Joanna Fulford - Surrender to the Viking

* * *

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 for a semblance of grace but it was a thin disguise.

The sight of her future husband set her heart pounding like a fuller’s hammer. He had never seemed more imposing a presence than he did just then. The blue tunic was ideally suited to his colouring and by some fluke it almost exactly matched her gown. The costume also showed off his broad shoulders and athletic frame to considerable advantage, enhancing the suggestion of leashed strength. It was impossible not to feel intimidated. The other feelings he inspired were more complex and much harder to define. Nor was she inclined to explore them.

* * *

Ottar took her hand and placed it in Finn’s much larger one. Her hand was cool and it trembled a little. He glanced down at her but she wasn’t looking at him now and her expression revealed nothing. Is she afraid? Fear wasn’t a word he’d have associated with Lara. A little nervous possibly, and that was understandable. He squeezed her fingers gently. She did look up then, the blue-green eyes meeting his for a moment. Then she lowered her gaze again but not in time to conceal the strong emotions there.

It took only a short time to exchange the vows that would bind them henceforth. Ottar supplied the ring, knowing that the groom wouldn’t have had time to get one made. It was made of gold filigree, the workmanship delicate and beautiful. It was also tiny. Finn knew it would barely fit his little finger. However, it slid on to Lara’s hand with ease. Then Ottar declared them man and wife and called upon those present to attest the fact. It was done. Expectant silence descended.

Ottar looked at Finn. ‘Aren’t you going to kiss your new wife?’

Finn sensed rather than saw Lara stiffen but when he took her in his arms he was in no doubt. However, there was nothing for it now but to carry this to the expected conclusion.

* * *

Lara knew this had to come and steeled herself. She had thought herself prepared; prepared for that inevitable proximity; prepared for the strong warm hands on her waist; prepared for the symbolic seal of possession. However, as his lips brushed hers she was definitely not prepared for the resulting shiver along her spine, a shiver that had nothing whatsoever to do with nerves. His lips continued to flirt with hers, light, almost teasing. Her pulse quickened. The pressure on her mouth increased a little. She lifted her hands to his breast to push him away but his arm slid around her waist and tightened, pulling her hard against him, trapping her hands. The other arm closed round her shoulders. She gasped as her body was pressed against the lean hard length of his. Before she had a chance to protest his mouth closed on hers in a passionate kiss that ignored resistance until she abandoned the attempt and her mouth opened to his. His tongue tilted with hers, intimate and shocking like the sudden rising tide of warmth inside her. It rippled through her body to the core.

He took the kiss at leisure. As it went on a roar of approval erupted around them. When eventually he drew back she was breathless, the pallor in her face replaced by a rosy flush. Grey eyes looked down into hers and she saw him smile, almost as if he knew about that sudden flood of heat in her blood. He couldn’t know. She was imagining it. What she wasn’t imagining was his evident enjoyment of the situation. Nor was he alone. All around was a sea of grinning faces. Even her father was smiling. Embarrassment mingled with confusion.

Ottar raised his arms. ‘Let’s drink to health for the bride and groom.’

He gestured to the waiting servant who brought the ceremonial silver mead cup. Lara took it and then offered it to Finn. He drank and passed it back. She took a mouthful of liquor and swallowed it. It was cheering but it was also strong, particularly when taken on an empty stomach. She handed the cup back to her father. To get drunk was not part of her plan at all; she needed to keep all her wits about her.