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

are with me, none will harm you. Now hold on to the saddle, I’ll lead you through the city.”
    “Please,” she begged, her gaze darting about the yard. “Don’t take me—I’m of no use to you. Let me stay in the place I love.”
    “Death sits on every man’s shoulder on this island—Saxon and Dane alike. How long do you think it will be before more ships arrive and strip your precious churches of their wealth and rape your women? How long do you think you’d survive?”
    Instead of pressing her for an answer, he mounted his steed, leaving her to consider his words. They turned north beyond the courtyard, rounding the crowd of people visiting the armory and food stands. Konal sniffed the air and frowned. Only in Saxon cities did he find the appealing smell of fresh bread mingled with the stench of shite.
    Thatched-roofed cottages lined the narrow road and children played wherever they could. Konal navigated carefully to keep the horses from trampling anyone. After a few blocks, he turned in the saddle to check on Silvia. She sat as straight and proud as a captive princess.
    Satisfied, he faced forward again and crossed under a stone archway. As if they entered another world, the grunts, curses, and sounds of battle greeted him. The open space was used for training. He slid off his horse, searching the enclosed yard for Ivarr. The two-story stone house in the background served as officer’s barracks.
    “Come to gloat?” A dark-haired Dane strutted over, sword in hand.
    Konal smirked, grasping his arm in friendship. “To collect you and the other men the prince promised me.”
    “And perhaps to unload your precious cargo?” His gaze traveled slowly over Silvia.
    “Pick another field to plow. The girl stays with me for now,” Konal said. He glanced at her, then stroked her leg, hoping for a smile. “Meet Jahn.”
    “Sir—”
    “Forgive her curtness.” Konal cut her off. “I’ve given her every reason to be unhappy.”
    “Aye,” Jahn acknowledged with a wide grin. “The bastard has a habit of disappointing women.”
    “Don’t be so critical,” Konal said, “or the girl will never accept me.” Konal tapped Silvia’s leg. “Time to come down.” He reached for her. “The prince wishes to make his goodbyes—he’ll want to see you, too.”
    “Like this?” She held up her hands, still ashamed.
    “No one will be looking at your hands,” Jahn assured her.
    Konal disliked what he was implying, but he couldn’t fault a man for admiring his little captive. Silvia slid into his arms and shivered.
    “I’ll stay with you,” he said as he set her on her feet.
    They entered the great hall in silence. Ivarr’s standards covered the walls, leaving no trace of the Saxon earl who once lived there. Half a dozen trestle tables arranged in the center of the room were filled with men. All conversation stopped when Konal approached the dais where the prince sat.
    “Tis good to see you again my friend,” Ivarr greeted. “I’m pleased to know you survived another night with the vixen.”
    The ensuing laughter from the crowd did little to help Silvia relax. Konal gave her a testy look, then bent his head in recognition of the prince. “We’ve reached an agreement, milord.”
    Ivarr eyed her hands. “One that involves a bit of rope.”
    “I prefer her sharp tongue over a blade.”
    “Small mercies.” The prince’s gaze was keenly focused on Silvia. “Are you distressed over leaving your home?”
    She tried to hide her shaky hands under her cloak. Konal draped his arm across her shoulders. “Don’t be afraid to speak,” he whispered. “Ivarr does you a great honor by addressing you directly.” He nodded toward the prince.
    “It grieves me deeply,” she answered.
    Ivarr stood. “You have my sympathies. This great city has suffered immensely. But if your brethren will once again trust me, I promise to rebuild it.”
    Konal didn’t know what to think. Rarely did his former commander recognize