Vikings' Brides Box Set

by Jessica Knight

  “I do,” I place my lips next to her ear.

  She doesn’t understand that she is my heart. She is the reason it beats with purpose again. She’ll understand in time that the reason for my existence, the reason my lungs expand, and my blood pumps is her.

  I plan to show her every day just how much she changes me as a man.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lilith

  “Someone is happy,” Lady Sassa teases me.

  I push a piece of hair out of my face, my cheeks blushing when I think of the reason why I’m so happy. Beowulf took me roughly behind a large tree. I have scratches on my arse cheeks to prove it. It was so good, though. So primal.

  He saw me in the dress he bought me when he was coming out of the castle and pulled me into the forest. We didn’t even get undressed. He slid my knickers down and pulled his cock free, bringing me to orgasm quicker than I could say his name.

  “How can I not be? I have a good man and my memories back. It’s reason enough to be happy,” I let out a wistful sigh, thankful I no longer have the space in my mind. It was so frightening. Everything was new to me, feelings, smells, touch. It was an overload. I had to learn how to live all over again, and it was maddening. I’m so glad just a kiss from the man I love awakened my memories from the deep sleep they conjured themselves in.

  “You have your memories back!” she squeaks, dropping the basket on the ground and running over to me. “Oh my goddess! Tell me everything. How? When did it happen?”

  “When did what happen?” Lady Thyra strolls through the lavender field, pushing the long stalks out of the way.

  Lady Sassa takes a step away from me and gives me a small smile. It tells me she didn’t know her friend would show up, and it’s fine. I believe Lady Thyra, and I’m not going to keep her at arm’s length because of my fear.

  “I have my memories back,” I tell both of them with a large grin. “I kissed Beowulf when he came back from… burying his brother. Everything rushed forward. It was like a flash of everything I’ve ever seen. And everything about him, about how I felt for him, rushed into my heart and restarted it again. Oh, it was like I wasn’t alive before.” I give a dreamlike sigh and grab a handful of lavender, bringing it to my nose to smell.

  “I’m so happy for you.” Lady Thyra smiles.

  “Thank you. And I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re your mother. I want you to know that. When I saw your eyes, only memories of her came flooding back. It frightened me. She is terrible. I shouldn’t have painted you with the same brush.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice breaks as she runs to me and embraces me in a hug. “Thank you so much. I don’t blame you. I understood. It was hard, but I understood. Oh, we must plan a wedding! I’m only assuming you and Beowulf shall be married soon? I say soon because the way he looks at you could start fires.” She nudges me with her elbow, another teasing gesture.

  The small movement reminds me I’m living a good life now. I’m out of the nightmare. I blush when I think about the heated words he whispered into my ear as we made love the other night. He said he wanted me to be his wife, but he hasn’t asked. Is it the same thing?

  “I’m not sure. Soon, I hope. I feel like we have been waiting all of our lives. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

  “I don’t blame you. It’s so romantic.” Lady Sassa swishes her dress as she stares at the blue, cloudless sky. “You’ve known each other all your lives. Both of you have loved one another but never said anything, and you couldn’t be together because of class. He loved you anyway. You loved him anyway. You finally share a kiss, and then life changes, giving you both dark worlds, and you find your way back to each other, bringing light. It’s so sweet.” She dances in the tall rods of the purple flower. “I love it. It’s poetry.”

  It didn’t feel like poetry. What Beowulf and I have lived, I hope no one ever experiences. I know I’m lucky to be reunited with my true love. Many don’t have the same luxury.

  “I hope he asks soon,” I say, wanting to change the subject a bit.

  Lady Thyra grabs my arm. “You mean he hasn’t asked?” her mouth opens with shock.

  “Well,” I start to say, but then realize I have no idea how to phrase what is coming to my mind. I blush. “He said something similar, but it was a statement, not a question.”

  “Oh, I see,” Lady Sassa sits down, tucking her dress under her, shooting me a wink.

  I bite my lip when I think of that moment. Goddess, just the thought has my nipples hard and my thighs warm.

