A Heart of Fire (17 page)

"I
warned you, Viking!" she cried so all could hear.

"Enough,"
he said, a warning in his tone as he continued to take her away, out of the
notice of the entire hall. He would be damned before he let her continue to
treat him so in front of one and all.

The
entire hall focused on their commotion as he dragged her away.

Enraged
now, Valdrik did not stop until they were above in Finna's chamber, and he
whirled around, pulling her inside with him, caught the door, and gave it a
slam.

Only
then did he release her, and she whirled away like a mad animal, screeching at
the top of her lungs.

"Are
you crazed, woman?" he shouted.

"You
are a beast," she cried and spat on the floor at his feet.

Finna
turned and stalked as far from him as she could get. Only then did she whirl
back around, furious sparks of blue ice shooting at him. "And to think of
that poor girl. How often do you force yourself on the slaves here?" she
demanded.

His
back stiffened. For a moment, he was lost. "You were not angry at me for
touching another woman, but that you thought I was forcing myself upon
her?" he asked. When Finna remained silent, he threw his head back and
laughed. "Any woman here, save you, would do many things to be invited
into my bed. I do not have the need to force myself on anyone."

Finna
balked at him. "You disgust me."

"Aye,
lady, as you do me." The lie turned acrid on his tongue, and he regretted
saying that as soon as the words left his mouth. It would do no good in their
marriage if he constantly made her believe she was not desirable to him, for
she was. His gaze softened on her then.

The
side of her nose and cheek twitched in anger, and she growled at him.

"Wait,"
he said, his voice calm now. Valdrik raked a hand through his hair and started
for her.

Before
he expected it, Finna spun and stalked to the door, opened it and darted into
the passageway to the stairs.

Valdrik
took a step after her, but sighed with exasperation and raked a hand through
his hair again, coming down to smooth his fingers over his beard. He scratched
his jaw and then shut his eyes hard.

He
had not meant this to happen. She did not disgust him.

Far
from it.

He
took another step toward the door to bring her back, but she was long gone, and
so went the desire to right any wrong he had done. Valdrik gave the door a
kick.

Was
this to be the way of his life? To constantly run after a woman to soothe her
injured feelings?
Bah!
He had not the
time or patience for such things.

Valdrik
placed his hands on his hips and turned about himself. The small little chamber
was nothing like the home he had taken her from. Not exactly
better
by a far stretch, only different.
He tried to imagine what he might be feeling were their situations reversed. He
looked around the things in the room and found nothing belonging to Finna. Everything
belonging to her had been left behind or taken.

She
did not so much as have her own clothing.

Valdrik
scraped at his beard once more, pondering how he might lessen the inconvenience
he had placed on her. After all, he had been the one to demand her leggings and
tunic be done away with.

"Valdrik,"
a familiar voice called from the door.

He
turned in a rush, meeting Geera's inquisitive stare. She looked on him with
something more, too. Was that a hint of anger there in those powder blue eyes
he'd once found so enticing? Only now, they seemed
too
soft and not filled with enough fire. Another set of eyes came
to mind.

"What?"
he asked.

"What
have you done?" Geera demanded, coming into the room. "My sister
stormed out of the hall, and I fear she shall be lost as she does not know her
way around inside our walls. Or
outside
them," she added with some indication. When Valdrik did not respond or
show any sign of concern, she crossed her arms and glared at him. "You
were the one to purposefully upset her, so
you
should go after her."

He
nodded once, contrite under her censure. With long strides, he pushed past
Geera and to the stairs, taking two at a time until he was in the hall. True to
her word, Finna was not there. From the gaming table, Stieg pointed to the
doors.

"Damn
me," Valdrik muttered. He rushed across the large room, yanking his cloak
from the back of Ragnarr's chair and swinging it over his shoulders as he
hurried to the doors.

A
servant pushed them open as he approached, and once he'd stepped out, shut them
back. Valdrik winced at the stinging cold. Winter winds were upon them, and
already the day had faded into a gloomy gray. He scanned the yard for his
future bride, but found not a soul crazed enough to be about.

A
heavy wind pushed him from the steps then, and Valdrik strode around the
longhouse, scanning the area as flakes began to fall from the heavens. He
glanced up, worry hitting him hard. She should have known better!

As
he secured his cloak, he wondered if she had anything about her to keep her
warm.

And
then, he stopped.

Heavy
pounds on the cold path first shook under his feet, then met his ears. Valdrik
whirled about.

"That
goddamned
woman," he gritted
out, taking angry strides. His pace grew with each step toward the stables.

He
did not get far.

His
destrier sped past him, nearly knocking him from his feet at the corner of the
path. Valdrik stumbled back into a heavy pile of snow. "Damn you, woman,
come back," he shouted, as he turned to watch Finna race from the walls
and into the growing dark.

****

Finna
tore through the woods, unsure where she was going. She did not care, so long
as it was away from that beast of a man Hadarr had sentenced her to wed.

She
couldn’t.

How
she wanted to please the father she had never known, and only by the grace of
the gods did she have the chance to know now.

But
she couldn’t.

She
would not wed Valdrik.

She
had wished for a man to love her one day. Perhaps that had ever been her only
wish. But if she wedded Valdrik, that long cherished hope would disappear.

A
tear leaked from the corner of her eye. Finna clenched her fists tighter into
the mane of the destrier and clung on tightly as the animal sped through the
forest at a wild gallop. She hugged herself to the beast, not only to keep
herself astride the animal's bare back, but for comfort.

