“Bartha, an ugly name, but the messenger says she is passing fair.”
“I hope Taby likes her.”
“Nay, not particularly. Evidently he ignores her. Rollo finds it all vastly amusing. Our Taby grows more by the day and his skills increase by the day as well. Helga is less a witch now than she was. Aye, I see the doubt in your eyes, Laren, but she has wedded with Weland. Evidently he allows her none of her former tricks. What think you of that?”
“I think you have just made me prick my finger, Merrik. You jest, do you not? You try to outdo me in weaving strange and bizarre tales.”
“ ’Tis the truth, I swear it to you. Now, sweeting, shall we retire? I am weary of all this commotion and all this smell and all the arguments.”
“Aye,” she said, giving him a smile that made him instantly hard, “the night is young, Merrik. Have you the strength, do you think, my lord?”
“We will see. Since my lust for you is nearly as great as my love, then I believe I can please you until you deign to ask me to cease.”
She very slowly put down the needle and the beautiful soft material. She began to stroke the cloth, not looking at him, merely said in a whisper, “Do you truly love me?”
He took her chin in his palm and raised her head. He looked at her, silent for a very long time. He leaned down and kissed her mouth. “Aye,” he said against her warm lips, “I love you more than you can imagine. I am your husband. How could you doubt it?”
“You never told me until now.”
“I know. It was difficult for me, but I have felt it, Laren, for a very long time.”
“Taby,” she said. “It has always been Taby you loved.”
“I will always love him, but he is a child and my brother. He is not the woman who will stand beside me until we are both dust and ashes. You are. I love you as a man loves a woman, as my father loved my mother. I have found you and never will let you forget what you are to me.” He grinned as he kissed her again. “I grow boring with my seriousness. I have nearly made you fall asleep repeating myself. Now I wish to take you to my bed and hold you and come into you and make you a part of me. I wish to hear you tell me you love me. You have said naught of affection for me since that long-ago night. It is important for a man to hear this often from his wife.”
“Aye,” she said, “it is very important. But like you, I said nothing. These are very powerful things I feel for you, Merrik. It is just that I feared that you didn’t want to hear such things from me.”
“You were wrong. Tell me again that you love me and let us go to bed.”
“I love you, Merrik. However . . . ” She paused, then grinned widely up at him. “Not just yet. I really wish to finish your tunic before I come with you.”
He looked at the tunic folded neatly beside her, lifted it and tossed it to Oleg
. “Take a needle and finish this garment, Oleg. As you can see, it is another blue tunic. My wife knows but one color for me.” Oleg, who was holding Megot in the crook of his arm, stared with horror at the tunic, opened his mouth, could think of nothing to say, and closed it.
Merrik carried his wife from the huge outer chamber, the sound of his people’s laughter in his ears. He felt the bulge of her belly against his heart, the warmth of her breath against his throat.
All was well. With any luck, life would continue sweet if the gods weren’t angered, if other Vikings didn’t lust after Malverne, if illness didn’t . . . His thinking stopped. Life was fragile, fraught with chance, but now, at this moment, the sweetness of it was something he would never forget.
He said to his wife, “When will you finish the tunic? The color pleases me mightily.”