“Me jarl?” One of the guards’ voices came through the heavy wood. “Aksel needs ye in the Great Hall immediately. ‘Tis about the ale supply fer the feast.”
Erik closed his eyes, pressing his forehead briefly against Claricia’s trembling thigh.
Of all the bloody times the gods could have chosen...
“Erik,” Claricia whispered, her voice shaking. “Ye have tae?—”
“I ken.” He eased her legs down carefully, steadying her when her knees threatened to buckle.
“Me jarl?” The guard knocked again, more insistently.
“A moment!” Erik called back, his voice rougher than he’d intended. He looked up at Claricia, taking in her flushed cheeks, her kiss-swollen lips, the dazed desire in her eyes. “Taenight,” he promised, adjusting her skirts with gentle hands. “The next time I managed tae get ye all tae meself, ye’ll get the rest,wife.”
She made a sound between a whimper and a laugh, but her eyes were sparkling with mischief even as she tried to catch her breath. “Go. Before they send the entire guard tae fetch ye.”
Erik pressed one last kiss to her forehead, then forced himself to step away and cross to the door. He paused with his hand on the latch, glancing back at her—flushed and beautiful and thoroughly ravished-looking against the wall.
Erik opened the door to find the guard looking studiously at the ceiling, and couldn’t quite suppress his grin as he strode toward the Great Hall—already counting the hours until the feast ended and he could have his wife to himself again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Again!”
Erik’s blade sang against Aksel’s in the wash of the late morning light, the ring of steel sharp enough to wake the dead. Sweat carved rivers down his spine despite the bitter wind rolling off the Atlantic, salt-sharp and cold.
Better the bite of steel than the ache she left me with.
He’d not seen Claricia since he had left her in their chamber, her body warm and soft against his.
Aksel’s next strike came whistling toward his head with the kind of cheerful violence that came from years of friendship. Erik blocked, but his injured shoulder chose that exact moment to remind him of its existence—a sharp twinge that cost him half a heartbeat’s focus.
Cold steel kissed his throat.
“Dead,” Aksel announced, satisfaction rich in his voice.
The training yard went still as a held breath. Two dozen warriors stopped mid-swing to watch, and Erik could practically hear them weighing whether marriage had indeed stolen the Wolf’s teeth.
Erik lowered his blade and turned to face his men, meeting each pair of eyes with the kind of calm that came from having nothing left to prove. “A moment’s wanderin’ thought in battle, and ye’re bleedin’ out in the mud while yer enemy takes yer boots. Dinnae matter what distracted ye—a woman’s smile, yesterday’s insult, or the smell of breakfast.” He smiled. “Dead is dead, lads. Remember that.”
They returned to their drills, and Erik moved to the water barrel, plunging his head beneath the surface. The cold bit deliciously, washing away sweat and cooling him down. When he came up for air, his friend stood waiting with a cloth.
“Ye had somethin’ tae report?” Erik asked, recognizing the set of Aksel’s shoulders—business, not philosophy.
“Aye. The supply shipment from the mainland arrived at dawn.” Aksel’s tone was all practicality now. “Everything fer taenight’s feast is accounted fer—the extra ale barrels, the spices, the wine. Even managed tae get fresh oysters packed in ice from the coast.”
“The quality?”
“Better than I expected, given the short notice. Yer wife’s got the kitchen running like a military campaign. Even old Mhari admits the lass kens what she’s daein’,” Aksel’s expression held grudging approval.
Erik felt something warm settle in his chest. “And the hall preparations?”
“Complete. Tables arranged, rushes laid fresh, the good tapestries hung. Claricia’s been workin’ since the morning alongside the servants—nae orderin’ from above like some ladies would.” Aksel paused meaningfully. “The folk are talkin’, Erik. Sayin’ she’s earned her place here.”
“She has.”
“Aye, she has.” Aksel studied him for a moment. “The guards are positioned fer tonight, weapons checked, though I dinnae expect trouble with Finnian under our roof. Everything’s ready.”
“Good.” Erik dried his face roughly. “And the prisoner from the last raid? Any progress?”
