A Viking's Catch (Book One of the Sogn Series)

Chapter Three

Clare shakily pointed a finger at Roald, and hesitantly said, "You are the king? Of all Vikings?"

"Yes," Roald confirmed, sitting up proudly in his seat, "I am the Jarl."

"But," she pressed once more, "of all Vikings?"

Roald held in a laugh, "'No, not of all Vikings, but all of those in my clan."

His men were watching her warily as she processed the information, "And you want me to be your wife?" She said her words slowly.

Roald nodded curtly, "Again, that is correct. You are to be the wife of a jarl, of me."

She stood abruptly from her chair and put her hands in the air for emphasis, "I refuse, for I am only seventeen years, and you are much older than I. Surely, you have at least thirty years?"

His men burst out in laughter after she had said that, some spitting out their ale, as they tried to hold in their amusement. Roald shook his head seriously, "Actually, I have only twenty years. Surely, you do not think me so old?"

Clare threw her hands into the air once more, "What do I know anymore? You are young, merciless, and a jarl of Vikings!"

She backed away from the table, pointing an accusing finger at him, "You will not have me. I refuse it!" Then, just as quickly as the words left her mouth, Clare took off running away from them all.

She could hear many men laughing again, and the burly man from before yelled out, "Go after your wife, Jarl, for she is getting away!" Which only caused the men to laugh louder, as a screeching of a chair could be heard from not too far behind her.

Clare ran out of the house, and put on more speed down the roads through her town. She fled to the beach, wondering if Roald was purposely allowing her to get away, as if knowing where she would go. Her toes had just touched the water when two strong arms wrapped around her torso, stopping her.

He stood firmly, with his two arms unwavering from where they held her. Clare was forced to stare at the raging waves in front of her, glistening beneath the starry night.

She felt his lips graze her ear, as they did once before, but his tone was not as kind this time, "Do not run away from me again."

Clare grunted in response. He took it as approval and when he loosened his grasp on her, she did not hesitate to push away from him and run for the waves again. This time, she got halfway into them before he reached her again. He threw her over his shoulder roughly, and walked back to shore to where he put her down on the sand.

The moonlight glimmered against his skin, making it seem to glow as he faced her. He took both of her hands in one of his, and growled out, "What were you trying to do? Drown yourself?"

Clare ignored her clinging wet clothes, and spat back, "It would have been much better than marrying you!"

His face hardened at that, and he pushed her down so that he was lying on top of her. He let his hand graze her side, distracting Clare long enough for him to say, "I promise you, just as I have before, that you will soon learn to accept your fate with me."

"No, I will not ever accept such a fate," she retorted, trying to wiggle free of his strong body, which made him push more of his weight against her.

He was silent, and for a long moment Clare wondered if he would say anything at all. Instead, he bent his head closer to hers and then shockingly pressed his lips to her ear. He nibbled her earlobe, and used his free hand to stroke down her side once more, "You are wrong."