A Heart of Fire (16 page)

Finna's
eyes sharpened on him. The man was young, handsome even. A warrior. "I do
not think she wants your attentions," she said. "Best you leave off
and find a willing thrall to slake your pleasures with."

He
grunted, his stare falling down Finna and raked back up lustily. He let go of
Geera, and with one hand on the hilt of his sword, he reached down and palmed
his cock through his leggings. "Nay, methinks I'll have a freewoman
tonight, be it her or you, I care not. Mayhap I'll take the both of you."

His
lecherous eyes and filthy tongue offended Finna far more than Valdrik had. No
man had ever dared speak to her in such a depraved way. Though having a sister
was something very new to her, she found herself experiencing a protective
instinct she'd not possessed before today.

Finna
snarled at him, her muscles tensing.

Quickly,
before he expected a thing, she reached up, grabbed the sconce from the wall,
and slung hot wax into the man's face. He howled in pain, grabbing at his face.
To his luck, the fire went out as the flame was not overly large, but to
Finna's benefit he could no longer see her clearly. He bent over, holding his
face

"You
goddamned
bitch!" he cried.

Finna
brought her hand down, grasped his tunic at his nape and slammed her knee up
into his face, surely breaking his nose.

With
a mighty cry, she slung him into the wall, and when he slumped to the floor
with a grunt, she put her slipper to his cheek and bent over him. "Should
you ever accost my sister again I shall personally remove your genitals from
your body and force you to eat them."

Geera's
gentle fingers dug into Finna's arm then, and she turned to her sister.

"Please,"
Geera said. "Let us go." There was a frantic twinge to her light
voice, and Finna could do nothing but follow, pushing her foot into the man's
face for one last reinforcement of her oath.

Together,
they hurried down the hall, and Geera led her to a room not far from her own
and urged her to come within.

"Thank
you," Geera said when they were safely within, as she secured the latch.

Finna
looked at the latch with doubt. It was a weak thing. She remembered latching
her door, and yet Valdrik had found a way within without breaking anything
down. It unsettled her to think that Geera, or any woman here, was in danger.

"Why
did he think he could have his way with you?" she asked.

Geera's
lips pinched together, and her cheeks became rosy. Her hands fluttered as she
wiped her brow and began to pace, placing her shaking hands over her belly.

"Because
now that Valdrik's claim to me is no longer valid, every man here will seek to
wed me."

Finna
snorted. "It did not look to me that that was what he was trying to
do."

Geera's
eyes shot to hers. "If I bore his child I would surely be forced to become
his wife."

"I
do not think Hadarr would reward a man so," Finna said, clenching her
fists. "You must tell Hadarr of this and have that man punished."

"Aye,"
Geera said, her voice faint. She crossed the room to a small chest then and
began to rummage through its contents. "I would hope he would not do such
a thing, but Father has done other unexpected things of late," she
muttered.

Finna
looked around the small room. It was well furnished, and very feminine. There
were flowers on a table by the bed that was covered with a blanket stitched
with fine embroidery like that on the dress she wore. There were candles lit
about the room, enough to see by, but no hearth.

She
did not fail to miss Geera's meaning. "I am sorry. If you cannot tell,
being joined to Valdrik is not something I wish either."

"Sit,"
Geera said, gesturing toward the bed and ignoring the apology.

Finna
crossed the room and gingerly sat on the bed. It was much softer than the one
she'd had in her dwelling. Geera came to sit beside her, cradling an armful of
medicinal things Finna knew nothing about. She deposited them on the bed next
to her leg.

Geera
glanced up to Finna shyly and reached to take her arm in her hands, pulling her
closer so Finna's forearm was lifted in front of her. She began to inspect her
wrist. "Mother told me of your injuries. Valdrik did this to you?"
she asked with surprise.

"In
battle," Finna told her.

Geera
looked up and stared at her a long moment. "'Tis strange that I have a
healing touch whilst you…" She trailed off, looking back to her task.
"You know," she said, taking Finna's wrist and dug her fingertips
into a salve. She began to rub the thick balm over the bluish swelling,
circling Finna's wrist completely. When she was done, she picked up a strip of
cloth and wrapped her wrist tightly. "This will help with the tenderness
you feel, and the salve will alleviate the swelling. I do not see any evidence
of a broken bone. I think in a few days’ time you will be perfectly fine."

"Thank
you," Finna said. Already, the salve seemed to work against the pain she
had lived with for days. "Mayhap when I am better I could teach you how to
defend yourself, as it seems you may come to need your own protection."

Geera
smiled, but looked into her lap. "That would be welcomed."

Finna
rose from the bed, and at the same time, Geera shot up, too. The younger woman
looked frantic of a sudden. "I'm sorry for how I acted earlier. It is my
greatest hope we can become close as sisters should be."

Finna
smiled tenderly. "Mine, too." She reached out and gave Geera's arm a
squeeze with her un-bandaged hand. As she started from the room, she said,
"Were it up to me, you could have the lout." When Geera did not
respond, Finna turned at the door and gave her a gentle smile.
"Goodnight."

Chapter Thirteen

Valdrik
pushed his playing piece across the board with careless disinterest for the
game. His disgruntlement lasting from the prior eve weighed heavily on him in a
most irritating way. He could not decide what had irked him more, Finna's
claimed lack of desire for him or the way she had firmly lodged herself under
his skin—like a biting louse.

He
cared not for her, for her antics or her outright contempt for him. Why he let
her reign over his temperament, he couldn’t say. Also, there was Geera's hurt
he'd been forced to deal with.

It
wasn’t that he did not care for her at all, for he did, but with no deep love
lost on his part, he did not suffer the same heartache she felt.

