by The Saxon
“`Helmi, leave us. Helmi, you may go,’” the old woman muttered sarcastically. “Everybody’s always sending me away as if I cannot be trusted. You had better leave, my lord, before your absence is noted.”
“I know you will say nothing of this to anyone,” Adelar remarked when he got out of the bed and put on his breeches and tunic.
“Of course not. I liked Bayard, but he did not understand the Danes. You do. I think you two were destined for each other by the gods.”
“And Ylla?”
Helmi grinned broadly. “Have you seen Baldric lately?”
“Yes,” Endredi said, trying to remember anything unusual about Baldric, but she really had not paid much attention.
“Noticed anything?”
“He’s cleaner,” Adelar said at once.
“Aye. He wants Ylla, and she’s making him dance to her tune, I can tell you.”
“Ylla and Baldric?” Adelar said.
“What’s wrong with that? And you’d best watch out for Merilda’s temper these days. Gleda and Duff are getting married, but who knows when because he’s getting her wares for free anyway—”
Endredi cast a baleful look at Adelar. She had the distinct impression that Helmi meant to stay and gossip all night.
Adelar winked and cleared his throat. “Helmi, go to the hall and do not come back until the morning.”
The woman halted in mid-sentence and stared. “After all I said?”
“Yes. As the burhware, I command it.”
Helmi sniffed indignantly. “This is my lady’s bower for the present and—”
“Helmi, leave us,” Endredi ordered.
“But—”
“Leave us, please.”
Her face a picture of displeasure, Helmi finally obeyed.
Endredi smiled warmly at Adelar. “You give orders well, for a man who did not want such responsibilities.”
Adelar came to her and looked down at the woman he loved and the child she held. “Should I give you some orders?”
“About what?”
He glanced slyly at the bed.
“Perhaps later. For the present our son requires my attention.”
“Very well. He is a fine boy, is he not?”
“Perfect.” She looked at him with sadness in her eyes. “You can never claim him for your own.”
“We will have other children, Endredi. And in my heart, I will always know he is my true son.”
Endredi put the nearly slumbering infant to her shoulder and patted his back before she returned him to his cradle. He settled down at once to sleep.
She sighed softly and stroked his small head. “You must go now, Adelar.”
“One last time I will creep away like a thief,” he said, coming to her and taking her in his arms. “Cynath would have us wed at once. I believe I shall tell him tomorrow is a good day.”
“Cynath proposed our marriage?”
Adelar smiled mischievously. “Yes, although he admits it might be a hardship for me. I did not tell him otherwise.”
She eyed him warily. “Do you marry me to please Cynath?”
“What do you think, Endredi?”
The Saxon pulled her close and kissed her, and there was no need for her to wonder anymore.
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ISBN: 978-1-4592-8338-1
The Saxon
Copyright © 1995 by Margaret Wilkins
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