Taming His Viking Woman. Michelle Styles

when the woman went freely.’

      ‘People whisper that with one wave of your hand, the locks fell open and you used the full moon to cast a spell on her, turning her into a swan so she could escape undetected.’

      ‘If I’d done half the things claimed of me, I doubt I’d be standing before you. I’d be flying through the air to Constantinople on a pair of wings, as Kettil consistently refuses me a large enough ship to make that voyage,’ she said crisply, giving him the stare that normally managed to send men running for cover.

      ‘Why did you do it?’ he asked in a low voice. ‘The truth, because any games you choose to play, I will win. I make you that promise.’

      Her mouth went dry and she bit back the words asking him what sort of games he had in mind. Instead she settled her features into a scowl. ‘My brother and his chosen bride deserved to be together.’

      ‘Any particular reason?’

      She jerked her head towards where Blodvin and Regin stood waiting to hear their fate. ‘They make a handsome couple.’

      ‘Your brother should have challenged for the right. What good is a man if he cannot protect his wife and children?’

      ‘Blodvin made her own choice.’ Sayrid ignored his remark. ‘No man cheats my family.’

      Hrolf’s eyes became deadly. ‘Strong words. How did precisely Ingvar the Bloodaxe cheat?’

      ‘When a bride price is agreed and paid, one expects the bride to remain available as long as she is willing.’

      ‘Payments can be returned.’

      Sayrid gave a soft cough. ‘Next time ask around. Better still, ask the woman if she wants to be married to you.’

      He slammed his fist against his open palm. ‘Bloodaxe swore there was no impediment.’

      She rolled her eyes. It amazed her that a warrior such as Hrolf Sea-Rider would be inclined to believe Ingvar Flokison. But he’d been away in the East for a long time and perhaps had not thought to listen to gossip.

      ‘A man who constantly delivers light sacks of wool should always have his word tested.’ She poured scorn into her voice. ‘Didn’t you think to listen to the rumours and gossip before entering into negotiations? And you, a sea king with a reputation for quick thinking.’

      A dimple flashed in the corner of his mouth. ‘Women’s talk around the distaff and weaving loom?’

      ‘Men gossip far more than women. They just like to think they don’t.’

      ‘Truly?’

      Sayrid ground her teeth. Hrolf was precisely like any other Northman—women were there to provide food, drink and pleasure only. She clenched her fists and regained control of her temper. ‘Listening and heeding dockside chatter saved my ship on my first voyage. We went a different way home and avoided the sea raiders.’

      He instantly sobered. ‘What else did you learn, Valkyrie?’

      Even now the hardship of that first voyage rolled over her—the storms at sea, the lodestone being washed overboard and the men who had tried to cheat her simply because she was a woman. And the others who gawped at her height.

      ‘Things far too countless to mention.’ She lifted her chin and adopted her no-nonsense voice. ‘I wish you good day, Hrolf Eymundsson. My family needs me to make this right.’

      ‘You care for your family more than your life.’

      Sayrid shrugged. ‘You’ll find another bride, particularly as I’ve arranged for a feast after the Assembly to celebrate the marriage. I can suggest a name or two—women who are not spoken for and whose kinsmen are honest. I wouldn’t want you to make the same mistake twice. Feuds ruin families.’

      His piercing blue gaze locked on her mouth. ‘I make my own choices. Without interference.’

      Her stomach flipped over. Nearly kissing him the other night had been a mistake. She should have gone for another approach like stamping on his foot. ‘I had only meant to be helpful.’

      ‘I look forward to speaking more after the Storting...if you intend on being helpful.’

      Sayrid frowned. What sort of game was he playing? Men didn’t flirt with her. Perhaps he did really want introductions. Her heart panged slightly.

      She made a breezy gesture. ‘We’ve no quarrel, you and I.’

      His hand descended onto her shoulder. The touch seared through her wool tunic, making her insides do a giddy loop. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

      She moved away from him and sought to dampen down the bubbly feeling. This warrior was the same as the rest of them, worse even. Her father’s long-ago words about how she had little to recommend herself even to a desperate man echoed in her brain. ‘May you find the bride you truly desire, Sea-Rider. I wish you a long life and prosperity.’

      ‘And you, Shield Maiden.’

      * * *

      The large hall teemed with people. After so many years being in the East, Hrolf was pleased to be amongst his own people again. He’d done the right thing to come here and strengthen his alliance with Jaarl Kettil. This was the sort of place where a man could put down roots and where his daughter could be brought up safely.

      ‘Where did you get to?’ Bragi, Hrolf’s best friend and helmsman, asked in an undertone. ‘Jaarl Kettil remarked on your absence. I thought we were here so you can identify the man who stole your bride as Ingvar the Bloodaxe requested. We want this resolved.’

      Hrolf made a temple with his fingers. Sayrid was correct. Unfortunately. He’d forgotten his father’s story about Bloodaxe and his failure to provide promised weapons on the battlefield until Sayrid mentioned the light wool sacks. And Bloodaxe’s daughter was very obviously pregnant. There was much more to this than he’d first considered. What was really going on? ‘I’m making sure that I understand the truth before I decide which cause to support. A man’s life is at stake.’

      ‘Who is that?’ Bragi asked as Sayrid marched to the front. Her cloak swung slightly, revealing a few curves, if one bothered to look. ‘Can anyone introduce me? Pray to the gods she is single.’

      Hrolf frowned. Bragi would barely come up to Sayrid’s shoulder.

      ‘Sayrid Avildottar, shield maiden and in charge of the largest estate in the area after mine.’ Kettil spoke before Hrolf had a chance to answer.

      ‘Then she is single.’

      ‘Her father declared that she will marry no man unless he first defeats her in combat.’ The jaarl smiled slightly. ‘It suits my purpose to have her sword under my command, but she grows bold and makes demands. She wants to lead a felag to Byzantium. Imagine.’

      ‘Thor’s beard, she is tall,’ Bragi answered and added a slightly crude remark about the shape of her legs.

      Hrolf fought against the urge to pummel his friend to the ground. It made no sense why he should feel protective of Sayrid. He barely knew the woman. For him, women were objects of beauty to be enjoyed while on shore. His uncle had taught him that lesson after his father’s death. The way to prosperity was never to allow a woman to interfere with the important business of making a fortune.

      ‘Only a brave or extremely foolish man makes remarks like that in her hearing.’ Kettil moved his finger in a slitting motion across his throat. ‘She takes offence easily. Her first voyage saw her defend her honour more than once.’

      Bragi blanched. ‘I will remember that.’

      ‘Have many tried to win her hand?’ Hrolf asked. ‘Or was it only old men and beardless boys who tried?’

      ‘What, and face the ignominy of losing to a woman?’ Kettil shook his head. ‘If all my warriors were like her, I