by Mary Morgan
How was it possible to build a life together when they shared nothing in common, save one?
Erik.
And as the night waned into early morning, Magnar considered the consequences of this decision to wed the beguiling woman who was now his wife.
His mind found only one solution.
Even if you asked me to your bed, Elspeth, I would refuse—until you accept the beast within me.
Chapter Eleven
Elspeth yawned and stretched her arms overhead. She tried to ease the tension that still lingered within her body. Dreams of Magnar had haunted her throughout her fitful sleep, especially ones of her new husband fighting against the razor-sharp teeth of a wolf. She opened her eyes, and the cruel light of dawn smacked her with the reality of her current situation.
“I am married to a man who believes he is part wolf,” she uttered into the cold, empty chamber.
She tossed aside the fur coverings and sat up. Massaging her temples, she tried to bring forth the stories her grandmother had told her about these ancient wolves. Often held spellbound by the woman’s tales, Elspeth once believed in them. But the passing of time and being sent to the abbey altered everything.
Confusion settled like an unwelcome companion. What if the tales were true? A small thread of certainty wove itself within her. Even her grandmother had confessed to seeing a wolf once in the forest behind their home. She said it was nae ordinary wolf. Nae. He actually had winked at the old woman.
Elspeth had thought her grandmother daft, considering the amount of ale she consumed on a daily basis.
Hugging her arms around her body, she rocked back and forth. “Could it be possible?” she mumbled.
I should have given you permission to show me, Magnar, before you denied me.
Letting out a snort of nervous laughter, she stepped onto the cold, stone floor. Pushing aside the doubts and fears, Elspeth transferred her attention to the current dilemma. Returning to Steinn.
Making her way to the table, she quickly poured water from a large jug into a basin. After scrubbing the sleep from her face, she retrieved her clothing. Her stomach protested at the lack of food within her, and she chastised herself for not sampling some of the fine fare last evening. “You could not even take one bite at your own wedding feast.”
After hastily dressing, she glanced out the window. A sliver of light dusted the treetops in the distance. She knew her husband was most likely waiting on his horse. “Well the man can wait.”
His bark of orders to his men carried upward, and she jumped. Narrowing her eyes, Elspeth went to the window and glanced at the scene below. Sweet Mother Mary. Her instincts were correct. He was already on his horse. A great battle axe was strapped to his mount’s side, and a sword was sheathed behind Magnar’s back. Power and raw strength surrounded the man, and she found herself drawn to him.
She darted a glance at her nephew, who was already mounted and guiding his horse toward the men. Magnar shifted on his horse and smiled at Erik.
“Though you are feared by many, Magnar, I shall be forever grateful for the compassion and guidance you have shown my nephew.”
As if he heard her words, Magnar lifted his head. Their eyes locked, and she was held captive. When a soft knock sounded on the door, Elspeth broke the connection and moved away from the window.
One of the maids entered with a trencher. “You must quickly break your fast, Lady Elspeth. Would you like me to fix your bindings on your gown, and what about your hair?”
“Bless you, Neala,” exclaimed Elspeth. “Aye. As for my hair, put the mass in one braid. I feared I would have to start the journey without any food. I see my husband and his men are waiting for me.”
After Neala placed the trencher on the table, she picked up a comb. “Do not fret. Your husband has stated he will wait until you have eaten. You must regain your strength after last night.”
Elspeth almost choked on her first bite of bread, cheese, and berries. “Truly?” Reaching for a cup, she poured herself some ale.
When the girl remained silent, Elspeth pondered if she told a lie. Surely her husband would not discuss their marriage bed with others. Or would he?
As soon as Neala finished the task of braiding her hair, she collected the rest of Elspeth’s clothing and folded the garments. Two bright roses stained her cheeks. She kept darting looks at the bed.
“What troubles you, Neala?” asked Elspeth, taking a sip of the ale.
