Surrender To The Viking (12 page)

* * *

The sun was sinking before the new camp was established and Lara could set to work on the wound. It was deep but clean. Finn made no sound while she sewed the cut though his pallor worried her. His skin felt cold to the touch. If only she’d had access to the herbs and salves from home she could have offered him some relief from the pain. When they reached Ravndal she would find out what might be done in that respect. In the interim a few mouthfuls of mead had to suffice. When the wound was bound again she unbuckled his sword belt and co-opted a couple of men to remove the chainmail shirt and help him into the sealskin sleeping bag, which she had laid out ready near to the fire.

When she had made him as comfortable as possible she went to attend to Folkvar’s injuries. He made light of them but his ashen face spoke louder. Nevertheless, he dredged up a wan smile of thanks as she finished tying off the bandage. Once again she found herself wishing she had some medicines to hand.

Having finished the task she asked if anyone else needed help, but it seemed that the majority of their wounds were slight. She had half expected the enquiry to be met with mocking smiles and perhaps some teasing comments: it was a point of pride with fighting men to make light of all but the most serious injuries. Somewhat to her surprise their mockery was conspicuous by its absence and, although they declined her assistance, it was declined courteously. She supposed that they must be feeling too tired to engage in the usual banter. Gathering her things she prepared to return to Finn. Weariness was setting in now, a reaction to the rigours of the day, and she guessed it wouldn’t be long before the men turned in too.

She was on her way back when she met Alrik. Like the rest he was dirty and dishevelled but, happily, unhurt.

‘Shall we reach Ravndal soon?’ she asked. ‘We need some medicines and clean linen for bandages. I would not have any of these men succumb to fever or wound rot.’

He nodded. ‘We should be there tomorrow in the afternoon.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’

He looked around at the men now talking quietly among themselves. ‘The enemy came off far worse today I’m pleased to say.’

‘But Steingrim escaped.’

‘Aye, he did, unfortunately. The man’s as slippery as an oiled viper. Still, his fangs are drawn so he won’t be giving us any more trouble for a while.’

‘I hope you’re right.’

‘I’m sure of it.’ Alrik paused. ‘How does Jarl Finn?’

‘Poorly at present. I need to get him back to civilisation where I can look after him properly.’

The words elicited an expression of keen interest. ‘Spoken with wifely concern. Can it be that you’re warming to him, Lara?’

Her reply was short and pithy.

His grin widened. ‘Well, well. Who’d have thought it?’

Lara’s cheeks reddened. ‘If all you can do is make sarcastic remarks I shall leave you alone.’

Alrik laughed softly. With as much dignity as she could muster she suited action to words and began to make her way back across the camp. Really her brother could be tiresome on occasion. He always knew how to annoy her. She ought to know better by now than to rise to the bait.

* * *

On her return Lara liberated the blanket from Finn’s sea chest and wrapped it around her shoulders against the evening chill. Then she settled down nearby. Finn was still very pale but he was sleeping now. For a little while she watched him, her heart full of conflicting emotions. He had fought for her today; he had saved her from Kal and from intended violation. It was a husband’s role to protect a wife and no man worthy of the name would suffer another to trespass in that way, but had that rescue been only about possessive instinct? Suddenly she wanted to think that it had not.

Finn might not love her but his behaviour today, his whole manner, suggested something other than indifference. The fear she’d felt when she’d thought that she might have lost him also compelled her to acknowledge what she had so steadfastly tried to ignore, what she had been trying to ignore from the first.
You’re not indifferent to him. You never were.
Alrik was right.

The admission was profoundly troubling on many levels and she had absolutely no idea what she was going to do about it. She had no experience to call on, nothing that might help her in the present predicament. If only she could have talked to Asa. Even if her sister didn’t have a solution it would have been wonderful to be able to confide the matter and to know that the confidence would be respected. There was no one now. Much as she loved Alrik she couldn’t speak to him about this.
You’re on your own.
She glanced again at Finn.
All right not on your own exactly, but it’s not the same thing.
If he guessed he would be amused or else he would pity her. The idea was unbearable. He was the last person she could tell. Anyway, at present there were more important considerations.