How
she could find comfort in this animal, but not in her intended, she could not
fathom.

A
glee flickered in her soul. There were few things in this world a man
cherished. His horse was one of them, and she had stolen his.

Finna
laughed madly into the dense forest as she rode on, the image of Valdrik's
startled expression etched forever into her mind. So lost was she to her
momentary freedom that when a heavy weight crashed into her, she did not
realize she had been knocked from the horse's back until her body hit the
frigid, snow-covered forest floor. She sank down into the depth of a drift with
the weight of a dark figure atop her. It was as though a boulder had fallen
from the cliffs onto her.

Finna
did not cry out, but she fought for breath. Her first instinct was to fend off
whatever it was. She pushed at the large mass covering her. Only after moments
passed did she find her vision, startled to see Valdrik hovering over her. His
breath came in labored pants that clouded the air as he moved to straddle her.
Only then did Finna begin to truly fight him, using her hands to push him away.

"What
in the gods’ names were you trying to do?" he demanded. His voice shook
the forest.

Finna
tossed under him. "Let me go," she cried.

By
her wrists, Valdrik pulled her up to sitting. He remained straddling her legs
however, and reached to grip her jaw tightly in one hand. "Do not ever try
that again. What if you had become lost? Did you think of that? Did you think
about taking a cloak or anything to keep you warm?" His eyes went crazed
with anger.

Finna
cried out, jerking from him. "Get off of me," she screamed.

"You
stole my horse." He scanned her eyes, holding her still as he searched.
For what, she knew not.

She
had enough. "And? What shall you do now?" she taunted.

He
sat back, only a little. "What shall I do now?" he asked slowly, the
edge of his voice hanging on every syllable. "What do you think I should
do?"

"Will
you beat me?" she asked, sucking in ragged breaths.

He
raised a brow at her. "Is that a suggestion?" he asked with some
humor.

She
snorted and clawed at his hands in hopes he would release her. When he did not
relinquish his hold, she squirmed, which only ended her in more of a
predicament than she had started in. Valdrik wrapped his arms around her like
steel, causing her to gasp against him as she tugged at his arms.

She
cried out in frustration, beating at him again. "Release me!"

"Nay."
Valdrik did relax himself against her, somewhat. He softened his body against
hers. "I am sorry, Finna. I did not mean what I said to you."

She
stopped struggling, astonished. "What?" she demanded.

"I
did not mean what I said to you in your chambers."

She
looked at him, half appalled and half surprised.

He
confused her so.

Valdrik
sighed, looking down on her as she began to tremble in his arms, the cold
seeping in around them. It wasn’t until he had asked that she realized she had
left without so much as a cloak, and not until this moment did she notice the
cold, or that her limbs shook from the extremes. Gladly, she was not as
hesitant of his nearness now as she had been.

"Tell
me," he said as he began to rise, standing, and then he pulled her up with
him. "What was your plan?" He looked to his horse.

Finna
swallowed and turned to look at the animal, too. She cast her gaze to the
frosty ground where the fresh snow had been upturned by the animals. Beside
Valdrik's horse stood another, a dark brown animal Valdrik had chased her on.

"I
would have returned," she said at last.

He
snorted and went to the animal. "Where were you to go before returning?
Back to Aldar? Surely you realize he will seek to kill you once he finds where
you have been and that you now know the truth."

His
words were like a knife to her heart. "That is not true. He may have lied
to me, used me for his purposes, but he raised me as his own."

Valdrik
turned to her, his gaze perhaps softer than it had ever been—that
she
had seen anyway. "We both know
that
is a lie. Come," he said,
gesturing toward his horse. "'Tis getting very late, and we should return.
The night shall only grow colder."

Finna
looked on him with distaste as he gripped the pommel and swung his long,
powerful leg over the horse's back and came to sit. He reached down for her
and, grudgingly, Finna allowed him to help her up.

Once
she was in his lap, Valdrik turned his horse to the side, and as they passed
the slightly smaller horse, he took the reins to the other animal and hooked
them around the pommel.

She
scowled ahead and then turned sharply toward him. "I meant what I
said."

The
corner of his mouth lifted. "And what is that?" he asked.

"I
will not stand by and see you abuse and bed other women as some men do."

There
was a long pause before Valdrik leaned around her shoulder, almost tauntingly.
He brushed her ear with his lips as he spoke. "Then, I suggest you keep me
well interested."

Chapter Fourteen

A fortnight later

Cold
winds barraged them, sending the village into a scatter, and Finna could swear
she sensed more snow to come this day. More than had fallen in previous days.
The day before, she had stood long outside watching the people as they gathered
and stored food. Hunters had brought in fresh meats over the last week to not
only prepare for winter, but for the wedding feast.

Slaves
had brought in shaggy cattle and goats from the dying grasses of the fields and
placed them in byres to keep them from the harshening elements. Much had
happened in the weeks since she came to live with her true family. Her monthly
time had come and gone, too. Surguilde said that was a good thing, as Valdrik
would not wish to be bothered by her womanly troubles on their wedding night.
She had blushed at her mother's implication then, and she blushed now with
thoughts of what the night would bring.

Finna
sighed, her stare resting forlornly on the wall ahead as Surguilde fretted over
the dress she had sewn, making some sort of adjustment in the back that Finna
could not care less about. Geera aided their mother, though by their fussing,
Finna did not think the two were accomplishing much. Their pulls and tugs
swayed her hips, but despite their warfare with the material, she kept her arms
firmly crossed below her bosom.