Page 11 of A Shield Maiden's Earl
His eyes narrowed again, and he tilted his head in question. “Our final union?”
“Ja.” I was sure to look humbled, if not a tad bashful, when neither came naturally to me. “Before I give you the strong sons you promised my father.”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and the corners of his mouth slanted down. “Surely, you’re not referring to lying together after we marry, sealing our bond as man and wife?”
“I was, so you can see why I’m so grateful you agreed to this.” I offered him a tentative, hopeful smile that again did not come naturally to me, but I would do whatever it took. “It speaks highly of the marriage we will share.” I cocked my head at his troubled expression, sure to appear worried. “You did mean what you said,ja?”
Based on his wariness, I thought he would go back on his word, but he surprised me, cornering me as swiftly as I had him.
“I did mean what I said,” he finally replied, eyeing me with a bit too much cunning if I didn’t know better. “Yet I feel, given this is more than any husband would allow, that I would have you do something for me in turn? Otherwise, I might have to reconsider, given my people will be watching closely, and as you can imagine, expect something of this truly advantageous union.”
“What did you have in mind?” I wondered.
“That you allow my affections until you’re ready to fulfill your marital obligations,” he said. “’Tis more than fair to ask of you, and ’twill help quell any rumors of us not yet being properly betrothed.”
“And what do you consider affections?” I countered, sensing there would be no way around this.
“Need you ask?”
“I would not have asked otherwise.”
“Anything that gives the appearance of us being together as we should,” he returned. Despite his being as soaked as me in the chilly weather, the pad of his thumb felt warm against my cool cheek when he dusted it along my jaw. “Mayhap an embrace here or there, or the touch of my lips against yours. Your hand in mine or even just this as I feel your cheek. All signs of affection that would appease curious eyes.”
Sensing he might change his mind about lying together if I disagreed, and knowing he was not entirely wrong in his request, I did the only thing I could and conceded to his stipulation. Yet as triumph flared in his gaze and he pulled away, leaving a trail of warmth where he’d touched me and a breathless sensation that had not been there before, I realized his affections might very well work against my wishes. His effect on me, whether standing close or touching me, was tangible if not outright arousing.
After that, we spoke of other things, namely what I could expect once we made landfall, but the discussion we’d had about intimacy lingered in my mind, and I worried. Although my virtue had remained intact after I was attacked years before, the fear of nearly losing it that night against my will still haunted me.
Given my own experience, I had never quite understood why women found pleasure in a man’s arms, because I’d heard their lusty moans of pleasure within my own tribe, yet I was getting a better idea since Soren arrived. Now, it became increasingly challenging to think of anything but what it might feel like to feel the affection of which he spoke, never mind letting him between my thighs. More pointedly, I found myself eager for his next touch rather than dreading it.
He pointed out trunks full of shields, axes, and blades, seeing through his promise when he urged me to take whatever I likednow that we were out of my father’s sight. And though I didn’t mind my wet clothes in the cold wind, I was grateful when he replaced my wet bear fur with one of the few that had remained relatively dry in my trunk.
“Whilst some of the wolf furs remained drier,” he murmured in my ear, removing my wet fur and wrapping the other around my shoulders from behind, “’Tis only right you return to my,our, people wearing the bear.”
He didn’t step away but remained close with his hands resting on my shoulders when we rounded the bend, and his stronghold appeared in the distance in all its glory. Easily double the size of my father’s, and tucked between mountains steeped in clouds, it was well-fortified with an admirable wall, protecting the numerous longhouses and cottages within. If that were not impressive enough, his fleet of ships certainly was.
“Your boat builder, Brynhild, has been busy,” I exclaimed, shocked that even now, with so much sprawling out in front of me, I could be more aware of his heat and touch at my back than this place I would soon call home.
“She has,” he rumbled, his voice deeper than usual and still close to my ear. “What do you think of it all, Freya? Though you might not recall, much has changed since the last time you were here.”
“It has,” I agreed. “Though to be honest, ’tis a bit hazy as I suspect I was already coming down with a fever by the time I arrived.”
“No doubt you were,” he said, finally standing alongside me, but not before—I swore—he inhaled my scent as if he could not help himself. “You didn’t look well upon arrival.”
“I’m surprised you remember,” I said. “’Twas years ago.”
“I remember every time I saw you.” His gaze grew shadowed when he looked at me. “Especially that time because you became gravely ill.”
It was clear from the haunted look on his face that my state had troubled him greatly. Enough to speak once again to his esteem for me in our youth. Yet as his gaze lingered on my face, and my talisman warmed against my chest, I got the sense there was more to that visit than I recalled. Something he was not sharing. Before I could ask what, his focus returned to the shore, and he smiled as more and more people made their way onto the docks to greet us.
A towering giant of a man with an expression even darker than the one Knud usually wore greeted us once we lowered the sails, the ship was tied off, and we made our way onto the pier. If that is, one wanted to call the brute’s simple nod and fierce scowl at me a greeting. Dressed much like Soren in a dark leather tunic and trousers, he wore a thick black fur over his shoulders, had shaved the sides of his light brown, braided hair, and woven several small braids into his beard.
Soren introduced him as his good friend and second-in-command, Ivar. The man he left in charge when he was not here.
“’Tis just a matter of Ivar getting to know you better,” Soren said, after his man offered me nothing more than a grunt hello and went to oversee the unloading of the ships. “He’s never taken well to outsiders. Once he trusts you, he will lay down his life for you, and few warriors are so fierce or loyal.”
“Something tells me his trust is not easily won,” I said, not put off by Ivar’s cold greeting, but then curtness and grumpiness were something I was used to with my father.
“Ah, ’tis good to lay eyes on you again, my boy,” a short, slender, older woman said boisterously, grinning from ear to ear as she strode for Soren with a slight gait and pulled him into a hearty embrace.
