Page 53 of The Blue Viking

He would have thought that Maire might have protested that intimate act, or that she might try to cover herself in modesty, as some women did, now that the lovemaking had ended, but, nay, she reclined back on the pillows, legs slightly spread, and allowed him to tend to her. The wench continually surprised him.

But it might be a good idea if he changed the subject for a bit in order to give his body a chance to renew itself. Glancing about the room, he noticed once again the unfinished tapestry on the wooden frame in the corner. Even in the dismal half-light caused by the rainy weather, the picture was exquisite. Rurik would never claim to be an expert on art, but he knew talent when he saw it. It was not just the brilliant colors, but the different textures of thread and patterns of sewing that gave a dimensional aspect to the scene, which included a man and a woman, seen from the back, holding hands as they watched a young boy playing in the shallow waters at the edge of a loch. The figure of the man was incomplete, as were the white clouds skimming the blue sky, the shredded threads of lavender-hued heather, a red deer peeking out of the forest in the distance.

Something about the scene pulled at Rurik’s heart in a way he could not explain. Not just its beauty. Nay, it was the image it portrayed of a family … the kind of family Rurik had dreamed of as a child. A fantasy, really. That’s what it was.

“What are you staring at so intently?” Maire inquired, putting a hand on his forearm.

He jerked his head back to look at her. She still reclined on the bed, but she’d drawn the bed linen up and over her breasts in modesty.

“The tapestry,” he answered. “Who did it? Your mother?” Someone had told him that the large dusty tapestries in the great hall, which had been taken down the day before to be cleaned, were done years ago by her mother and grandmother. That would explain why this tapestry was unfinished.

Maire laughed softly. “Nay. My mother has been dead for more than twenty years. I did the needlework … or rather started it and never got around to completing the design.”

Rurik wasn’t sure why, but he was shocked. “You?”

“Why are you so incredulous?” He shrugged with uncertainty. “It’s so beautiful.”

“And that shocks you? Methinks I should be insulted.”

“It’s just that… I don’t know … well, why would anyone who could create such beauty do aught else? I mean, why practice inept witchly arts? Or work manually about your keep till your hands turn red and raw? Or waste all the years of your youth trying to hold a hopeless clan together?”

Maire bristled at his assessment of her life.

He rushed to explain himself. “You could become famous for your needlework, Maire. I know kings who would pay you great treasures to create such beauty for them.” He paused, then added, “Why did you never finish it?”

“There is ne’er enough time. Other concerns always interfere.” It did not seem to matter all that much to her.

He harrumphed with disbelief that anything could be more significant than her talent.

She shook her head sadly at him as if he just did not understand.

He didn’t.

“Rurik, there are more important things in life than beauty.”

“There are?” His question sounded dimwitted, even to his own ears.

She nodded. “Like honor. And family. And giving of oneself for a greater good.”

Rurik did not disagree that those were important values. But this tapestry gave Rurik a new view of Maire that he would like to contemplate more. Later, though. Not now.

Tugging the sheet down to expose her breasts, he told her with a waggle of his eyebrows, “I have talents, too.”

Her somber mood lightened immediately. “That was ne’er in doubt. Although, I will tell you this, Viking, if your lovemaking had been like this the first time we came together, I would no doubt have trailed after you across the oceans, no matter your desires.”

Still sitting beside her on the bed, he glanced up at her through his lashes, without raising his head.

“Oh, do not look so alarmed,” she said with a laugh. “I don’t intend to chase after you now.”

“I was not alarmed,” he protested.

“Aye, you were.” She laughed some more.

“What’s so different now?” he asked, crawling back into the bed and taking her into his arms.

“Now, I am responsible for a child, and a clan. But you are a tempting morsel.”

Rurik was not sure he liked her speaking thus to him. ’Twas the man’s role to tease in the afterglow of love. She was too candid and uninhibited by half.