Stieg
moved, and Valdrik followed suit, sorely beginning to lose without care.

Though
it was only a game, his rutted luck darkened his mood considerably—and then
more so as a pale-haired woman swept into the room on the heels of her mother.

Valdrik
picked his head up from his fist where he'd propped himself on the table and
studied her. Finna carried a basket of wool on her hip to a place near the fire
where servants had set up the loom for their mistress. Surguilde sat and began
to instruct Finna. Valdrik frowned, watching them.

Surguilde
moved so Finna could sit, and it wasn’t a moment before Finna cried out and the
small group of women flew into a clatter over whatever it was that could have
happened. He released a heavy sigh at the sight.

Mayhap
he would find pleasure with her, but as to her other wifely duties, could his
fate be worse than he had imagined? Not only was he to wed a viper more
accustomed to behaving as a man than a woman, but Finna also was lacking in the
art of anything feminine at all.

The
blunt toe of Stieg's boot struck his shin, and Valdrik muttered a curse,
reached down to rub the tender spot. He shot the man an angry look and hastily
reached for his piece.

"Your
play," Stieg said crossly, taking up his ale and drinking while he waited
for Valdrik to take his turn.

Valdrik
studied the pieces and made his move, carelessly again, and returned his
attention to the women. He snorted in disbelief as Surguilde showed Finna what
she was to do, for a second time, and again Finna failed at her attempt. After
several more clumsy, unskilled tries, Finna left the loom and claimed a seat by
the fire. She curled her knees into her chest, hugging herself as she watched
the other women with as much interest as he had for the game at hand.

"Are
you going to pay attention to the damn game or the woman?" Stieg demanded.

Valdrik
gave him a glower and lifted two fingers, crooking them at Ragnarr. His man
rose from the trencher table nearby and came to them silently. "Here, take
my place," Valdrik said to him.

Ragnarr
bent to study the board and scoffed. "Only so long as no coin is involved,
for I do not wish to lose so badly."

Stieg
began to laugh, but Valdrik stood from the gaming table and crossed to the
other side of the hall where he spotted Willow, one of Hadarr's many servants,
carrying linens down from the stairs and into the kitchens where they would be
washed in a large soapstone pot. He watched her a moment, hoping to find
distraction from Finna.

He
needed a woman. He needed to find release, and Willow had never denied him. She
didn’t mind a quick romp every once in awhile, but truthfully, any of the
serving women would do for him at this point—for who knew when or if Finna
would ever give herself to him readily. And if she did, he played a game of
chance with what he might get—fire or ice.

Valdrik
paused and waited until Willow reappeared, catching her on her way out.

Dreadful
foreboding of what was to come of his life as soon as he wedded Finna filled
him, and he clasped his hands around Willow's thin waist and pulled her into
him for true distraction.

She
reacted with pleasant surprise. "Valdrik," she said, glancing behind
them. "How fare thee?"

"Well,"
he murmured, stroking her short brown hair. Willow was not very pretty, but she
had voluptuous curves in all the right places to entice a man. "Can you
slip away with me?" he asked, turning his head into the curve of her neck
for a kiss. Valdrik turned her, burying his hands in her hair. He inhaled her
feminine scent, but at the same time, made the mistake of looking up past the thrall's
hair.

Finna
caught his eye at that precise moment, and he stilled at the fury emanating
from her. She stood in a heartbeat, and to both his horror and satisfaction,
she started toward them with her full lips thinned into a line and her fists at
her sides, planted firmly on her hips.

He
watched the sway of those hips, and with purpose, Valdrik turned Willow in his
arms again and touched the thrall where Finna claimed he had touched her
before. He found little pleasure in doing so, other than knowing he riled his
future bride.

She
didn’t desire him, she'd said.

He
would see about that.

His
intended stalked to them, coming to a halt only a few feet away, her color high
with her anger.

Valdrik
smirked at her. "Does this matter concern you, warrior maiden?"

Finna
looked between him and Willow.

The
poor thrall had gone ashen. Valdrik would not allow her to suffer Finna's
wrath, whatever that may be, because Willow was forced to his will by her
status. He let her go, and she scurried into the kitchens in search of refuge.

"I
tell you this,
Viking
," Finna
snapped, lifting a finger at him. "You shall not lay a hand on another
woman so long as we are meant to be wed and surely not after should such a
thing
comes to pass."

Valdrik
crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head at her. "And just last
eve you told me so plainly, so boldly, that you would not wed me. Has something
changed your mind?" He circled around her, coming to her back and lifting
a strand of her hair to toy with.

Finna
reached up and jerked the strand back from him, turning on her heel to face him
again. She started at him, forcing
him
to back away this time. She had the look of an angry bear stalking at him, and
though he tried, he could not help but find amusement in her unexpected
jealousy.

Is it jealousy?
he wondered.

Valdrik
laughed at that.

"You
find something amusing, Viking?" She balled her small fists at her sides
again.

She
might like to think herself a warrior, but those hands still belonged to a
woman's body.
Actually…

His
eyes fell down her—the whole of her was not so manly after all. Not in a
woman's attire.

He
reached for her dress this time and touched the fine material. He wanted her to
wear something much softer, much thinner. His loins began to ache anew at the
curiosity he found. He wondered what might lie beneath that dress so intensely
that he began to think himself mad.

No
sooner did Valdrik's stare linger on her breasts than Finna's fist contacted
with his nose.

"Gods!"
he cried, rearing back with a stark wince, and his hand flew to his assaulted
face. "What in the name of all the gods was that for?" he roared at
her, yanking her up by the arm she'd struck him with and began to drag Finna
behind him as she clawed at his fingers with her other hand, screeching
obscenities at him.