Chapter Fourteen #2
“You will sleep in here tonight, ja?” Astrid rested her hands on my shoulders. Her voice dropped to a husky murmur that told me she wanted to pick up where we’d left off the night before, every bit as much as I did. “You will keep me warm, husband?”
While tempted, I knew better and said so when I stood and turned to her.
Wrapping my fingers with hers, I was careful not to touch her any further lest I lose my will to step away.
“Nay, not now that I know Gustav’s about and capable of anything this eve.
I will guard your front door, lest he cause issue, which is more than likely tonight. ”
“Did I not make clear yesterday that I could protect myself?” She brought our joined hands to her lips and kissed the back of mine softly, her seductive, luminous, blue eyes lingering on my face. “Did I not make clear I could end him all on my own if need be?”
“You did,” I granted, trying to ignore how bloody beautiful she was. How with a mere, suggestive look she could engorge my cock. Having no other choice, I forced myself to release her hand and step away.
“Even so,” I went on, heading for the door lest she weave me into her seductive web as smoothly as she had the night before.
One I could easily lose myself in. “I willnae see him anywhere near you, Astrid.” I stopped at the door, with the hand on the hilt of the blade sheathed at my waist, and shook my head once. “Nae if I can help it.”
“’Tis unnecessary,” she grumbled, seeing she was not going to get her way when I headed outside and sat in a wooden chair beside the door.
“You will at least take this.” She emerged from inside to drape a quilted blanket over me soon after. “Until you wise up and come inside.”
“Och,” I muttered, however warmed from the caring gesture as much as the quilt, fully aware that if any of my fellow warriors saw this, I would never live it down.
“What do you think we Scots are made of, lass? Do you know how often I have slept outside wrapped in my plaid in weather far worse than this?” I gestured at the star-speckled sky. “’Tis nae even snowing tonight.”
“Not yet.” She eyed the sky too. “But ‘twill be soon enough.”
“Even so, I have slept outside in many a storm when traveling.” I again gestured at the clear night. “And I know how the weather works in my homeland, so you need not worry as ‘twill nae snow.”
She shook her head. “You can be stubborn, ja?”
“I am Scottish,” I reminded, shrugging. “So, aye, to say the least.”
“All right, then,” she said softly, clearly not liking leaving me out here, but finally did as I asked and went inside to bed.
Remaining vigilant, I rested my sword by my side and a dagger on my lap, keeping watch as the moon rose and all became quiet save the sound of the wind whistling through the trees and a lone wolf howling in the distance.
Fortunately, Gustav never made an appearance as the night wore on, and I slowly relaxed.
Or so I thought that I merely relaxed until I stirred awake, shocked I had dozed off, having never done that when keeping watch.
Just as Astrid had predicted, the wind had picked up, and snowflakes twirled around me, along with what almost seemed frozen fog.
What better way to describe the sweeping, mystical moisture steeping the woodland in glittering swaths of ethereal, crystallized droplets?
I couldn’t figure out what had startled me awake until I heard the mournful howl of a wolf, much closer this time.
Slowly tightening my grip on my dagger, I narrowed my eyes and watched my surroundings closely, only to swear I caught a glimpse of a huge grey wolf staring back at me through the fog.
A blink later, it was gone, and I swore I saw a giant white bear staring back at me.
A blink later, it was gone too.
Though I knew I should be on the defensive as both animals were formidable, I instead felt a sudden, acute sense of loss. My chest tightened with a feeling of grief that I couldn’t place, other than it was mine…yet not mine.
“Astrid,” I exclaimed, sure it had to do with her.
Fearful, I flew inside, only to stop short when I realized she wasn’t in bed. Instead, she knelt on one knee before a crackling fire with her head bent and her sword held out in supplication. A show of respect to someone, if I didn’t know better. Oksana sat beside her with her head lowered as well.
Closing the door behind me, lest the wind chill her in her night rail, I started to ask her what she was doing and whether all was well, but the words escaped me when I realized what she was gazing at.
Blinking, I wondered if my mind played tricks on me yet again, but no.
Just as I had seen my father’s merchant ship in the flames at my castle, I saw something within the fire's depths.
Narrowing my eyes, I drifted that way, hardly believing it, yet the closer I got, the clearer the image became.
Soren and her sister, Freya, knelt before a disfigured older man lying on a bed, offering their swords just like Astrid.
Another woman with ebony hair knelt nearby, along with a sizable, bearded man, doing the same.
“He is dead,” Astrid whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “My father has died.”
While I certainly would not offer my blade in supplication to a man willing to sacrifice his daughter, tearing her away from everything she loved, I would honor the dead for her.
So, after setting aside my blade, I knelt beside her on one knee, rested a comforting hand on her shoulder, and lowered my head as well, remaining silent while she grieved.
“I did not expect to feel anything upon his death,” she finally said softly, lifting her head and setting aside her blade, her cheek wet with tears. “Yet…”
When she trailed off and bit back a sob, I gathered her against me and sat before the fire while she wept, understanding she cried for the man he had once been.
The loving father of her youth. Wept for what she would never have again.
Resting my cheek on top of her head, I held her tightly, wishing I could make her pain my own so she would not have to feel it, and I whispered as much.
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.