* * *

Finn fell into an uneasy slumber from which he awakened intermittently because the least movement was agony. He felt cold too despite the sealskin bag and his proximity to the fire. Once or twice he glanced in Lara’s direction. She looked calm and untroubled in rest. The cut lip was all that remained to testify to the events of the previous day. The sight of it filled him with anger. Only twice in his life had he enjoyed killing a man but yesterday had been one of those times. The brute had been well served and lucky too. Finn’s imagination supplied a dozen slow and painful deaths that would have been fitting punishment for such a crime. Fitting, and far more satisfying too. As long as he lived he wouldn’t forget the sight of Lara in those predatory clutches. Nor would the image lose its power to chill. Her vulnerability had brought all his protective instincts to the fore. Along with that was admiration for her courage. He had no idea what madness had possessed her to take on one of Steingrim’s thugs but there was no denying the bravery of the deed. Until that moment he hadn’t realised it was possible to feel pride and terror simultaneously. From now on he was going to do a better job of taking care of her.

He grimaced. At the moment he was incapable of taking care of anyone. In fact the boot was on the other foot. He had a sense of things sliding out of control but he lacked the ability or even the will to do anything about it.

Chapter Thirteen

I
n spite of her concern for Finn and her eagerness to arrive at their destination Lara found herself enjoying the voyage the next day. The morning was fair and the breeze keen so that white caps chased each other across the wide expanse of grey-green water. The air was sharp and smelled pleasantly of brine and rope and wood. It was good to be away from danger and the stench of death. The thought of Ravndal no longer daunted her. On the contrary she found herself looking forward to some peace and quiet and a more settled way of life.

She looked at Finn and pulled the sealskin closer around him. He was sleeping again and he was still very pale but his flesh had lost some of its alarming chill. Moreover when she’d checked his wound earlier there was no sign of fresh bleeding. With care and rest he would recover. In the meantime a settled life would mean a chance to get to know him better. Suddenly she wanted that very much. Familiarity hadn’t bred contempt; far from it. All her former hopes that he might often be absent had entirely disappeared. But what if he didn’t want a settled life? What if he wished to follow the whale road as he had before? Why should he not revert to his old life? He’d married her because it was expedient and, although he’d treated her well, that didn’t necessarily mean he’d be staying around. He’d never pretended love and she had no power to hold him. Even the wife he had loved hadn’t been able to do that.

There were so many questions she wanted to ask him about the past and the future but they were going to have to wait. What mattered now was to restore him to full health.

* * *

As Alrik had predicted they reached Ravndal the following afternoon. The arrival of three ships could not fail to cause a stir but when the watchers on the jetty identified who the visitors were their arrival was greeted with words of welcome. Willing hands helped to carry the injured ashore and then the whole company trooped up to the hall. The majority of the men would sleep there later; the rest would make shift in the barn.

Finn was carried to a separate building that was clearly intended for family sleeping accommodation. One end had been curtained off to provide the jarl with a measure of privacy. It contained a large bed, a stand holding a wooden basin and a jug, a stool and a wooden storage chest. The servants set Lara’s box down next to it and stowed Finn’s sea chest and his war gear in one corner.

When she had seen Finn laid carefully in the bed Lara had lost no time in bespeaking clean water and bandages and in finding out exactly what medicinal plants were available for use. One of the women servants showed her the store which, mercifully, was well stocked. Lara’s gaze scanned the small room.

‘Do you have some willow bark?’ she asked.

‘Yes, my lady.’

‘Do you know how to prepare an infusion?’

On receiving an answer in the affirmative Lara instructed the woman to do so. After that she arranged for a pallet to be brought to Finn’s sleeping quarters so that she could be on hand if he needed her. If anyone had told her a fortnight ago that she would volunteer to sleep close to this man she’d have laughed. Now it seemed the natural thing to do. Natural and right. The thought of Finn in pain was something she couldn’t countenance, particularly when she had the means to alleviate his suffering. It was the least she could do when she owed him so much.

He hovered between sleep and waking in a restless doze. Mercifully she had seen no sign of fever in him but it didn’t pay to be complacent. When he did open his eyes he seemed disorientated but she put that down to loss of blood and to pain. She used the opportunity to give him a drink of willow-bark tea. After that he slept better.

* * *

He slept for the better part of three days during which time she left him only when she had to. He was still pale and the lines of his cheek and jaw were more pronounced, the latter stubbled with a new growth of beard, but the frightening waxen hue had gone. So too had the chill in his flesh. Only the small furrow in his brow remained to tell of pain. She reached out a hand and stroked his face. He would get well again. He must get well.

