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She didn’t ask those questions, though. She would not give her family away. ‘How do you know they won’t be too powerful?’
He smiled again and let her go. His teeth were straight and white, making his smile far too pleasing for a warrior such as him. He should be fierce, with a fierce smile to match. His expression turned to pure masculine arrogance when he answered, ‘They’ll never be too powerful for the Danes.’
She scoffed and made a show of finishing her work with the poultice, mixing the herbs in the bowl before readying a bandage with a length of folded linen. However, deep in her heart, she feared that he was right. She’d been impressed with the Danes who had spent the summer in Alvey. She’d been even more impressed by the sheer power of the army that had marched into Alvey hours ago. Tomorrow she would see them in practice, but she really had no need to see them to know that they would be fierce. Their reputation preceded them there.
‘You Danes are all alike. Too full of yourselves for your own good.’
‘It’s not conceit if it’s true. I’ve never lost a fight.’
She found it very easy to believe him. He sat in that humble tub like a king, his powerful arms stretched along the rim, his eyes shining with confidence. In that moment she had to wonder if it was possible for anyone to best him.
His eyes had gone slightly hooded as he watched her, an indolent quality coming over his face. ‘I toured the north after Lord Vidar married Lady Gwendolyn. I don’t remember meeting you.’ He said it as if he would’ve remembered.
God knew that she would have remembered him had they met before. He was too vibrant and too formidable, equal parts terrifying and fascinating.
‘Nay, we never met.’ She remembered their visit well, though her father had kept her and Ellan hidden away inside so that she’d never actually seen Rolfe. It was no secret to anyone that Father distrusted the Danes. She suspected it had been one of the reasons Lord Gwendolyn had sent for her and her sister. The woman was ever trying to make peace, but it seemed no matter what she did, Father wouldn’t approve.
He despised the fact that his own wife had run off with one of them. It ate at him constantly. Before it had happened, he’d always been stern and quiet, but something had changed in him in the years since. He brimmed with anger and bitterness. Lady Gwendolyn marrying a Dane had brought it all to overflowing. He hated that she’d married Lord Vidar and he hated all the Danes in Alvey that came as a result of that marriage. There would be no peace as far as he was concerned.
Elswyth had been surprised that Father had agreed to Lady Gwendolyn’s plan, but his reasoning had become clear on the morning of their departure. He had approached her horse where she was saying goodbye to her younger brother Baldric. Ellan had followed their older brother, Galan, out of the yard, giving them a brief moment of solitude.
Pitching his voice low, he’d said, ‘Keep your eyes open, Elswyth. We need to know what these Danes are really up to. I’ll expect your account upon your return.’ She’d stared at him in shock, but he’d only slapped the horse on the rump and called after her, ‘I’m depending on you!’
He had meant for her to spy. A lump of unease had been present in her belly ever since. Rolfe’s presence only made it worse. While everyone knew that Lord Vidar was in charge, he would not dare to lead warriors against people he was sworn to protect. Should an uprising occur, it would be Rolfe sent to dowse it. Rolfe commanded the warriors. Rolfe would raise his sword against her village and her family if it was ordered.
Knowing all of that, she couldn’t understand why he fascinated her so. She should despise him. Because of men like him, her mother had abandoned the family. Elswyth had been forced to take over her duties when she’d scarcely been able to carry a pail of water on her own. She had spent the formative years of her childhood wondering how she could have prevented her mother from leaving, questioning if she had been a better daughter would her mother have stayed and even secretly thinking that perhaps she herself was unlovable.
Yet, even with that history giving her plenty of reasons to hate him, she couldn’t keep her eyes from him. From beneath her lashes, her gaze swept over his broad shoulders and the cords of muscle that defined his arms. ‘You’ll need to get yourself dry so that I can put the poultice on your shoulder. It shouldn’t get wet.’
Without giving her a chance to prepare herself or even avert her eyes, he stood in the tub. Water sluiced down his strong body in rivulets, reflecting gold in the soft glow of the candles. The solid muscles in his back tapered down to a narrow waist and a pair of buttocks that might have been carved stone. His thighs were corded in muscle, thick as tree trunks and just as strong from the looks of them, with a light sprinkling of dark blond hair. In the slit of light visible between them, the weight of his manly parts hung—a gasp tore from her throat when a sheet of linen blocked her view, making her realise that she had been staring. Not once had she even attempted to avert her gaze. He had been decent enough to not ogle her the entire time she’d been in his chamber, his eyes had never left her face as they’d talked, but she couldn’t find the decency to look away from his nakedness. Her face burned in shame as she forced her attention to the poultice.
