Page 17 of Merciful Seduction

The boy grasped the handle with one hand, the weight obviously too great for his weak arm. The weapon fell on the ground.

“I’m disappointed. You have much to prove in the next two weeks or I will send you home to your father with your tail tucked between your legs.”

“Give me a chance, please.”

“Gather firewood for the rest of the day. And not mere twigs, boy. Go deep in the forest and cut fresh kindling, thick branches from the tallest tree you can find. Even if you have to climb as high as the clouds. Understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“Select another boy to escort you. But you will do all the chopping.”

The lad nodded, then scampered off.

“Where did Jarl Sigurdsson find you, in a nursery? Blasted weaklings—the gods are laughing at you and me …”

Mercia swallowed. She couldn’t believe how much humiliation those poor boys must endure to become men. Thank God she was born a woman.

“Now,” Marteinn said. “The four of you will attack me from all directions.”

“Four against one?”

“Shall we make it five?” Now Marteinn sounded like he was boasting.

“Six,” one of the boys called.

“All right, six.” The captain grinned, standing at the ready. “Go!”

It was hard to concentrate on Marteinn with the recruits screaming like banshees. Three were immediately repelled, and the fourth received a heavy blow to his thigh from Marteinn’s sword handle, rendering him lame.

Mercia held her fist to her mouth as the other two split up. What were they going to do—fight until the death? The tallest attacked from the rear, smashing Marteinn in the back of his head with his waster. The blow must have stunned him, because he wheeled back, looking unsteady on his feet.

After he dropped to his knees, Mercia could stay hidden no longer, she ran onto the field. “Captain Marteinn?” She knelt beside him, concerned he might have a head injury.

He gaped at her. “What in Odin’s name are you doing here, woman?”

Yes, his skull must have a crack in it, the only excuse for his continued disregard for her. “Are you hurt?” She caressed his cheek.

He jerked out of her reach. “My reputation will be ruined if you stay here.”

“What?”

“Women don’t belong on the training field.” He lowered his voice. “Go back to the kitchen.”

“You are a bastard.” She’d never make the same mistake again—wasting precious time worrying about his welfare.

“I cannot deny it.” He tried to climb to his feet, but sank back down. “Shite—the world is spinning.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, nodding triumphantly. “So, you’re head isn’t as hard as a rock.”

He chuckled and reached for her hand. “Aye, it’s not. But I’ll let you feel something that is.”

At the sound of laughter, she twisted around, surprised to catch his students standing so close. The boys had been listening to their disagreement. “Tis nothing to laugh at!”

“Sorry, milady,” one of the boys apologized.

“You should be. Now take Captain Marteinn to the stable so he can bed down with the other beasts,” she directed, standing. “Eavesdropping is something women do, not warriors.”

“Yes, milady,” they acknowledged in unison.