  “You’re blushing!” Lady Thyra laughs, plucking lavender from its home and placing it in the basket.

  “I am not.”

  “Yes, you are!” Lady Sassa agrees.

  I throw flower petals at Lady Sassa. “Fine. I am. I can’t help it. He is so…so…”

  “We know,” they say in unison, speaking of their own men.

  We stay silent for a moment until we all break out in giggles. Apparently, our men are the same in certain ways. We share small talk as the day passes, and there is something nudging the back of my mind. I lay the stem of the lavender down and another memory surfaces. It takes my breath away. Sadness consumes me when I see my father’s grave in front of me. I didn’t know what happened to him then, and I still don’t.

  “Lilith? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I stand on shaky legs and hand over my basket. “I must go.”

  “Do you need help? You are sure you’re alright?”

  I nod. I sway on my feet as I try and get my bearings. A wave of uneasiness washes over me. How could I forget such a thing? Are there other memories that didn’t surface? Goddess, my mother… how is she doing? I can’t imagine what she must be going through. The previous memories that came rushing back were happy, and this one just fills me with dread, completely changing the day.

  I’m no longer happy. I just want to cry. I want Beowulf to take me into his arms and let me grieve my father’s death. It feels new like it just happened. I know that isn’t the case, but I can smell the salt in the air from the ocean and the perfume the wildflowers carry in the wind. It’s sweet. It’s all fresh in the forefront of my mind. I need to know what happened, and I have a feeling Beowulf knows. He must.

  I walk in a daze back to the cabin, trying to understand if I’m missing something crucial. Do I know what happened to my father and I just can’t remember? My heart tells me I truly don’t know, but it isn’t enough. I need more.

  The sun is bright, but the day itself is cold. We were picking lavender because it won’t survive the next snowfall. It’s getting too cold. Half the field was dead from winter, and we couldn’t let the relaxing flowers go to waste.

  But the last day of warmth isn’t enough to bring me out of my depression. I can’t feel the sun. My skin reacts to the cold, and my teeth chatter from the breeze. I just want to get home, curl up in the bed of furs, and try to get over my father’s death that happened over ten years ago.

  I don’t realize how far I have walked until I nearly trip over the tree root that blocks the path every time I journey from the cabin to the castle. It brings me out of my stupor, and that’s when I see a few horses outside tied to a post, tails flicking in the air as they graze on what’s left of the grass under the snow.

  The closer I approach, I turn my head, confused. I think I hear a child’s laugh. That can’t be right. I listen closely and run up the steps when I realize who the child must be. When I open the door, I see Trident, standing against a nearby wall, watching the scene before him unfold with a smile on his face. Beowulf is smiling, with tears running down his face, playing with a small boy who looks just like him. Dark hair, blue eyes. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought it was his son.

  He hears the door shut behind me and looks up, smiling. Truly smiling. He beckons me with his hand.

  “Lilith, Angel, come meet Rian, my nephew. Isn’t he the most handsome boy you’ve ever seen?” I can hear the pride in his voice, and it makes
my heart hurt for the loss he is feeling right now. I know he is ecstatic that Rian is alive, but heartbroken that his brother is not.

  I kneel on the ground, and Rian turns his big blue eyes at me. He has the thickest lashes I have ever seen. He has dimples on either side of his cheeks, making him that much cuter.

  “Hello, Rian. My name is Lilith. It’s nice to meet you,” I hold out my hand, and he meets mine with his. It’s so small and fragile. I’m careful not to squeeze it. I don’t want to hurt him.

  “You’re very handsome, Sir Rian.”

  “I know,” he says in a high-childish voice.

  It makes the entire room laugh, but I can tell he has no idea what he said that was so funny. I stand back onto my feet, and Rian runs around the house, exploring his new home. “Looks like you need a bigger house,” I tell him playfully, watching the small boy laugh without a care in the world. He has no idea how much his life has changed.