He stepped out of the tub on to a rug made of rushes and tied the sheet around his waist. Grabbing another sheet of linen, he wrapped it around his shoulders, though he did it awkwardly with one hand while keeping his left arm against his torso. She would have helped him had she not been too astonished at her own bad behaviour. Instead, she waited for him to get settled on the bench before bringing the tray over to set it on the table next to him, her face—indeed her entire body—still flaming with embarrassment. Slowly and with as little touch against his bare skin as possible, she used the sheet to dry off his back.
Working with efficiency, she managed to apply the poultice on to his wound and wrap linen around his shoulder. The light sprinkling of fur on his chest teased her fingertips on the first pass, sending cinders of curious sensation running down her arm. This man was nothing like she had imagined. He wasn’t a monster, or even particularly unpleasant. He was simply a man, made of warm, solid muscle and bone. Yet, that realisation somehow made him more dangerous to her. Tying off the end of the bandage, she stood back, making minor adjustments to the wrapping. ‘I’ll make you a sling. You should wear it to keep your shoulder braced until it starts to heal. You don’t want it to break open again.’
‘I’ll try.’ Wearing only the linen slung low around his waist, he walked to a chest at the foot of his bed and pulled out an under-tunic. ‘Would you help me put it on?’
With a wordless nod, she took the folded linen from him. She was tall for a woman, but he was so much taller he had to stoop down for her to put it over his head. A tightening of his jaw was the only indication he gave that he experienced discomfort as he shoved his left arm through the sleeve. She didn’t even give him time to rummage through the chest for trousers, knowing that she couldn’t handle the embarrassment of watching him discard the linen sheet to put them on. Instead, she immediately grabbed the material for the sling and stepped up to him.
He smelled good. Clean like the soap, but also like evergreen needles in the forest mixed with a rich masculine scent that was very pleasing. He was quiet as she fitted it, knotted it and then slipped it across his chest, but she could feel his eyes on her face. They seemed curious and that damnable kindness lurking in their depths made it impossible for her to summon the anger and hate that she meant to feel towards him.
‘When do you go back home?’
The question made her heart stutter. Satisfied with the sling, she lowered her arms from his shoulders and forced herself to take a step back from him. Distance seemed very good at the moment. ‘My father is meant to come before the next full moon.’
‘A fortnight, then.’ He nodded as if the information pleased him somehow, as if he was mulling something over and that worked nicely into his plans, when she shouldn’t fit anywhere into his plans.
Her heart picked up speed and she turned to quickly gather up the tray of medicinals that she’d brought. Never mind that her hands shook for some odd reason or that her knees were so weak she felt certain they would follow suit. Distance. The single word replaced the ‘enemy’ mantra in her head because she no longer believed that to be true. Or worse. It was true, but it was no longer enough to keep a wall between them.
‘Good evening.’
‘I look forward to seeing your aim on the practice field in the morning.’ His voice followed her out.
Chapter Three (#ub43fd2ac-352f-5c77-84e3-73fafcc3a2c1)
‘That’s twice I’ve bested you. If these swords weren’t wooden, you’d be dead by now.’ Aevir deftly swung away, leaving several feet between him and Rolfe.
Rolfe doubled his assault, ignoring how his arm smarted where Aevir’s training sword had hit as he pushed his friend even farther back in an attempt to wipe the smug smile from his face. Rolfe had spent the entire morning running the men through their paces and taking playful digs from some of them about his sling. It was time they realised that having his left arm in a brace wouldn’t slow him down. ‘You must be jesting. You’ve yet to best me once.’
Aevir scoffed, ‘I would’ve drawn first blood had the sword been metal.’ He lunged forward again and Rolfe rolled to the side, leaving Aevir off balance.
‘And when do we ever battle to first blood?’ Rolfe asked.
‘Had the blade drawn blood, you would have cried out in pain and broken your stride, leaving yourself open so that I could skewer your gullet.’
‘You live in your fantasies.’ Rolfe laughed and renewed his attack. The truth was that he had been distracted in their sparring match, but it hadn’t been because of his wound. Elswyth had come out on to the other side of the field with her bow and a quiver of arrows and was currently shooting at targets. His gaze had been caught by her form in profile, equal parts slim and lush as she had notched an arrow and pulled back the string. He’d been waiting to see if she’d made her target when Aevir had hit him.
