Love's Fury (Viking's Fury #1) (5 page)

She flung herself on the floor and wept bitterly. For her father, the mother she never knew, and now God. Whatever sins she’d committed to deserve this level of suffering she didn’t know. But she’d end it soon enough.

B
right sunlight filtered
through the small windows in the main room of the cottage. Konal groaned; he wasn’t ready to get up. Surprisingly, the wench stayed abovestairs for the remainder of the night. And once he felt comfortable, he allowed himself to fall asleep on the floor in front of the hearth. However, before he laid down, he surrounded himself with all the furniture he could find. If she attempted another attack, she’d have to break through his defenses first.

He staggered to his feet, rubbing his eyes. His stomach rumbled. He could have eaten last night, but decided to wait for Silvia to serve him this morning. She’d proven a worthy opponent, but her iron will was no match for his strength. He grabbed a pitcher of water from the table and walked to the kitchen. Linens were folded neatly on a shelf. He wet a cloth and then cleansed his face and neck. It felt good to wipe the dirt and grit away. He’d gone too long without a bath, and once he returned to Norway, he’d spend a month in the bath house.

Throwing the linen down, he peered around the cramped space. A counter ran the length of the opposite wall where he spotted two loaves of bread. Baskets of oats and barley were nearby, alongside a trencher containing dry fish. Then he found a large bowl of beans and a bowl of dates. Plenty of food to last several days, enough for the girl to cook with.

“Milord…”

He turned at the sound of her voice. At first he felt contempt, but he couldn’t stay angry for long. Not with the way she looked—her long hair combed to a lustrous shine and a blue gown on with a fitted bodice that more than accentuated her generous breasts. She’d taken the time to make herself presentable, which suggested a change of heart. Perhaps she finally accepted her new life. “Did you sleep?”

“Enough to realize how foolish I’ve been.”

He shouldn’t allow himself to soften with pity, but he knew the lingering pain of losing someone he loved or admired. War and plague had darkened his life many times. If the girl cooperated, he’d treat her decently. And once he was ready to sail home, he’d give her to a man he trusted. She couldn’t expect a better situation.

She slipped past him, grabbing the basket of barley. “Shall I make something to eat?”

“Aye,” he answered, watching her closely. He’d been taught at an early age to question everything, especially if it seemed too good to be true. A sound whipping provided discipline, but with a temperament like hers, he found her transformation hard to accept. “Tell me why the priests permit a woman to live here.”

“Is my life truly of interest to you?” She wet her lips with her irresistibly pink tongue.

“I expect an answer.”

“Before the king confiscated my family’s lands, my father served as a tutor for the sons of the northern lords. The priests took pity and offered him a position as a scribe. This is the only home I’ve ever known.”

She moved away, taking ingredients from a shelf and a pot from a cabinet. “If you thought to find anything worth stealing, milord, I assure you, there’s nothing of great value in this cottage. My father’s wealth disappeared with his estate. We rely on whatever the bishop gives us for food. And my father’s salary hardly covers our expenses.”

He believed her. “Your mother?”

She stopped working, staring at him through narrowed eyes. “Dead.”

“When?”

“The day I came into the world.”

He nodded with understanding. She’d not come to terms with the death of her mother yet. “We’ve something in common then. My mother perished three days after giving birth to my only sister, her fifth babe.” Konal stepped forward hoping to provide some comfort, but she avoided his arms. “I will not hurt you.”

Her protective stance conveyed her mistrust. “You demanded
certain
things last night. I’ll cook and clean, but I’ll be damned before I let you paw me like a common whore.”

He glared at her. She’d do whatever he wanted. And if it included providing the physical relief he needed, he’d strip her naked. “Do you really think anything you say or do will keep you from my bed if that’s where I wish you to be?”

Laughter followed his question. “I’ve never bedded a man,” she informed him bitterly. “My body is sacred.”

Sacred?
Konal chuckled. “See what comes from living in the shadow of a monastery? Bloody Saxon priests fill women’s heads with lies.” Only the nobility could afford such luxuries. Virtue had no place in her world if her body could provide the means for her support and protection. “I suggest you forget whatever dreams you grew up with. Your new life is staring you in the face, girl. I’ll decide what’s best for you. And remaining a virgin isn’t part of it.”

Silvia stiffened. “You’ve already stolen my dignity.” She thrust a hand on her hip. “Now you threaten my chastity.”

“There’s no shame in sharing my bed,” he said. “I’m a celebrated warrior—most women would be honored…” She let her gaze stray to his chest, then below his waist. “See,” he said. “Your curiosity betrays you.”

She immediately snapped her head up. “You misinterpret my actions, milord.”

At the very least, Konal appreciated her wit. “Do I now?”

She retreated a step. “My wandering eyes don’t signify admiration.”

“What then?” He’d play her game for the moment.

“I don’t understand why women find you so irresistible,” she said smugly. “You’re not fit for a Saxon barn.”

He growled, then scuffed forward, snaring her delicate wrist. “Let me show you what kind of a beast I truly am.” His bollocks ached more than he cared to admit. Weeks without female companionship had left him desperate. And every time Silvia was within sight, his cock stood at attention. Her inescapable sensuality attracted him. “Your resistance increases my desire tenfold.”

Her unblinking eyes challenged him. “Your unnatural desires don’t frighten me. I care nothing for your murdering, heartless soul. You’ll die a violent death and rot in hell like all your kind. Your disdain for everything honorable and pure cannot deprive me of my faith.”

Konal held her gaze.

“Even watching my former king die like a pig at slaughter cannot silence me. Only one thing devastates me more than my father’s death.”

