Branded By Etain (14 page)

“Her temperament matches the red hair on her head. She fair shouted at Thorkell when he forbade her the deck on our return journey. I thank Odin the potion we fed her when she awoke put her back to sleep before she caused Thorkell injury. By Thor’s hammer, she has a berserker’s fury. I cannot imagine you screaming and ranting like she did.” Mayhap ’twas what his wee wife needed, to rave and rage without considering if she pleased another. He vowed to needle her into a full tantrum and reap the passionate rewards that would no doubt result.

A muffled snort alerted Brand to the fact his wife had drifted off. He withdrew from her pussy in slow graduations, reluctant to lose the firm clutch of her body. When he eased out from under her, she wrinkled her nose and curled into a little ball. He tucked the furs around her and paused to admire the pretty picture she made.

Brand dressed quietly, collected the wild disarray of tossed garments and weapons, and strapped on his sword and daggers. He closed the shutters, stoked the fire, and left the room, careful to close the door on a soft click.

“You are Larkin.” Brand addressed the warrior standing guard at their door. He sported three black stitches over the swollen cut on one temple.

“Aye, my lord.”

“How did Irvin manage to knock you witless?” Brand leaned a shoulder on the doorframe.

“He must have snuck back down to the cellars to spy on us and heard me telling Gavin of his plans to steal Alana. ’Tis the only explanation Gavin and I can come up with. ’Twas careless on my part not to check that he had indeed left the castle.” Larkin touched a finger to his injury.

“How did you learn of his plans?”

Larkin flushed. “I drank with one of his crew last eve. We were both sotted, but he more so than me. ’Twas child’s play to draw it from him.”

“You did well. When does Gavin take the watch from you?” Brand made a note to find a reward for the soldier.

“After the noon meal, my lord.”

“When my wife awakes, take her to see her sister, and send a message to me. I will be in either the hall or the stables.” Brand gave the man a dismissing nod and headed for the king’s chamber on the ground floor. He had a notion to discuss with his wife’s father.

•●•

Two full moons had passed.

She had never felt such happiness. Each new day dawned the same way, with Brand caressing her awake, and after their coupling, presenting her with a gift.

Étaín peered at her reflection in the oval hand mirror Brand gave her the day after he rescued Alana, and defeated Irvin and his men. She could not repress a wide grin when her glance fell on all of the other objects on the chest of drawers.

Matching gold arm and neck torques carved at each end with a beast that matched Brand’s cloak brooch had been his morning bride gift to her. A ring with a large square stone he called an emerald winked in the light streaming through the open windows.

Last night, she awaited him under the covers wearing naught but the torques. It had inflamed Brand. They had swived fierce and fast, then slow and tender, and this dawn she had roused to him thrusting inside her.

She loved him.

There dwelt no doubt in her mind that he cared for her, and Étaín knew she should be content. But, she yearned to say the three wondrous words to him and to hear them in return.

Cedilla patted the bed cushions into place and straightened the pelts covering the bed sheets. “Your courses are late.”

Étaín’s eyes widened, and she twisted to face Cedilla. She did a quick calculation in her head. Her courses came consistently with the full moon. She was never late. She glanced down at her belly. Could she be with child? Étaín held her breath and recited a quick prayer to Mary, mother of God.

“You have eaten every crumb on your trencher this past week. I noticed you e’en ate the doubled portions Lord Brand heaped to your side.”

“I have no nausea.” Margie was increasing and the poor woman had been vomiting her insides up for the past fortnight and a half.

Cedilla shrugged. “’Tis not the same for every woman. I ne’er knew I was with child until my belly suddenly strained at all my gowns.”

Étaín fingered the scooped neckline of her leine. What had been a loose fitting dress now molded her breasts. She chewed on her lips. “Send for the healer. I would consult with her afore I tell my husband the news.”

Would Brand be pleased? She rubbed a circle around her navel. Did she carry a son or a daughter? All warriors wanted sons, but ’twould be lovely to have a wee girl. A happy babe like Enid.

Étaín’s joy dissolved as a tidal wave of guilt crashed through her. She had not thought of Enid or Cavin or any of the other five babes in…she searched her memories…in two moons. Not since the day after Irvin had taken Alana and Brand returned her safe, sound, and uninjured, either in her mind or on her body.

The door banged open.

She jumped and caught her hand to her breast. “Brand, you nigh had my heart scaling the rafters.”

“A good day to you too, wife. Come, I wish you to walk with me.” He held out his hand, palm up.

Étaín rose, glided to him, and placed her hand within his. “Where do we go? To the docks?”

“Nay. ’Tis a surprise.” Absently, he kissed her knuckles and then locked elbows with her.

“Do we venture outside the keep?”

“Aye. Cedilla, toss me the sable lined brat I purchased from the trader.” Brand snatched the heavy cloak her nurse threw out of the air. He draped it around Étaín’s shoulders, curled an arm around her waist, and guided her into the hallway.

