Surrender to the Viking. Joanna Fulford
Читать онлайн книгу.
enjoy my food as much as the next man. Besides, a well-fed crew complains less.’
‘So the way to their hearts really is through their stomachs.’
‘Battle loot plays its part as well.’
Lara’s expression altered. This was more like it. Now she had the opening she’d been hoping for. ‘You were at Eid, weren’t you?’
‘That’s right. How did you know?’
‘I heard you speaking to my father.’
His eyes gleamed. ‘Were you eavesdropping?’
‘Of course. It was an interesting conversation.’
She looked quite unabashed by the admission. Finn’s lips twitched. ‘Battle might be deemed an unfit topic for the ears of a woman.’
‘Why should it?’
‘Because it’s brutal and bloody. A pretty woman should think of other things.’
She sighed. ‘Like necklaces of amber beads and gold brooches perhaps? Or maybe flirtation and romance?’
‘Isn’t that what young women usually think about?’
Lara was silent, wrestling with irritation and disappointment. For a moment she’d really thought he might be different from the others. She looked away. ‘Excuse me for asking an inappropriate question. It’s just that I was hoping for an intelligent answer. I should have known better.’
* * *
As Finn watched her walk off, he uttered a soft laugh that was compounded of disbelief and annoyance, the latter directed inwards. He hadn’t missed the sudden eagerness in her eyes when she asked him about Eid. If he hadn’t antagonised her, she might have let down her guard and they could have had a lively and interesting discussion. Instead he’d spoken without thinking and the barriers had come up at once. He was the one who should have known better. Had experience taught him nothing?
‘Pretty girl,’ said Unnr.
Finn glanced up and nodded. ‘As you say.’
‘Difficult, though. Redheads always are.’
‘So I’m told.’ Difficult was an understatement, thought Finn. Volatile was closer to the truth. When that was allied to a keen intelligence and a ready wit, it made for a challenging combination. Challenging and intriguing.
‘Take a bold man to tame that one,’ Unnr went on. ‘My oldest brother, Sveinn, married a redhead. Lovely to look at but a temper like a fiend when roused.’
Sturla frowned. ‘Regretted the match, did he?’
‘Certainly not. Sveinn loves a challenge—always did. A timid sort of woman would never have suited him.’
‘Each to his own.’
‘I’m with Sveinn,’ said Vigdis, who, like several others, had been listening with close attention. ‘A spirited woman has to make for a more interesting relationship.’
Murmurs of agreement greeted this.
Thus encouraged Unnr continued, ‘That’s right. Sveinn had fancied Halla from the start, see, because she was a real looker, but it wasn’t till she went for him with an axe that he really understood the depth of his feelings.’
Vigdis nodded. ‘I can see how something like that could help you make up your mind.’
‘It did. He fell head over heels in love.’
‘So he told her right away, then?’
‘Not quite. It wasn’t until he’d wrestled her to the ground and taken the axe away that he finally managed to convince her. Anyway, they made up the quarrel and married the following week. They’ve got five sons now.’
Ketill shook his head in admiration. ‘Your brother sounds like quite a romantic.’
His companions nodded.
‘I think he is,’ replied Unnr, ‘though of course he’d never admit it.’
‘Action speaks louder than words, eh?’
‘Correct. And love’s a funny thing. Take my cousin Snorri for instance...’
* * *
As the others pressed closer to listen Finn detached himself from the group and moved aside. The conversation had taken an unexpected turn, evoking memories that he’d have preferred to leave alone. Unnr was right though: love was a strange thing. It entered in by the eyes and embedded itself in the heart. Its removal left a wound that never healed. Betrayal was always ugly no matter what form it took. Unnr’s brother was lucky in his choice of wife: evidently deception was not part of her nature. A man knew exactly what to expect from an axe. Moreover, he could see it coming. He didn’t know about betrayal until it was too late.
He should have read the signs, but he’d been so besotted with Bótey that he’d been blind. When he’d finally understood how blind, love had given way to jealousy and killing rage. She knew what his reaction would be and sought to put as much distance between them as possible. Not enough distance though, not nearly enough. He’d caught up eventually. Slaying his rival was a matter of natural justice, an act for which none would condemn him. A man must defend his rights and avenge himself on those who wronged him. That was the way of things. He had no qualms about killing his wife’s lover. It was what followed that sickened him and for that, in his own mind at least, he would stand forever condemned.
* * *
He and his men slept in the hall that night, or rather his men slept and soundly too. Finn found it much harder. His mind was too busy, not least with concerns about the immediate future. If he didn’t take care of Steingrim it was over. He and his men would be hunted down and slain. The mercenary force wouldn’t give up until that was accomplished. However, Finn had no intention of allowing them to keep the advantage. When he had the extra swords he needed the fight would be taken to his enemies, and when they least expected it. We’ll choose our own ground. Leif was right about that. He wondered how his brother was faring and whether he’d got his woman away safely. Presumably he had: once Leif had a goal in mind he invariably achieved it no matter who tried to stop him. Anyway, Astrid was a pretty girl.
Finn acknowledged the fact even though he felt dispassionate about it. His taste ran more towards dark hair, dark or deep red. For a moment Lara’s face floated into his thoughts. It was remarkable that she was still unmarried at eighteen. She could not have lacked for suitors. Surely among their number had been those who were not deterred by the kind of challenge she represented; any red-blooded man in fact. It suggested that Lara must have rejected them. Had she used an axe? He smiled to himself. It wasn’t hard to visualise such a scenario. The fey didn’t seem to like men very much. She certainly didn’t like him. There were admittedly some grounds for her dislike, but it didn’t explain her antipathy for the male sex as a whole, and that made him curious.
When his marriage ended it had been a while before he’d embarked on any kind of sexual adventure. At first it was the sort a man paid for; uncomplicated and mutually beneficial. Later there were longer liaisons with palace courtesans; more complicated and more expensive but more enjoyable too, while they lasted. He was all in favour of the giving and taking of pleasure and was generous when it came to rewarding the objects of his attention, but he never offered more than that. His terms were made clear at the outset. That way there could be no misunderstandings and no one got hurt.
Had Lara suffered a disappointment? Was her manner a defence against being hurt again? He didn’t know why his thoughts should keep coming back to her. He regretted his thoughtless words earlier: they had cost him an entertaining discussion. All conversations with her were entertaining. He had never met a woman who challenged his opinions before, or who held her own in argument with such accomplished ease, making him think on his feet. She made no attempt to flirt either and clearly resented it when he did. That too was novel. Women invariably enjoyed flirting with him. Some