Svanna looked the picture of the golden-haired princess, the sort that had inspired a thousand songs and sagas fromskalds. But she wasn’t one. She’d been quite clear on that.
‘You appear to remember the words quite well,’ Svanna said after he gave his vow according to Var.
‘Some things never leave you,’ he replied. ‘Even if they cease to have much meaning.’
Her mouth tightened at that. ‘But I take such matters seriously and intend to hold true to my vows.’
She lisped the vows in the curious sing-song voice that she sometimes used. He wondered why she adopted it and what it meant. He resolved to ask her in private. Máel Sechnaill might take her less seriously, but he suspected it was a symptom of her feeling anxious in some way.
He allowed the rest of the ceremony to flow over him.
When Sigmund suggested that they seal the marriage with a kiss, he jumped with a start. At her startled expression, he lifted her chin. Her blue eyes were unfathomable pools.
‘Expected,’ he murmured, bringing his arms about her and pulling her gentle curves against his body.
‘I know.’ Her voice was barely above the faintest whisper.
He brought his mouth down on hers, intending the kiss to be merely symbolic, but her lips trembled and parted slightly.
He found it impossible not to drink deeper and further, bringing his arms tighter about her until her entire body moulded against his. Her hands laced about his neck as if she were clinging to him because her legs had melted. Her tongue touched his before entangling. Not entirely indifferent to him then.
The noise from the crowd stamping their feet jolted him back to reality.
He loosened his arms and lifted his head.
‘A small taste of what the wedding night will be like,’ he said loudly for their consumption. A loud chorus of cheers filled the hall.
‘That should hold them,’ he murmured to Svanna. ‘I stand by my earlier oath to you.’
Her thumb explored her kiss-swollen mouth. ‘I wondered.’
‘No pleasure in it any other way.’
Her cheeks flamed to a bright scarlet, making him wonder if her reputation as an Ice Maiden meant her experience was limited.
‘We go at your pace.’
She dipped her head so all he could see was her twisted crown. ‘I do appreciate the thought.’
He knew he should say something more, perhaps about them making a good team, but words failed him. Instead, he raised her hand and kissed the palm. ‘To newfound friendship.’
Chapter Seven
The torches threw shifting shadows on the walls of Halfr’s bedchamber, which he’d decreed must be used for the happy couple’s wedding night. The women, including Astrid, had all gathered there to ensure that Svanna was given a proper send-off. Her hair had been brushed until it hung about her shoulders like a golden cloud, and she was now dressed in her finest under-gown, rather than her much more serviceable everyday one.
Fighting against a rising tide of nausea, Svanna tried to remain still and allow the women to do their gossipy best, but the nerves she’d experienced during the ceremony had returned with a vengeance. Her insistence on a quick marriage was ill-thought-out, she knew that now. But it was too late for all the fears, doubts and worries which crowded her mind.
She wondered why she had chosen the riskier path. Had her past dreams of the youth she’d fashioned in her mind influenced her? When would she stop being like a sighing maiden? She firmed her mouth. A maiden, that was what she was—just.
‘Look at you,’ Astrid said, leaning heavily on a servant’s arm but upright and able to slowly shuffle about the room, even if she had not felt capable of attending the actual ceremony. ‘One could not ask for a prettier bride.’
‘Lord Randolfr is very lucky. Beauty combined with brains,’ a woman added.
‘That kiss they shared at the altar,’ another added, touching her forefinger to her mouth before raising it. ‘Such passion. Obviously, love at first sight. No wonder neither was willing to wait.’
All the women sighed and giggled. Several made lewd comments about what Svanna would be looking forward to and taking bets on the state of the sheets in the morning.
Svanna concentrated on the rushes and struggled not to explain that Lord Randolfr’s heart was buried with his first wife and he therefore welcomed their arrangement of a platonic marriage. A little voice in her head protested that his kiss at the wedding demonstrated that he was not averse to her, even if he had agreed to her terms for waiting until she was ready.
