Free Love's Fury (Viking's Fury #1) by Violetta Rand

you’ll think differently.” He ran his fingers up her arm. “Whatever inspired you to sit on my lap doesn’t matter.” He tilted her chin. “Did you forget what I gave you this morning?”
    The severed head … she’d forgotten about it. “Is it truly the man who killed my sire?”
    “Does it matter?”
    “Aye.”
    “No,” he admitted. “But the bastard threatened to harm you.”
    For a fleeting moment she’d hoped Konal had avenged her father. But how could he know—with the smoke and fire—and the Saxons fighting for their freedom… “Did you kill him?”
    “No.” he said. “My sword struck no one in the scriptorium. I reserve my skills for the battleground, not for men who bury their faces in manuscripts and wear women’s clothes.”
    “Robes,” she corrected.
    “Call their garments what you will.” He shrugged. “The White Christ surrounds himself with weaklings.”
    “My God is no coward.”
    He cupped her face. “Your indomitable spirit alone makes me think twice about him. But beyond you, I’ve seen no proof of his strength. Odin and Thor deserve my devotion. And I would die defending them. But your holy men flee like scared children instead of fighting.”
    Savagery pumped hot and fierce through his veins like blood. And there was nothing to say in defense of the priests, for Jesus commanded them to turn the other cheek. And to a man as brutal as Konal, that meant one thing—cowardice.

Chapter Nine
    K onal ushered Silvia outside, there’d be plenty of time to debate about her god on the road. First, he needed to bid farewell to Ivarr, a man he’d grown fond of but never wanted to see again. Then he’d collect the five warriors pledged to Konal by the prince—additional reward for his service. Although Konal had gained wealth and a title, he wanted to go home. It had been months since he’d seen the ocean. And before he arrived at his new steading, he planned to ride to the fishing village of Filey, where he could stand atop the vast, red cliffs and gaze across the North Sea.
    Three horses were tethered to the trees near a storage shed by the church. He inspected them again; checking the saddles, making sure the horse carrying the supplies wasn’t overloaded. He patted the gray beast affectionately, scratching him behind the ear. “You must make an important decision,” he told Silvia. “Ride alone or with me.”
    Sunlight reflected in her eyes like tiny flames. “Alone,” she answered warily, gazing at the beasts.
    “In so choosing,” he said, taking a piece of rope off his weapon belt, “I’m forced to bind your hands.”
    She stepped back a few feet. “I promise I won’t try to escape.”
    He wanted to believe her. Despite his growing infatuation, he needed to remember she was a slave. Thralls would say anything to get what they wanted. “It’s for my protection and yours.”
    “No.”
    “Silvia. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Hold up your hands.”
    She refused.
    He raked his hand through his hair. “The time for defiance is over. There is no shame in accepting what you are. But you’ll feel the sting of humiliation if you continue to fight me.”
    Likely realizing her continued resistance was futile, she gave up and offered her wrists. Konal wrapped the rope around them several times and knotted it in the middle. “What happened to the girl willing to do whatever she was told?”
    “I am still here, milord.”
    “Good.” He lifted her onto one of the horses. “I give you fair warning. Keep a civil tongue when you meet any Danes. Or say nothing at all. Few would endure your bitter tongue.”
    She swallowed, visibly concerned. “What you shared earlier about the man you killed…”
    “Aye,” he said. “Several have expressed interest in you.”
    She lowered her head—ashamed by the idea of so many men noticing her. She’d always been chaste, not the kind of girl to draw attention to herself.
    “Don’t worry, Silvia. As long as you