“You’ll have to lead, my love.”
Mir guards stood at attention as their monarchs swayed among the Baer villagers. Bryn laughed as she watched, thinking how their parents could never imagine a world where kings danced next to shepherds.
Oliver approached the head table, and Bryn expected him to address Rangar or Valenden, but to her surprise, he nodded to Saraj instead. “Saraj Swiftjoy, might I have a dance?”
No one looked more surprised than Saraj herself. Hardly anything flummoxed the falconer, but Oliver’s request had her speechless. Her cheeks turned pink. “Oh . . . ah, yes. Of course.”
She looked nervous as he led her to the dancing area, but after a few exchanged words, she smiled.
Bryn leaned close to Rangar. “I haven’t heard Saraj speak a word of interest about any man since Trei’s death.”
He rested his arm on her chair back as he confided, “Oliver was Trei’s closest friend. He, Trei, and Saraj spent many nights together at the tavern or training Zephyr. Perhaps Oliver had feelings for her that he could never pursue until now.”
It warmed Bryn’s heart to think of the possibility of Saraj eventually finding love again after losing Trei. Rangar brushed the hair off Bryn’s neck and kissed the exposed skin. His hand moved down her dress to the place on her back where the weed growth hexmark lay.
“You’ve been keeping secrets from me.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Only good secrets. Did you like your gift?”
“It was the most enchanting thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he murmured, still stroking her back. “But I still owe you your third present.”
“Give it to me tonight,” she said. With a wink “Now, dance with me.”
Before he could object, she pulled him out of his chair and tugged him toward the other dancing couples. Everyone’s eyes were on them as she wrapped her hands around his shoulders. They stepped to the melody, acelestindance led by a fiddle.
“This is only the second time you’ve danced with me,” she said, gazing up at him. “The first time, I was terrified of you.”
“I wasn’tthatbad of a dancer.”
She slapped his shoulder playfully. “I thought you had come to murder my family. And yet when we danced, something happened. I can’t quite put a name to it. All I knew was that my heart trusted you even if my head didn’t.”
He guided her in a slow circle to music. “I’m glad you listened to your heart.”
“Me, too.”
She rested her head on his broad shoulder. He really was a passable dancer, a fact which still surprised her. When they’d first met, he had been so stiff that she’d been shocked he hadn’t stepped all over her toes. Since then, their bodies had come to know one another intimately. From the early days riding on Legend with him to their lovemaking that ignited passions she didn’t know were possible.
They danced late into the evening, pausing to switch partners so she could dance with fishermen and farmers, too, then dug into Roxin’s delicious apple pie, and then Rangar swiped a bottle of wine and clutched Bryn around the waist.
“Enough of this,” he said lowly into her ear. “Everyone else has had their time with their new queen. Now, I want my wife all to myself.”
She uttered a small cry as he suddenly threw her over his shoulder, carting her toward the stairs. Whistles and bawdy calls of encouragement echoed behind them as he took her to bed.
Chapter 26
THE NEW MONARCHS OF THE NORTH . . . wedding night . . . a gift from a missed mother . . . two letters
On their wedding night, Bryn and Rangar’s lovemaking was tender and slow. For so long, their desire had been quenched with quick rendezvous behind a barn or a curtain, lustful kisses and tussles they’d engaged in like soldiers on the attack. But tonight, they took their time easing one another out of their clothes, sipping brandy in front of the fire while she perched naked in his lap, and then making love all through the night.
In the morning, Bryn woke lazily, stretching beneath the soft sheets. Her body smelled like woodsmoke and wine and roses, and she knew her hair must look like a wild tangle, but she rolled over and buried Rangar in a kiss.
He stirred awake readily, hands clasping her bare waist. “Mmm,” he purred, blinking his eyes open. “You taste like apple pie.”
She smiled languidly. “It’s hard to believe I’m waking up to my husband in bed with me.”
“That reminds me,” he said, fingers gliding under the sheets to cup her ass, “I have one more wedding gift for you.”
While he went to the dresser, she sat up, holding the sheet around her body. He’d given her jewels and a horse; what else could he possibly have?
