Sent as the Viking's Bride Page 13

  ‘No fear of that. I doubt Kolbeinn would permit it. He wants me here, guarding this passage.’

  ‘Even still, I doubt there are many men who deny a jewel like that much.’

  ‘Ragnhild had a full day yesterday and a busy night. I am allowing her to sleep. We are newly wed, after all!’

  The memory of how he’d left Ragn with her dark hair against the pillow rose in his mind. He’d departed silently. He had longed to draw her into his arms and kiss her awake, but he had to take it slow and allow her trust to build. He was greedy. He wanted her full participation when they joined.

  Today his project of seduction started. Her actions yesterday had begun this game, but he was going to finish it on his terms. He might not be able to give her his heart, but he’d make the marriage pleasant for the both of them.

  ‘I’ve concern for my wife.’

  ‘A good husband. I wish you joy.’

  Gunnar inclined his head. ‘I like to think so.’

  After the boat pushed out to sea, Gunnar stood gazing at it, plotting his next move.

  ‘Gunnar? Has that man gone in peace, truly?’ Svana ran up to him with a splodge of dirt on her face and her couvrechief askew. The girl’s face was alight with mischief and had totally changed from the scared urchin who had stumbled on to the beach. Her fits appeared to have decreased, but there were moments when she seemed to be listening to sounds no one else heard just as Asa had once done. And he found he welcomed the long-buried memories of Asa.

  ‘You are awake, little one.’

  ‘The dogs wake early.’ Her nose scrunched up in the way she had. ‘They ate the nisser’s porridge this morning. Gobbled it all up, the naughty things.’

  ‘Then he must have finished with it. Trust me, they would not have dared to have eaten it if he required it. Dogs know these things.’

  Her eyes grew rounded. ‘But there is one.’

  ‘Why would I doubt my mother’s words?’ He hunkered down to get on her level. A little harmless joy never hurt anyone. Ragn needed to learn that lesson and he intended to administer it. First, he needed to learn more about her past. ‘You should keep them in mind as well.’

  Svana gave a solemn nod. ‘I will. Promise.’

  ‘Where is your sister? Asleep?’

  ‘In the hall, scrubbing it down.’ Svana’s eyes became troubled. ‘She always used to do this after the feasts Hamthur gave. From top to bottom and then bottom to top. Have you hurt her like Hamthur did?’

  Gunnar stilled. ‘Why would I harm your sister?’

  Shadows darkened the girl’s eyes. ‘Hamthur did. Ragn thinks I don’t know, but I do. Hamthur thought he beat her where no one saw, but I knew.’

  ‘He beat her?’ Gunnar struggled to control the anger which coursed through him. It was a great pity the man was dead. He wanted to tear him limb from limb for hurting Ragn. ‘Often?’

  ‘If he was drunk. Otherwise he’d ignore her. The last feast he tried to push Ragn in the blazing fire in the centre of the hall because he claimed she’d been over-friendly with another warrior when all she had done was to offer the man more ale. She told Hamthur to get out. I was glad he went then and took that woman with him. It was so peaceful, but then they died...’ Svana put her hand over her mouth. ‘I wasn’t supposed to speak about that. The past behind me, yes?’

  Gunnar frowned. Hamthur’s jealous abuse explained Ragn’s skittishness about passion. The sort of ghost he was competing with was very different than a kind considerate husband. And Ragn was stubborn. It would take time to convince her. His mood lightened considerably. ‘I would never hurt your sister.’

  ‘I know that.’ Svana lifted her chin. ‘I never said you would. Hamthur was unpleasant to me and you never are. May I go to the lake?’

  ‘Wouldn’t you rather make a bridal crown?’

  Svana’s eyes bulged. ‘A bridal crown? Whose?’

  ‘Your sister and I marry today.’

  ‘Truly?’

  ‘Brides tend to want such things. I have no wish for an excuse from your sister.’

  ‘She lost her crown in the fire, but she managed to save our grandmother’s brooches. She wore those at the wedding as well.’

  ‘I think every bride needs a crown.’

  Svana gave a happy little sigh. ‘You are serious. Why didn’t Ragn say this morning? Why keep it a secret?’