Her conviction was admirable, but it wouldn’t change her fate. “Tell me.”

“Your cowardice.”

The words struck as deadly as a dagger. Konal let go of her arm.
Coward?
Anger ripped through him. “You can’t possibly know what you’re saying. Recant.”

She shook her head. “Truth can never be retracted.”

*

She’d baited him
on purpose, attacked his sense of honor and courage in hopes of making him hate her. If she died a maiden, perhaps God would forgive her for taking her own life. As impenetrable as Konal acted, his ego appeared as soft as a woman’s body. Something she’d learned the hard way after years of subjugation to the Danes. Saying the wrong thing had cost many Saxons their lives. This one refused to kill her—but if she openly questioned his honor and bravery—he’d prove himself.

“Truth is subjective,” he muttered. “Your insult is undeserved.”

“Is it?” she asked incredulously. “You murdered my father. A peaceful, defenseless man. In my country this suggests cowardice.”

“Don’t say it again.” He slowly backed her up to the wall. “I
should
kill you.” He loomed threateningly, all heat and rage. “I didn’t slay your sire, Silvia.”

His intense blue gaze nearly shattered her resolve. A strange feeling stirred deep inside her belly. Something told her to stop pushing him, to believe him. But she deafened herself to whatever inner voice was trying to change her mind. “Prove yourself to me.”

He slammed his fists against the wall on either side of her face. It frightened her, so she closed her eyes, willing him away. When she opened them again, he was still staring at her.

“I’m a fool for ever thinking you’d be obedient.” He shook his head. “Where I found you should have served as a warning. Women don’t belong in the places where men seek knowledge.” He retreated then and started to pace in front of her.

She wisely kept her place, giving him time to clear his mind.

“How many languages do you speak?” he asked.

“Five.”

“How many manuscripts have you read?”

“Too many to count.”

“Do you write?”

“Yes.”

He raked his fingers through his hair, his expression menacing. She’d pushed him too far. “I’ve heard that in your country a woman has the right to ask a man to prove himself before he wins her hand. Have you no respect for your own customs?” She did her best to mask the tremor in her voice.

“You’re a prize won in battle. Not a woman whose heart I wish to conquer. Yet you ask me to prove myself worthy. And if I refuse?” He pounded his fist against his chest.

She raised her chin. “Then shame will follow you wherever you go—even to the ends of the earth.”

“It seems we cannot agree,” he said, frustrated. “I have every right to bed you, but will not have my honor questioned.”

Praise God.
Silvia sighed with relief. She hated having this beast in her house. The tactic she’d utilized had the same effect on him as castration. There’d be no lovemaking before or after breakfast. “Shall I finish making our pottage?”

“I’ve half the appetite,” he said severely. On a huff, he left the kitchen without telling her what to do.

She continued to prepare the morning meal, using crushed almonds to thicken the mixture. Next, she cut several slices of bread and placed them on a tray. She’d get through one meal and then carry out her plan.

While the porridge bubbled in the pot, she listened carefully for Konal. She’d never felt so ragged and frightened in her life. But after Konal whipped her yesterday and she’d shed every last tear, something changed inside her. The only way she could describe it, her fear retreated—enabling her to think more clearly.

The scrolls…
She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. What about the precious manuscripts her father had entrusted her with? His last words weren’t a confession or filled with love as another man’s would have been. That’s what set him apart from others. God’s work took precedence. And she’d be damned before she failed to get those parchments safely into the right hands.

“Woman!”

Silvia spooned a large portion of cereal into his vessel, then spit in it. Placing two bowls onto the same tray with the bread, she then walked into the main room determined to get the scrolls before the day ended.

K
onal watched Silvia
slowly eat the miniscule amount of pottage in her bowl. She looked nervous hunched in the chair at the far end of the table. He supposed it would have been impossible to convince her to sit near him. “Are you all right? Eat a slice of bread.”

She sighed. “Short of ramming it down my throat, milord, I’ll risk your displeasure by refusing.”

He leaned his head on his hand and stared at her. In Norway, every living thing was eager to please him out of respect. In Northumbria, he couldn’t get a woman to comply with his simplest wish. The gods had sent him good fortune up until this point. “I am needed in the village today,” he said. “If I let you stay here, I expect you to pack your belongings in preparation for our departure tomorrow.”

She gazed at him. “Where are we going?”

“East. To my lands.” He pushed his chair back and then stood. “If you try to escape again, I’ll fit you with a slave collar and chain. Trust me when I say it won’t be a pleasant experience to be paraded around the public square like a dog on a leash.”

She nodded silently, perhaps thinking what she would look like.

“And when nighttime comes,” he added, “you’ll be stripped naked and bound to my bed.”

She cleared her throat. “That’s how you’ve gained favor with women, forcing yourself upon them.” She clicked her tongue reprovingly.

He felt his patience slipping. “You’ll change your mind after you’ve slept with me.”

“If you’re in such an all-fire hurry to have me, why not clear the bloody table and take me now?”

He eyed the tabletop, then swallowed as his throat and braies tightened at the same time. Frustration settled over him. There was definite danger in her strategy. She knew he couldn’t have her until he proved himself. Before she’d spoken her latest challenge, he’d accepted the fact that he’d have to wait to bed her. No longer, she’d get her wish. He’d complete her blasted task and have her before dawn. “Name your price.”

“My price?” Her eyes narrowed to blue slits. “I’m not for sale.”

His palms burned. Another spanking would help her immensely. “Speak your challenge, woman.”

“Bring me the head of the man who murdered my father.”

She’d answered so quickly. No doubt she had this planned from the moment he claimed her. “
Månen og stjernene ville være lettere å oppnå.
”