Epilogue
“Oh, God, Sven! Harder. Yes! Just like that. Ah, yeeeessss…”
Aife went red to the roots of her hair. How many times had she said those exact same words just before she erupted in exquisite pleasure?
Dozens of times. Well, with one notable exception, of course.
She used her husband’s name instead of Sven’s.
But there was no denying that she was a very vocal lover, something Torsten loved.
The click of the door behind her shook her out of her reverie, then a moment later two arms wrapped themselves around her, holding her tight against a warm body. Just then the moaning in the hut next door was joined by a series of masculine groans. Torsten gave a resigned sigh.
“Hearing those moans and grunts used to drive me mad with jealousy and frustration, you know,” he whispered into her ear. “But now that I have my own beautiful, moaning woman in my bed, I don’t mind.”
“Mm.” She had never before realized that if they could hear Sven and his conquests, he could hear them too. Not that she would be able to stop herself from expressing her pleasure the next time they made love.
There was one last mighty roar and then suddenly, everything went silent.
Torsten sat on the bench behind them, before dragging her onto his lap. “What’s the matter, my love? Can’t sleep?”
Aife nestled against him, inhaling his wonderful scent. “No.”
“I expect the babe is disturbing you?”
“Yes. It’s flipping around like an angry eel. Feel this.” She took his hand and placed it just below her navel. Definitely a future warrior, eager to take part in his first sword fight, or a girl destined to become the finest archer the village had ever seen.
“Mm, yes, ’tis a veritable swarm of eels in there.” Torsten chuckled. “Well, not too long to wait now until they are freed.”
“Says you. But Cwenthryth and Helga, whom I trust more in these matters, say it will be another two months at least.”
“Forgive me. I suppose I am so impatient to meet my child that I feel the nine months will be over tomorrow. But I understand it is harder on you.”
He placed a kiss on her temple and Aife melted back into his embrace. He’d been so patient with her during these wonderful but difficult few months that she had no idea what she would have done without him.
“You don’t need to stay here with me. There’s no point in you losing sleep as well.”
“There is every reason, since I was the one planting this babe inside you. We both shared in the pleasure of the conception, why should you be the only one suffering from the carrying of it?” he said roundly.
It’s bad enough that I won’t be able to do anything when the time comes to bring it into the world. Let me do that at least.”
“I love you, you know that?”
“I think I do.”
Later, as the fat, silver moon started its descent toward the horizon, Aife and Torsten watched a woman creep out of Sven’s hut.
That she was a Saxon was obvious. Her disheveled hair was black as ink, and the dress she wore was in a style different to the one the women in the village favored.
She looked slightly unsteady on her feet, like a woman whose strength had been drained, which was hardly surprising.
“I wonder who that is,” Aife murmured to herself, cradling her stomach.
Torsten gave a soft snort. “No idea. And I doubt we’ll ever get to meet her.”
No. Probably not.
“Come. Let’s go back to bed.”
Coming next
Sven’s Promise