  ‘You would have to ask her, but I suspect she wanted it as a special surprise.’

  Svana clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘Oh, my goodness! I must catch the nisser’s shirt tail now. I have an important question to ask him.’

  ‘Ask him what?’

  ‘That would be telling. Can I tell people about the marriage?’

  ‘Hardly a secret now that Maurr’s gone. And I want people to remember her crown, Svana.’

  She ran off, shouting excitedly with the dogs at her heels and her fair hair streaming down her back. It was almost as if Asa’s spirit lived again and that was a good thing. Maybe he had been wrong to bury the memories. Maybe, after all this time, the gods had forgiven him. Gunnar clapped his hand to his head. He was becoming worse than the child with her unshakeable belief in nissers.

  * * *

  Ragn concentrated on scrubbing the flagstones in the hall. She done three-quarters of them and now they gleamed.

  Her wedding today was going to be as different as she could make it from the last time. No magnificent feast, golden crown or crowds of women pretending to make her beautiful.

  With each swipe of her scrubbing brush, she added another promise. The wedding was going to be very private. Then she would return to her duties. No lavish honeymoon or pretending he cared for her as had happened with Hamthur. The marriage was why she’d journeyed to Jura. It would keep Svana safe because if Vargr did discover they were alive, he would think twice about attacking a warrior with Gunnar’s reputation. Solid reasons for the marriage, not that his teasing at the end of the day lifted her mood, or that his delight in her cooking made her try harder or even that she wanted to feel his mouth moving overs hers. Ragn made an angry swipe with the bristled brush at her deluded folly.

  This time she kept her heart safe and her dignity intact.

  She knew what Gunnar required from a marriage—practical and without complication. She was practical. She had made Hamthur’s hall prosperous, so prosperous that Vargr had been convinced Hamthur had cheated him. It was the other part of the marriage she’d failed at.

  ‘Here I find you hiding.’ His warm voice flowed over her, making her remember how she’d felt in his arms and banishing all coherent plans. ‘Svana gave me an earful. Apparently, I’ve upset you and I’m to apologise. When she is roused, Svana is quite fearsome.’

  ‘Svana misread the situation. Hardly hiding. Working hard.’ Ragn dipped her brush into the bucket before scrubbing the already clean flagstones again. ‘I like putting the house to rights after a feast. Everything to be pristine for when the Sun Maiden emerges from the belly of the wolf and your men renew their oaths.’

  ‘You appear to have forgotten we are to marry today. Your scrubbing must wait.’

  She rocked back on her heels. Her breath stopped. The weak winter sun silhouetted Gunnar in the doorway, highlighting the breadth of his chest and how it tapered down to his waist and hips. She hurriedly glanced at the muddy pool of water. ‘That’s just the thing. I’m not sure it should wait.’

  ‘Are you trying to change the terms of our deal? I have made the necessary arrangements.’

  Gunnar’s voice rang out in the empty hall, echoing all about. She hated that her mood instantly lightened. Gunnar was not having second thoughts. She drew her brows together and forced a scowl.

  ‘Have Maurr and his men departed?’ She stood up and was immediately aware of the sodden patches on her gown.

  ‘On the morning tide. I made you
r excuses, Sleepyhead.’

  ‘You should have woken me.’

  ‘Today will be long enough.’ He shrugged. ‘You kept the impending nuptials a secret from Svana when you sent her down to the shore.’

  ‘Her screams of delight would have ensured Maurr delayed his departure.’

  ‘I seized the opportunity and told her.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘Her scream must have reached to Ile, if not Colbhasa.’

  Ragn frowned and peered around Gunnar’s bulk. Svana knew where she was. She should have come rushing back in to find out the truth. ‘Do I even want to know where she is?’

  ‘She believed me and has gone to collect berries. She intends on making you a crown which everyone will remember.’ His hooded look made her knees go weak. ‘You are to be the most perfect bride ever. Who am I to object to her demand?’

  Ragn backed up. Her foot kicked over the bucket, sending its muddy contents all over the floor. She gave a particularly loud curse.

  ‘Problems?’