* * *

When Finn awoke it took him a second or two to work out where he was. Gradually the familiar details of the room reasserted themselves and memory returned. All the same he had little recollection of the voyage, or of being carried ashore, or of how he came to be lying in bed under a pile of furs. He felt warm now and, although his leg still throbbed, as long as he was still the savage pain could be held at bay. He looked around and became aware that he wasn’t alone.

‘Lara?’

‘How are you feeling?’

‘I’ve known worse.’

‘Drink this. It’ll help with the pain.’

‘What is it?’

‘Willow-bark tea.’

She held the cup to his lips and, little by little, he drank the liquid within. It tasted of honey underlain with bitterness.

‘Are you hungry?’ she asked. ‘There’s a pot of soup on the fire.’

‘Maybe later.’

‘All right.’

He sighed. ‘This wasn’t exactly how I’d anticipated our arrival at Ravndal.’

‘If it’s any consolation it wasn’t how I’d anticipated it either.’

‘I’ll wager it wasn’t.’

‘Never mind. We’re here now.’

‘Yes.’

They lapsed into silence both aware of unspoken questions hanging in the air but neither wishing to utter them. There would be a time for that, he decided, but it wasn’t now. In spite of having slept so much he still felt deathly tired. Maybe blood loss had something to do with it. He hadn’t even seen the attack coming. The perpetrator was already wounded, lying among his slain companions, but he’d summoned enough strength to get to his knees and deliver one last malicious thrust. Being engaged in a separate combat Finn’s attention was to the front. He’d had no suspicion of the danger behind him until he felt cold metal bite deep into his flesh. With a yell of fury he sped the present opponent and then turned to deliver a death blow to the snake behind. Only then had he noticed the pain and the hot blood pouring from the wound. Even so he knew he’d been lucky: with the full weight of the enemy behind it the blow would have severed the limb completely.

‘Try to sleep some more,’ said Lara. ‘It’s rest that will help the leg to mend now.’

‘I haven’t even thanked you for sewing the wound.’

‘No thanks are necessary. Think of it as returning a favour.’

He smiled faintly and nodded. ‘Will you come back later?’

‘Of course.’

His gaze followed her to the curtained doorway. When she had gone he shut his eyes again but for a while sleep eluded him. He had understated the case when he said this wasn’t how he’d planned things. In his imagination he had welcomed her properly and shown her around and made sure she was accorded the status she deserved. When she’d had a chance to adjust to her new home he’d have set about wooing her as she ought to have been wooed in the first place. He could not reflect on his behaviour with any satisfaction at all. He should have been protecting her from danger not dragging her into it.

Incredibly, she hadn’t uttered a word of criticism, even though she’d had good cause. She hadn’t railed or wept or treated him to female hysterics. Bótey had done all of those things. No doubt he had deserved it too, but Lara’s self-possession moved him much more. He was proud of her, but his admiration went a lot further than her beauty. She touched something deep inside him that he hadn’t known he possessed. For that reason he couldn’t define the sensation or pin it down. It remained elusive, a lingering resonance like a chord that hung in the air after the harper’s hand had left the strings, and it engendered a spark of recognition as though spirit had somehow spoken to spirit.

As soon as occasion permitted they were going to talk. Quite apart from anything else he owed her an apology.

* * *

Lara sank into the tub with a sigh of relief. The bathhouse had been a welcome discovery and one she’d been longing to take advantage of. So much so that she’d hauled the water and heated it herself. Days of rough living and nursing duty had left her feeling grubby and dishevelled—something she fully intended to remedy. However, her urge to bathe wasn’t merely about wanting to restore a sense of well-being. It was about wanting to look attractive too. She sighed.
Who are you trying to fool? You want to look attractive for him.
Not so long ago, she wouldn’t have cared two straws for Finn’s opinion one way or the other, but now it mattered a great deal. She wanted him to look at her not as part of a bargain struck but as a man looks at a woman, the way he had looked at her in those first seconds when she appeared before him on their wedding day. Seconds before he had time to conceal his thoughts behind an urbane manner and mocking humour. He wore that manner like a mask. Just occasionally it slipped to reveal a different person, someone who intrigued and attracted her, someone she wanted to know better.