‘Go easy, Aevir.’ Vidar’s voice interrupted their sparring. ‘He’s an injured man. I wouldn’t have you making his injury worse.’
Rolfe groaned silently. Vidar meant well, but he’d only make the teasing worse.
Aevir grinned and lowered his sword. ‘The Jarl has saved you, my friend.’
The sling on Rolfe’s left arm restricted his balance a bit, but his wound was hardly in any danger. ‘Nay, let’s finish.’
Aevir raised his sword to accept the challenge, but Vidar stepped between them. ‘We have other things to discuss this morning, now that you’ve both had some rest.’ The three of them walked to the edge of the practice field. The clang of steel on steel and splintering wood as the warriors continued to practise filled the air around them.
‘As long as it’s the Scots and not wives we’re discussing again,’ Aevir said in a dry tone.
‘Wives?’ Rolfe asked.
Vidar gave him a telling glance before looking towards his own wife, who had made her way to them across the sparring field where she’d been leading a group of archers in practice. Lady Gwendolyn was quite possibly the most accomplished archer Rolfe had ever seen. She smiled at them as she approached, but trepidation lurked in her expression, a rare moment of uncertainty for her.
‘Good morning. How is your shoulder?’ Lady Gwendolyn asked.
After assuring her that he was on the mend, he asked, ‘Am I being offered up as a husband?’
She had the grace to look sheepish. ‘I admit the lack of marriages among the Danes and Saxons concerns me. We’ve had a few families take us up on the offer of coin in exchange for marriage to the Danes, but most are reluctant.’ It had been their hope that after their marriage others would follow suit. They wanted to unite the Saxons and Danes in Alvey through marriage and avoid as much bloodshed as possible.
‘It will take time.’ Vidar ran a hand down her back in silent support.
She nodded before continuing. ‘We would like it to be known that our highest warriors...including you...are looking for wives. I think an offering of higher-status marriages would ease some reluctance.’
Rolfe laughed, but it was a hollow sound. The very thought of marriage made the skin on his neck tighten uncomfortably. ‘You are offering me up as husband.’
Her cheeks reddened, but she didn’t back down from her stance. ‘You have to admit that many would say you are a desirable husband. Your word among the Danes is second only to Vidar’s. You are known as a great warrior with great wealth.’
‘It’s true,’ Rolfe said, mulling over her words and making Vidar laugh out loud.
‘It’s good to see you’re still humble, Brother.’
Ignoring him, Rolfe said, ‘I can see how this would be helpful for harmony.’ It would not, however, be helpful for his peace of mind. He tried not to think of the woman he’d nearly married back home, but her face came to mind anyway. Hilde had been beautiful. He’d convinced himself that she was kind and generous, everything he’d thought he’d wanted in a wife. He’d learned too late—after her thievery—that her beautiful outside had hidden a traitorous core. She’d only used him for her own gain.
Lady Gwendolyn’s smile brightened, encouraged by his words. ‘I resisted my father’s way of thinking, but I understand now how marriage to further peace is best for everyone.’ Vidar smiled at her, his eyes full of gentleness and admiration.
Rolfe wasn’t entirely surprised by the plan and it certainly spoke to that odd longing for a family he’d felt upon his homecoming last night, but he didn’t relish the idea of marrying. The amount of trust inherent in such a union was not something he was comfortable with. Of its own volition, his gaze landed on Elswyth. The same short-handled axe from last night was hooked on the belt around her waist, leading him to wonder if she wielded it as well as the bow and arrow.
Glancing back to Lady Gwendolyn and then Vidar, he could practically feel the noose of matrimony tightening around his neck. He wouldn’t shirk his duty, but neither would he welcome it. His only choice was to make certain of the only thing he could control. ‘I would choose my own wife.’
‘Of course,’ Lady Gwendolyn was quick to acquiesce. In a softer voice she added, ‘But you would have to choose someone beneficial to uniting our people.’
He gave a nod, his gaze once again shifting over to Elswyth of its own volition.
The victorious glance that passed between Vidar and his wife wasn’t lost on him. They had already discussed his marriage, it seemed.
‘Thank you, Rolfe,’ Vidar said. ‘You’ll be well-rewarded for your duty. With things to the north unsettled, it goes without saying that sooner rather than later would be best.’