  “I have no idea what to do. I don’t know how to raise Rian. I know nothing about children,” Beowulf mutters, rubbing his wide fingers through his beard.

  “Have you not wanted kids?” I ask, hoping he says yes because I want them more than anything else in this world.

  “Aye, but now that I have one, I don’t know what to do,” he chuckles, averting his gaze to Trident. “Thank you for bringing him home.”

  “Where was he?” I ask.

  Trident pushes off the wall and starts walking to the front door. “He was wandering in the woods. I stayed behind. I wanted to make sure we didn’t miss anything. I know how much Rian means to you, Wulf. I wanted to show you that I have your back. I care. If you need me, I’m here.”

  “I know, brother. Thank you.” Beowulf catches Rian just in time when he trips over a piece of the floorboard that’s broken, and the little boy giggles up a storm. “I owe you my life.”

  “I just want your friendship, Wulf.” And with those parting words, Trident leaves, leaving me and Beowulf alone in the cabin.

  I watch as Beowulf picks Rian up in his arms, so effortlessly, smiling large as if he is the happiest man on the planet to have his nephew home. Something turns inside me. Heat spreads through my lower abdomen. I realize I want to give Beowulf all the children he wants. I want us to be a family. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.

  Rian yawns and lays his head on Beowulf’s shoulder. His eyes droop until he is quickly asleep, but instead of putting him on the bed, Beowulf holds him close and a little too tight. It’s as if he is afraid Rian will disappear and keeping the small child safe in his arms seems to be his solution.

  “He is so handsome. He looks just like you.” I smile, running my fingers over the boy’s soft brown curls on his head.

  “Nay, he looks just like my brother. He was always the good looking one in the family.”

  “Mmm, I’ll have to disagree,” I slide my eyes up his body and meet his eyes.

  His eyes swirl with lust, but we both know it isn’t the proper time to get riled up with a child here now. He lays Rian on the bed finally and sighs before kissing the boy’s forehead. He stands straight, and I have to lean back and tilt my head up to look at his face. He grabs my hand, brings it to his mouth, and kisses my knuckles. He proceeds to take a step toward the door, and I follow behind him until the cold hits our skin.

  He leaves the door open to keep an eye on Rian and leans against one of the porch beams, “I have no idea what to tell him. I don’t think he understands what has happened. How do I tell a little boy that his parents are dead? I can’t. I fucking can’t, Angel. There are just so many things this world expects me to do. I don’t think I can do this. I can’t be held responsible for ruining his young life.”

  “Honesty is far from ruining his life, my love.” I rush to him and place my hand on his chest. “He will find out, or he will figure it out on his own. You are here because you love him, and he knows that, but if you do not tell him the truth, then that’s when he will feel betrayed and alone. You can’t do that to him.”

  Beowulf wraps his strong arms around me. The warmth from his body heats my skin, keeping the chilly air out.

  “I know.” He lays his chin on my head and exhales. “I know.”

  We stand just like that, for who knows how long. I lost track of time just being wrapped up in Beowulf. When he speaks again, I’m nearly drunk off the scent of him and half asleep. “How was your day?”

  “I remembered something else today,” I start, the reminder causes my heart to trip again, and my eyes to burn.

  “Really? What is it?” He pushes me away just enough to stare at me with the most excited look a grown man can have. “I’m so happy all your memories are coming back.”

  “It wasn’t a good one. I remember my father’s death. I was picking lavender with Lady Sassa and Lady Thyra, and when I placed a stem in the basket, I was thrown into the memory of me standing over his grave.”

  “Your father?” His tone is skeptical and wary.

  It makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Do you know something of his death, Beowulf? You’d tell me if you did, wouldn’t you?”

  A flash of guilt appears for a moment before disappearing, and the warrior mask falls back into place. “Of course I would tell you. I don’t know anything, Lilith. It’s horrible how he died.”

  I nod, relieved he isn’t lying to me. “I must see how my mother is doing. She must be worried sick wondering where I am.”

