Chapter Seven #2
He rolled his eyes. ‘Not to drink yourself stupid when the company is unfamiliar is a lesson my cousin taught me early on. It suited my purpose to allow others to consider I remain ignorant of such a lesson.’
‘Why did you decide to do that?’
‘Because I don’t require an audience tonight, or any night.’ He shrugged and returned the mead to the jug. ‘I assumed you didn’t either.’
‘That goes without saying.’ She slid off the bed. The rushes were cool against her bare feet. ‘Some things are best kept private.’
‘It is good to know you are level-headed.’ He ran a hand through his hair, making the curls wilder than ever.
‘Did you think I wasn’t?’
‘Sometimes you use a sing-song voice like you are trying to be a very little girl.’
‘When I get nervous, my voice goes too high.’ She swallowed hard, knowing that she didn’t want it to be a problem between them. ‘A habit I dislike immensely, but one I don’t seem able to alter.’
‘And the laughter?’
‘Sometimes it works, particularly when one understands the fate one has avoided.’
‘I will remember that about you. It may come in useful.’
‘What, me speaking in a sing-song? I hate it when it happens. My old nurse used to tell me to concentrate hard and it would vanish like snow under the summer sun. It only seemed to make matters worse.’
‘No, me knowing when you are nervous.’ His eyes became deep pools. ‘You are my wife now. Part of my responsibility is to ensure you are protected, particularly when you are nervous. And your old nurse sounds like a difficult woman.’
‘I can stand on my own two feet,’ she said before the temptation to like him too much overpowered her. ‘One benefit of having a nurse like Helga. My failures belonged to me even if my successes came from her.’
‘Everyone, even me, can use help at times. Try to remember to allow people to help you.’
His voice slid over her like soft fur, making her want to believe in him.
‘When the time comes, I’ll try to accept help graciously, but wait until I ask for it.’
He inclined his head. ‘Understood, but my vow before Var and the other gods was to be your husband.’
She tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear and ignored the way her hand trembled. ‘Now, what are we going to do about the sleeping arrangements? Should I make up a bed on the floor?’
The butterflies in her stomach had subsided. She had quietly let him know that she anticipated that this would start out as a platonic marriage. She had little intention of melting into his arms simply because they were now married.
He gave a half-smile. ‘We share the bed tonight. I have no wish for any early surprises or accidental entering. Even with the trunk against the door, it could happen.’
‘Does that happen?’
‘It has been known at Tara. Some people take a great deal of pride in doing it. Appeals to their sense of humour, I guess.’
He stretched, pulling his tunic taut across his broad chest. She glanced away. She had no business noticing the state of his chest or the fine down covering his muscular forearms. ‘I see.’
‘But you can take the floor if you wish,’ he continued in an ultra-reasonable voice. ‘I know the value of a soft bed, even if you seem not to. And I am happy to cut my thigh to provide the blood on the sheets.’
‘Blood on the sheets?’
‘They are sure to be examined. In the eyes of this community, you are unmarried and therefore a maiden.’
‘I hadn’t considered you’d think of something like that.’
‘Lucky that I have.’
Svanna concentrated on a spot in the centre of the room rather than looking at him any longer. She hated how warmth coiled about her insides at the thought of sharing a bed with him.
‘I trust your words from last night. You will keep your promises. I accept your judgement about the sheets as well, but I am willing to be the one who bleeds on them.’ She held out her hand. ‘Give me your dagger.’
He inclined his head. ‘Progress of a sort. One day we will make a fine team, my lady fair.’
Svanna lifted her chin up. ‘I consider trust an important part of any marriage, but it needs to be earned.’
‘Indeed.’ He bowed and handed her the dagger.
She threw back the sheets, made a shallow cut and watched the blood pool. When she started to feel ill, she wiped the sheets. ‘That should be enough.’
He took a cloth, dipped it into the water and wiped the remaining traces of blood from her hand. He carefully placed the towel by the basin.
‘Won’t they know?’
‘They will think I washed you clean.’ His eyes crinkled. ‘It happens more often than you might think. No one questions.’
She put her hands over her mouth. It was all becoming clear. He knew about this because his first wife had done something similar. That had been a love match by all accounts, but she found she didn’t want to pry.
‘I hadn’t thought. You’ve done this before.’
He raised a brow. ‘You may get in first. Try to sleep. Don’t mind me. Sleep and I are strangers.’
Svanna needed no second urging and dived under the pile of furs.
She wrapped her arms about her legs and curled up into a ball.
She screwed her eyes tightly shut and struggled to breathe normally, but every particle of her was aware of him and the way he moved about the room, dousing all the torches until one faint tallow light remained.
He settled down on the stool, staring at the flickering light.
‘Easier to sleep if you relax,’ he said when she eased her legs straight. ‘You are safe here. No one is going to mock you. No one is going to harm you while I keep watch.’
Svanna propped herself up on her elbows. ‘Sleep brings uneasy dreams.’
The bed sagged slightly when he sat down. He blew out the final light. The soft thump of clothes hitting the rush-covered floor resounded in her ears. She turned her head and vaguely made out that he’d undressed. One fur now covered him while he lay on top of the other furs. ‘A compromise.’
‘Is that what you call it?’
He lay back and closed his eyes. ‘In truth, I find the last few days have been much more tiring than I had anticipated.’
He turned his back to her.
In the darkness she listened to his breath, which slowly but surely became more rhythmic.
Her eyes grew heavy, and she realised that he was correct—the last few days had been exhausting.
In the morning, this unsettledness would go.
She’d return to being the dependable person she’d been for the last few years, instead of this one who was willing to challenge warriors or who wanted to be loved for herself instead of tolerated for what she brought to a marriage.
She hated that the thought made her unaccountably depressed.