The girl snapped her attention to Elspeth. “Why nothing.” She swallowed and started to fidget with a lock of her hair.
Ever so slowly, Elspeth returned her gaze to the rumpled furs and pillows. She placed her cup back onto the table. Heat crept up her neck, and she stood. Clasping her hands together, she turned back toward the girl. “Are you here to collect the wedding sheets?”
The maid’s cheeks bloomed brighter with color, and she nodded.
“Did my husband speak with you regarding them?”
“Aye,” she mumbled. “He wanted to let everyone ken you were now his wife completely.”
And to save my honor. Elspeth gave the girl a weak smile. “Thank you for my meal. Will you tell my husband I shall join him shortly? Then you can return for the bedding.”
The maid gave a quick nod and darted out of the chamber.
Elspeth slumped down in her chair. Her husband was stirring a mix of emotions within her.
“Husband?” She smacked the table with her palm. “I do not ken you.”
A bark of laughter from Magnar floated up on the breeze, and she lifted her head. The sound made her heart skip a beat. She smiled and closed the door on her troubling thoughts.
After taking a few more bites of her meal, Elspeth gathered the remainder of the food and wrapped everything in a cloth. Securing the ends firmly, she placed it inside a satchel. She had nae desire to spend one more night here.
Steinn called out to her. Home. There she would seek her answers.
****
Warm sunshine stayed with them on the first day of their journey, helping to ease the strain within Elspeth’s mind and body. Yet the night unsettled her. She continued to dream about Magnar and wolves. When he positioned himself next to her on the ground, she fought the urge to scoot away. Did she think he was going to ravish her with more kisses? In front of his men and her nephew? Nae. In truth, Elspeth was ashamed of wanting his touch.
Thus, she spent another distressing night unable to get the rest she required for the long journey.
When Elspeth opened her bleary eyes, the new day had begun to streak across the treetops. Erik continued to snore softly, curled up near Rorik. She smiled at the scene, recalling the fit of anger he gave her last night. He refused to bring his wrap and sleep next to her, stating she was now married to Magnar, and he was a warrior.
As she attempted to sit, she winced from the pain. Her feet were numb and stiff. Part of her cloak was bunched up around her legs, adding more to her misery. Stretching her feet out, she tried to bring some warmth to her toes. A trickle of awareness brushed over Elspeth. She stole a glance to her right.
Magnar was on his side staring at her. The look he gave her singed the coldness from her body. She allowed her gaze to roam his features—from the arched brow, broad nose that had suffered from one too many a fist, and the dimple in his strong chin. Nevertheless, it was those full lips that sparked images of their heated kisses. There was nothing soft about her husband, and she pondered the thought of his body beneath the clothing.
Tempted to touch the stubble of hair on his face, she clenched her hands. Nae!
“Good morn.” She struggled to keep her voice level. His eyes glittered like the blue sky on a sparkling summer day.
He rose up and scooted behind her. “You ken there are a few more days on our journey to Steinn?”
Elspeth transferred her focus to the trees in front of her. She would not dare glance over her shoulder. The man was far too close. “Aye.”
She stiffened whe
n she felt his fingers trail across her back. “You are not sleeping well.”
“’Tis not your concern. I shall manage.”
“All who ride with me are my concern.” He leaned forward against her back. “Do you wish to hinder our journey?”
“Goodness, nae!” she answered in a rush. “Simply allow me to stretch out the tightness.”
His breath was hot against the side of her neck. “Allow me to knead the stiffness from your limbs.”
Elspeth fought the desire to relax into him. She simply nodded her consent.
“Bend your head forward,” he instructed.
Slowly complying, she held her breath until his fingers pressed along her shoulders. Elspeth let out a moan and closed her eyes. Delicious prickles of heat seeped into her weary body as he continued to work his way down her back and up to her neck. The heady mixture of pain and relief made her sigh, and her body relaxed.
Too soon, he finished and moved away. Elspeth slowly lifted her head. “Thank you.”
