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“I think she failed to understand,” Sven said, as his glance settled across the room.

Bhric turned and while anger rushed over him, he could not help but be captivated by his wife. She looked beautiful in a Clan Strathearn plaid artfully wrapped around a deep gold underdress intricately embroidered at the neck, wrists, and hem of the garment. Her dark hair appeared to glitter in the light as it fell in waves, free of any confinement, and her cheeks were tinged pink.

She stared at him anxiously and Bhric realized the room had turned quiet, all eyes on him as he stood there silently looking at his wife. A wife who had blatantly disobeyed him.

“Has she injured herself, she limps?” his sister whispered.

And so it began, the endless questions and no doubt surprise that he had wed a woman with an affliction. Bhric went to her and took her arm to wrap around his. He looked out over the room and announced with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, “My wife, Lady Tavia.”

The room erupted into a cacophony of shouts, whistles, applause, and the banging of tankards on the table.

He kept his voice low as he escorted her to the table on the dais where Sven and Ingrid sat. “You will answer to me later, wife, for your neglect in obeying me.”

Tavia remained silent, keeping a pleasant, yet forced smile on her face.

“You have been injured?” Ingrid asked before her brother could introduce her.

“At one time, my limp is what is left of it,” Tavia said, seeing no reason to hide it.

Ingrid raised her brow as she sent her brother a quick look.

Bhric ignored the questionable look and introduced Ingrid. “This is my sister Ingrid and Sven’s wife.”

“Be careful you don’t squash her. She is a wee bit of a thing,” Ingrid said to her brother before looking to Tavia. “Welcome to the Thrubolt Tribe.”

Tavia turned a confused look on Ingrid.

“The Thrubolt Tribe in the north is where we were raised, Bhric and I and two other brothers and sisters. That tribe is as important to us as is our mother’s Clan MacShane.”

Tavia gave no thought to the tribe but instead focused on the fact that Bhric’s mum had given his da six bairns. She wondered if she would be able to give him just one.

“I see,” Tavia managed to say and sat, her husband and Sven separating her from Ingrid.

Bowls, platters, and trenches of food filled the tables and ale and wine were endlessly poured. Tavia did not understand how so much food and drink could be consumed, but then the men were large as were the women. They were giants compared to her.

“Eat,” her husband snapped, causing her to jump and he lowered his head close to her face. “Wipe that fear off your face. They watch you.”

Tavia had no stomach for food, but she took a small piece of bread to appease her husband.

Bhric kept himself from shaking his head and speared a sizeable piece of meat with his knife and placed it in the trencher in front of his wife. “Eat!”

Her stomach churned at the thought, and she was glad he turned away from her to continue talking with Sven. The night wore on and she grew tired. She wondered if it would be acceptable if she excused herself or must she wait to retire with her husband.

Tavia poked at the meat in front of her while she nibbled at the bread, hoping it appeared as if she was eating more than she was.

The noise in the room suddenly lowered and Tavia was surprised to see an older woman, tall, slim, her gray hair braided and tightly coiled on either side of her head walk with the help of a tall staff toward the dais. Her features were sharp, and wrinkles marred a good portion of her aged face. That everyone eyed her with respect and awe warned Tavia that she was someone of importance.

“I have come to congratulate you and your bride on your marriage and to bless you with a fruitful union,” the old woman said.

“I am grateful, Greta. This is Tavia, my bride,” Bhric said, turning to face her.

“I am pleased to meet you,” Tavia said, and an unease ran through her at the way the woman’s glance slowly examined her. When she finished, Tavia was not surprised to see disappointment on her face.

“If you need anything, I am here to serve you, my lady,” Greta said.

“I am grateful,” Tavia said and unexpectedly added, “but my healer came with me.”

The soft chatter vanished in an instant and she did not dare look at her husband, knowing she would see disapproval in his eyes. Though, she was forced to when he turned to her.


Tags: Donna Fletcher Historical