‘Aevir will be called to marry as well?’ Rolfe and Vidar had known Aevir for several years. He was a renowned warrior who had fought in the south as the battle had been waged for East Anglia. He’d gained a reputation there for his fearlessness in battle and had gone on to fight for Jarl Eirik for the past couple of years. Yesterday when he’d ridden in with Rolfe had been the first time he’d set foot in Alvey. Rolfe knew the man had vowed never to settle down because of some trauma from his past, so he lived a life that was never settled, always moving from place to place looking for the next fight. Rolfe liked him and respected him, but he found it hard to believe the man was ready for marriage.
‘For the right woman it could be well worth it.’ Aevir shrugged. ‘But it’s too early in the day to speak of women.’
‘The right woman?’ Rolfe asked, unable to believe his ears. Aevir was actually considering marriage.
Still smiling, Aevir shrugged. ‘The right lands and riches to be more specific.’
That sounded more like what Rolfe had expected. Still, the idea of marriage without affection was hard for him to accept. He had pledged his loyalty to Jarl Vidar and would do it if his duty called for it, but it wasn’t what he would choose for himself. Aevir had no such pledge holding him here. ‘And what of the woman herself? Her face?’ Her heart. Rolfe didn’t say that part, but he could not imagine sharing his home and future children with a woman who was cruel or less than honourable. Someone like Hilde.
‘What does a face matter in the dark of night?’ Aevir laughed, but when he glanced away there was a hollowness in his eyes. It was the same empty resolve he brought to battle that made him a great warrior. Rolfe didn’t think it would work so well in marriage. ‘Her lands and wealth will suit me much better than a fine face.’
Rolfe shook his head, but he hadn’t expected anything else from Aevir. The man would sell his hand like he sold his sword, it seemed. He wouldn’t be the first man to do so. Once more he found Elswyth across the field. This time he watched her arrow fly and stifled a smile at her hoot of triumph when her aim proved true. She fascinated him and their banter the night before had come easily and naturally. She wasn’t afraid to challenge him. He had no idea if she’d be suitable based on Lady Gwendolyn’s requirements, but she was the only one who had stirred an interest in him in a while.
‘Do you need to find your nursemaid to check your wound?’ Aevir teased, following Rolfe’s line of sight.
‘I’d forgotten how insufferable you were,’ Rolfe growled, which resulted in Aevir’s bark of laughter.
Vidar had walked away to speak with his wife, but stepped up to them now, his gaze roaming across the field to where his wife’s charges practised. ‘Godric will arrive in about a fortnight and I hope to negotiate his blessing for a marriage. I’ve already allotted the silver needed.’
Elswyth had just landed another arrow in the target while a girl he assumed to be her sister cheered her on. Aevir’s face shone with interest as he watched her, and Rolfe felt the hair on the back of his head bristle in warning. Aevir’s interest in Elswyth alone would have raised his ire, but to have Godric’s name spoken in regard to her did not bode well for Rolfe’s intentions.
‘The sisters will be available?’ Aevir tipped his head towards Elswyth and her sister.
‘Aye, but only one of them need marry... Elswyth is the eldest. I’d prefer it if one of you marry her. The match will go far to ease our troubles in Banford,’ Vidar added in a low voice.
Rolfe froze, his hand clenched tight around the hilt of his sparring sword. The girl was Godric’s daughter. When she’d said she was from the north, she meant Banford. She meant the very village he’d put a torch to only two days ago. The very village that seemed to turn out traitors one after the next.
‘You would give the traitor silver and allow him to keep his lands?’ asked Aevir.
Vidar’s brow furrowed. ‘Traitor may be harsh. Remember that we only have rumours that Godric’s been in contact with the Scot King. We’ve seen no evidence. We do know that it will be in our favour to tie him to Alvey with his daughter’s hand. We need him on our side.’
The very idea of giving tolerance to the man who was likely at the centre of every conspiracy with the Scots didn’t sit right with Rolfe. ‘You can’t deny that Durwin’s presence with the Scots is strong evidence. Everyone knows how close he and his brother were to Godric.’ He knew in his gut that the connection was there. Rewarding Godric’s tricks with a fortuitous marriage for his daughter would not solve their problems. Indeed, such a marriage could be disastrous for all parties involved.
‘Aye, it’s a strong indication, but not evidence. We’ll see how he feels soon. He’ll arrive in a fortnight and give his permission for Elswyth’s hand unless he’d prefer to insult his Lady,’ said Vidar.