  That’s when Beowulf’s entire body goes stiff, and when he looks at me, he is bewildered. “You don’t know?” He rubs his hand over his mouth, wrinkles crinkling around the edges of his lips. “Of course not. How could you? Fuck. Fuck!” he whispers.

  “What is it?”

  He grabs my hands tight. Too tight.

  “You’re scaring me,” I say, my bottom lip trembling.

  “I love you. Remember that with what I’m about to tell you, okay?”

  I stay completely still, afraid to move, afraid to speak or breathe.

  “Your mother, she couldn’t handle the pain of losing you too, along with your father. She…” he takes a deep breath with a shake of his head. “Fuck, Angel. I’m so sorry; she killed herself. I buried her next to your father when I received the news.”

  For some reason, the news is upsetting and devastating, but I’m not reacting like I thought I would. A part of me knew this exact thing would happen, I suppose. I’m a bit numb, and surprised, sad most definitely, but a part of me is at peace knowing for sure.

  “I’m glad she found peace.”

  “I know this must be a lot to take in. Are you alright?” Beowulf asks.

  “As much as I can be. As long as I have you.” I wrap my arms around his waist, needing to be close to him.

  “You’ll never have to worry about that.”

  Something about the words seem off to me. They are emptier than usual. The way he says them makes that instinct swell up in my belly again.

  Something is wrong, but I know he would tell me. I’m overreacting to my mother’s death. That’s all.

  Beowulf would never lie to me. I truly, wholeheartedly believe that.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Beowulf

  I’m a fucking coward. I’m a sorry excuse for a man. I lied. I lied right to her beautiful face. Regret eats away at me. She has had enough happen to her lately. I figure sparing her the truth of what happened to her father is the right thing to do. But what if I am wrong?

  And the fear of her hating me is enough to keep the words at bay.

  “I must go,” I say, needing to clear my head and get some space. I want to figure out a way to tell her the truth, even if it means losing her again. “Watch Rian. I’ll pay you for it when I return.”

  “Where are you going?” she asks, turning the stew in the black pot with a wooden spoon.

  “Out,” is all I say. She doesn’t need to know I’m going to drink away my guilt and hopefully come back refreshed in the morning. I must put the guilt at ease. Coverin
g it up is my main priority right now.

  “Beowulf. What is going on?” she insists, dropping the spoon in the stew as she walks over to me.

  “I can’t talk about it right now. I must go.” I kiss her on the forehead and close my eyes, wondering if this will be the last time I get to feel her flesh beneath my lips. I ruffle Rian’s hair and make my exit.

  “Beowulf! What is going on? This isn’t like you. Beowulf!” she calls after me, but I never look back. If I do, my resolve will crumble, and I’ll reveal my deepest, darkest secret to her, and I can’t. I’m not ready to live without her again.

  I disappear into the dark of the night and head for the stables. A million different thoughts are running through my head about how to approach this terrible situation. There is always something standing in the way of her and me.

  At the worst opportune time, I can hear Abram’s footsteps dashing up behind me.

  “Sir Wulf! I’ve been cutting logs and lifting bricks for days! When will you be able to start training me?” he asks, with more than a hint of irritation in his voice.

  I let out a deep sigh. “Not now, Abram. I’m sorry. But I promise I will train you. Tonight, go clean the stables. Make sure to get every corner. You will need to carry water from the well.”

  “Yes, sir,” he grumbles but walks off to do his task. He’s already looking much stronger but doesn’t even realize it.

  Needing a friend more than anything right now, I head to the right instead of the left where the stables are and nod to Erik, who is guarding the main wooden door of the castle. I stomp up the steps and make my way down the long hallway until I get to Trident’s door.

  I bring his fist up and knock, careful not to be too loud to wake the babies. Lord Grimkael would not be happy with me if I woke his children up in the middle of the night. Just the thought of what my punishment would be makes my skin crawl.

  The door swings open to reveal Trident, half asleep and rubbing his eyes. When he looks up to see who is at the door, he stares at me with wide, shocked eyes. He probably thought I was the last person to show up on his doorstep.