Paying the Viking's Price Read online

  ‘Not in the slightest. Your mare sounds like her mistress.’

  ‘What is wrong, then?’ Edith rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She wished now that she had grabbed a shawl. She wasn’t going to think about his linking her to Meera’s high spiritedness.

  ‘I want to put your knowledge to work, rather than have you do something you dislike such as spinning. Since you appear to know so much about the planting of corn, I require your assistance this afternoon.’ His eyes turned harder than flint. ‘We can visit the farmers together and you can explain to them why it is in their best interests to obey my orders.’

  A spark of hope shot through her. He wanted to go for a ride with her. True, she’d have to explain why various farmers and tenants should obey Brand, but it was nothing when set against the sheer joy of being on a horse again. ‘You mean now?’

  ‘I would have hardly ordered your mare to be saddled if I meant tomorrow morning. Show me the estate.’ A faint smile tugged at his mouth. ‘That is...if you do ride.’

  ‘Much to my late husband’s disgust.’ Edith gave a small laugh, but it was impossible to know Brand’s feelings about this. ‘He felt no true lady should ride like a man. My dear mother would have agreed with him. She used to despair at my ways, but my father encouraged me. A good leader knows everything that happens in his territory, he used to say, and some day I would have to look after this land as if it were my first-born child.’

  ‘But you do ride.’

  ‘How else would I be able to visit all the parts of the estate in a single day?’ Edith glanced down at her gown. Thankfully she was wearing one of her old ones, rather than one of her best ones. ‘I designed my gown to be modest when I ride. It was my concession to my mother’s sensibilities, but practicality meant I had to ride, particularly when my late husband was away.’

  Even that had been fought over every single time and she had never really dared to, except when he was away. When she had found out about his death, a wondrous peace had settled over her. She was never going to have to give up riding again. There was something about feeling the wind in her hair and the reins between her hands as she gave Meera her head and they galloped over the moors. She’d had Meera saddled and they rode long and hard that day.

  Brand’s eyes turned sceptical. ‘Show me you can ride. Here and now.’

  ‘You don’t believe me.’

  ‘Northumbrian women rarely ride. All the ones I’ve seen in Jorvik take a cart.’

  She forced her lips to smile. ‘Norsemen rarely read Latin. Even fewer write it with a fair hand.’

  He inclined his head. ‘There is riding and then there is riding like the wind. I need you to be able to keep up with me if you wish to assist me. There again if you need to ride in a cart, you should say and stop pretending.’

  Edith balled her fists. She looked forward to seeing his face and that of the other Norsemen when they saw she could ride. She might have failed to win the final tafl match last night, but she knew she could do this. ‘I adore riding and I never back down from a challenge. It is no problem to demonstrate my prowess.’

  ‘Do you need help getting on the horse?’

  ‘I can do it on my own.’ She refused to think about his arms about her waist.

  She took Meera over to the mounting block and mounted the horse. With a slight click of her tongue, she rode the horse about the yard.

  When she finished the circuit, she stared defiantly at Brand from where she perched. His look of amused scepticism had changed to one of astonishment. ‘Well, do I ride well enough or do you need more convincing?’

  ‘You tell the truth.’

  Edith stared at Meera’s ears, rather than looking at Brand. The words stung far more than they should. He still did not trust her. ‘Why would I lie about something like that?’

  ‘Shall we ride out and put your skills to a true test?’

  With one bound, he mounted his horse and rode out of the yard, not bothering to wait for an answer. Man and beast moved as one. Edith’s breath caught in her throat. She could understand why the bards sung of half-men and half-horse after seeing how Brand looked on his stallion.

  She gave her head a little shake as some of Brand’s men began to place bets on when she’d catch up with him. Edith counted to twenty to ensure he had a proper start.

  ‘You will have to do better than that,’ one of them called.

  Edith dug her heels in and urged Meera forwards. The horse moved swiftly and Edith soon arrived where Brand waited.

  ‘Where to first?’ she asked, keeping her voice deceptively casual but her heart rejoiced at the astonished look on his face. ‘Meera and I are more than able to keep the pace with your horse. I believe a few of your men will have lost their bet.’

  ‘Serves them right. One never bets against a lady without being involved in the race, of course.’ He inclined his head and his lips curved up in a secret smile. ‘Then one plays to win.’

  ‘Where to now?’ Edith asked, pushing away the thought that they were playing a very different sort of game, much like when they had played tafl. But she’d won in the end. She tightened her hands about the reins. She would win at whatever game Brand played now.

  ‘I want to see the outlying farms.’

  ‘Any particular reason?’

  Brand glanced at the woman riding at his side. Horse and woman were moving as one. He hadn’t truly believed her when she said that she could ride, but now he had to admit that she could. She rode better than a number of his men.

  He’d allowed her a few days’ space, but he remained determined to unlock her secrets, not where she’d hidden her treasure, but why she sought to hide her beauty. His dreams had been full of her and the way her mouth had moved under his. She needed to become his in truth and to realise that he had never given up his claim of having her as his concubine. He wanted to possess her.

