When Rollo returned home the fire had dwindled down to soft embers. But it was still bright enough for him to see the outline of Edithe, lying curled up on the bench with her arm resting under her head. At first, he thought she was sleeping but as he knelt down her unsteady breaths gave away that she was only pretending. He smiled, two could play at that game.

Carefully easing her from the bench, he carried her bridal style into his bedchamber where he laid her across the bed. On their journey from Briton, he'd imagined having her here many times but in his fantasy's she'd always been naked and free and beckoning him to join her. Now she lay still, her body rigid and her eyes squeezed shut.

He began to unlace her shoes, singing an old shanty song Floki had taught him, his voice deep and smooth. Still, she would not be disturbed. Next, he removed his own boots and then his tunic. When his trousers hit the floor he longed for her to look at him and see the way he stood before her.

Rollo was proud of his naked form. He was strong and well proportioned and many women delighted in seeing him this way. He wanted Edithe to see his body and how it craved her. He wanted her to know that he was choosing to restrain himself. Choosing to honor her. But she ignored him and he grunted in disappointment.

With his manhood straining for relief he blew out the candle and crawled into bed beside her, his fingers entwining in her hair before bringing a lock to his lips. Part of him wanted her to jump up and fight him, the other part enjoyed the peacefulness of lying beside a woman's warm body. It had been a while since he'd enjoyed such simple pleasure.

Carefully, he wedged his arms around her, pulling her close, his face buried into her hair. It tickled him but he did not mind it much and he fell into a heavy sleep with ease, not noticing how she slowly pried herself away from him, inch by inch until his arm stretched across an empty bed. She had some stealth he could give her that but Rollo was accustomed to bedmates sneaking away in the night.

First and foremost he was a warrior. He'd spent his entire life learning how to sleep with his ears open to unwelcomed sounds. No matter how gently she tried to do it, he registered the lid scraping from his wooden chest and his eyes sprang open.

Immediately he knew what she was looking for. His hammer. It was a token of his boyhood and he'd spent many hours play fighting with Ragnar when they were still young enough to have no winners or losers in their games.

Until now he'd forgotten it was hidden in his chest and might not have left a weapon so easily in her reach if he'd known. But now he was glad of it, his blood was pumping, excited to see what she would do next.

Feigning sleep he watched her shadowy figure tiptoe around the bed before standing over him, his hammer raised over her head. Again she was a Valkyrie, a beautiful harbinger of death and he could not get enough.

If she brought the hammer down he would resist her easily and he would have fun doing it but she was hesitating. Why, he could not say but eventually the hammer slowly fell to hang limp in her hand rather than crashing against his skull.

His ego was pleased to imagine she'd looked down upon him and decided she liked what she saw. But perhaps it was something else which stopped her, something he could not understand. Rollo had never been one to consider violence. If his life was in danger he lashed out until it was not. But he was Viking and she was a fragile little Saxon.

Regardless of why she did it, she returned the hammer back into his chest and began to tiptoe from the room.

Now Rollo was done pretending to sleep. If she was not going to fight him he still wanted her in his bed one way or another.

"Enough games, Valkyrie," he said, startling her as he grabbed her hand to halt her escape.

She fell easily into his arms and he chuckled as he pulled her back into his embrace, his leg hooked over her rump and their bodies spooned tightly together. A perfect fit in his mind.

"I dare you to fight me now," he whispered on deaf ears, wishing he knew the Saxon words to say to rile her beautiful temper. But she allowed him to hold her until she could sneak from his embrace once more.

In the morning Rollo found Edithe sitting in the other room, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "Good morning, my little warrior," he said, adding wood to the fire and placing the hammer on the table as a way to provoke her.

She ignored it as she ignored him, turning her attention to staring out of the window.

"I hope you slept well and that my sword did not poke you too hard in the back," he said, amusing himself.

Of course, she didn't understand him and continued to ignore his attention.

"Woman," he called to her but she remained transfixed.

"Edithe," he demanded and slowly her gaze met his.

"That's better," he said, smiling broadly. "Are you hungry?" he gestured as if placing imaginary food in his mouth.

Picking up the charred remains of her plate from the edge of the fire he remarked, "I see you have not eaten your supper."

"Food," he said, gesturing again.

"No," she replied firmly in her Saxon tongue but this word he understood and it bristled his temper.

"You will eat, woman!"

Edithe rose from her seat, her eyes now filled with venom and focused entirely on him. She snatched the plate from his hand and threw it through the window with remarkable accuracy, all the while chastising him.