  She grabbed a rag and mopped up the water. ‘Nothing I can’t handle. My entire day has been like this and it is only going to get worse.’

  His smile, if anything, deepened as if he knew that she was using the muddy water as a reason to swear. Where had grumpy Gunnar gone? ‘You are right—a reputation for good hospitality can make a difference. I saw that this morning. Maurr’s change in attitude was nothing short of astonishing. And it was all down to your efforts. He came prepared to be an enemy and has left an ally, if not yet a friend.’

  Ragn paused in mopping up the filthy water. Butterflies started to dance in her stomach. Gunnar praised her. Hamthur had never done that. Part of her reason for making herself busy with the clean-up had been to avoid the inevitable complaints about how dreadful the feast had been and her many errors. ‘Will wonders never cease? You find favour with my methods.’

  He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I was overly hasty in dismissing your ideas, Ragn. I apologise for doubting you.’

  Her hand froze mid-swipe. The new softer Gunnar was far more dangerous than the cross one. ‘An apology? What has brought this on?’

  ‘Yes, one must give credit where credit is due.’ He gave a crooked smile that made her heart flip over. ‘Particularly on one’s wedding day. But I warn you—don’t get used to it.’

  ‘I won’t. I know what you are like before you have your porridge.’

  His laughter echoed in the hall. ‘Everyone else is shaking in their boots when they confront me. They fear my temper and moods. They avoid me, but you delight in prodding me.’

  ‘You only pretend to be frightening to hide your soft heart. I’ve seen how you are with Svana and with the animals on the farm. How a man treats animals can show a lot about his character.’

  A lesson she’d learned after she married Hamthur. If she had thought to watch how his dogs cringed from him and his horses shied, she might not have believed Hamthur’s honeyed words, his expensive gifts and his overly solicitous attention at feasts signified anything other than his determination to acquire her father’s lands. Ragn pressed her fingertips against her temple. Gunnar wasn’t Hamthur, not at all.

  ‘Hush, you mustn’t allow the others to know.’

  ‘Go away and leave me to do this. Then when I am done, we can talk about the wedding and what needs to be done before that can happen.’

  ‘Who is being grumpy this morning?’

  She risked a glance and he was leaning against the doorframe. His eyes danced with wicked mischief as if he knew what she was attempting to do. ‘Cleaning up is the right thing to do. I would be mortified if the hall was a shambles.’

  ‘At weddings, people notice the bride, not the surroundings.’

  Ragn concentrated on the floor. Her stomach knotted. ‘And if I said it was the last thing I wanted—to be noticed?’

  ‘You didn’t mind yesterday.’

  ‘Yesterday was different, I was doing my part to keep this hall safe. There is a difference.’

  He took the cloth from her fingers. ‘Tidy yourself up. Be quick about it and smile. It is why you came here. It is about your sister and keeping this hall safe. Go be beautiful.’

  ‘Beautiful is something I can never be.’

  ‘Once we are married, you will have to listen to your husband instead of dismissing my words.’

  Ragn bit her bottom lip. When she’d come here, she would have been willing to accept any sort of marriage, but now she knew she wanted something more. She wanted him to believe that she was desirable. She shook her head. Real things, not imaginings. ‘Nothing is going to change.’

  ‘If you are not ready by the time the sun reaches its highest point, I will fetch you. All eyes will be on my bride.’

  * * *

  ‘The best I could do.’ Svana held out a crudely fashioned crown made of holly berries interlaced with ivy. ‘It isn’t gold like your old one, like the one which burned. If you hate it, you don’t have to wear it.’

  Ragn took it from her sister. She blinked rapidly. ‘Gold crowns are heavy. My head ached for days afterward. This one is as light as a feather. I’d be honoured to wear it.’

  Svana’s face became wreathed in smiles. ‘Let me put it on you.’

  Ragn bent down and Svana slipped it on. Svana and her renewed joy in life were the reasons why she was marrying. ‘I’ve worn my best gown.’

  ‘But you need our grandmother’s brooches to complete it. ‘Where are they?’

  Ragn examined the rushes. The brooches. Svana would think of them. ‘They are gone.’

