The man is outrageous. Utterly without shame. He was also very big and very strong and he was her husband. In reality he could do whatever he chose now. However, that didn’t mean craven surrender on her part.

‘You will never arouse me, my lord.’

‘Another challenge, Lara? I accept it, gladly.’

He is truly impossible. She sought for a witty and crushing retort but wit had temporarily fled and she had to make do with the latter. ‘You are loathsome.’

‘I’m sorry you should think so. I’ll do my best to change your mind.’

‘I will never change my mind.’

‘Shall we have a wager on that?’

‘There’s no point. You have already lost.’

‘Have I?’ He surveyed her speculatively. ‘I wonder.’

‘No need to tax your brain so, my lord. You may take my word for it.’

The grey eyes glinted. With quiet deliberation Finn set down his cup and got to his feet. Lara blinked, staring up at him in surprise. Had she routed him at last? A glimmer of hope kindled in her breast. It was short-lived. Without warning he bent and lifted her bodily off the chair. Ignoring the laughter and amused glances all around them he turned to Ottar.

‘I find myself impatient to be alone with my bride. Perhaps a private place has been prepared for us?’

The hall erupted with cheers and raucous laughter. Lara went hot and cold by turns, struggling furiously.

‘Put me down, you brute!’

Finn grinned, adjusting his hold a little so that he had a surer grip. ‘I shall, sweet Lara, as soon as we reach our bedchamber.’

The words elicited renewed efforts to escape. He held her with insulting ease and, surrounded by a laughing crowd, carried her from the hall.