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

Chapter Five

A small hov had been made ready for the bridal couple so that this night at least they might have privacy. Lara fought her captor every step of the way but to no avail: she was borne inexorably on until they reached their destination. Before anyone had a chance to intervene Finn carried her inside and heeled the door shut behind him. Then he set her down and barred it securely. At once a chorus of indignant voices rose from outside and heavy fists pounded on the wood. He ignored them, and turned towards his bride.

For several heart-thumping seconds they surveyed each other in silence. Lara darted a look around: lamplight revealed that the hov was sparsely furnished, the single room dominated by a large bed covered with furs. The window was shuttered fast. The only door was the one by which they had entered and Finn was between it and her. She moistened her lips. In the confined space he seemed much larger than before, a dominating and virile presence whose attention was now entirely on her.

‘Alone at last.’ He smiled and removed his cloak, tossing it over a chair. Then he looked at Lara and threw his arms wide. ‘Come here, sweet wife.’

She made no move to obey. ‘I will not. I agreed to wed you, nothing else.’

He evinced complete surprise. ‘Are you saying you will not share my bed?’

‘Yes, I am saying that.’

‘It’s a serious matter to deny a man his marital rights.’

The teasing tone was much more disconcerting than an outright display of anger, and much harder to deal with.

‘You’ve got what you wanted. This was about ships and swords and nothing else.’

‘Didn’t anyone mention that it’s actually about more than that? Would it surprise you to know that you must run my hall and perform all duties connected with that?’

Her eyes sparkled with indignation. ‘Of course it wouldn’t.’

‘Oh, good. That’ll save confusion.’ He paused in apparent contemplation of some mental list. ‘In addition I must mention, in case anyone else didn’t, that I shall want half-a-dozen fine sons to continue my line and that you must produce them. Not all at once of course,’ he amended. ‘I don’t wish to be unreasonable.’

Lara experienced a fresh surge of indignation. Along with that were other more elusive emotions that she didn’t want to explore. ‘I am not a brood mare to be used at your pleasure.’

‘You know, it would be very much my pleasure,’ he replied. ‘In spite of your vile temper you’re a comely wench. Bedding you will not be an unwelcome obligation.’

Lara backed a pace. ‘Stay away from me!’

‘You don’t mean that.’

‘I said stay away.’

‘What are you afraid of, Lara?’

‘I’m not afraid of you.’

He advanced unhurriedly. ‘No?’

‘No.’

It was a downright lie. Just then she’d never felt so scared in her life. All the same she’d rather have died than admit it. She would also have given anything to have had a sword in her hand.

‘Then come and kiss me, sweet wife.’

‘I will not kiss you.’

‘I really would like it if you did.’

Her stomach wallowed. Then her back met the wall. Desperately she edged along it, her eyes seeking some weapon, anything that might be used to hold him off. Her leg brushed a stool. She bent and grabbed it, hurling it at his head. Finn ducked and the missile flew past, crashing against the door. She heard him chuckle. Anger temporarily replaced fear and the stool was followed by a jug and a wooden bowl. He avoided them easily and came on. Heart pounding, she retreated step by step until she reached the corner. Seeing the danger she tried to dodge away but Finn was faster, dodging in front of her, forcing her back again, forbidding escape.

‘I really would like that kiss, Lara.’

‘Never.’

‘Never is a long time.’ He moved closer, trapping her there with an arm on either side of her shoulders. ‘Too long.’

‘Don’t you dare to touch me!’

‘Do I dare?’ He contemplated it briefly. ‘Yes, I believe I do. Otherwise what a world of pleasure would be lost.’

She had no idea what he meant and didn’t care. All she could see was the face looming above hers, a handsome arresting face wearing an infuriating smile.

‘I’m warning you. Get away from me.’

‘No, for if I do that I cannot pleasure you, and I do wish to pleasure you, very thoroughly.’

The words were beyond outrage and she struck him hard. His eyes glinted. Her attempt to launch a second blow ended in a gasp as her wrist was caught in an iron grip.

‘It’s no good, Lara. You won’t drive me off as you did all the others.’

‘Let go of me.’

‘No.’

He evaded a kick. Lara struggled, writhing in his hold, every particle of her being in revolt. He held her without any undue effort. His evident enjoyment of her predicament did nothing to calm her rage.

‘How dare you treat me like this?’

‘You have chosen the method.’

‘I?’ She kicked out again and missed. ‘Don’t try to blame me for your shortcomings, you devious rogue.’

‘Harsh words, ill suited to a bride.’

‘Well-deserved words! You are a rogue—an opportunist, a pirate, a low, cunning, smooth-tongued, scheming underhanded villain.’

‘Sweet Lara, did no one tell you that you must show respect when you speak to your husband, and that you must be obedient to his wishes?’

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

‘It would have a certain novelty value, I’ll admit.’ He strode across the room propelling her towards the bed. ‘Since you will not kiss me we shall have to omit that and just retire instead.’

Her heart leaped towards her throat. ‘I will not.’

He sighed. ‘Either you can remove your clothes or I will.’

She glared at him. ‘How I hate you!’

He ignored the words as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘If I do it you will likely never be able to wear that gown again, which would be a pity. The colour suits you.’

Her chin lifted. She wanted to defy him but knew that, if she did, it would end in humiliating defeat and a ruined dress. Throwing him a look of detestation she got to her feet and with fumbling fingers began to unfasten her girdle. As it came loose she let it fall to the floor. Then she drew off the shorter overdress. She paused, her eyes meeting his.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Keep going.’

The under-gown followed. Clad only in her shift now she waited, dread vying with fury. Was he going to demand that she strip? Was that to be her punishment for defiance? It occurred to her then that making her strip was likely to be the least of it. She was completely in his power and that wasn’t a comfortable thought. Was he going to hit her? Did he intend to hurt her? Once she had thought he wouldn’t offer violence to a woman, but now certainty was tainted by creeping doubt. She had never felt more vulnerable or more afraid in her life but she wouldn’t have let him know it for a shipload of silver. Her chin lifted.

The grey gaze never left her. ‘The bed awaits.’

Reluctantly she obeyed him, perching gingerly between the cool linen sheets, hugging her knees protectively. For a moment or two he remained quite still. Then he bent and retrieved his cloak, throwing it over his arm. Lara followed the movement in silent bemusement, confusion evident in her face.

He smiled mockingly. ‘Don’t worry. I shan’t rape you, Lara, easy as that would be. I prefer my women to be willing participants. When you tire of your cold, virginal bed and decide to become a real woman let me know. In the meantime sleep alone if you will.’

Speechless, she watched him cross to the door and unbar it. He paused on the threshold.

‘You had best secure this after me. I cannot vouch for what drunken pranksters may attempt later.’

With an effort she found her voice. ‘Then you’re not... You don’t mean to return?’

‘No, I don’t mean to return.’ His smile lost some of its mockery and was replaced by something much like regret. ‘Goodnight, Lara. Sleep well.’

With that he was gone, pulling the door to close behind him.