Marrying Her Viking Enemy. Harper George St.
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‘Let’s see how lucky you are.’
‘The difference, Saxon, is that I never claimed to be skilled.’
‘Now you’re retreating? Interesting. I took you for a man of courage.’
He chuckled and took it from her, his fingertips grazing her palm and making goosebumps move up her arm. Only when she stepped back to give him space to throw did she realise that they had drawn a small crowd. Being with him had made her forget everyone else and she would have sworn it was the same with him. He didn’t seem to care that his warriors watched them. In fact, he only seemed to have eyes for her. When she spoke his gaze never strayed from her face and, every time she’d thrown the axe or shot an arrow, she had felt his study of her. Being the centre of his attention was a heady thing, but no matter how important or valued he made her feel, she must remember that he was the man who would be sent to destroy her family if the need arose.
He finally looked away from her to study the stump, bringing the axe up to gauge the distance. She worried that he wouldn’t get leverage without the use of his left arm for balance, but when he threw it the axe sailed through the air, easily reaching the stump. He probably could’ve thrown it much farther. It sliced into the wood deeply, landing roughly a hand’s width below the gouges she had left.
‘Not bad,’ she said as he walked to retrieve the axe, and she couldn’t stop her treacherous gaze from roaming down his backside when he bent over to pull it out of the stump. The sight of his nude body, muscled and unquestionably masculine, was still vivid in her mind. A tiny flicker of awareness joined the tension in her belly. It gave her pause, because she’d never felt that for a Saxon man.
Had she been secretly harbouring a core of wickedness like her mother all this time? Last night she’d been able to assuage her guilt by convincing herself that her feelings had been a natural result of seeing her first nude male body. But that wasn’t precisely true, she realised now. It was him. The Dane clearly made her feel wicked things.
His next throw was a bit wide, barely clipping the stump on its right side. His third attempt was true and hit where her first blade had touched to the cheers of the small group of warriors watching them. He gave a simple nod of acknowledgement to them.
‘You’re very good for someone who doesn’t know how to throw an axe.’ Honestly, she would have been amazed had he been terrible. The man was probably good at everything he tried.
‘Not as good as you,’ he said, bringing the axe back to her.
‘Nothing a little practice won’t cure.’
Holding it out for her, handle side out, he said, ‘You’ve mastered the axe. You’re progressing at archery. How would you like to try learning the sword? Or am I wrong and you mastered the blade as a child?’
She smiled at his question and shook her head, taking the axe to affix it to her belt. ‘I’ve never held a blade. My father forbade it and a sword was too costly for me to acquire on my own.’
‘Do you want to learn?’ He asked it as if it were a simple thing.
‘From you?’ Why did her heart pounce in anticipation?
He nodded. ‘Unless you’re afraid of disobeying your father.’ There was a challenge in his eyes as he said that. ‘But you never let that stop you before, have you?’
Actually, she had let that stop her. Since her mother left, she’d been doing everything she could to prove to her father that she wasn’t like the woman. That meant that, aside from a few indiscretions such as the axe, she had done everything to find his favour. Father would not want her spending time with this man, yet she was very tempted to accept the offer.
Rolfe’s voice had been pitched too low to be overheard, but she still took a look around to make sure. Lady Gwendolyn casually glanced over at them from where she was still instructing Ellan, curiosity burning in her features. The warriors, assuming correctly that the entertainment was over, were slowly going back to their own sparring. That more than anything decided her. She couldn’t bear their audience as she practised. Slowly shaking her head, she said, ‘I cannot. I’m afraid that my pride couldn’t bear the scrutiny of an audience.’
‘There’s a clearing to the south. It’s not far from the walls of Alvey, but far enough for privacy. I could teach you there in the mornings.’
He spoke so earnestly that she almost forgot to be suspicious. Almost. ‘Why would you teach me?’
He took in a breath, his chest expanding with the effort as he thought over his answer. ‘Because you want to learn and I can see that no one else will teach you.’ She didn’t know what she had expected from him, but it wasn’t that.
She did want to learn. Every day at home felt like a threat with the Scots and the Danes on each side. The more she learned the better chance she had of protecting herself and her younger siblings. Of course, she also had purely selfish reasons. She was good at learning how to fight. She liked the training. ‘What would be the point if I’m to leave in a fortnight?’
‘You’re right. It’s not nearly long enough to master the skill, but it’s enough to give you basic knowledge.’ He paused, but she sensed that he wasn’t finished. ‘Although I understand if you’re too afraid.’
‘I’m not afraid,’ she said before she realised that he’d baited her.
Grinning, he said, ‘Then I’ll see you in the morning.’ He walked away and she was curious enough about him and what the morning would bring that she let him go without arguing. One morning with him wouldn’t change anything.
‘What are you smiling about?’ Ellan surprised Elswyth by following her outside the great hall later that evening.
They had finished the evening meal, so Elswyth had come out for a bit of fresh air and to clear her head. The warriors were crammed inside to capacity, but despite the crowd, she’d been aware of Rolfe’s gaze on her all evening. ‘Was I smiling?’ Elswyth frowned.
‘Aye. It was quite strange watching you all night because you hardly ever smile. What has you so cheerful?’
‘If I was smiling—’ which she really didn’t think she had been ‘—it’s because we’ll be leaving soon.’ Her thoughts of Rolfe were so new and unexpected that she wanted to keep them to herself for a while. Maybe for ever. Nothing could ever come of them.
Leading the way, she meandered with no particular destination through the various cook fires that flickered in the yard. Several men huddled around each one, talking and not paying the sisters any attention. It seemed that Lady Gwendolyn had mentioned to the newcomers that they were to be left unmolested.
‘Hmm... I thought you were smiling because a certain Dane couldn’t keep his eyes off you all night.’ Ellan grinned and, even in the deep shadows of twilight, her eyes sparkled with merriment.
‘He couldn’t, could he?’ The words were out before she could stop herself. Once she said them it was a relief to have someone know. ‘I must admit that these warriors are different than I thought they would be. I suppose I was expecting barbarians and, while some of them fit the description, most of them are...tamer than I anticipated.’ Would her father believe her if she told him that? Even saying the words felt like some sort of betrayal to him.
Elswyth had never met the group of Danes that her mother had run off with. They had camped along the coast, a little bit north-east of Banford. Her mother had come across them on one of their trips inland. That trip had led to several others until one night Elswyth had heard her parents arguing. She’d heard enough to realise that Father had found their mother in a compromising position with one of the Danes and had fought the man. At home that night he’d given her an ultimatum: repent and face punishment or be banished. She had chosen banishment. The next morning she’d left to meet