The Viking's Captive Princess. Michelle Styles

a lesson she learnt the hard way.’

      The very air seemed to crackle between them.

      He leant forwards and took the jug from her unresisting hand. ‘Come sit beside me, princess. It has been a long time since a woman has kept me so entertained with just her words.’

      ‘Why are you calling me princess? What have I done to deserve such a nickname?’ she asked.

      ‘You command this estate like a princess. Every time I ask for something, the thralls tell me to ask you, rather than Ragnfast or your half-sister.’

      ‘This farm does not run itself. There are many things that need to be accomplished, regardless of who graces our shores. Ragnfast remains very much in charge. I simply do the women’s work.’

      He raised an eyebrow. ‘There is nothing simple about running an estate. My sister, Astrid, reminds me of this every time I return home.’

      ‘I dare say in Viken you like your women to be silently spinning and weaving.’ Thyre gave an arched laugh, remembering some of her mother’s comments about the violence of the Viken court. ‘Silence is not one of my virtues.’

      ‘In Viken, the queen sits next to the king in the Storting and advises him. I doubt Asa has ever handled a spindle. But my late wife was one such as you describe. My comfort was ever uppermost in her thoughts.’

      ‘And what does King Thorkell think about it?’ Thyre kept her tone measured. Despite everything, she wanted to ask about the Viken king, the father she had never met and the woman he had finally chosen. Here, at long last, was someone who knew him and knew the sort of man he was. Her mother had said very little when Thyre was young and Thyre treasured every scrap of knowledge. ‘Does he approve? Or does he long for a woman like your late wife?’

      ‘I doubt he has much choice. Asa is very strong willed, but he respects her counsel. They are well matched.’

      Respects her counsel. Thyre risked a breath. She could not imagine her uncle, the current Ranrike king, respecting any woman’s counsel. She could remember her mother complaining bitterly about how her brother, King Mysing, refused to listen to a mere woman’s words. ‘And do the Viken jaarls respect her as well?’

      ‘You under-estimate Asa at your peril.’ A faint smile touched his lips. ‘I suspect you also should not be underestimated.’

      ‘A compliment?’

      ‘If you wish to call it that.’ Ivar leant forwards, his hand closed over hers, holding her in his strong grip. ‘And, my lady, why does Thorkell the Viken king and his queen fascinate you if you have no wish to know what lies beyond the horizon? What else are you hiding from me?’