He understood the words 'God' and 'heathen' but the others were a mystery to him, all of them reeled out fast with anger before she prodded her finger into the centre of his chest as a way of concluding her tirade.

He kept his face even, trying not to laugh before prodding her back lightly, "do not poke your finger at me, woman."

This action, no matter how gentle, only served to incense her and she slapped his hand away, cursing him again, calling him a heathen again.

Rollo grabbed his fur cloak and headed for the door. It seemed talking to Edithe was more impossible than he'd imagined. He could barely understand a thing she said although he gathered the general meaning of it. But, more importantly, every time she shouted and raged like a wild woman he found it nearly impossible to resist pinning her against the wall and kissing her until she was too breathless to speak.

Perhaps provoking her was not a good idea. And perhaps it had been a good thing she'd pretended to sleep last night. For both of them.

He found Haedde already on the way to his home and complained to the old woman as they walked back together. Edithe had barely eaten a morsel of food on their journey to Kattegat and he would not have her under his roof slowly withering away like a caged bird. He wanted a wife that was fit and strong like Lagertha.

"Tell her she must eat," he relayed to Haedde who was already slicing bread and cheese.

Edithe responded to Haedde with a more restrained fury, her words were still curt but they were not shouted and she no longer flailed her arms.

"Lady Edithe says she will not eat while she shares a home with you, my Lord."

Rollo tore into his bread angrily. "Then she will starve!"

Haedde avoided looking at him but Edithe held his gaze. Challenging him. Testing his resolve.

"Look at her," he gestured to Haedde. "She is already too skinny. If she does not eat then I might as well take her in my bed and enjoy her company while she is still alive to give it to me."

Haedde said nothing and her face was pale with nerves. But Rollo was not going to tiptoe around this Saxon like a starry-eyed boy. He'd told Solveig she was too beautiful to scold but she was also too beautiful to go to waste.

"Tell her, old woman! She is in the house of a Viking, not a chaste little Christian monk. She will eat or she will force my hand."

Haedde relayed his message and the contempt which had been sitting on Edithe's face was replaced once more with fury. The things he said or threats he made were never going to frighten her into submission. But that was why Haedde was a slave and Edithe never could be.

She jumped from her seat, grabbed the hammer and swung it at him with full force. Last night she had stopped herself from trying to kill him, this morning it seemed she could not be so restrained.

He stepped away but she managed to clip his arm and the action only encouraged her attack. She swung for him again and this time he caught her wrist in his hand, squeezing it tighter and tighter until she yelped and the hammer dropped from her grasp.

Her slender bones were delicate in his strong hands and no doubt he could crush them to dust if he wanted to. No doubt he could take her into his bed at this very moment if he wanted to. Maybe he was a fool to deny his urges, maybe she would only ever look at him how she was looking now. With hatred burning in her eyes. But he steadied his temper.

Restraint, he reminded himself. If he could not last a single day then he was no worse than an animal.

He smiled, his eyes mocking her, "eat and perhaps I will show you how to fight so you might one day stand a chance against me, little Valkyrie."

This time Haedde relayed his words without hesitation and Edithe's stance softened, her voice now animated as she spoke to the old woman.

"She's asking if you will show her how to…" Haedde seemed uncomfortable to say the next part of the question but she did as she was bid, "kill you?"

Rollo's smile turned into a grin and he allowed Edithe's wrist to fall from his hand. "Yes," he told her and this was a word she understood.

She grabbed the bread he was holding in his other hand and shoved it into her mouth. What she said next he could only assume was, "stupid heathen." Or some other insult. But he could barely contain his smirk.

"Please do not be too upset with her. She does not know her own mind. It has only been a day and I'm sure she does not mean to harm you," Haedde fussed, trying to placate him. For her sake or for Edithe's he could not tell. But he was not upset.

"Why should she not wish to kill me? I am a heathen Viking who wants nothing more than to bed her," he laughed.

Haedde blushed, embarrassed by his crude words while Edithe resumed her seat, victory dancing in her eyes. But it was him who would be victorious. Already he had got what he wanted and all she had done was agree to spend time in his company. Teaching her how to carry a sword and shield would be a pleasure to him and only strengthen their bond.

Before heading out to make arrangements for their first lesson, he picked up the hammer from the floor and placed it back on the table. He had no need to take it from her. If there came a day when Edithe could overcome him with it then he deserved to die at the mercy of her dainty Saxon hands.