From the corner of her eye, she saw Rodor nod as he stepped back to his place with the men. The one named Vidar had ceased his laughing, but only to stare at her. She ignored him, training her gaze on Jarl Eirik as he directed his men to disembark. He followed them, his boots splashing in the shallow water at the bank of the river as he jumped out of the boat and walked to shore. He was a tall man, taller than Rodor. His shoulders were broad and his wheat-coloured hair swept down past his shoulders. He was handsome and had a solemn air about him. If he hadn’t been her adversary, she saw immediately that she would have liked him.
His younger brother Vidar followed—she wouldn’t think of him as her betrothed until it was absolutely unavoidable. When he splashed down from his boat and walked towards shore, she noted that he walked with a swagger that was missing from his older brother’s walk. He was of the same height as Jarl Eirik and his hair was a similar shade of blond. It was obvious they were brothers. But the younger one’s eyes were insolent and fierce. Gwendolyn very much doubted she would have liked him at all under other circumstances.
‘Come,’ she said and turned to follow the trail home. She forced down the ache in her throat and blinked back the sting of tears. She had not cried since the day her father had died. She wouldn’t allow this Dane to reduce her to shame herself in front of him.
Somehow between now and the night ahead, she’d figure a way out of this marriage. She wouldn’t have a man dictate her future to her, especially an enemy stranger.
The trail was so narrow that they’d been forced to walk in pairs, and Vidar had fallen into step beside his brother. They’d left half of the men behind to guard the boats and the treasure contained within them—the fortune his brother had been forced to part with to secure this marriage. The girl walked before them with a man he’d heard her call by the name Wulf at her side, while the rest of her men followed behind.
‘Have you considered that this might be a trap?’ Vidar asked, keeping his voice low enough that it wouldn’t travel to the others. Not that he believed any of the Saxons knew the Danish tongue, but he’d rather his own men not hear. The evergreen forest towered high above them, nearly blocking what little light there was, leaving it almost too dark to see the trail in front of them. She could be leading them anywhere.
‘Aye, but it’s not,’ Eirik said, his gaze on the trail.
Vidar had to agree that a trap was probably unlikely. As of now, they had the Saxon men outnumbered, but there could be more hiding anywhere along the trail. And their knowledge of the Alveys was nearly non-existent. They could have hundreds of warriors. Yet his brother spoke with such confidence that Vidar was compelled to ask, ‘How are you so certain?’
‘When I leave, I’m taking nearly half the warriors with me and leaving the gold behind.’ Eirik smiled, the white of it breaking through the shadows. ‘If she wanted to kill you, she’d do it then when she’d have fewer men to contend with and it would be autumn before I knew about it. Spring before I’d be able to come back to avenge you. It’s in her best interest to wait.’
Vidar scoffed and glanced through the tops of the trees, trying to find the sun. ‘Many thanks, Brother. I’ll look forward to that when you’re gone.’
Eirik laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘I doubt it’ll happen.’
Somehow his brother’s ‘doubt’ wasn’t the least bit reassuring. Vidar clenched his jaw and stared at the back of the girl who walked before them. Vidar still had trouble thinking of her as his bride. None of this felt like it was really happening. By tomorrow evening the land they were walking on could very well be his, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about it. He wasn’t a farmer or a shepherd, or whatever they did up here in this remote place. His destiny was to brave new lands to find new resources and secure his fortune.
No matter what happened on this night or any other, he’d make sure to fulfil that destiny. These people had survived well enough without him. He’d leave as soon as he was able and continue his life as before. Eirik couldn’t stop him and, unless he missed his guess, his bride would rather see him go.
Though he’d probably have to get her with child first.
The thought brought his attention back to her. They had been steadily walking up an incline, traversing up the side of the hill, so the girl’s backside was at eye level. Her tunic was low enough that it covered the plump flesh, but he could still see it bouncing beneath the fabric, the swells of each cheek working with each step she took. And he remembered vividly how her tunic had been pulled up as she’d come out of the tree, allowing him a view of those rounded curves in her trousers. It could be worse, he reminded himself. Bedding her wouldn’t be unpleasant, he decided, and began to anticipate it as the only bright spot in this arrangement. It had been weeks since he’d last lain with a woman.
The flickering of fire up ahead caught his eye and he realised they were coming out of the forest. The trail ended and they walked out into a flat grassland that backed up to a fortress larger than he’d been expecting. The entire settlement was set back into the side of a hill. The river made up the west and north side, blocked off by both a stone wall and sheer drop of several yards. The stone wall continued around the south and east sides of the property, but it was far more vast in both length and height than any of the Saxon walls he’d seen. Inside the wall, set up higher on the hill, were several larger buildings and many smaller ones scattered about them. It was too dark to make out specific details, but he was impressed with what he saw. He’d imagined a few huts around a granary, but this was remarkable. If he wasn’t mistaken in the dim light, a few of the buildings looked to be made of the same stone as the wall.
Gwendolyn turned when they reached the wall, her gaze flicking over him before landing on Eirik. ‘Welcome to my home, Jarl Eirik.’ Vidar noticed that she specifically excluded him from the greeting. Did the girl think goading him was in her best interest? He smiled, already warming to the idea of taming her.
‘Many thanks, Lady Gwendolyn. I’m impressed with your fortifications,’ Eirik answered. The wall was well over two men high. Torches were set at even intervals along the top of the wall, giving a little bit of light to the early evening.
‘Thank you. My grandfather was an intelligent man with the gift of foresight. He had this built back when we’d only heard talk about the invaders.’
She didn’t say the word ‘invaders’ with malice, but her gaze slid over to Vidar just the same. It appeared the lady only considered him the invader and not Eirik. Did she not realise that he would not be here if it weren’t for Eirik? Vidar very nearly snorted, but managed to hold himself in check. There’d be plenty of time after the wedding to put her in her place.
‘A wise man indeed,’ Eirik agreed, his gaze traversing the wall. ‘Has it held up well to attack?’
‘Aye,’ the girl said, raising her chin a notch in pride.
‘It’s never fallen,’ said the man at her side. ‘It’s been tested, but not once has it failed us.’ He appeared old enough to be the girl’s father. His dark hair was streaked with grey at the temples, while his beard had patches of silver. He carried himself with the same pride of ownership as the girl.
‘Jarl Eirik, this is my father’s man, Rodor. He knows everything there is to know about Alvey. He was born here and has the charge of our warriors just as his father before him.’
Vidar watched them exchange greetings and offered his own arm for Rodor. The man hesitated, his gaze faltering for a moment as he glanced at Gwendolyn. It was true that the girl had led the men below, but Vidar hadn’t been sure if it had been a scheme. Part of something she’d concocted to make a show of her power in their first meeting. But that look spoke volumes. This older man, who’d clearly had the trust and respect of her father, trusted her. Not only that, but