Aching to comfort her, I was about to say more soothing words when the fire flared as it had the night we married,drawing our attention to the flames once more and unexpected things to be sure.
Things that could shape our future in the most unpredictable ways.
Chapter Fifteen
-ASTRID-
From the moment I had no choice but to leave Declan guarding the front door of my cottage against Gustav if he made a drunken appearance, I felt unsettled. While yes, I desperately wanted Declan inside with me, wrapped up in my arms, it was more than that.
Different than anything I had ever felt.
An edginess that I feared when I rarely feared anything.
I tried to sleep but only tossed and turned, restless and uneasy, until I felt a sharp sense of alarm and bolted upright in bed. It took me a moment to realize the feeling was not my own but someone else’s.
Terrified for Declan when my talisman warmed, I nearly bolted for the door when the dwindling embers on the hearth hissed, spat, and a fire flared to life on its own. Crawling out of bed, I drifted to the flames, only to see Freya weeping over our father’s body. Unexpected emotion washed over me, and my throat clogged at the sight of him. Gone was the big, robust warrior of my youth.
Instead, I gazed upon a rail-thin skeleton of the man he once was.
“He is gone, sister,” Freya’s voice whispered to me through the crackle of the flames without her looking in my direction. “Father now dines with Odin in the great halls of Valhalla.”
Where I had thought I would feel nothing upon his death, I felt a great deal. Not for who he had become but who he once was. The father who had, at one time, looked at me with such adoration. A powerful Helvig Earl who had led our tribe to greatness.
Honoring that, I did as Freya, Soren, Tove, and my father’s second-in-command, Knud did. I lowered to one knee, bent my head, and offered my blade in supplication to the superior warrior and leader my father had been.
Somehow, I wasn’t surprised when Declan sensed what was happening and flew inside. I was, however, surprised when he knelt beside me. He might not have offered his blade, given my father was his enemy, but he did lower his head in respect, and it meant a great deal to me. Then he held me afterward as I wept, making a saint out of fate and my destined path in life, because I had never needed anything more.
When the fire eventually hissed and spat on the hearth like it had the night we married, it drew our attention and with good reason.
“What are we witnessing now?” Declan wondered softly.
“My sister, Tove.” I fingered my talisman when it grew especially warm. Tove had just stepped out of my father’s lodge with Freya, Soren, and Knud, only for our people to kneel and offer their blades to her in supplication. “They want her to be the next Helvig chieftain. ‘Tis a great honor.”
Declan's eyebrows swept up. “Women can become chieftains in your country?”
“Rarely, if ever.” Though I wished it were otherwise. “Butja, every so often over the ages it has happened.”
“Is Tove not to marry, then?” he wondered as the image faded and the fire returned to normal. “Or has she already married?”
“Nay, not Tove yet.” I shook my head and wondered how things would be back home from now on. “Outside of our father, she was the only one who could rein in Knud, so Father kept her close. I could not say what he meant for her after his death. She was too important in the role she already played, taming his beast as Knud is more of a Helvig berserker than most.”
“Knud was the man beside her, aye?”
“Ja.”
“He looked formidable,” Declan granted, mulling over what he had witnessed with a furrowed brow. “What do you make of this, Astrid? Where do Tove and Knud stand on their view of us Scots?” He cocked his head, watching me closely. “Will they back King Hákon as Soren did? Will they fight for him despite knowing you call this country home now? That you are marrying one of its chieftains?”
“Without question,” I said, knowing well the hearts of Tove and Knud. Their devout loyalty to king and country. Dread filled my heart at the thought of what may lie on the horizon. After all, I could very well someday face one of my beloved sisters on the battlefield. “And they will fight for their king fiercely at that.” Gazing into the flames, I prayed that our fates didn't do that to us. “Not for lack of love for me but for love of Norway. For love of their king.”
Other than the wind whistling outside and the crackle of the fire, silence descended for several long moments before Declan gently tilted my chin and gazed into my eyes.
“’Twill be all right, wife,” he said softly, gazing at me with such tenderness that it warmed me, fighting back the chilling idea of fighting my own kin. “Tonight isnae the eve to worry about such things but to feel your grief, aye? To worry about the morrow on the morrow.”
Never more grateful for him and all he had turned out to be, I managed a slight jerky nod of agreement and then kissed him gently, soothed by his presence. By his warmth and comfort as he held me. By the love in his gaze when he looked at me.
Needing more of that warmth, or perhaps at this moment, an escape from my grief and worries, I kissed him softly again. Then once more, before our kiss deepened, making me need even more. Crave all of what he could make me feel. So Icontinued dropping soft kisses against his lips and straddled him, giving him no chance to escape me this time.
Understanding there was no getting away, he gave in, and our kisses grew hungry as his warm hands rode up my thighs and gripped my bare backside beneath my night rail. Hungrier still when I ground my moist center against him, desperate for more.
