Joanna Fulford

Surrender to the Viking


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he chose now. However, that didn’t mean craven surrender on her part.

      ‘You will never arouse me, my lord.’

      ‘Another challenge, Lara? I accept it, gladly.’

      He is truly impossible. She sought for a witty and crushing retort but wit had temporarily fled and she had to make do with the latter. ‘You are loathsome.’

      ‘I’m sorry you should think so. I’ll do my best to change your mind.’

      ‘I will never change my mind.’

      ‘Shall we have a wager on that?’

      ‘There’s no point. You have already lost.’

      ‘Have I?’ He surveyed her speculatively. ‘I wonder.’

      ‘No need to tax your brain so, my lord. You may take my word for it.’

      The grey eyes glinted. With quiet deliberation Finn set down his cup and got to his feet. Lara blinked, staring up at him in surprise. Had she routed him at last? A glimmer of hope kindled in her breast. It was short-lived. Without warning he bent and lifted her bodily off the chair. Ignoring the laughter and amused glances all around them he turned to Ottar.

      ‘I find myself impatient to be alone with my bride. Perhaps a private place has been prepared for us?’

      The hall erupted with cheers and raucous laughter. Lara went hot and cold by turns, struggling furiously.

      ‘Put me down, you brute!’

      Finn grinned, adjusting his hold a little so that he had a surer grip. ‘I shall, sweet Lara, as soon as we reach our bedchamber.’

      The words elicited renewed efforts to escape. He held her with insulting ease and, surrounded by a laughing crowd, carried her from the hall.

      Chapter Five

      A small hov had been made ready for the bridal couple so that this night at least they might have privacy. Lara fought her captor every step of the way but to no avail: she was borne inexorably on until they reached their destination. Before anyone had a chance to intervene Finn carried her inside and heeled the door shut behind him. Then he set her down and barred it securely. At once a chorus of indignant voices rose from outside and heavy fists pounded on the wood. He ignored them, and turned towards his bride.

      For several heart-thumping seconds they surveyed each other in silence. Lara darted a look around: lamplight revealed that the hov was sparsely furnished, the single room dominated by a large bed covered with furs. The window was shuttered fast. The only door was the one by which they had entered and Finn was between it and her. She moistened her lips. In the confined space he seemed much larger than before, a dominating and virile presence whose attention was now entirely on her.

      ‘Alone at last.’ He smiled and removed his cloak, tossing it over a chair. Then he looked at Lara and threw his arms wide. ‘Come here, sweet wife.’

      She made no move to obey. ‘I will not. I agreed to wed you, nothing else.’

      He evinced complete surprise. ‘Are you saying you will not share my bed?’

      ‘Yes, I am saying that.’

      ‘It’s a serious matter to deny a man his marital rights.’

      The teasing tone was much more disconcerting than an outright display of anger, and much harder to deal with.

      ‘You’ve got what you wanted. This was about ships and swords and nothing else.’

      ‘Didn’t anyone mention that it’s actually about more than that? Would it surprise you to know that you must run my hall and perform all duties connected with that?’

      Her eyes sparkled with indignation. ‘Of course it wouldn’t.’

      ‘Oh, good. That’ll save confusion.’ He paused in apparent contemplation of some mental list. ‘In addition I must mention, in case anyone else didn’t, that I shall want half-a-dozen fine sons to continue my line and that you must produce them. Not all at once of course,’ he amended. ‘I don’t wish to be unreasonable.’

      Lara experienced a fresh surge of indignation. Along with that were other more elusive emotions that she didn’t want to explore. ‘I am not a brood mare to be used at your pleasure.’

      ‘You know, it would be very much my pleasure,’ he replied. ‘In spite of your vile temper you’re a comely wench. Bedding you will not be an unwelcome obligation.’

      Lara backed a pace. ‘Stay away from me!’

      ‘You don’t mean that.’

      ‘I said stay away.’

      ‘What are you afraid of, Lara?’

      ‘I’m not afraid of you.’

      He advanced unhurriedly. ‘No?’

      ‘No.’

      It was a downright lie. Just then she’d never felt so scared in her life. All the same she’d rather have died than admit it. She would also have given anything to have had a sword in her hand.

      ‘Then come and kiss me, sweet wife.’

      ‘I will not kiss you.’

      ‘I really would like it if you did.’

      Her stomach wallowed. Then her back met the wall. Desperately she edged along it, her eyes seeking some weapon, anything that might be used to hold him off. Her leg brushed a stool. She bent and grabbed it, hurling it at his head. Finn ducked and the missile flew past, crashing against the door. She heard him chuckle. Anger temporarily replaced fear and the stool was followed by a jug and a wooden bowl. He avoided them easily and came on. Heart pounding, she retreated step by step until she reached the corner. Seeing the danger she tried to dodge away but Finn was faster, dodging in front of her, forcing her back again, forbidding escape.

      ‘I really would like that kiss, Lara.’

      ‘Never.’

      ‘Never is a long time.’ He moved closer, trapping her there with an arm on either side of her shoulders. ‘Too long.’

      ‘Don’t you dare to touch me!’

      ‘Do I dare?’ He contemplated it briefly. ‘Yes, I believe I do. Otherwise what a world of pleasure would be lost.’

      She had no idea what he meant and didn’t care. All she could see was the face looming above hers, a handsome arresting face wearing an infuriating smile.

      ‘I’m warning you. Get away from me.’

      ‘No, for if I do that I cannot pleasure you, and I do wish to pleasure you, very thoroughly.’

      The words were beyond outrage and she struck him hard. His eyes glinted. Her attempt to launch a second blow ended in a gasp as her wrist was caught in an iron grip.

      ‘It’s no good, Lara. You won’t drive me off as you did all the others.’

      ‘Let go of me.’

      ‘No.’

      He evaded a kick. Lara struggled, writhing in his hold, every particle of her being in revolt. He held her without any undue effort. His evident enjoyment of her predicament did nothing to calm her rage.

      ‘How dare you treat me like this?’

      ‘You have chosen the method.’

      ‘I?’ She kicked out again and missed. ‘Don’t try to blame me for your shortcomings, you devious rogue.’

      ‘Harsh words, ill suited to a bride.’

      ‘Well-deserved words! You are a rogue—an opportunist, a pirate, a low, cunning, smooth-tongued, scheming underhanded villain.’

      ‘Sweet Lara, did no one tell you that you must show respect