“Perhaps trust is an issue with her.”
“You’re wise, Brother Noble. Trust is the very thing she asks of me.”
“You don’t trust her?”
“She tells me she’s never been intimate with a man and yet she was, from my understanding, deeply in love with a man. How then did they stay apart? And what if she carries his child?”
“The child would need a father. If you like how this woman feels in your arms, you must care somewhat for her. Wouldn’t you then care for her bairn who was part of her, help him grow into a strong man or if a lass, keep her safe since her da couldn’t? Or are you too bitter you were forced to wed Raven?”
Chapter 15
Wolf couldn’t get the conversation he’d had with Brother Noble out of his head, especially the question he had no answer to. Was he bitter that he’d been forced to wed Raven? Had he been forced? He could have refused the proposal, but on further thought, it was a solution that seemed the best at the time. He had wanted to settle and establish a good life, put down roots in a land that was his heritage.
It seemed Raven’s men wanted the same. He was pleased for Fyn and Greta, and little Tait deserved a good father. Greta had barely spoken about Tait’s father, when she had arrived at his tribe seeking safety and shelter. The wound on her face had yet to heal and the only thing she would say was that the father of the bairn she carried wasn’t a good man. He was glad she and Tait finally had a good man. And it meant that Fyn would plant roots here and being in love and loyal to Greta would make him loyal to the tribe. He had also noticed how Eria was spending time with George. And he hadn’t missed the glances exchanged between Brod and Ida.
Raven’s men were settling nicely in the tribe, establishing roots that would keep them here, keep them loyal. That was what he needed to do with Raven, establish roots and loyalty with her. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t happen until they trusted each other.
He’d been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t realized the snow had turned heavy, coating the ground. Bairns ran around squealing with delight as they tried to catch the snowflakes as pups nipped at their heels, and parents were busy making sure they had all they needed to weather the storm. Gorm was seeing that food and firewood were generously distributed and shovels were available to those who were assigned to digging pathways.
Wolf made a point of stopping and speaking with various people, seeing they had what they needed, though he had no doubt they did. It wasn’t that he never heard a complaint, the tribe had its share, but being prepared for a snowstorm wasn’t one of them. Snow was something they dealt with often in their homeland.
He wasn’t far from the longhouse when he spotted his wife with her head bent and her eyes cast to the ground as if searching for something. He headed her way wondering what she may have lost. She suddenly bent quickly, whipping something up out of the snow that had coated the ground.
Her cloak.
All this time she had gone without it and he hadn’t taken note of it. He’d been too angry over the escape, too annoyed that she had taken matters into her own hands, and too intent on talking with Sten, to see that his wife had lacked protection from the cold, something that plagued her too often.
He whipped off his fur cloak as he drew near her, snatched her damp wool cloak from her hands, and hurried his warm cloak around her. “There are several fur cloaks in the longhouse. You will wear one of them from now on.”
“Is that an order?” Raven asked, shuddering as she drew the warm fur around her.
He framed his words carefully. “It’s a wise choice.”
Raven smiled. “Wise response.”
Her smile brought his own. “I am a wise man.”
Raven laughed. “I could argue that.” She held her hand up when he went to respond. “But I won’t, since I appreciate the warmth of your cloak.”
And the scent of you on it.
She pursed her lips to make sure those words didn’t slip out, growing uncomfortable with the unexpected thought. Or did she? She had grown accustomed to his alluring scent. It wrapped around her like his arms, bringing comfort and strangely a sense of safety. The thought troubled her, it feeling like a sense of surrender. She couldn’t surrender, not ever. She had to stay strong, always strong or she wouldn’t survive.
Wolf grew concerned when her brow seemed to crease with worry. “Something wrong, Raven?”
She brushed it off with an excuse. “The day grows long and I grow hungry.”