clenched her teeth against the harsh words that threatened to spew out whether she wanted them to or not. Despite that he was in the wrong, she was ever vigilant of her role as peacekeeper amongst her men. It wouldn’t do to antagonise Vidar more than she already had, but neither would it be wise to allow him to disrespect her in front of her men. She’d worked too hard to earn their respect—particularly after Cedric’s death—to risk losing it now.
‘The sparring session is over now.’ She made certain that her voice was loud and clear so that it would carry to the Danes at the edges of the field.
Vidar dropped his arms to his sides, his hands clasped into fists. If it was possible, a near tangible wave of apprehension moved through her warriors as silence descended.
Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, but it wasn’t from fear. For the first time since these Danes had arrived on her land, she saw an end, a release, to the impotent rage that had been building inside her. Her heart beat with anticipation of meeting him head on.
The sound of a bell ringing shattered the silence. Gwendolyn blinked to break the spell of the tension and looked away from Vidar to the source of the sound. The bell was hung from a wooden brace near the hall’s entrance. It rang three times during the day. To signal the beginning of morning chores for the warriors, to signal the start of afternoon chores and to call the men to the evening meal. Morning chores for the warriors began after their training. Gwendolyn had been so lost in the battle of wills with Vidar that she’d lost all track of the time.
But as she looked towards the bell, she saw Rodor standing beside it, leaving her to wonder if he’d rang it to end the confrontation. If the disapproval etched deeply into his features was an indication, that’s exactly what had happened.
Her warriors didn’t move a muscle. They stood in their places, watching her and Vidar until the last strains of the ringing had died out. ‘Go about your work,’ she said in a quiet voice.
For a moment no one moved and then eventually, one by one, they slowly filed away, leaving the sparring field. The last to leave was Wulf. The Danes at the edges of the field hadn’t left, but their postures relaxed and a few even sat on their haunches, though they hadn’t looked away. Vidar hadn’t looked away, either. He stared her down with that cold savagery that only he could manage to pull off.
When all of her men had gone away, he took the few steps that would put him in front of her. In a low voice laced with steel, he said, ‘You will not defy me.’
‘I have not defied you...yet.’
The woman hadn’t so much as blinked at a tone that made most men tremble. With her shoulders squared and her chin raised, Gwendolyn of Alvey stared him down. Her eyes shimmered like deep blue pools beneath the long fringe of her lashes.
The woman was mad. Everyone had seen how she’d stormed out on to the sparring field and tried to usurp his authority. There was no denying it and the fact that she tried to deny it only made him angrier. ‘You came out here with the implicit goal of interfering in my work.’
She gave a quick nod of her head. ‘Aye, because your work was interfering with the training of my warriors.’
‘Ah, I see your confusion.’ He smiled as it became clear to him where the misunderstanding lay. ‘They are my warriors now. I was training my warriors and you interfered.’
If he’d have struck her across the face, he couldn’t imagine her becoming any angrier. Her cheeks flushed red and he had to admit that it made her even more attractive. Her eyes flashed with heat and she drew herself up to stand even straighter. It was only then that he realised how tall she was for a woman. The top of her head reached his chin. ‘These men are not your warriors.’ She was so angry that her voice shook.
‘The agreement your father signed makes you mine along with all that comes with you.’
She swallowed, as if only remembering that pesky document. ‘Not yet. There has been no wedding. We haven’t spoken the words.’
‘Recall the words of the Jarl—your Jarl now—from last night. You became mine with the signing. It is binding and legal and the words left to be spoken are only ceremony. I could bed you now and no man would stand in my way.’
‘If you try to bed me now there would be no need for a man to stand in your way, because I would fight you myself.’
She really was unlike any woman he’d ever met. She was full of fire and a wildness that drew him in. He had no doubt that she would fight him at every turn and for some reason he was starting to enjoy it. Some long-hidden part of him admired her strength and a tiny thread of respect wound its way through him. He grinned and felt the tension leave his shoulders as he settled into verbally sparring with her. ‘There’s no need to fight me. I’m content to wait. It’s only three nights.’
Her jaw tightened as she clenched her teeth. ‘I will never submit to you.’
He had no doubt that she meant the words now, but he had every confidence in being able to overcome her resistance. She’d come to see that he was in command now. Not her. And she’d realise her new place in this world. He’d met warriors like her before. They came under his command and saw his youth as something to be challenged, but they didn’t realise he’d been on a ship with one brother or another from the time of his tenth winter. He had more experience than most of them.
He’d overcome them and he had confidence that he’d change her mind as well. ‘Then I look forward to taming you.’
She wanted to strike him, he could see it in her eyes, but much to her credit she didn’t. Instead, she took a step back and took in a deep breath, running her palms down her tunic to smooth out imaginary wrinkles in a visible attempt to calm herself. Finally, she said, ‘Then you’ll be disappointed. I look forward to fighting you at every attempt.’ Then she walked off across the sparring field from the direction she’d come, her back as straight as the blade of his sword.
Her legs were long and lean, eating up the distance with ease. He’d bet they were just as shapely as the lightly muscled curve of her shoulder that he could make out beneath the lightweight wool covering it. Her entire body seemed firm and strong. Yet, it was the sway of her hips that called his gaze as he watched her go. They were pleasantly rounded, as were her buttocks from what he could tell. He found her body appealing. Firm and soft all at the same time. The wedding night would be interesting.
With a smile on his lips, he walked to the edge of the sparring field to gather his men for their training. Since they’d been travelling the past few weeks, they’d been unable to train. It would be a nice change and work off some frustrations for him. He hadn’t actually meant to take over the training of her warriors. The Saxons had already been on the field when he’d arrived with his own men and they’d been doing it wrong. Was he supposed to simply stand there and watch them train inefficiently?
‘Enough lying around. Get to work,’ he called to his men, sending them grumbling on to the field.
‘Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you with that one,’ said Rolfe as he slowly got to his feet, his gaze on Gwendolyn’s retreating figure.
Vidar had known Rolfe since they both were boys. They’d been on nearly every adventure together and Vidar counted himself lucky that his friend had agreed to come with
