With a nod from Bhric, the warrior rode off with Tavia’s horse and after tucking his wife in the crook of his arm, he proceeded to wrap her cloak over and around her legs, then he yanked his own fur cloak across her as well.
The cold left her, whether from the heat of his body or the fur cloaks she was not sure and she did not care. The warmth would do much to help her leg and she allowed herself to settle comfortably against him.
Bhric expected her to remain stiff in his arms and was pleased when her body lost its rigidness, but then she was tired and in pain, and her body gave her no choice. And that thought annoyed him.
That annoyance fueled his question. “I did not hurt you when we coupled, did I?”
“Nay,” she said, realizing what he was doing—trying to get to the truth, but for what reason? Did he think to prove her a liar and evade their marriage?
“Did you enjoy it?” he asked.
She rested her head on his chest, fearing he could see the lies in her eyes. “I fear I drank too much leaving me with little memory of it.”
“Then I failed you, wife, for there is not a woman I poked that did not enjoy and remember it fondly.”
Not sure how to respond to that Tavia chose to remain silent.
Bhric gripped her chin and lifted it so she would meet his eyes. “Next time, I will make sure it is memorable.”
Feeling he expected a response, she said, “I look forward to it.”
“As do I,” he said and for some reason he could not comprehend, he leaned down and kissed her lightly. Her eyes held his when his lips left hers and he felt a sudden jab inside him, not a painful one but a pleasant one. “You like my kisses?”
Why had he asked her that? He had never asked a woman that. He was a Northmen. A Northmen would never ask such a question of a woman let alone his wife.
He hurried to correct himself. “It matters not if you do, I will kiss you when I want.”
“As you say, my lord, but I do not mind your kisses,” Tavia said surprised that she did and glad for it since marriage to him would not be pleasant if she abhorred his kiss or touch.
Anger jabbed at him when his shaft gave a salute to her response. What was it about this wee woman that stirred him so fast?
“I will be a good wife, if you will let me,” Tavia said, hoping he would consider her words.
His shaft gave a sturdier salute as a sudden image of her spread naked on his bed helped it along.
“You will be a good wife regardless,” he snapped. “I will tolerate nothing less.”
“Aye, my lord,” she said, having no desire to anger him or argue with him.
She was grateful for the yawn that surfaced, and she turned her face into his chest away from the cold that stung her cheeks and closed her eyes. If he thought she slept, he would say no more to her, hopefully.
Bhric watched his wife’s eyes flutter closed, his annoyance twisting at his gut. With so many questions to ask her, he had asked her the least important ones. Or were they more important to him than he had thought?
* * *
They camped as the sky turned to dusk. Two campfires were set and the food that had been packed for them at Clan Strathearn distributed throughout. Bhric settled Tavia by a campfire and draped a fur around her, covering her, and saw that she had food and drink.
Her eyes caught on Hertha and Hume busy tending the two children, Doritt and Edward. They talked and laughed together. The constant fear she had seen in the children’s eyes was gone. They felt safe and would feel safer the farther they got from Lord Ivan.
She rested her hand to her stomach, thinking what it would be like to grow round with a bairn, to hold the precious bundle in her arms, to give him or her all the love she had to give.
Tavia startled when her husband suddenly sat down beside her.
“You have not touched the food I gave you,” he said.
She snatched up a piece of cheese to appease him, though she felt no hunger.
“You watch the children. You wish a bairn of your own?” he asked curious, not that it mattered since it was her duty to give him heirs, but he had hoped for a wife who would be as good and loving a mother as his mum was.