Love's Fury (Viking's Fury #1) Read Free Page B

didn’t deter him as he carried her outside.
    Panic set in as Silvia realized where he was taking her, back to the courtyard. She writhed, kicked, and beat her fists against his back in protest, but the lecherous whoreson only tightened his grip.
    “Put me down,” she demanded.
    “I gave you a choice, remember?” he asked.
    Her blood chilled. He possessed no feelings whatsoever. The bastard murdered her father and knew she was suffering, yet was determined to increase her pain. He would do anything to win. Do anything to prove she had no control of her own life. But she’d not give in. Not while she could still draw a breath. Silvia dug her fingernails into the soft flesh of his earlobe.
    “ Drit !” He stopped abruptly, slapping her arse so hard her teeth rattled. “The next time you assault me, I’ll tie you hand and foot.”
    She cried out as he shrugged her off his shoulder. Once her feet hit the ground, she started to run, but he grabbed a fistful of her gown. Silvia was no match for his brute strength.
    “Don’t you have a drop of mercy in your soul?” she asked.
    “Mercy?” His brows knit together as if he didn’t know what she meant. “I’ll ask the questions.”
    Silvia bit down on her tongue to keep herself from cursing him again. Resisting was hopeless. She glanced down at the dirt-caked toes of her shoes. “Stop dragging me, please .”
    “Stop fighting.” He relinquished his hold on her dress.
    She straightened her gown, frowning at the large tear near her shoulder. “Why are we going back to the church?”
    Konal’s mouth thinned. “To witness the executions of the men who committed treason.”
    Silvia gasped as terror squeezed her chest. “You’d force me to watch after all the unspeakable cruelty I’ve already endured? Have you no heart? Not a shred of compassion for a woman whose father has been taken away from her?”
    “Woman,” he uttered, “if you knew my true nature, you’d understand how much I’ve held back already.”
    She believed him.
    “I’ve permitted you to live this long for only one reason.”
    Aware of his meaning, she didn’t press him any further.
    “You’ll walk with me to the courtyard in silence. Accept your bitter portion of responsibility for the assault your former king led against Prince Ivarr. When the executions are over, we will return to your cottage, gather your belongings, and leave. Understand?”
    Inwardly, she’d never agree to anything he demanded, but she nodded.
    Before they reached the courtyard, the unmistakable sound of weeping and wailing assaulted her ears. Silvia halted. Unshed tears burned her eyes. She couldn’t go on, didn’t want to see the bloodshed. Konal squeezed her arm and forced her to keep moving. She swallowed a scream when they approached the yard. Dozens of bodies swung from the trees.
    The overwhelming stench of death nearly made her faint. Of all the unholy methods of torture and execution, she’d never conceived of so many men being killed at the same time. Her heart ached as she forced herself to look away, only to find Prince Ivarr standing in the forefront. She imagined ripping his sword from his hip and gutting him from neck to navel.
    Saxon women and children were huddled together to her right—the mothers, wives, sons, and daughters of the deceased. To her left, the Danes celebrated, drinking wine, beating their swords against their shields, and praising their bloodthirsty leader. She backed away, wanting to put as much distance between her and the occupiers as she could. The safest place to wait was next to the only heathen who showed any restraint, Konal.
    Surely all the rebels had been executed. Why the soldiers were still assembled she didn’t know. Silvia waited for Ivarr to disperse them. Instead, he raised his hands, signaling for attention. Her unsteady gaze shot over Ivarr’s shoulder. The Danes’ fierce countenances were forever imprinted in her mind. Godless, lawless fiends. She’d seen