She could hardly fail to note his dismay over the present state of affairs. For the first time since she had known him he appeared vulnerable, even a little uncertain. He wasn’t used to being dependent. In many ways it was touching to see the man beneath the persona of the warrior and commander. He need not have been concerned about the manner of her reception here. It hadn’t taken long to establish her identity or to assert her authority with the servants. There at least she did have plenty of experience to call on. In any case Finn’s needs had made it essential to step into her new role immediately: the jarl’s new wife. Lara grimaced. Not truly a wife, not yet.

That thought gave rise to sensations that she no longer wanted to deny. She had never expected to enjoy a man’s touch or to like his kiss or to want more of both.
When you decide that you want to become a real woman let me know.
She knew she did want that. Even if Finn didn’t love her, even if he wasn’t going to be around all the time, she still wanted that. Of course, knowing it was one thing, letting him know was quite another. Facing Steingrim and his thugs was nothing in comparison.

* * *

Hearing footsteps in the passageway beyond the curtain Finn looked up eagerly. Instead of Lara though, it was Unnr who appeared on the threshold. For a moment or two he surveyed Finn in silence then he grinned.

‘You’re looking better than you did. How’s the leg?’

‘Better than it was before. The willow-bark tea helps.’

‘That’s what Folkvar said.’

‘Folkvar? I feared he had died with the others we left behind.’

‘By rights he should have but he was lucky. All the same he’s got a wicked slash to the shoulder. Right down to the bone. Got another nasty cut across the ribs too.’

‘I feel for him. Did any of the other five survive Steingrim’s attack?’

‘No, he was the only one. Your little wife sewed him up a treat.’

‘She has a talent with a needle.’

‘That’s not all she’s got a talent for.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

Unnr looked sheepish. ‘Sorry, poor choice of words. What I meant was courage. Folkvar told us all about it and I don’t mind admitting we were impressed. It’s the bravest thing I ever heard.’

‘What is?’

‘Why, Lady Lara standing up to Steingrim like that.’

‘Like what?’

Unnr blinked. ‘She must have told you about it.’ Then, seeing Finn’s expression he looked a little embarrassed. ‘Or maybe not.’

‘Does this have something to do with that crazy sword fight we interrupted?’

‘Well, yes.’

Finn’s eyes glinted. ‘I think you’d better tell me what you know.’

‘If she hasn’t said anything I’m not sure I should...’

‘All of it, Unnr. Now.’

As he listened, Finn felt himself turning cold again. He’d been so preoccupied with slaying the would-be rapist that he hadn’t thought to enquire why Lara had been in combat in the first place. Had it not been for her wits and her courage she might have been raped before he and his men arrived on the scene. It also occurred to him that she couldn’t have known he would be back in time to save her. Had she been planning to use the sword for another purpose entirely? The more he thought about it the likelier it seemed. She wouldn’t let herself be used by Steingrim’s crew if there was a way out. Finn was appalled. Not only did it highlight his failure to protect her properly, it also revealed how close he’d come to losing her. He’d once thought it wouldn’t be hard to grow fond of Lara. He realised now how far he’d understated the case.

‘I’m glad you told me, Unnr.’

‘You won’t say it was me, will you? Otherwise she might decide to try to run me through as well.’

‘Don’t worry. Your secret is safe.’

* * *

When Lara had bathed and changed her gown and combed her hair she returned to check on her patient. He was awake and though he smiled when she entered the atmosphere seemed subtly different. If he noticed her altered appearance he didn’t comment on it. However, when she suggested he might like to have some soup he accepted.

‘I’d offer to feed you as well,’ she said, ‘but I feel sure you’d dislike it.’

His expression was eloquent. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

She concealed a smile. ‘Let me rearrange the pillows then so that you can sit up.’

When it had been accomplished she handed him the bowl and the spoon and then perched on the stool while he ate.

‘It’s good,’ he observed.

‘It will help you make new blood and get your strength back.’

‘A truly marvellous soup, then.’

‘Let’s hope so.’ She paused. ‘Has the willow-bark tea helped the pain?’

He nodded. ‘I thank you, yes.’

‘I’ll bring you some more later on. That bandage will need changing too.’

‘You’re a competent nurse.’

‘I’ve had the practice. At home there were always injuries of some sort to attend to, everything from broken limbs to a gash from a boar’s tusk. Men are imaginative when it comes to hurting themselves.’

‘I hadn’t thought of it that way but I suppose we are.’

Lara smiled but made no reply so he finished the majority of the soup and handed the bowl back. As she rose from the stool he stopped her.