Page 81 of Lord of the North Wind
Osana laughed, the sound snatched away by the wind. The rain was falling hard now, pattering onto the sand and wetting their cloaks. “I’ve never seen you that way … now what of this poem. Please, Flann. I’d like to hear it.”
She liked calling him Flann when they were alone and saw from the tenderness in his eyes that he felt the same way.
“Very well,” he said with a sigh, “although, if you mock me, woman, I’ll not read another one ever again.”
“I would never mock you,” she said, all mirth fading. “And I am listening.”
They stopped then, oblivious to the rain that slanted across the beach, turning the world grey. The solid bulk of Bebbanburg fort loomed above them, yet they only had eyes for each other.
Aldfrith held her gaze and began to speak.
“You lie upon my heart like a song
Wise like the earth
Like the ageless moon
You are branded on my soul
We are bound, you and I
There is no choice in it
You shadow my thoughts
Every waking breath
You are my dawn
My noon
My twilight.”
Silence followed Aldfrith’s words. The pair clung together, the rain sluicing across them, plastering their hair to their scalps. The pause drew out, and Aldfrith gave a pained expression. “I knew it … you think it’s awful, don’t you? Sentimental drivel.”
Osana hitched in a breath, blinking back tears. “I think no such thing. It’s beautiful. It comes from your heart, and I love it.”
Relief suffused his face. “Truly?”
“Aye, truly.” She held his gaze. “I love you, Aldfrith. I will cherish those lines for the rest of my days.”
He leaned in, kissing her deeply. Osana clung to him, the driving rain forgotten as his mouth moved over hers. She melted against him and placed her right hand over his heart. The thunder of it against her palm was all the proof she needed that he had meant every word of that poem.
The love they shared had an intensity that sometimes felt as if she were drowning in it, and yet she would gladly do so. There could be no sweeter end.
Finally drawing back, his face slick with rain, Aldfrith favored her with a smile that made Osana’s knees tremble beneath her. Then he reached down and placed a hand over her belly; it had just started to swell now. The midwife had told her the babe would be due at Yuletide.
Aldfrith linked his arm through hers once more, and they turned west, walking toward the dunes and the causeway that would take them back to Bebbanburg’s low gate. “Come, wife,” he said, his smile turning wicked. “Let’s get out of the rain. I promised to divest you of your clothing, did I not?”