Surrender to the Viking. Joanna FulfordЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.
‘Now we shall feast,’ said Ottar.
Finn held out his hand to Lara and obediently she placed her fingers in his, allowing herself to be led to the high table. When she had taken her seat Finn sat down beside her with Ottar on his left. The rest of the company took their places and the servants filed in with platters of food. Although she hadn’t eaten since morning Lara had little appetite. However, the meal gave her a reason to avoid looking at the man beside her, so she took refuge in the pretence of eating, forcing each morsel down and taking her time over it.
In contrast, Finn ate heartily, evidently quite untroubled by the anxiety she felt. However, he was attentive too, offering various dishes to her or enquiring whether she would like more meat or bread. Unwilling to let him see her unease she accepted another slice of the roast boar. Usually she would have enjoyed it but this evening it tasted of ashes.
The last time she had attended a wedding it was to see Asa married, an occasion that had given rise to similar feelings of impotent anger and bitter resentment. At the time she had felt them on her sister’s behalf. Tears and pleading had accomplished nothing: Asa was bound to a man she detested and who cared nothing for her. She was a means to a political end and no more. Lara’s fingers tightened on her cup.
‘Will you have something more to eat?’
Finn’s voice jerked her out of thought. ‘No, I thank you.’
‘You haven’t eaten much thus far. I’d hate to have you waste away.’
‘I’m not very hungry.’
He leaned back in his chair surveying her steadily, an unnerving scrutiny that brought creeping warmth to her neck and cheeks.
‘This has been a difficult day for you, hasn’t it?’
Difficult doesn’t begin to describe it. ‘That’s one way of putting it.’
‘I regret the suddenness of this arrangement but circumstances dictated it.’
‘Why should you regret it? You have the ships and swords that you came for.’
‘So I have, but I’ve achieved far more than that,’ he replied.
‘Ah, yes, a bride with a rich dowry.’
‘A fair bride with a rich dowry.’
Lara looked away and took another sip of mead to try to quell the surge of resentment that his words had revived.
‘That wasn’t flattery by the way,’ he went on. ‘It was a statement of fact.’ He continued his scrutiny. ‘That gown becomes you very well incidentally.’
When she made no reply he smiled faintly. ‘That was your cue to say, Yes, I know.’
She did look at him then, her gaze smouldering. ‘Must I speak on cue now for your entertainment?’
‘There is no must, Lara, although you are invariably entertaining.’
‘I’m glad I amuse you.’
‘How could you not when your company is so enlivening?’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Company that I greatly look forward to sharing.’
‘I wish I could say the same.’
He laughed softly. ‘That’s better. For a while there I was afraid you had laid down your sword.’
The warmth in her cheeks intensified. ‘If you thought that, then you were gravely mistaken, my lord.’
‘I’m delighted to hear it.’
‘You are pleased to mock.’
‘Not at all. I really am delighted. The greatest enemy to a relationship is boredom but I feel quite sure ours will never suffer in that way.’
‘Possibly not. Steingrim may slay you long before boredom sets in.’
Finn laughed out loud. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you there. Steingrim will not slay me.’
‘If he doesn’t perhaps I will.’
‘You have already slain me with your incomparable beauty and sharp wit.’
‘Would it were so easy.’
‘I am not an easy man to kill, sweet Lara. You are destined to remain at my side.’
‘What a rousing prospect.’
‘Indeed I do hope to arouse you—very soon