  ‘Gone? Gone where?’ Svana’s brow furrowed. ‘You wore them when we met Trana. I distinctly remember you wearing them to demonstrate that, despite losing the lands, we retained our dignity. They were your favourite thing.’

  Ragn knelt and put her hands on her sister’s shoulders so her face was level with Svana’s. ‘I sold them and gave the gold to the captain for your passage.’

  Svana bowed her head and spoke in a low voice. ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘I’d rather have you than any amount of gold.’ Ragn wrapped her arms about her sister and held her close until Svana squirmed.

  Svana’s bones were not nearly as sharp as they had been and Ragn knew whatever her misgivings about the marriage bed and her ability to please Gunnar, they were nothing compared to her joy that Svana would grow up free and healthy. She was doing the right thing and there had to be a way of making this work...for Svana’s sake.

  She simply had to be logical about it—Gunnar’s heart was buried back in the frozen north with his family and this was a marriage of convenience, not one of mutual regard or affection. Practical without complications from dreams or allowing her heart to be trampled.

  ‘Are you ready? Or do you require more time to be beautiful?’ Gunnar thundered.

  Ragn caught Svana’s hand and squeezed it. ‘As ready as I will ever be.’

  ‘Then shall we get on with it?’

  Ragn emerged from her room to find the hall in her absence had been completely transformed. It seemed like an entire forest had come inside. Holly and ivy hung from the rafters in great swags of green. The hall teemed with people—Gunnar’s men and their families.

  ‘How? What?’

  Svana clapped her hands. ‘Everyone wanted to help once I told them. Even Owain’s mother helped with the decorating. You know Owain, the burly man who moved the barrels of ale two days ago. His mother loved the bread you sent back. She made Owain carry her up the muddy track. Her legs might not work so well, but she knows how to twist ivy to make green garlands.’

  ‘I thought we had agreed to a simple ceremony.’

  ‘The orders for this did not come from me. These people simply showed up and started to change the hall,’ Gunnar said, catching her elbow. He had exchanged his usual rough wool cloak for a silver-fox cloak which set off his bur
nished gold hair to perfection. ‘They are determined you will have a proper wedding. Something to do with the food baskets you have been parcelling out recently.’

  ‘I was not expecting anything in return.’

  ‘But they remembered the kindness.’ His half-smile sent a pulse of heat through her. ‘Another reason why your sort of hospitality works. Little things make a huge difference.’

  Ragn gave a soft laugh. ‘You can learn.’

  ‘You will be amazed at what I can do.’

  Ragn swallowed hard. Hamthur had played these types of word games with her until her head whirled and then after the marriage he’d stopped making that sort of remark and had started finding fault. This time, she was not going to make the same mistake. She knew why she was marrying—a safe home for both her and Svana, not for undying love. What if? whispered that growing voice inside her brain. She silenced it. She had stopped hoping for the impossible. She settled for the probable—a marriage based on practicality with neither having any expectations. ‘Daylight is slipping through our fingers.’

  Gunnar made an elaborate bow. ‘Without a bride, nothing can happen.’

  The wedding passed in a blur. Ragn was very aware of how close Gunnar stood, how firm his voice was answering the priest’s questions and how thin her own sounded.

  Gunnar leant in and brushed her mouth with his. Warmth infused her body and her lips parted. The kiss instantly deepened as his tongue touched hers and then retreated. His hands crushed her against the length of his body.

  Then the kiss was over. Her chest heaved as if she had run around the hall three times. The cheers from the crowd became deafening. He put an arm about her shoulders and turned to face the crowd. ‘Behold my wife.’

  Another huge cheer went up which shook the rafters. Ragn stood stiffly. The wedding had been the easy part. She had to stop wanting more than he offered.

  * * *

  ‘You look beautiful, Ragn,’ Svana whispered. ‘Good enough to eat. Your hair is growing out and it is all little curls. It suits you.’

  After the drinking of toasts and speeches, the women had all gathered in Gunnar’s bedchamber to prepare Ragn for the wedding night. A wide range of delicacies as well as a fresh jug of mead had been placed on the iron-bound trunk, alongside two silver goblets and a tafl board. The room was warm, but not overly hot, yet Ragn kept feeling faint.