Marrying Her Viking Enemy. Harper St. George

       Chapter Four

      Notch the arrow. Pull back. Focus on the target. Let it fly.

      It was a ritual that quieted Elswyth’s mind and one that she’d come to appreciate. It allowed her to ignore the very real possibility that, with threats from the Scots and possibly the Danes, she’d have to use her newly acquired archery skills in the near future. Lady Gwendolyn and Ellan had moved farther down the field to work on her sister’s aim, leaving Elswyth to her ritual. Ellan was enthusiastic, but lacked the interest required for hours of daily practice. Elswyth, on the other hand, loved losing herself in the steady rhythm of repetitive training.

      She wasn’t surprised that Rolfe came to a stop near her after the women had drifted away. He’d been watching her from across the field for nearly the entire practice. Her traitorous arm trembled at his nearness, forcing her to take in a deep breath to steady herself. He had a large presence and it wasn’t simply due to his size, though that alone would have been intimidating. There was something about him that announced his arrival without him even having to say a word, as if he commanded the very air around him the way he commanded his men.

      She let the arrow fly and it landed just to the left of the centre of her target. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good. She had placed the sack fifty paces out, so she’d count it as her furthest success so far. ‘Good morning, Dane.’

      ‘Saxon.’ She didn’t look at him, but the smile was evident in his voice. ‘You’re very good. How long have you been an archer?’

      The next arrow made a soft whooshing sound as she drew it out of the quiver on her back. She took her time notching it, letting her thumb brush over the roughly carved wood as she pondered his question. It was simple enough to answer, but she couldn’t help but wonder why he was asking. Did he suspect something of her? What exactly did he want with her? Had she imagined the way he’d talked with her last night had been a sign of something more than benign friendship he was offering? Was she even capable of leading him down that path in the hopes of gathering more information from him? She wanted desperately to prove her loyalty to her father, but she wasn’t very good at artifice.

      Last night Rolfe hadn’t come out and said anything inappropriate. If anything, she was the inappropriate one. But there had seemed to be something more. Even across the field this morning, when he’d looked at her, there had been an intensity there that hinted at an interest that was more than friendship.

      Why her? Pulling the arrow back, she let it fly to land in the sack, but still outside the target. Evidence of how he unsettled her.

      Dropping her arm, she finally turned to look at him. He was dressed casually today in trousers with a simple tunic, leaving his muscled arms revealed even though the morning air was quite brisk. His dark blond hair was pulled up again in the barbaric style he’d worn yesterday with ropes of it pulled back from his face and secured at the crown of his head. The dimple in his cheek shone when he smiled at her and it nearly hurt to look at it. How could a man so potentially dangerous to her family appear so attractively virile? The ever-present knot of unease tightened in her belly. ‘I’ve been practising archery only since Ellan and I arrived in Alvey.’

      He raised his chin a notch and gave her an approving nod. ‘You’re a quick learner.’

      He said it as if the trait met with his approval and that approval filled her with pride. Instead of commenting on his statement and facing that emotion, she asked, ‘How is your shoulder?’

      Part of her had wondered in anticipation if Lady Gwendolyn would direct her to tend to him again that morning, while another part of her had been busy coming up with a bevy of excuses that would get her out of the task. In the end it hadn’t mattered, she’d left the little alcove she shared with Ellan at the same time a serving girl had emerged from his chamber. The white hot flair of jealousy she’d experienced had been quickly extinguished and tucked out of sight. What did it matter to her if someone else tended him? It particularly did not matter that the girl had emerged with mussed hair, making Elswyth wonder exactly how long she’d stayed in Rolfe’s chamber and to which part of him she had attended.

      ‘It’s sore but improved.’ His honesty impressed her. Most men she knew would not admit to any ailment. Her older brother Galan had once walked on a broken foot for three whole days before it had swollen so large that his shoe had to be cut off. Only then had he admitted he ‘might have twisted it a bit’.

      ‘Is there any inflammation? Heat?’

      He gave a quick shake of his head. ‘Not any more than there was, but I’m nearly out of the salve you left. Can you can bring more tonight?’

      She stared at him, weighing the risks of agreeing to help him again. There was no denying the fact that helping him would give her a chance to gather information for Father, but her sense of self-preservation warned her away from him. He unsettled her, making her feel interest when she shouldn’t. Yet, she understood that to refuse would rouse suspicion, so she nodded and said, ‘I’ll prepare more for you.’

      ‘Do you wield the axe as well as you do the bow?’ The abrupt change in topic startled her, prompting him to nod towards her hip where her axe was secured.

      ‘Better. I’ve been using it for years.’

      ‘Would you show me?’ He gestured towards the piles of wood a bit farther down the field past where Ellan and Lady Gwendolyn were practising.

      ‘Do you not know how to use one, Dane?’

      Through his close-cropped beard she could see the dimple in his cheek when he smiled and shook his head. ‘The sword is my weapon. I can swing an axe in battle, but I can see how a smaller one for throwing could be useful.’

      No man had ever asked her to show him how to do anything before. At the farm, she and Ellan ran the household and helped with the animals when it was needed. No one asked them for advice or sought them out, though that hardly deterred her from offering her opinion on matters when she saw that it would be beneficial. Still, she couldn’t stop the pleasure that welled in her chest that this warrior would ask her for a demonstration. Unable to find her voice, she nodded and set down her bow before unstrapping the quiver of arrows from her back. When she was finished, he stepped back to let her lead him farther afield.

      Finding a nice, round stump, she rolled it to a clearing farther away from the practising warriors and set it in place upright. Satisfied with its position, she walked back to him and withdrew the axe from her belt. ‘As with your sword, I imagine, the trick is to keep your blade well tended. It need not be so sharp that it nicks your clothing, but it shouldn’t be dull.’

      ‘Do you sharpen your own blades?’ He took the axe from her and held it up, running the pad of his thumb across the edge of the blade.

      ‘Aye, it was necessary at home. Father didn’t approve of my use of it so forbade anyone to help me. Of course, here the blacksmith has been kind enough to see to the task.’

      Grinning, he handed it back to her handle first. ‘But you didn’t let your father’s disapproval stop you.’

      ‘Nay, of course not.’ In some ways his censure had spurned her onwards. Her father was a difficult man, equal parts kind and stubborn. After her mother’s abandonment, he had seemed to look upon both her and Ellan with suspicion, as if they were somehow waiting to betray the family as well. That suspicion drove her now to prove to him that she could be relied upon. Growing up, it had meant that she had been forced to grab at her every freedom. Fortunately, he’d allowed her to keep them once she’d wrested them away.

      ‘I can tell you’re related to Lady Gwendolyn. Independence must run in your line.’ He said it with pleasure, as if it was something to be celebrated instead of criticised. An opinion in direct opposition to her father’s...and most of the men in her life, now that she thought about it. Lord Vidar was the only man she’d known to tolerate his wife’s eccentricities as