He stood and reached for her hand.
Accepting his strength once again, she grasped his hand. She was on her feet instantly with his arm wrapped around her waist. In awe of the man’s strength, Elspeth leaned into him. Standing on her tiptoes, she placed a kiss on his cheek. “You might have to knead my shoulders every morning.”
When she drew back, she studied his confused expression.
Cupping her chin, Magnar bent his head near her ear. “I shall strive to give my wife anything she desires.”
Loud coughing behind them ceased all conversation, and Magnar released her.
Rorik, Erik, and the rest of the men sat staring at them. Each with their own varying smiles.
Elspeth glanced down and shook out the leaves from her cloak. “Give me a few private moments, and then I shall be ready to leave.”
“I hear water nearby, Gunnar. ’Tis the stream. Do you think you can catch us some fish to break our fast?” asked Magnar.
“Depends on how many?” The man chuckled.
“Is that a challenge?” shouted Bjorn. “I say you can fetch only three.”
Joy infused Elspeth as she stepped away and into the trees. The men were each offering their own thoughts on how many Gunnar could strip from the stream. Though she was eager to return home, a good morning meal of fish brought a smile to her face. The thought of tucking the moist pieces between the bread she brought had her licking her lips in anticipation.
After she finished taking care of her personal business, Elspeth emerged from the trees. Removing her cloak, she hoped to wash the grime from her hands and face. Reaching for a water skin, she did the best she could without any of the rose-scented soap she favored. She shook her hands to rid them of the water.
Eager to join the others, she followed the sounds of unruly talk and laughter. When she made her way along a narrow path to the stream, Elspeth’s steps faltered.
Standing in the middle of the stream was Erik, minus his trews. The water came almost to his knees, and she pressed a fist to her chest. Do not fall, dear nephew.
Swallowing the fear within, she crossed to Magnar’s side. “Did Erik mention he cannot swim?”
Magnar fisted his hands on his hips. “Nae. Is he not a lad of seven? Was he not taught?”
Elspeth gave an exasperated snort. “Forgive my brother in failing to teach him. He thought it best to see to his training with the horses and lessons. In truth, he had plans on giving him lessons this summer.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Even if he falls, the lad is surrounded by many. If I may propose, allow me to give him his first lesson after we have control of Steinn.”
Shielding her eyes from the morning sun, Elspeth replied, “I am certain you will have nae argument from Erik. You do not require my consent, Magnar. After Thomas’ death, my nephew has had to learn to be stronger.”
“I am certain Erik will be a great leader among his people,” praised Magnar.
“My only hope is that he treads carefully. He seems not to fear anything.”
Magnar chuckled softly. “Do not be deceived by the confidence and chatter of the lad. There is fear behind those eyes. Nevertheless, he pushes through—making for a strong leader.”
Dropping her hand, she turned and faced Magnar. “You can see this in his eyes?”
He shrugged. “Even now I can smell the fear of him within the water.”
Stunned, she asked, “How?”
Humor softened his hardened features. “I am part wolf.”
Elspeth bit her lower lip and looked away. Exhaling softly, she shook her head. “You must understand how difficult this is for me to understand.”
“I sense you are now open to the possibility.”
She slid a glance at him. She had to choose her words carefully. “Let me affirm that I am open to discussing this subject further.”
He gestured outward. “I suggest speaking with Gunnar.”
“Erik’s tutor?” She swept her gaze to the man.
Magnar reached for her hand and placed a kiss across her knuckles. “Aye. He follows your God, and he is part wolf. Would your God condemn such a man?” Releasing her hand, he moved away.
Laughter bubbled out of Erik as he brought forth his first fish from the stream. The other men surrounded him in triumph, sending out their praises for the fine catch. Elspeth watched her husband cheer Erik. In one motion, Magnar lifted the lad out of the water and onto his broad shoulders.
Erik held the fish high. “I did it, Aunt Elspeth!”
