admirer or the warlord? Or were they just different facets of the same character? She’d known how to deal with the first but the second was another matter entirely. The warlord was charismatic but he was also dangerous. Some of that was about his sheer physical presence, but it went deeper. It was concerned with the aura of power he wore as effortlessly as the sword at his side. Everything about the warlord spoke of a natural leader, of a man familiar with command and to being obeyed. She’d already glimpsed his strength; he’d controlled her without even trying. In a few hours from now he would be her husband and his power over her would be total. As the realities of what that meant began to sink in the knot of apprehension tightened in her stomach.
Chapter Four
Finn half expected that his intended bride would refuse to appear that evening. As her father had said, Lara was not a biddable young woman and only a fool would imagine that she viewed this marriage with favour. She was more than capable of creating a spectacular scene. The possibility created a knot of tension in his gut. He had no idea how he would handle such a scenario never mind trying to visualise how her father would react if she exposed him to ridicule. The situation had all the potential for disaster. The only thing he could do now was to play his part and see this through.
His men had greeted the news of his impending marriage with amused interest but also with absolute understanding of the reasons for it.
‘With all those extra swords we’ll crush Steingrim like a louse,’ said Unnr. ‘Jarl Ottar is proving to be an invaluable ally.’
‘Quite so,’ replied Finn.
‘He does you much honour in wishing for a closer alliance. In fact, it does all of us honour.’
The others voiced their agreement. It pleased them greatly that their lord should be offered a noble bride with a fine dowry. Quite apart from the fitness of such a match it was indisputable evidence of their host’s good faith.
‘The gods must be smiling on us,’ said Sturla, ‘and especially on you, my lord, since your bride is fair into the bargain.’
Finn nodded. Lara is fair all right, and difficult and unpredictable. ‘That she is.’
‘And a redhead.’
Vigdis grinned. ‘No man can foretell the future but I’d be willing to wager that yours will not be dull, my lord.’
Dull was the very last word that Finn would have used to describe it. The coming years would take care of themselves; it was the next few hours that weighed on his mind. Needing occupation he bathed his hands and face and combed his hair. Having done that he changed his clothes, swapping his worn hose and old brown tunic for the best blue and replacing the current leather belt for the one made of interlinking silver discs. Then he buckled on his sword and slid the seax into his belt. A red cloak completed the costume, fastened with a gold brooch wrought in the likeness of a dragon. Whatever happened this evening it would be evident that he meant to honour his bride.
His men likewise prepared themselves and dressed in their best. They were in high good humour now, exchanging jests and banter. Ordinarily Finn would have joined in but as the hour drew nearer his nervous tension increased. It also occurred to him that he had not thought about a morning gift for the bride. Silver and land were the most usual offerings. He realised it would have to be the former since that was what he had to hand. He’d have liked to offer her a more personal gift as well but there hadn’t been time to arrange it. He’d have to address that later. Right now he had more pressing concerns.
Would Lara be compliant or would she publicly reject him? Would she even turn up for her wedding or was he going to have to fetch her? Uncertainty created a sense of anticipation. He realised then that he would fetch her if he had to. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that but one way or another she was going to be his wife.
* * *
Considering the limited time available the servants had done well: they had contrived to clean and sweep the hall and the delicious smells of cooking testified to the coming feast. When Finn and his men arrived they were greeted by their host. He too had changed his clothes and donned his best in honour of the forthcoming nuptials. Under his smile however, Finn detected tension. He thought he could guess the reason for it. A swift glance around revealed no sign of Lara.
‘The bride will be here shortly, my lord,’ said Ottar.
Five more minutes passed and still she did not appear. The men laughed and talked among themselves, apparently quite at ease. No one seemed to find anything amiss. Finn took a deep breath, trying to ignore the knot in his gut. She isn’t coming. It seemed he wasn’t alone in that suspicion because Ottar’s unease became increasingly apparent.
‘What in the name of the All-Father is keeping the girl?’ he demanded.
Finn summoned what he hoped was a soothing smile. ‘It’s a lady’s privilege to keep the groom waiting, my lord.’
Ottar grunted but looked unconvinced. When another five minutes passed his expression grew more annoyed. Some of those standing nearest began to notice and to exchange glances. Finn maintained an outward show of ease. Inwardly his thoughts were quite different. She definitely isn’t coming and this is getting more awkward by the second.
Ottar’s frown deepened but he kept his voice low. ‘If this is one of her Loki tricks I’ll thrash her before the entire company.’
Finn smiled as though at some pleasantry. ‘Let us be patient a little longer, my lord.’
‘You are gracious, Jarl Finn.’
‘It is but a slight delay. I’m sure there’s a good reason for it.’ The reason being that she has no intention of being married.
‘Two minutes more,’ growled Ottar. ‘Then I’ll go and find her and drag her here by the hair if I have to.’
Finn closed his eyes. This was about to become unpleasant. The question was how to prevent it. Somehow he was going to have to forestall his companion before matters spiralled out of control.
The two minutes passed. Ottar’s face was thunderous. ‘Right! She’s asked for it...’
He began to head for the bower but after two paces he stopped in his tracks, staring at the doorway opposite. Finn followed his gaze and then he too stared.
Lara! His heart gave a peculiar lurch as he watched her cross the room towards him. The green gown was gone now and in its place a fine dress of deep blue edged with red and gold at the neck and sleeves. A matching girdle rode her waist. Her beautiful hair was worn loose. A slim gold torc adorned her neck and there was a matching bracelet on her wrist. She looked a little pale but otherwise composed. It didn’t detract from the fact that she was stunning.
She eventually reached them and dropped a polite curtsy.
‘What in Thor’s name took you so long?’ growled Ottar.
She regarded him steadily. ‘A torn hem, Father. It took a little while to mend.’
Finn recovered his wits and smiled. ‘It was worth the wait.’
Her gaze flicked to his face. ‘You are all kindness, my lord.’
Realising that the groom was not offended, Ottar relaxed, apparently mollified. ‘Well, let’s get on with it.’
* * *
Lara shivered inwardly. It had been in her mind to defy her father earlier and not turn up at all. The torn hem had been a lie, an excuse to cover delay caused by mounting dread. Minutes in which her imagination had suggested various means of escape, each wilder than the last. In the end common sense reasserted itself. If she tried to run she would be followed and eventually she would be caught. At the very least she could expect a thrashing. If that had been the end of it she might have taken that option, but it wouldn’t be the end of it. She would still be forced to obey her father’s will. You can either do it with a semblance of grace or you can be dragged into the hall by main force. She’d opted