Page 22 of A Shield Maiden's Earl
“Then go get them,” he urged. “You know where the weapons I gifted you are, and if you look in the trunk toward the back of our lodge, you might find clothing that suits you.”
When I cocked my head and offered a questioning smile, wondering if he was serious, he met my smile and gestured that I hurry along and return so that our people might see what I was capable of.
“It’s been years since Father allowed me to fight,” I warned. “Do you truly want to risk my breaking their belief that I’m so fierce in battle?”
“Nay,” he said, growing serious, clearly confident in my abilities. “I want to remind them just how fierce you are. That your Helvig Viking ancestors are very much alive in you, so go, wife, and return swiftly.”
Bolstered by his faith in me, I headed for our lodge, not for the first time, feeling a sense of well-being upon entering that I had never felt elsewhere. A sense of finally finding my own home, often hoping Soren might be here when I dropped in through the day after going our separate ways.
In the evenings, we would sit together in front of the fire, enjoy an ale or two, and share our day. Then, we would often share more than that, as we covered all the years we had missed in between. While life had grown dull after I could no longer battle, I often spoke of those short years beforehand, and he wasas enraptured by my retellings as I was by his. We might be among the last of our kind in this ever-changing Norway, but we had both fought well and were part of something that made us proud.
Sometimes we laughed, and at other times grew serious, but we always went to bed in good spirits. He kept his word, never touching me unless I allowed it. And thus far, that had only been his hand in mine. One morn, I woke to find his big, strong body curled around me, his front to my back, keeping me warm, and I liked it more than I admitted. He never took it further, though, and we rose together to watch the sunrise.
“’Tis perfect,” I murmured upon opening the trunk toward the back of our lodge, grinning at several pairs of trousers suited to my size. It had been too long since I wore such, and I was beyond grateful when I put them on, followed by one of a few tunics.
After braiding my hair back more securely and shouldering into my white bear fur, I grabbed my new shield and blade, yet again pleased by them, and returned to Soren’s side. Standing tall, I felt more like myself than I had in a while, pleased by the murmurs of awe rippling through my new people at my appearance. It better portrayed who I was at heart and the tales they had heard of me.
Rather than sit in the chair designated for him, Soren seemed to prefer standing with his arms crossed over his chest, assessing his warriors as they battled. He often called out moves that could use improvement and those he was pleased with.
“’Tis a good method of training,” I said at one point, watching the fighting just as closely. “Giving them the good with the bad to keep their confidence up.”
“As do you, it seems,” he said, amused when he glanced at me. “Or mayhap you don’t hear yourself, wife? For you seem to mutter under your breath all the same things I see and say.”
“Do I?” I asked innocently, grinning because I suspected I did without even realizing it.
“Ja, and so I would ask something of you.”
Curious at the challenging look in his gaze, I perked an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”
As it happened, his response more than surprised me.
Chapter Ten
Soren
Agrowing needto ravish Freya aside, I had never been so impressed or attracted to her as when she returned to battle practice, dressed in trousers and a tunic, looking every inch a shield-maiden with my mother’s weapons. She was even more beautiful than she’d been on our wedding night. I nearly said so, too, but didn’t want to ruin the moment and take from her concentration as she assessed our warriors battling in small groups.
Every muttered word of how she liked one move and how others needed improvement was in perfect alignment with my own assessments and spoke to her superior skills. She claimed there had only been a few years of fighting before her father no longer allowed it, but it was clearly enough for her to prove she very much descended from great shield-maidens.
Moreover, she was clearly a shield-maiden herself.
The times might not call for women to fight much, but I refused to have her feel worthless or useless when this was her calling, so I thought to redirect her talents elsewhere and hoped today might prove my idea sound. So far, it seemed promising. Yet I would have her do something for me first, so I asked her a question I knew she would not anticipate but mayhap appreciate.
“Would you battle me here and now for all to see, Freya?” I looked at her in question. “Battle me so that everyone might see what you are capable of?”
“Battle you?” Her eyebrows swept up, and a slow smile curled her mouth. The same excitement I had seen when we were on the high seas flared in her luminous amber gaze. “Fight my husband and their chieftain? The renowned Soren Dahl?Truly?”
Her anticipation reflected my own, and I met her small smile. “If you dare, Freya Helvig, born of the bear and fierce shield-maiden of the north.”
A throaty, almost sensual-sounding chuckle bubbled up from her chest. “Oh, I dare, indeed.”
Pleased, I called for all to cease fighting so that I might have the circle to spar with my wife, noting Ivar standing nearby with his arms crossed over his chest and a stoic, untrusting look on his face. Outside of me and likely Freya, none fought better, so he would watch this closely.
Murmurs of awe had already been rippling through the crowd at her changed attire and the sight of weapons in her hand, so it was no surprise that all conceded right away and cleared the area. Nor was I surprised when the crowd grew as news of us battling spread. It wasn’t every day that such a thing happened between a husband and wife, never mind who Freya and I were before we came together.
All grew quiet as we set aside our fur cloaks and circled each other, holding our weapons at the ready, assessing each other’s every move. Freya might not have battled for years, but her form was good if not perfect, leaving no openings, so I had no choice but to go at her as I would any other and find her weaknesses.
While some might have been more lenient, given that it was the woman he loved, and his wife no less, I knew I would lose her respect if I did. So, I moved quickly, driving her back, utilizingmoves that typically made my opponent falter, but not Freya. If anything, despite my speed and battle prowess, she watched my every move and kept to defensive maneuvers as if biding her time and wearing me down.
