“I will have to ponder this. It is disturbing. I like Cleve very much, but he has nothing to bring to Sarla. Aye, I will have to think about this.”
“You won’t take other women, will you, Merrik?”
He kneaded her buttocks, saying simply, “Erik believed I would. Who knows? After all, thus far you have proved yourself to be a cold woman, with little care for the pleasure I would offer you. You endure me, nothing more. You sigh with boredom when I am moaning with pleasure. It makes my man’s rod shrivel.”
She laughed, sent her fist lightly again into his belly, then immediately flattened her palm and caressed him. She felt his muscles tighten, felt him suck in his breath in anticipation. She smiled into the darkness, but didn’t allow her fingers to go lower. “ ’Tis true,” she said, her voice as sad as a merchant’s who had just lost a valuable barter. “I cannot even bring myself to give you any pleasure. Look at my hand. By the gods, it won’t move downward to your shriveled manhood. I can’t seem to make it move. What am I to do?”
He laughed, then grabbed her hand in his and pressed it against him. “Ah,” he said. “Now you needn’t do anything, at least until I direct you to.”
She found that her fingers did move. She wanted to stroke him, to feel him lurch and quiver as his need grew.
His need grew quickly. She was laughing until he came into her fully. Then she closed her eyes against the power of him and what he made her feel and she drew him deeper and deeper still. She groaned into his mouth, pushing upward, then yet again, until she cried out her pleasure. He kissed her until she calmed and then he found his own release.
“You pleased me, Merrik,” she said, her voice still raw and breathless. “Aye, you pleased me.” She bit his shoulder, then said, “Next time I will please you more.”
He wondered how that would be possible, but didn’t question it. He said, “We will bathe the smell of me off you. I wouldn’t want your uncle to kill me before he believes that we’re married.”
“Leave the smell of me on your flesh.”
He shuddered at her words and came into her again.
“We must sleep soon,” Merrik said when his heart had once again slowed. He rolled onto his back, Laren pressed against his side.
“Aye,” she said, and kissed his chest.
“I cannot stop thinking of my brother. He was so very alive, Laren. He loved life, he wanted everything he could get from it. You saw him acting the bastard, unfair and arrogant. But I knew him before.”
“Did he change so much?”
“Aye, I believe he must have chafed sorely against my father’s authority, for my father was master of Malverne and none other, even his eldest son who was his heir to Malverne. After my father’s death, he gained too much power too quickly. Aye, it changed him, made him unmindful of others, made him unwise in his arrogance. There was no one like my father there to temper his vanity.”
“He hurt Sarla very much.”
“I saw the bruises on her face. That wasn’t well done of him. She is a gentle girl, kind and giving. Still, to die in such a way, I would have wished it otherwise.”
“Deglin is dead, and that is something.”
“Aye,” he said, kissed her forehead, and pressed her cheek against his shoulder.
Weland, Duke Rollo’s first lieutenant, a man who had been at Rollo’s right hand since they’d both been boys, a man so strong he could pull a sapling oak from the ground, was grinning like a hyena.
“I have a great surprise for you, sire, a very great surprise.”
Prince Rollo, as he was called by his people, even though his lands were called a duchy and thus he was only a duke by grant of the French king, was taller than any sapling Weland could pull from the ground. He turned his dark eyes on his man and said, “Aye, Weland, what is it this time? You bring me a Nubian maid to warm my old bones? Mayhap a magic potion to stop the grinding pain in my joints? A stallion tall enough so my feet don’t drag the ground?”
“Nay, sire, I bring you a gift beyond any weight of silver. Laren has come back.”
Rollo just stared at Weland. “You jest,” he said at last. “She and Taby are dead, long dead. I forgive you most things, Weland, but this is too much. Do not trifle with me.”
Weland just shook his head, still smiling like a fool, and called out, “Bring them in!”
Rollo saw only the slender girl with her glorious red hair, nearly curling to her shoulders, the way he’d always liked her to wear it when she was younger. He’d hated her braids because they’d dimmed the beautiful color, the exact same shade as his older brother Hallad’s hair. She was too slender, he saw as she walked closer, ah, but she’d become a beauty, and more than that, there was more of life in her eyes, and more shadows, but there was also joy and confidence that the child had lacked. She was gowned beautifully in a soft blue linen that was belted at her waist. She wore finely wrought silver brooches and silver armlets. She was almost of his loins, this graceful creature, and now she was here, alive, with a man striding beside her.
He said her name softly, just the saying of it making her real, very real. He rose, towering over even the back of his throne.
“Laren!”
His shout reverberated throughout the chamber, and she laughed aloud and ran to him, and he caught her up in his arms, lifting her high off the floor, and squeezing her and laughing with her now.