Smiling, she pushed away Magnar’s words, and blew her nephew a kiss. But she planned to have words with Gunnar, once the time presented itself.
Several hours later, Elspeth continued to ride on her horse behind Magnar and Erik’s mounts as they followed the path of the stream. The conversation between the two continued to be muffled, broken occasionally by a chuckle from her nephew.
The water twisted through the lush trees like a silver ribbon. Wild bluebells and clover dotted the land. Inhaling the fresh scents, Elspeth allowed her mind to settle and enjoy the passing scenery. With her stomach now content with a delicious meal of fish, cheese, bread, and berries, she offered a silent prayer the rest of their journey would remain peaceful.
And as the day turned to gloaming, Magnar led them north away from the stream.
She stifled a yawn as he brought them beneath a cluster of aging oak trees. She marveled at the ease of his movements off his horse. When he approached, he held out his hands.
“I must confess I am too weary to lift my leg.”
He never said a word. Big, strong hands grasped her firmly and pulled her off the animal. Her feet never touched the ground as Magnar cradled her into his arms.
Resting her head on his shoulder, she uttered softly, “I pray sleep will come tonight.”
“Eat and drink, first,” he suggested.
“I nibbled on cheese while riding,” she admitted.
In the fading light, Elspeth saw his mouth twitch.
She placed her arms around his neck. “You should eat,” she urged.
He gently placed her at the base of a tree. “My wife’s needs come first on this journey.”
Touched by his kindness, she grasped his hand. “I am strong, Magnar, but I thank you.”
Glancing down at their joined hands, he rubbed his thumb over her skin. “So soft.”
“Yours are rough and strong.” The words tumbled out of her before she could take them back.
He dropped down in front of her. His guarded look eased slightly. “And you are not afraid?”
A renewed sense of honesty and interest spurred Elspeth onward. “Of the wolf, perchance.” She swallowed, unable to explain further her meaning.
After giving her hand a squeeze, he released his hold and stood. “You should fear the man more than the wolf. Wolves are always honorable.”
Elspeth watched as her husband made his way to his men. Startled by his declaration, she had to consider there was so much sh
e needed to learn about this barbarian.
Chapter Twelve
When Magnar approached his wife with a portion of dried meat, cheese, ale, and a wrap, he shook his head in resignation. The sharp-tongue beauty was fast asleep. Light from the fire danced off her hair and face, transforming her into a delicate vision that continued to steal the breath from his lungs. Often times, he found himself unable to speak, preferring to hear the musical lilt in her voice, or watch the way her face would transform into fury when anger overcame her.
He found his wife unable to shutter her emotions. And Magnar enjoyed watching the display of feelings. His world was one of order, control, and authority. With Elspeth, she brought a balance to his life. Admiration for her grew with each passing day.
Quietly, he went to her side and sat. He draped the wrap over her sleeping form and proceeded to eat part of the meal. Guilt plagued him as he stared into the fire. Images tumbled forth—flame by flickering flame.
His life as a warrior remained untarnished. His life as a son and now as a husband—unsettled.
He had sought to offer a prayer to the Gods and Goddesses for his failure to his mother before he left Orkneyjar, in hopes they would carry his plea on the winds across the void. Yet in all his preparations, the single act was left undone. And the start of his union with Elspeth had begun tersely.
The cheese and meat soured in his gut. He reached for the ale skin and drank deeply. The flames snapped, and he watched the embers drift into the night sky.
I shall make amends when I return, Odin. Forgive me.
A gentle breeze touched his face, scented by fire smoke and the woman asleep next to him.
His thoughts drifted to the possession she wore around her neck—a powerful one. Did she not ken the importance of the stone she carried? How it could command all within the brotherhood with its power? Strange how this woman from the Gunn clan had not listened more keenly to the stories told to her. They became fables after she found her new belief, and Magnar pondered if the knowledge of Odin’s stone was left unsaid by Elspeth’s kin.