rummage through the chest for trousers, knowing that she couldn’t handle the embarrassment of watching him discard the linen sheet to put them on. Instead, she immediately grabbed the material for the sling and stepped up to him.
He smelled good. Clean like the soap, but also like evergreen needles in the forest mixed with a rich masculine scent that was very pleasing. He was quiet as she fitted it, knotted it and then slipped it across his chest, but she could feel his eyes on her face. They seemed curious and that damnable kindness lurking in their depths made it impossible for her to summon the anger and hate that she meant to feel towards him.
‘When do you go back home?’
The question made her heart stutter. Satisfied with the sling, she lowered her arms from his shoulders and forced herself to take a step back from him. Distance seemed very good at the moment. ‘My father is meant to come before the next full moon.’
‘A fortnight, then.’ He nodded as if the information pleased him somehow, as if he was mulling something over and that worked nicely into his plans, when she shouldn’t fit anywhere into his plans.
Her heart picked up speed and she turned to quickly gather up the tray of medicinals that she’d brought. Never mind that her hands shook for some odd reason or that her knees were so weak she felt certain they would follow suit. Distance. The single word replaced the ‘enemy’ mantra in her head because she no longer believed that to be true. Or worse. It was true, but it was no longer enough to keep a wall between them.
‘Good evening.’
‘I look forward to seeing your aim on the practice field in the morning.’ His voice followed her out.
‘That’s twice I’ve bested you. If these swords weren’t wooden, you’d be dead by now.’ Aevir deftly swung away, leaving several feet between him and Rolfe.
Rolfe doubled his assault, ignoring how his arm smarted where Aevir’s training sword had hit as he pushed his friend even farther back in an attempt to wipe the smug smile from his face. Rolfe had spent the entire morning running the men through their paces and taking playful digs from some of them about his sling. It was time they realised that having his left arm in a brace wouldn’t slow him down. ‘You must be jesting. You’ve yet to best me once.’
Aevir scoffed, ‘I would’ve drawn first blood had the sword been metal.’ He lunged forward again and Rolfe rolled to the side, leaving Aevir off balance.
‘And when do we ever battle to first blood?’ Rolfe asked.
‘Had the blade drawn blood, you would have cried out in pain and broken your stride, leaving yourself open so that I could skewer your gullet.’
‘You live in your fantasies.’ Rolfe laughed and renewed his attack. The truth was that he had been distracted in their sparring match, but it hadn’t been because of his wound. Elswyth had come out on to the other side of the field with her bow and a quiver of arrows and was currently shooting at targets. His gaze had been caught by her form in profile, equal parts slim and lush as she had notched an arrow and pulled back the string. He’d been waiting to see if she’d made her target when Aevir had hit him.
‘Go easy, Aevir.’ Vidar’s voice interrupted their sparring. ‘He’s an injured man. I wouldn’t have you making his injury worse.’
Rolfe groaned silently. Vidar meant well, but he’d only make the teasing worse.
Aevir grinned and lowered his sword. ‘The Jarl has saved you, my friend.’
The sling on Rolfe’s left arm restricted his balance a bit, but his wound was hardly in any danger. ‘Nay, let’s finish.’
Aevir raised his sword to accept the challenge, but Vidar stepped between them. ‘We have other things to discuss this morning, now that you’ve both had some rest.’ The three of them walked to the edge of the practice field. The clang of steel on steel and splintering wood as the warriors continued to practise filled the air around them.
‘As long as it’s the Scots and not wives we’re discussing again,’ Aevir said in a dry tone.
‘Wives?’ Rolfe asked.
Vidar gave him a telling glance before looking towards his own wife, who had made her way to them across the sparring field where she’d been leading a group of archers in practice. Lady Gwendolyn was quite possibly the most accomplished archer Rolfe had ever seen. She smiled at them as she approached, but trepidation lurked in her expression, a rare moment of uncertainty for her.
‘Good morning. How is your shoulder?’ Lady Gwendolyn asked.
After assuring her that he was on the mend, he asked, ‘Am I being offered up as a husband?’
She had the grace to look sheepish. ‘I admit the lack of marriages among the Danes and Saxons concerns me. We’ve had a few families take us up on the offer of coin in exchange for marriage to the Danes, but most are reluctant.’ It had been their hope that after their marriage others would follow suit. They wanted to unite the Saxons and Danes in Alvey through marriage and avoid as much bloodshed as possible.
‘It will take time.’ Vidar ran a hand down her back in silent support.
She nodded before continuing. ‘We would like it to be known that our highest warriors...including you...are looking for wives. I think an offering of higher-status marriages would ease some reluctance.’
Rolfe laughed, but it was a hollow sound. The very thought of marriage made the skin on his neck tighten uncomfortably. ‘You are offering me up as husband.’
Her cheeks reddened, but she didn’t back down from her stance. ‘You have to admit that many would say you are a desirable husband. Your word among the Danes is second only to Vidar’s. You are known as a great warrior with great wealth.’
‘It’s true,’ Rolfe said, mulling over her words and making Vidar laugh out loud.
‘It’s good to see you’re still humble, Brother.’
Ignoring him, Rolfe said, ‘I can see how this would be helpful for harmony.’ It would not, however, be helpful for his peace of mind. He tried not to think of the woman he’d nearly married back home, but her face came to mind anyway. Hilde had been beautiful. He’d convinced himself that she was kind and generous, everything he’d thought he’d wanted in a wife. He’d learned too late—after her thievery—that her beautiful outside had hidden a traitorous core. She’d only used him for her own gain.
Lady Gwendolyn’s smile brightened, encouraged by his words. ‘I resisted my father’s way of thinking, but I understand now how marriage to further peace is best for everyone.’ Vidar smiled at her, his eyes full of gentleness and admiration.
Rolfe wasn’t entirely surprised by the plan and it certainly spoke to that odd longing for a family he’d felt upon his homecoming last night, but he didn’t relish the idea of marrying. The amount of trust inherent in such a union was not something he was comfortable with. Of its own volition, his gaze landed on Elswyth. The same short-handled axe from last night was hooked on the belt around her waist, leading him to wonder if she wielded it as well as the
