“Hazel,” she muttered. “Of course.” The man truly was obscenely pretty. Cheekbones that could cut glass. Glossy black hair,twisted into braids with such complexity it hurt her skull to even consider. And those eyes, trained on...she looked down, trying to determine what he was looking at. Her undertunic hung low, giving him a view straight down it.
“If your aim was to distract me, consider me distracted,” he said, staring unabashedly at her breasts. The irritating man simply lay there, making no attempt to remove her from his body.
“Watch yourself, warrior,” she growled. “I’ve anger to spend and have been looking for a target.”
Those hazel eyes snapped to hers, then narrowed. “Why did you not join the games? You’re more than an adequate opponent.” His gaze drifted downward once more. “From what I can see.”
With a huff, Hekla pushed off him and yanked her undertunic up.
“Fight me,” said the warrior, hopping to his feet.
She surveyed him, left hand itching to pummel his pretty face. But now she knew he was a worthy opponent. Hekla thought of Axe Eyes—of how fiercely she missed their morning sparring sessions.
She eyed the warrior. There was no doubt he was one of the most handsome men she’d ever laid eyes upon, a fact which made her insides writhe in discomfort. Her husband, too, had been handsome, though it had only served as a tool to conceal his vileness. Hekla forced her gaze over his shoulder.
“What do you get out of it?”
“I get to fight a true opponent.”
“Hmm. Not much enjoyment in holding back against Istré’s citizens, is there?”
The man’s eyes brightened. “The fact that you’ve a keen enough eye to notice tells me you’ll be a worthy adversary.” He reached for the buckle of his battle belt. It fell to the ground with athunkthat Hekla felt in the pit of her stomach.
She itched to do the same. Two weeks stuck in this hovel; two weeks with her every move shackled by Loftur; two weeks withouther sparring partner. Hekla had kept with her morning routines but felt herself slipping. She needed an opponent. Someone to give her the challenge she craved.
“Very well,” she said, reaching for her own belt.
THREE
PRESENT DAY
Hekla stared at Eyvind Hakonsson’s outstretched hand, blood roaring in her ears. How could she not have realized—that ridiculous red cloak, the elaborate, fussy braids, the splendor of his lodgings—it all seemed so obvious now. Gods, she was careless to have thrown out all her rules—to think that she might have a moment’s freedom without consequences.
But a new thought had panic rising inside her. What if he revealed how they knew one another? Hekla’s reputation would be irreparably damaged. No warrior at that table would respect her after discovering she’d taken their leader to bed.
Gunnar’s elbow landed sharply in Hekla’s ribs, spurring her into motion. She slid her left hand into his and shook it vigorously.
“You’re early,” she muttered.
Eyvind Hakonsson blinked then chuckled softly. The sound spurred memories of riverbank silt and slick skin—of frantic hands and feverish mouths.
“You’re Hekla,” he said, yanking her back to the present. It was more than a statement. It was, unmistakably, a discovery.
A man beside Eyvind cleared his throat, and they both turned toward him.
“Meet Konal, my advisor,” said Eyvind, gesturing to the man.
Hekla forced her attention to Konal. He was dressed in House Hakon finery, his face lined with age, his beard streaked with gray. But Konal’s eyes had a cunning look to them, and as he studied her, Hekla had the distinct impression he’d measured her worth and found her lacking.
As Konal and Eyvind’s attention turned to Gunnar and Sigrún, Hekla tried to corral her nausea. Eyvind hadn’t revealed their acquaintance with one another, and if her fortune held, he would not.Get a hold of yourself, she thought.You must not show weakness before these warriors.
Eyvind gestured for the warriors to take their seats, and Hekla found hers beside Gunnar. She reached for a jug of róa, but a hand landed on her shoulder. She whirled to face him.
The Fox.
In the light of day, his face was still beautiful.I’ve seen you naked, his amused expression seemed to convey. Was he waiting for the perfect moment to reveal it to the whole of his retinue? Make her the butt of some joke?
At the very thought of it, Hekla felt vulnerable and small—a feeling she’d not had since she’d been married. Hadn’t she vowed to never feel that way again? How could she have discarded her rules, her defenses?
