Page 45 of A Shield Maiden's Earl
“Good,” Astrid said. “I will give you two some time alone and retrieve water for bathing. Food and drink are already on the table.”
“Thank you for all you have done for me, Astrid.” I clasped her hand before she could walk away, and met her eyes, never more serious. “Truly. ’Twas very kind of you, my new sister, and ’twill not be forgotten.”
“Of course, my new brother,” she replied warmly.
After she left, I finally stood, and nothing had ever felt better. Shaking my head, I marveled at it. “I truly never thought this would happen again.”
“Nor did Astrid,” Freya confessed. “But I knew you would.” She lifted her chin in defiance. “I would have it no other way.”
“No, I don’t imagine you would any more than I would see you lost to me far too soon.” I reeled her into my arms and cupped her cheek, cherishing the feel of her against me once more. “We have too many memories yet to make together, wife.”
Closing my lips over hers, I kissed her soundly. Deeply. With everything in me, tasting what had been gone from me for too long. Gripping her backside, I pulled her tight against my arousal, wanting more.
“’Tis too soon for that, husband,” she murmured, smiling against my lips.
“’Tis not too soon at all.” I untied the strings on her trousers. “’Tis past time, and I would feel you again, Freya. Touch you. Hold you.”
“Yet you forget where you are,” she said softly. “And who might come through our door at any moment.”
She was not wrong. It would be unfortunate to find a sword in my back while deep inside her. The Mackays might claim I was free to go, but they could easily change their mind. To that end, I sighed and agreed that it would be best to wait, then sat down to enjoy a round, flat, cake-like bread called bannock and a thick, flavorful vegetable stew. Eventually, Astrid returned with a bucket of warm water and a washcloth, as filling a basin for bathing would draw too much attention.
“We will leave tonight given Ivar will be coming ashore as scheduled,” I made clear, washing up after Astrid left again, admiring Freya standing in front of the fire, staring into the flames. “Then we sail back to the Hebrides to see how the king fares.”
“You mean to see if the king needs you again,” she corrected.
“’Tis my duty, Freya,” I said, feeling a twinge of discomfort in my midsection when I pulled on a clean tunic. A reminder that I was still healing. “’Twould be poor of me not to.”
“No doubt ’twould.” She sighed. “I see nothing alarming in the flames right now, but I feel death on our doorstep again.” Shaking her head and furrowing her brow, she seemed troubled. “Yet I cannot see from which direction it comes.”
Although unsettled by her words, there was little I could do about them but try to get us safely away from these shores as soon as possible. Fortunately, Freya had brought me a few changes of clothing so I could dress appropriately, and after swinging my black fur cloak around my shoulders, I at long last felt like myself again.
“What I wouldn’t do for a blade at my side,” I muttered, not surprised that there were none to be found. That would have been foolhardy of the Mackays.
“Soon enough.” Freya poured me an ale. “There are plenty on my boat.”
I eyed her curiously. “And how did your boat fare on its first long journey?”
“Truly well.” She smiled. “’Tis a fine vessel, aided and not hindered, it seemed, by its crack.”
She told me how the crack had warmed at her touch, and the winds carried them even faster. How what had seemed to divide us had only brought us back together again.
When Astrid rejoined us, she didn’t seem surprised to hear we would be leaving that night. The sun had already set, so it would not be long now.
“I agree with Freya that ’tis unwise for you to stay here, Astrid.” I frowned and shook my head. “If for no other reason than ’tis Declan Mackay you will be staying with, and he’s not to be trusted.”
“Yet here you sit safely in his castle,” she pointed out. “Unharmed and free to go when he might have decided otherwise.”
“I believe he did,” I reminded. “’Twas his father who gave me safe harbor.”
“And ’tis his father I will marry to remain safe here,” she revealed, shocking us, “whilst trying to keep the peace betwixtthe local Scots and the few Norse left that have long called this land home.”
“Surely not,” Freya exclaimed, frowning. “He’s at least twice your age!”
“Women marry men twice their age all the time,” Astrid said. “This will be an advantageous marriage, and he’s always shown me kindness. Word will be sent to Father, and I imagine he will be most pleased.”
“Without doubt so long as you hand over your shield and blade, and vow never to battle,” Freya muttered dryly, looking at Astrid dubiously. “And what of Declan?” She narrowed her eyes, as if trying to picture it. “He’s to become your son by marriage despite the two of you being so close in age?”
“That, too, happens all the time,” she reminded, her voice different now, as if she battled her emotions. “Declan is fine with it. He has no choice.”
