Chapter 24 #4
She was content to listen, smiling. Then Geoffrey, returned to his duties of carrying her husband’s armor, rode by their side, and he, too, became a storyteller, telling Waryk about her courage in defying Ulric when he meant to murder Eleanora.
And how she had nearly, and most cleverly, saved herself along with the castle, if it hadn’t been for the treachery within.
Waryk was grave then, looking down at her, and she closed her eyes, then opened them to his.
“I wish I could swear that I will never leave you again,” he said softly. “But I am the king’s champion …”
“And we now know the truth about all the dangers within,” she said, smiling. “I will be safe in the future,” she promised.
It was only much later in the day that they managed to ride on ahead alone, and have a certain amount of privacy, and a chance to talk.
And Mellyora at last managed to twist in her husband’s arms, and tell him, “You have to know this. And that I’m not lying, nor saying these words to ease your soul in any way. Ulric meant to torment you whether he lived or died. He never did touch me, Waryk. He didn’t have the opportunity.”
His arms tightened around her. “My lady, I would have wanted him dead for any hurt to you.”
“But he wanted vengeance against you in any way. He wanted you to think that I might carry his child rather than yours. But—”
“My lady, it wouldn’t have mattered.”
The tremor and depth of his husky, masculine voice thrilled her. She curled her fingers over his where they rested on Mercury’s reins.
“You wanted your own child. It was more important to you than anything in the world—” she protested.
He set his hand on her cheek, turning her head toward his.
He looked down at her, blue eyes warmer than a summer day, dark hair handsomely rakish as it fell against his forehead.
“Matters of importance change, Mellyora. Nothing mattered to me at all when he took you, except that I get you back alive.”
She felt herself trembling as he held her. “But you wanted your own family so very much.”
He shrugged. “I have discovered family to be the people who surround you, who love you, to whom you are responsible, and who give you their loyalty in return. You are my family, my love. Any child of yours will be a child of mine.”
She touched his face, still shaking. “But I am having your child, Waryk.”
“So Phagin told me.”
“I wanted to tell you before this all came about. I wanted to surprise you with the news. That’s why I danced at your camp, why I wanted to be with you alone so much. I was so pleased because …”
“Aye?”
“I thought that you’d be so happy.”
“I am happy.”
“But you—”
“Mellyora, I am happy, thrilled that we are to have a child. I suppose that I am glad it is my child, in truth, it wouldn’t have mattered. I have you, and I’ll be far more careful in the future with you, I promise.”
She smiled, leaning against his broad chest.
“Waryk?”
“Aye?”
“I love you.”
He was silent for a moment.
“Well?”
“It has taken you long enough to say it!”
Her smiled deepened. “I never thought it possible. I love you so very much. I’ve learned about love, hurt, jealousy, fear, worry …”
“Never fear again, my love, for you needn’t be jealous, or in pain. No matter where I am, my lady, my heart and soul are in your keeping. You are all I need.”
She had never known such sweet pleasure. Then, even as he spoke, they crested a hill, and out in a sparkling sea, she saw their fortress.
“Waryk, we’re home.”
“Aye, lady.”
“Our baby will be born there. Dozens of babies, perhaps.”
“Dozens?”
“Well, several, at the very least. A very large family, my love.”
He leaned his cheek against her head. “As you wish, my lady. The king once told me that I must create my own kin. What he never told me was that …”
“Aye?”
“I would find all I needed in you,” he said softly.
She touched his cheek. “Who would have ever known …”
“Aye?”
“That I could come to so love and adore such an old, decrepit Norman knight!” she said, and smiled.
“Watch your tongue, wife,” he warned with a growl.
“Oh, aye, sire. But you are part Norman. And I’ve heard there’s a wee bit of Viking blood, and Celtic, of course, some Anglo-Saxon, maybe—”
“Aye, my lady, and you are Pictish, Celtic, and Viking. And our babe will be all things—”
“Scottish!” she said softly.
“Aye, it is what we are made of, as we come to peace with one another.”
“And, m’laird, we are at peace, are we not?”
He arched a brow, a half smile tugging at his lips. “Well, I imagine we’ll still have a few rather fierce arguments.”
“For all the years to come,” she agreed pleasantly. “What would life be without them?”
“Indeed, you are charming when you try to atone for your sins,” he said gravely.
“My sins!” she exclaimed, and then saw the laughter in his eyes.
“You’re terribly disobedient, as a wife, you know.”
“Well, I am a Viking’s daughter. And you’re a fierce warrior, the king’s champion. There are bound to be disagreements, but … oh, Waryk! Look at the isle from here, the stone of the fortress is silver in the sunlight … it’s so beautiful.”
“That it is,” he agreed; then he queried, “Up to a race?”
“Always, my love.”
He nudged Mercury hard, and they raced across the wild, windswept crags and green valleys of Scotland.
Home. Their land.
And the land of their unborn babe …
And all their sons and daughters yet to be.