‘Is that why his daughters are here?’ Rolfe asked. Now that he knew who Elswyth was he was shocked to find Godric’s daughters within the confines of Alvey. Shocked because if the man had truly gone against Alvey, his daughters would have been locked within her walls and at the mercy of the very Danes he claimed to despise. The man had to be a fool and she had to be a spy. There would be no other reason for Godric to allow their presence here.
‘They’re distant relations of Gwendolyn’s on her mother’s side. Gwendolyn hoped to gain the girls’ co-operation by inviting them here. I’d hoped that since he allowed them to come here, he had accepted that we are here to stay. She hasn’t mentioned marriage to Elswyth yet, but she will now that you’re both here.’
Both. Thinking of her with Aevir didn’t sit well with him, but he pushed the thought aside to consider the issue of Godric. Sending his daughters to work for his Lady could have been a very solid offering of truce. Or it could have been a very clever way of appearing contrite while using them for his own gain. If Rolfe had to guess, he would assume the latter.
‘Which other brides are we to consider and which lands come with them?’ Aevir asked.
‘We’ll discuss the properties and dowries tonight. It’s only fair that you know beforehand to help you decide which girl to win over.’
Aevir shook his head and laughed. ‘Is enticing her necessary? The girl will marry who her father says she will marry, will she not?’
Vidar grinned. ‘That’s not how Lady Gwendolyn would prefer the marriages to happen. She wants the women to have a say in their choice of groom.’
‘It’s only a bride, Jarl.’ Aevir shrugged. ‘What does it matter if she approves or even if I approve of her? Isn’t it merely an arrangement for loyalty and coin?’
Rolfe and Vidar exchanged knowing glances. They’d had a very similar conversation when it was Vidar arriving to wed Lady Gwendolyn. Vidar had been of a similar opinion.
‘The girl must approve of her groom,’ Vidar said again and, like lightning drawn to the highest point on a plain, Rolfe found Elswyth again with his eyes.
He tried to see her through the eyes he’d had the night before. Eyes that hadn’t known her parentage. The belt around her waist emphasised her lean figure, and the curve of her hips. She was soft in all the places a woman should be soft. The blush on her face last night when she’d gazed upon his nudity confirmed her interest in him as a man. If she was a spy, perhaps he’d have better success seducing the admission out of her.
Once realised, the thought took up residence in his head and refused to leave. As arousing as the idea of having her beneath him was, the task left a bitter taste. If she were a spy for her father, then it would confirm Godric’s intention. And Rolfe would have lost the only woman to challenge him in a long time.
She let another arrow fly and this time hit the target dead centre. Despite himself, pride swelled in his chest. It was unreasonable that he should feel anything for her already, but there it was. He told himself it was lingering affection for the woman who had tended him last night, the woman who had sparked his interest before he’d learned her true identity. The wind tugged at the hair in her loose braid, sending a few dark strands to fly free across her face. It was actually a very lovely face, with soft lips and gently sculpted cheekbones. When she brushed the strands back, she looked up and caught him watching her, but the distance was too great for him to discern her thoughts.
Lady Gwendolyn had walked back to the sisters and started working with the other, drawing Elswyth’s attention. Free from her stare, he caught Aevir watching the sisters. ‘Leave her be, Aevir.’
‘I rather like looking at the pair of them.’ His friend grinned.
‘They haven’t the land or the riches you desire.’
Aevir stared at him in shock. ‘You’re declaring yourself already, man?’
Rolfe shrugged. ‘Nay.’ The word sounded weak. He had enough riches from his years of fighting at Vidar’s side to see him well into his old age and he didn’t particularly need or want lands. For whatever reason, he’d liked Elswyth last night before he’d found out who her father was. If she was here with honourable intentions instead of as an emissary for her father and he had no choice but to wed...why not let it be to her?
‘Let’s not quibble over women,’ Vidar said. ‘There are more than enough to go around. Besides, Aevir, I need you to go north. Watch Banford. Our skirmish with the Scots is bound to have an effect. If Banford is co-operating with them, they’ll be communicating now.’
‘I can go,’ Rolfe offered. He felt responsible for the situation and he would see it through.
‘Nay, stay and recover. Right now we’re only watching. You need to be well for the fight, if there is one,’ said Vidar.
Aevir nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘You’ll leave tomorrow. We’ll talk more tonight.’