  ‘My reasons are my own, but I do want to see if what you say is true. If this Owen the Plough needs his corn blessed by the bleating crow.’

  ‘What is wrong with needing a little divine intervention?’ She looked at him defiantly. ‘You must understand that Owen the Plough is a highly religious man. He takes what the priest says and holds it in his heart.

  ‘I want to see what the farms are like and hear you talk about them directly.’

  She nodded. ‘You don’t trust my assessment.’

  ‘I want to see what you are made of.’

  ‘And you thought to test my riding ability.’

  ‘It surprised me. Very few women ride.’

  ‘I’m not most women.’

  He laughed. ‘I’m beginning to discover that. You have hidden qualities.’

  Her eyes narrowed. He was laughing at her. ‘Shall we race to Owen the Plough’s farm?’

  ‘If you like...’

  ‘Yes, I do. And if I demonstrate to you that I can ride, will you listen?’

  ‘I’m never one to refuse a challenge.’

  She dug her heels in and her mare started off at a gallop before he had a chance to change his mind.

  * * *

  ‘You see all is resolved, quickly and satisfactorily. The priest will bless the corn on Lady Day after it is in the ground,’ Edith said as they left Owen the Plough’s farm. The interview had gone far better than she had anticipated. Owen the Plough kept bowing and saying how honoured he was. And Brand had listened.

  ‘You won the race to the farm,’ Brand said, very definitely changing the subject.

  ‘Meera is a fast horse.’

  ‘We should have wagered to make it more interesting.’

  ‘Is it necessary to wager when you are racing? I simply enjoyed allowing Meera her head.’ Her body felt as if a thousand butterflies were fluttering through it.

  ‘There has to be some r
eason for racing.’ A shadow of a smile showed on his face. ‘But I will give you a chance. Shall we see who will be the first to make it to the river?’

  ‘And what are we racing for? It had better be something that is worth my while.’ Her heart gave a little lurch. She was flirting. Effortlessly. And it was pleasant, rather than a chore. She ran her tongue over her dry lips. ‘Something special?’

  ‘Something simple.’ He leant forwards and patted his horse’s neck. ‘A kiss.’

  ‘A kiss?’ Her limbs became liquid. He wanted to kiss her. He hadn’t attempted to kiss her since that first time.

  ‘A kiss freely given, if I win.’ His smile turned positively wolfish. ‘If you win, you may choose the forfeit.’

  ‘You’re going to lose,’ Edith said firmly, banishing all thought of how his lips tasted. He was seeking to unsettle and distract her. Meera was faster than his warhorse.

  ‘You are certain of that.’

  ‘I wouldn’t race if I wasn’t.’ She had to win for the sake of her pride. ‘You want an honest opponent.’

  ‘I will give you a head start.’ His face appeared entirely innocent. ‘But you need to specify a forfeit before we begin.’

  ‘Very well, I will claim the right for the priest to bless the corn,’ Edith said quickly before she gave in to the impulse to ask for a kiss as well.

  He tilted his head to one side, assessing her. ‘You always think of others before yourself.’

  ‘Someone has to consider them,’ she argued back. He was so certain and sure that he’d win, even to offering her a head start. ‘And I have no need of pointless gestures. I mean to win this race. Why not race for something that truly matters?’

  ‘And a kiss has no significance?’

  Her heart skittered. ‘None whatsoever.’

  She hoped she sounded far more confident than she felt. Kissing him again would bring up all the feelings she tried to keep buried. Last night had been the first time that she’d been able to sleep, rather than lying and looking up at the ceiling while her mind went over each time she encountered him. She tried to tell herself that it had to do with the running of the household, but increasingly she found her thoughts turning to his hands, or the set of his shoulders.

  ‘Choose something else. Something just for you. A new dress or a hairnet?’

  She tightened her grip on the reins. It was hard to remember the last time anyone asked her to choose a present. After they were married, Egbert had never bothered and her mother had drummed into her head that it was rude to ask. She hesitated and then she knew what she wanted. Hilda would no doubt tell her that she had it wrong and that she should ask for something that would enhance her, but Edith knew precisely what she wanted.

  ‘I would like a book of Beowulf. My copy was lost years ago.’ There was no need to tell him that Egbert had sold it to pay a gambling debt of his. She had drowned her sorrows in the estate, rather than letting him see how angry it made her. ‘I used to love the language of it. My heart positively soared when I first heard it recited on a mid-winter’s evening. I must have been about four.’

  ‘Beowulf it shall be, if you win.’ He inclined his head. The feather in his hat bobbed up and down, highlighting the planes of his face. ‘It is always best to race for something that really matters.’

  ‘Shall we begin?’ Her limbs seemed wobbly. He thought a kiss from her would matter? Impossible!

  ‘Count to three. First one to the old oak tree by the water. And we shall see which is the more important—a book or a kiss.’

  At the sound of ‘go’, Edith dug in her heels and Meera took off at a gallop. She concentrated, hunching down over Meera’s neck. The race was less about winning, and more about proving to Brand that he was supremely arrogant. But a few hundred yards from the end, Brand passed her.

  He laughed as she drew up. ‘You lost. A kiss obviously means more.’

