He gave her a cocky grin and stepped forward.As soon as the page removed her ax and retreated to a safe distance, he took aim.
His ax hit the center of the target, just as hers had done.
When her brows rose in astonishment, he wanted to pound his chest because he was obviously more than she’d bargained for.The crowd of spectators roared in approval - clearly hoping victory would be his, not their new queen’s.
The last target was the furthest away, and his wife squinted into the sunlight as she kicked her leg back.He could tell she was holding her breath as the ax spun toward its destination.
It didn’t land in the bullseye this time.Instead, it lodged in the ring just to the right of the painted center.
“Aargh!”she mumbled in frustration.“The sunlight does me no favors.”
He’d beg to differ as he watched the way it sent elusive patterns shimmering over her hair and skin.Whether it was sunlight or nerves that had affected her throw, now was his chance to even the odds between them.
As soon as his ax left his hand, he knew he’d won.
When it landed in the bullseye painted on the chest of the Kraken creature, he turned to her with a triumphant smile.
Chapter Nine
Herhusbandsteppedforward.Their contest had been a public one, so they needed to keep up appearances.He'd hadn't won because she was distracted, but because in a stroke of luck, his throws had been more precise.
“Although I have been proven the winner, I'm surprised Brunhild Skull Cleaver isn't one of your epithets.”
She gave him a rare, gleeful smile.“That is indeed one of my epithets.And even though you've won, husband, it is clear you are in need of more practice.You seem uncomfortable with an axe in your hand.”
He slid his hand around her waist and tugged her closer.“I'd make you take your words back, Valkyrie, but we have an audience.Dissemble and fool them into thinking we are of one accord.”
Her breath hitched in her chest and she scowled to disguise the way his touch unnerved her.“I only do this because I’ll not have the blame for discord laid at my feet.They needn’t know that this victory was a way to gain my freedom.”
“A wise choice,” he rasped as he bent his head toward hers.
Brunhild longed for the touch of his lips, but feared it as well.He was fast becoming a tether to a life she’d never wanted.Often when she woke in their shared bed, his body enveloped hers, his lips pressed against her nape.The weight of his calf thrown over hers and the soft huff of his slumbrous, even breath on her skin made her clench her teeth and fists.Brunhild could ill afford weakness, and she deeply resented the effect he had on her.Even as she secretly craved it.
Now she would feel the touch of his lips on her own, and it was something she’d taken pains to avoid at all costs.His kiss was everything she’d expected and still it tore through her defenses like lightning.
His lips molded the contours of her own like a man drowning, his fingers tight on her hips.The three days growth of his beard scraped her cheek and he groaned as he slipped his tongue into her mouth.Brunhild gripped the sides of his coarse tunic, angling her chin so he could deepen the kiss.She silenced the voice in her head urging caution and retreat and allowed their teeth to clash and their tongues to tangle.Time was frozen for what felt like hours as their bodies drifted closer.
When her husband lifted his head and touched his forehead to hers, she didn’t relax her grip.Brunhild had risen onto the balls of her feet, and wound her hands in his tunic.His grip on her hips was just as fierce.“We have an audience, lass.”
She sank to the ground and stepped away, her cheeks scarlet.She couldn't believe she’d forgotten where they were.“Aye.And we’ve given them the show they wanted,” she said sharply before pressing the back of her hand to her face.
Brunhild could hear the din of the crowd now.They were thumping their chests and stamping their feet.Broadcasting their approval with whistles and wild cries.
Her husband took a step toward her and she retreated.
“You know ‘twas more than a show, Valkyrie,” he said.His brow was furrowed and his hands were clenched at his sides.
“Aye, ‘twas more than a show.‘Twas a wager fairly won.”
Brunhild turned upon her heel and headed for the keep.She sensed his presence behind her, the simmer of his anger as palpable as his desire had been moments ago.She didn’t dare look over her shoulder because he might take it as encouragement.As a softening in her regard or an invitation to approach.
She went in through the kitchens, snagging a loaf of bread set out to cool as she passed it.She heard him grunt his approval, and knew he was grinning at her theft.She still refused to acknowledge him, even as he trailed her up the winding stone staircase and she came to a halt before the room they shared.
When she pushed open the door, she gasped at the disarray.The clothes chest had been emptied, and everything had been strewn about the chamber.The bed linens had been tossed into a corner.
Toran pushed past her with a menacing growl.
Brunhild saw movement barreling toward them from the corner of the room and didn’t hesitate.Her axe flew past his ear with an audible hiss of air and landed with a thunk in the middle of the hooded figure’s forehead.There was a squelching sound and the assassin sank to the floor.