Claricia pressed her lips together, watching anxiously as he gradually—very gradually—uncurled himself. His face was stillflushed, and his breathing came in careful, measured draws like he was testing to make sure everything still worked properly.
After what felt like an eternity, he pushed himself up to sitting with a wince that made her flinch in sympathy.
“I truly am sorry,” she said in a small voice. “I didnae mean tae kick ye…there… I was just startled because we were tangled taegether and me wall wasgoneand I?—”
“Claricia.” He held up one hand, still breathing carefully. “’Tis fine. I’m fine. Mostly.” He tested moving his legs, winced again. “Though I may need a moment before I can walk properly. Or faither children someday.”
“That’s nae funny!”
“It’s nae meant tae be funny.” But his mouth twitched despite the obvious discomfort. “’Tis meant tae behonest,little bird. As things should be between husband and wife.” He looked at the scattered pillows, then at her, then back at the pillows. “So much fer yer fortress.”
“This isnae the time fer?—”
“Apparently we both decided the pillow wall was more trouble than it was worth. In our sleep.” Something shifted in his expression.
Heat flooded her face. Because he was right. Somehow, in the night, they’d both migrated toward each other. Sought each other out. And she’d been comfortable there, wrapped in his warmth, until consciousness had ruined everything with panic and poorly aimed knees.
“I should go,” she said quickly, starting to stand.
“Where?” He caught her wrist—gentle, but firm enough to stop her. “’Tis yer chamber too, remember?”
“But ye need?—”
“Tae sit here fer a few more minutes.” He tugged her back down, and she sat awkwardly beside him on the floor. “Ye can keep me company. Make sure I dinnae pass out from the pain or somethin’.”
“Are ye truly?—”
“I’ll live, lass.” His thumb brushed across her wrist—such a small touch, but it sent heat racing up her arm. “Though I’ll admit, as ways tae wake up go, this wasnae me favorite.”
Despite everything, Claricia felt a laugh bubble up. “I imagine nae.”
“Though findingyein me arms?” His voice dropped, went rough in a way that made her shiver. “That part wasnae terrible. Until ye started attackin’ me.”
Her breath caught. “Erik?—”
A sharp knock at the door made them both freeze.
“Me jarl?” Aksel’s voice came through the wood, urgent and unapologetic. “We’ve a situation. One of the villages sent word—there’s been an incident.”
Erik swore under his breath—creative Norse curses that made Claricia’s eyebrows rise—and carefully, gingerly pushed himself to his feet. He swayed slightly, and she jumped up to steady him without thinking.
“I’m fine,” he muttered, though he didn’t pull away from her touch. “Just… tender.”
“Serve ye right fer bein’ so close,” she whispered.
“Ye were just as close, little bird.”
“Yewere the one whorolled over!”
His eyes caught hers, something dangerous and warm burning in their depths. “Ye’ll get nay complaints from me,wife.”
Before she could formulate a response to that, he was moving toward the door, his gait only slightly stiff. He yanked it open to reveal Aksel, whose gaze immediately took in Erik’s disheveledappearance, Claricia’s flushed face, and the complete disaster of pillows scattered across the room.
One of Aksel’s eyebrows rose. “Did I interrupt?—”
“Ye didnae interrupt anythin’,” Erik said firmly. “What is it?”
“Fishin’ village on the south shore. Mainland trader arrived with supplies, but there’s been some kind of skirmish. They’re requestin’ the jarl’s presence tae sort it.”