  Her hands ached from clenching the reins so tightly, but her heart leapt. She wanted to be kissed. ‘Yes, I did. I tried very hard to win. Beowulf will have to wait.’

  ‘Overconfidence does you few favours.’ He leapt down from his horse and looped the reins about a branch. ‘Time for you to pay the forfeit.’

  ‘Here?’ She glanced over her shoulder. They were entirely alone in the peaceful glade beside the river, but it was also out in the open. Anyone could see them. Her mouth dried. ‘You want me to kiss you right now?’

  His eyes twinkled. ‘I believe in collecting such debts immediately before the woman in question changes her mind.’

  Before she could object, he took Meera’s reins and looped them around the same branch. His strong hands went about her waist and lifted her down onto the spring grass. All around them, the white wood anemones and yellow primroses carpeted the ground. The woods had gone from the barrenness of winter to a riot of spring in a few short days.

  Her body brushed against his muscles and thrummed with awareness of him and the fact that they were alone. She was amazed at how alive she felt. It was as if she, too, had suddenly emerged into the warmth and light of spring after spending years in a cold hard winter. She took a step backwards and strove to maintain her dignity and calm, twitching the folds on her gown into place.

  ‘I can get down myself.’

  His face became ultra-serious save for the deepening of blue in his eyes. ‘I will strive to remember that.’

  She had the distinct impression that he was struggling against laughter. Edith made a show of straightening the folds a second time, trying not to think, but one thought kept hammering at her brain—she always failed at such games. Her ability to seriously flirt was non-existent.

  ‘Why have we stopped?’ she asked when the silence became too great. ‘Was there some particular reason why you chose this glade, pretty as it is?’

  ‘I want my reward.’ His voice flowed over her like silky fur, warming her in the fresh spring air. ‘I claim it as my right. I want it here and now, not in the distant future. Wagers are always best when collected on at once.’

  ‘A kiss?’ She strove for a natural tone, but her blood started to sing.

  ‘One single kiss from you. Here and now.’

  ‘That is the work of a moment.’

  She rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his cheek. His masculine scent filled her nostrils and she knew all she had to do was to turn slightly and her mouth would meet his. It would become the sort of kiss which had haunted her dreams for the past six nights.

  She stepped back, and refused to give in to the impulse. Hilda’s admonishment rang in her ears, making her recall her mother’s long-ago advice—a true lady endures the physical, rather enjoying it. It was wrong of her to want more. She needed to go slower and be submissive rather than always trying to win. It went so against her nature.

  ‘A proper kiss.’ His breath caressed her ear. ‘I believe I’ve been patient, little one. It is time for your education to properly begin.’

  She glanced up at him. Her heart thudded against her chest. A sudden trembling came into her limbs. Excitement rather than nerves. He was going to kiss her. Properly. He wanted to kiss her, despite Hilda’s dire predictions that men never wanted women who argued. ‘Patient? Education? I’m in no need of instruction.’

  ‘Yes.’ He gathered her closer to him. Her body instantly curved into the lean planes. ‘You are in desperate need of instruction. This is the proper way to kiss. Learn and remember for the next time we wager.’

  He lowered his mouth to hers. To begin with, his lips were light like the wings of a butterfly, but rapidly hardened as her lips began to move of their own volition under his.

  His tongue stroked her bottom lip, demanding entrance. She opened her mouth and allowed him to feast, allowing her tongue to tangle with his. He tasted of spring air and the newness of life—all honey and clean, un
like anything she had ever tasted before, but ultimately leaving her craving more. A wave of sensation crested within her, breaking and building to another one. She was aware of how his mouth covered hers, how his tongue felt deep within her mouth and how his body moved against hers.

  A small moan emerged from her throat as her body arched closer, demanding the solidness and strength of him. Her body seemed to acquire a will and instinct of its own.

  ‘And now you know how to kiss,’ he murmured against her lips. ‘Shall we see if you learnt the lesson properly?’

  ‘You want me to kiss you like that?’

  ‘Until you have done so, the forfeit remains unpaid and we would have unfinished business. Do you wish to finish this in front of everyone?’

  ‘That would be wrong, particularly when I’m only a novice at your type of kissing.’ She looped her hands about his neck and stood on her tiptoes and brought his mouth down to hers again. He stood unmoving for a moment, forcing her to run her mouth over his as he had done to her, trying to coax a response. When she thought it was hopeless, his mouth yielded, inviting her in. She darted her tongue between his lips, running it over his teeth. This time, the kiss had no chasteness about it, but was dark and carnal, demanding more of the same. A heady sense of power swept through her. She had started this kiss. She was in control and in charge. It was up to her how long it lasted.

  His arms instantly tightened and pulled her closer against him, moulding her curves tightly to his hard planes, allowing her to feel his arousal pressing into her.

  His mouth left hers and pressed small kisses along the line of her jaw to her ear, sending licks of fire throughout her body. Tiny little gasps emerged from her throat. Her hands gripped his hair.

  ‘Hush, hush,’ he murmured, his accent becoming more pronounced. ‘Relax and enjoy, little bird of mine. We have all the time we need.’