it had been a while before he’d embarked on any kind of sexual adventure. At first it was the sort a man paid for; uncomplicated and mutually beneficial. Later there were longer liaisons with palace courtesans; more complicated and more expensive but more enjoyable too, while they lasted. He was all in favour of the giving and taking of pleasure and was generous when it came to rewarding the objects of his attention, but he never offered more than that. His terms were made clear at the outset. That way there could be no misunderstandings and no one got hurt.
Had Lara suffered a disappointment? Was her manner a defence against being hurt again? He didn’t know why his thoughts should keep coming back to her. He regretted his thoughtless words earlier: they had cost him an entertaining discussion. All conversations with her were entertaining. He had never met a woman who challenged his opinions before, or who held her own in argument with such accomplished ease, making him think on his feet. She made no attempt to flirt either and clearly resented it when he did. That too was novel. Women invariably enjoyed flirting with him. Some went out of their way to do so and the invitation they extended was blatant. Usually he was happy to oblige them with an hour of his time. He couldn’t imagine Lara seeking five minutes alone with him, never mind an hour. Probably it was just as well. There was no question of any dalliance with her, even if she had been so inclined. To take advantage of his host’s goodwill in that way was dishonourable. It would also jeopardise his mission here and that would be foolhardy in the extreme.
All the same Lara roused his curiosity. If he were honest she aroused rather more than that. Vigdis was right: a spirited woman was infinitely more interesting than a timid one. Finn smiled to himself. Had she been a lady of the court he’d have taken up the challenge she represented: in his experience every woman could be wooed and won; every rebel conquered—eventually.
Chapter Three
Somewhere amid these thoughts he dozed off and eventually slept until dawn. Around him his sword brothers snored on. Wanting to stretch his limbs he rose quietly, taking care not to disturb his companions, and slipped out of a side door. The morning smelled of dew and damp earth. It had rained in the night but the clouds had passed over and the new day looked promising. That was just as well when there was so much to be done. He was mentally listing it all when he glimpsed movement out of the corner of his eye.
Automatically he whipped round, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword. He wouldn’t put it past Steingrim to sneak up on his foes as they slept. However, far from being the enemy’s bulky form, the figure was slight and female. A proper look revealed her identity. He relaxed. She hadn’t noticed him at all and was heading away from the buildings along a track that led towards the trees. For a second he hesitated, debating with himself. Then curiosity won.
* * *
Lara reached the promontory a few minutes later and, having divested herself of the cloak, drew the sword from its scabbard and began to warm up as Alrik had taught her. Then, closing her mind to everything else, she went through the drills, slowly at first, letting each movement flow into the next, then faster until the blade became almost invisible and the air hissed with its passing. Left, right, thrust, parry...left, right, block, feint, turn... Suddenly she froze, seeing the still figure just yards away at the edge of the trees. Shock was swiftly replaced by a range of uncomfortable emotions.
Jarl Finn! How in Hel’s name had he found out? He must be enjoying the discovery enormously. No doubt the tale would be all over the steading by midday. She’d be a laughing stock. Her father would be furious...
Finn pushed his shoulders away from the tree he’d been leaning on, and strolled towards her. Lara lifted the sword, strongly tempted to run him through. It wouldn’t be easy because he was armed, trained, battle-hardened and much bigger. All the same she’d be willing to try. He halted a few feet away. She glared at him, bracing herself for mockery.
‘Not bad,’ he said, ‘but you need to raise your elbow a little higher when you parry.’
Lara blinked. ‘My elbow?’
‘Yes, like this.’ He drew his sword and demonstrated. ‘It prevents your enemy from delivering a downward stroke to your shoulder, you see.’
‘Oh.’
He demonstrated once more. ‘Now you try.’
Gathering her wits she resumed her stance and tried to copy him. It wasn’t quite as easy as he made it look. He stepped behind her, placing a hand under her elbow. ‘There.’ The hand moved on and his fingers closed around hers, the touch warm and strong. ‘Now, turn your wrist a little.’ His grip tightened just a fraction. It didn’t hurt in the least but her arm had no choice save to move as he dictated. Retaining his hold he took her through the manoeuvre again. Lara tried to focus on the sword, not on the man who was now standing so close to her. Gods, he was big, and disconcertingly strong with it. Had she really been mad enough to contemplate taking him on? He’d have snapped her like a twig.
‘That’s it.’ Finn released his hold. ‘Now run through that sequence again.’
He stepped away to give her space. She hesitated, torn between annoyance at the commanding tone and a wish to improve. His gaze met and held hers. One eyebrow lifted a little. The challenge was plain. Lara’s chin came up at once. Assuming the correct stance, she began to repeat the moves, aware all the time of the man looking on and the cool grey eyes that missed nothing.
‘Better,’ he said. ‘Again.’
She took a deep breath and took a firm hold of the hilt. You can do this. You want to do this. This time she made herself concentrate, performing the sequence once more.
‘Keep your body sideways to your opponent. You haven’t got a shield, remember, so you need to reduce the size of the target.’
Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? Lara adjusted her position and then repeated the exercise. He watched critically, commenting on each move, instructing, encouraging and even offering an occasional word of praise. Nor could she detect anything remotely patronising in his manner. It was quiet and businesslike, requiring the like response from her. Gradually she began to relax a little and to enjoy herself. It was fun and she’d learned more in the past half an hour than in the previous three months. Knowing the basics was one thing but this had just taken the art of sword craft to a whole new level. She listened attentively now, obedient to his every command, understanding the reasons for what he was saying.
It was tempting to stay and continue for a while but the sun was above the hills now and a new day beginning. Reluctantly Lara lowered her sword.
‘Is something wrong?’ he asked.
‘No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just that I have to get back. People will be stirring soon, if they aren’t already.’
‘You’re right. I’d lost track of time.’
‘I also.’
He watched her sheathe the sword. ‘Who taught you to fight?’
‘My brother, Alrik.’
‘How long have you been practising?’
‘About three months or so.’
‘Not so long, then.’
‘That must be obvious to you.’
‘Yes, it is,’ he replied, ‘but Miklagard wasn’t built in a day. You’ve made progress but you need more practice.’
She nodded, glad that he hadn’t lied to flatter her and encouraged that he should think she had improved if only a little. ‘I’ll persevere.’
‘Good.’
Lara retrieved her cloak and used it to swathe the sword before tucking it under her arm. ‘I must go.’
‘And I need to go to the landing and visit my ship.’
‘Are you afraid something may have happened to it in the night?’
The grey gaze cooled. ‘My men and