Page 48 of A Shield Maiden's Earl
“We will provide you and your men tents,” King Hákon assured us later that evening, before requesting a word with us alone.
When I cast Soren a worried glance as we followed the king into a smaller tent, concerned we might have come across as Scottish sympathizers, he could only squeeze my hand in comfort, hoping that was not the case.
“Please sit.” The king gestured that we join him by a small fire. “I have been giving it a lot of thought since you arrived and have come to a decision.”
“About what, my liege?” Soren asked.
“About you and Freya, of course,” King Hákon replied. “Whilst I assume you found your way here so that you might return to Scottish shores in the spring, I think for now you have done your fair share for Norway.” He looked back and forth between us. “So, unless you prefer staying for reasons I cannot fathom, I insist you travel home when you’re ready so that you might continue healing, Soren, and welcome your child amongst your tribe.”
Careful to keep relief from my face, I, along with Soren thanked King Hákon and after spending a few more minutes chatting, we retired for the evening, glad to see a basin of water had been brought into our tent for bathing.
Yet before we got that far, Soren wrapped me up in his strong arms, and his mouth was on mine. And that’s all it took to forget anything but each other for the moment. Wasting no time, desperate for each other, our tongues tangled, and we yanked at each other’s clothes in a frenzy, eager to finally feel one another’s flesh again.
After I tugged off his tunic, he whipped off mine. The moment I was free of my boots and trousers, I walked him back against our fur-covered cot until he had no choice but to sit. Burning with need, I barely gave him a chance to free himself before straddling him and sinking onto his hot, rigid shaft, both of us groaning in sharp relief and most certainly, intense pleasure.
Mindful of his wound, I ran my hands up his arms and over his broad shoulders, admiring every bit of him. More than that, I cherished the feel of him beneath my fingers, grateful he lived and was deep inside me.
With me.
Loving me as I loved him.
He did the same, caressing and stroking me as if he had been dreaming of doing it since we last lay together. Running his hands up my thighs and over my slightly swollen belly, he fondled my full, overly sensitive breasts, heightening my sensation.
Cupping his cheeks, I closed my mouth over his and kissed him again, grinding and rolling my hips back and forth slowly in a way that built our pleasure swiftly. Gathering me closer so we were skin to skin, he steered my backside with one hand and wrapped his strong hand in my hair with the other, growling in my ear with pleasure, urging me to go faster.
Take more.
All of him.
So I did, and my building need grew so great that when he released a ragged groan and let go, I went sailing over the edge with him, reveling in the sensations coursing through me. The untouchable way he made me feel.
Never so grateful as to be holding each other again, we remained that way for a time, simply breathing one another in. Feeling our hearts beat as one. Losing ourselves in each otheruntil we finally got around to bathing, before returning to bed and making love all over again.
Eventually, we drifted off in each other’s arms, stirring awake just before dawn. After making love once more, as desperate as we’d been the night before, we bundled into warm furs and stepped outside into the crisp morning. Our breath hit the air in foggy puffs just as the sun crested the horizon.
“’Twill be a good day for sailing if we wish to leave soon.” Soren took in the various shades of purple splashed across the eastern skies. “Though ’twould be better to give our men a few days to relax and enjoy being ashore first.”
“Agreed,” I said, about to say more when my pendant warmed and the smoky trail of a nearby fire caught my attention. Though people had clearly gathered around it the night before, it was down to embers now. Yet as I felt compelled to drift that way, it sputtered to life, and I knew one of my sisters reached out.
“Is it Astrid?” Soren wondered, understanding my inner seer was at work. Frowning with concern, he remained by my side. “Does she need us to return and get her because we will?”
“No, ’tis not her,” I murmured, sure of it. Crouching before the fire, I gazed deeper into flames designed just for me, only to catch glimpses of Tove standing in front of my father’s lodge. She appeared to be trying to gather her emotions before her sad eyes met mine within the flames of a nearby torch.
“Father is on his deathbed, Freya,” she said, her words whispered across the distance through the crackle of fire. “You should come if you can. He wishes to see you.”
However much I thought my love for my father had faded away, given his sour disposition and unreasonable wishes upon my marriage, my chest tightened with pain at the news.
“What is it, Freya?” Soren crouched beside me and gently wiped away a tear I hadn’t realized slipped down my cheek. “What did you see?”
“’Twas Tove.” The fire fizzled away, and my sister’s face vanished in a smoky wisp on the wind. “’Tis the death I still felt coming. My father…and he wishes to see me before he passes.”
“Then we will go see him if you wish,” Soren vowed. “Straight away. We will leave this very day.”
“I do,” I confessed, surprised how much I wanted to see Bjorn one last time, considering how foul he had become over recent years. How obstinate about my handing over prized weapons to Soren. Shaking my head, I frowned at my husband. “Yet we need not deny our men a few days of rest. They have earned it.”
“Ja,” he conceded, considering it. “Why don’t we ask them what they would like to do and let the decision be theirs?”
That seemed fair, so we rallied them together once they woke, including those who had arrived before us, and asked.
