The Viking's Defiant Bride. Joanna Fulford

more?’ he asked. ‘I can keep this up indefinitely if you can.’

      Indeed there were plenty more things she could have found to say, chiefly concerning his lowly birth, probable ancestry and certain destination in the hereafter, but with a monumental effort she forced them back. Only a very small exhalation of breath escaped, a sound that reminded him of an infuriated kitten. Wulfrum waited a moment, but there was nothing more. His lips curved in a sardonic smile; touching his horse with his heels, he let it move forwards at a walk. Elgiva gritted her teeth in helpless fury as they headed back towards Ravenswood and a dreadful suspicion grew that his retribution wasn’t over yet.

      In this she was right. Wulfrum took his time about the return journey, knowing full well the helpless ire of his captive and her present discomfort. He had been visiting the Viking encampment earlier and was returning when he caught sight of the running figure heading for the forest. He had recognised her at once and knew a bid for freedom when he saw it. He also knew she must not be allowed to get away. How she had got so far was a mystery, one for which the guards would get a roasting later. As for Elgiva, she would discover that it did not pay to disobey him. Right now he knew she was smarting, as much from the humiliation as from his hand. It had been most tempting to put all his strength behind it and beat her soundly, but he had resisted the notion and tempered the punishment. As it was, she would think twice before crossing him again. Like all the Saxons she would learn that rebellion came at a price.

      In consequence Elgiva was held across the saddle bow all the way back to the outer door of the women’s bower. If she had thought then he would let her slide from the saddle and slink indoors, she was mistaken for Wulfrum dismounted first and dragged her off the horse after. Tucking her under one arm, he carried her inside in another casual and humiliating demonstration of superior strength. When at last he set her down she was hot and breathless and, to Wulfrum’s eyes, most attractively dishevelled, for the golden mane had escaped its braid and fell in tumbled curls about her shoulders.

      Furious, Elgiva glared up at him, wishing anew for a sword to cut the arrogant brute down to size. However, he was very big and to her cost she knew his strength. She hated to think what other retribution he might take if she angered him further for she was uncomfortably aware of the bed on the far side of the room and of the dimming light and of his dangerous proximity.

      It was not hard to discern some of her thought but, far from being perturbed in any way, Wulfrum smiled, thinking that anger heightened her beauty for those wonderful eyes held a distinctly militant light. He was sorely tempted to take her in his arms and kiss her again, but he suspected that if he did, he would not be able to stop there. Better to let her think about what had happened, to understand the futility of attempting to escape him. She was no fool and the lesson would be well learned. Besides, time was on his side now.

      For the space of several heartbeats they faced each other thus. Then, to her inexpressible relief, he moved towards the door, pausing when he reached it.

      ‘You will remain here until I say otherwise. I should perhaps point out that there will be a guard outside from now on.’

      He left her then, closing the door behind him. Weak with relief, Elgiva collapsed against it, listening with thumping heart to the muffled hoof falls as he rode away.