Defiant in the Viking's Bed. Joanna Fulford
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torn between fear and wanting. Not so very long ago she’d believed this chance lost for ever, and regretted her decision—yet now he’d come back to offer her a lifeline and she was hesitating. It made no sense. Either she was going to trust him or she wasn’t. He had been honest with her so far. Now she needed to be honest with herself.
‘Then I choose you.’
For a moment he was quite still. If she hadn’t known better she would have said he was surprised. Then he bent and kissed her, a gentle salute that set every nerve tingling. ‘I am honoured.’
‘What now, Leif?’
‘Now I must make arrangements to get you safe away from here.’
‘Where will we go?’
‘To my estate in Agder.’
‘Overland?’
‘Only as far as the coast. We’ll take a ship from there.’
‘If we are overtaken...’
‘We won’t be. Your uncle will have no idea where you’ve gone.’
‘It isn’t just him, Leif. Prince Hakke arrived today, along with a large escort.’
He frowned. ‘Hakke, here? Are you certain?’
‘Quite certain. I’d know him anywhere.’
‘That’s something I could have done without.’
‘I don’t like it either. The wedding isn’t for another five days yet. Why should he be so early?’
‘Keep your ear to the ground and see what you can find out.’
She nodded.
‘As soon as all the arrangements are in place I’ll get word to you,’ he continued. ‘Two days at most.’
‘I’ll be ready.’
He stayed just long enough for a parting kiss and then left her. Astrid watched until he was out of sight among the trees. Then the enormity of the decision she had just made set in. It felt terrifying—and yet, oddly, it also felt right. If she were offered a chance to retract and change her mind she wouldn’t do it. Her imagination didn’t extend quite as far as sharing Leif’s bed. She would cross that bridge later.
* * *
When Leif returned to his own hall he lost no time in finding Finn and Erik. First and foremost he needed to take them into his confidence. They heard him in silent astonishment.
‘You’re planning to steal Gulbrand’s bride?’ said Erik.
‘That’s right.’
Finn regarded his brother in grudging admiration. ‘I’ve got to hand it to you, Leif. When you think of a wild idea there’s no limit to your imagination, is there?’
‘There will be nothing wild about it. On the contrary; it will need to be planned and executed with meticulous care.’
‘More likely we’ll be the ones executed with meticulous care.’
‘Why so?’
‘The royal house of Vingulmark is still smarting over its defeat at Eid and the deaths of two princes of the blood. Hakke is robbed of a bride and now you propose to do the like to Gulbrand.’ Finn paused. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Never more so.’
‘I thought you’d given up on this one.’
‘So did I but, as it turns out, I can’t.’ Leif still didn’t know exactly why and so further explanation was impossible.
Finn sighed. ‘I don’t suppose there’s anything that I can say to change your mind, then?’
‘Nothing.’ Leif paused. ‘I’ll understand if you want no part of this.’
‘I’m your brother. I’m already part of it.’
Erik nodded. ‘We’re kin and kin stick together. Besides, we swore an oath as sword brothers.’
‘That we did,’ replied Finn. ‘So if you have a plan whereby we can sneak past Einar’s men, snatch the woman, defeat Hakke’s fifty guards and get away to Agder with a whole skin we’d really like to hear it.’
Leif gave them a wry smile. ‘As a matter of fact I’ve given some thought to that.’
‘Oh, good. For a while there I was afraid we’d have to improvise.’
Chapter Five
Much to Astrid’s relief she was not bidden to attend her uncle or his guest that day or the next and the two men remained closeted together for much of the time. It suited her well enough. Since her conversation with Leif she had been living in a state of suppressed nervous tension and dreaded that her uncle might intuit something amiss. Let him think she was resigned to the match with Gulbrand. If things went according to plan she would be away and clear before anyone knew she was gone.
She hadn’t let herself think further ahead than that; to try and imagine what her life might be like afterwards. If anyone had told her that one day she would be a kept woman, and by choice, she’d have been shocked beyond measure. Now it seemed the only possible course of action. If she had to belong to a man then she would choose Leif and trust that her faith wasn’t misplaced.
When she had given her consent to this she had half expected a triumphant smile from him but it hadn’t happened. His reaction was not of a man taking a whore into his keeping but rather of a nobleman paying court to a lady. Would he treat her with the same consideration in bed? This was a part of the agreement that her mind had glossed over but reality was about to catch up. She would have to give herself to him and, possibly, feign enjoyment. That last sat ill with her because she didn’t want to practise deception with Leif. Perhaps time would help there. Perhaps when she became accustomed to him and her new role—
Her train of thought was broken as the door opened to admit Dalla. ‘Here’s such a to do, my lady. More of Prince Hakke’s men arriving and the servants running around like witless chickens.’
Astrid’s stomach lurched. ‘More of the prince’s men?’
‘Two ships’ crews just sighted. They’ll be here in minutes.’
‘Is Gulbrand with them?’
‘I don’t know, my lady.’
‘Can you try and find out?’
‘Of course.’ Dalla shook her head. ‘It looks as though your uncle intends this wedding to be memorable.’
Astrid frowned. Her uncle never did anything without a reason, and even a wedding didn’t seem to account for such a huge influx of men. The impression was reinforced when, ten minutes later, the newcomers arrived. She and Dalla watched from a distance as the column approached. It bristled with spears. Every man there wore mail and was armed to the teeth besides.
‘Mercenaries,’ murmured Astrid.
‘What are they doing here?’
‘I don’t know but I’d be prepared to swear it has nothing to do with the wedding celebrations.’
‘I’m inclined to think you’re right.’
Astrid watched with misgivings as row upon row of warriors marched in. No green boys these, she decided. They were men grown, seasoned fighters by the look of them, the kind who’d kill without a qualm. She estimated at least a hundred. Their leader was a burly hatchet-faced individual whose dark beard was plaited and interwoven with a strip of red cloth.
‘That’s Steingrim out in front,’ said Dalla. ‘The one-eyed brute on his right is Thorkill. They’ve been here before.’
‘Not the sort you’d want to meet on a dark night.’
‘Not