“Where are Da and Nikolas?” she asked.

Brand rolled his eyes. “Where else but at the boards? By Loki, I am weary of Fox and Goose and all manner of games.”

Étaín suppressed a grin and patted his shoulder. “Be glad that Da is not prodding you to play chess. I own ’tis an onerous task. For he will consider his move from every angle and ponder on it forever.”

“I predict ’twill be a long winter.” Brand sniffed the air when they strode into bright sunlight. ”’Tis the first day that the sky is clear since Nikolas and I returned from our journey to check on Gunnar the Godless.”

“Do you know I had not noticed? We have been so busy with turning the last of the berries into jelly that I have not even gone to see Margie this week.”

Brand had a decided weakness for blueberry jelly, and Margie had suggested an unusual use for the newly made sweet treat. Étaín secreted a ceramic pot of jelly behind the screen in their chamber, along with an extra supply of washing squares and another pitcher of water in addition to the one already there. Amidst much giggling, Margie admitted ’twas a messy take on bedsport.

Frowning when Brand took the path to the village church, which was situated on a hill adjacent to the town, she checked his pensive profile, and wondered what dismal thoughts had chased away her husband’s smile. Would the news of their coming babe restore his normal equilibrium?

“How is Margie? Darren is most distracted and worried that the babe is not getting enough sustenance.”

“Poor Margie. She is exhausted by the constant heaving. The healer bid her brew a tea with dried dandelion leaves, and it seems to be helping. She was able to walk to the castle and e’en had two slices of bread that stayed down.” Étaín paused when they crested the top of the hill. She was gasping and a tad out of breath.

“Rest a moment, wife.” Brand cradled her in his embrace and kissed the top of her head. “Catch your breath. I did not mean to rush you.”

She craned her neck to meet his gaze. “My curiosity is well spiked, my lord. What gift needs be hid in a church?” His serious expression did not lift with her tease. “Is aught amiss? Have I done aught to displease you?”

“Étaín. For the last time, the only time you displease is when you ask if you have displeased me. Cease and desist. I am well content with you, wife, and would have no other.” He traced her lips, and the feathery caress tingled and tantalized and plucked at her nipples.

She never tired of his snappish utterances of contentment and couldn’t prevent a big beam.

“Ready?”

“Aye.” He twined their fingers together and led her around the stone building. She swept him a swift, sidelong glance when he tugged her in the direction of the graveyard.

He came to a halt at the far end of the cemetery in front of seven newly dug graves.

She read the carved name on the wooden cross closest to her. “Enid, daughter of Lorraine and Fergus the Butcher. Born 965, died 973.”

Étaín could not get another word out. Tears sprouted and flowed freely down her cheeks. He’d had graves dug for each one of the seven babes Eachan killed before she had learned to control her temper and emotions. The seven babes she’d been forced to watch as they took their last breath.

Her knees buckled, but when she would’ve collapsed, he caught her up and sat on a log under a large shady oak in full fall color. Étaín never noticed. She curled into herself and bawled. She cried and cried and cried. Hiccupped and sobbed and wailed.

And all the while he held her and murmured soft endearments. He massaged her aching temples and offered her sips from the wineskin slung around his shoulders.

The sun had begun to wind its way down to the horizon when Étaín finally stopped blubbering and snuffling.

Brand obviously anticipated her reaction, for he whipped out a linen square tucked around his sword belt, nudged her chin, and gently wiped away her tears.

“You laid them to rest” Her voice wavered and her throat stung from her harsh weeping.

“It occurred to me that you have never had a place to mourn the babes. In the spring you can plant flowers for them.” He knuckled her cheek, and she melted at the tender gleam in his blue eyes.

“I have something to tell you.” Étaín linked her hands in her lap. “I have not had my courses these past two months.”

He sucked in an audible gasp. “You are with child?”

“I sent for the healer to verify it. But I am never late and ’twas due the full moon when we wed.”

“You have not vomited. It cannot be right. Margie is sick morn, noon, and night, Darren claims.” His bronzed complexion took on a greenish cast. He measured her hips with his hands. “Freya be merciful and send you a small babe. Did your mother birth you all easily? As soon as the channels unfreeze in the spring, I will send Nikolas to bring back the most renowned healer in the Norse lands. And the Danish courts. Mayhap I will have him search e’en the Saracen lands.”

They had their first fight that eve when Brand would not allow Étaín to oversee the evening meal as she normally did. Their second disagreement occurred the next morn when he banished her from the kitchens. By their third quarrel, Étaín no longer cared who heard them squabbling about what activities she was newly forbidden.

In the middle of their fourth dispute, he stamped his hands onto his hipbones and bellowed, “You will do as I say.”

“I will not do so. ’Tis the height of doltishness to insist that I am not to stir a pot or e’en attend church services. I love you, Brand, but you are the most infuriating man I have e’er known.” She stamped her foot, frustrated beyond belief.

He straightened and all the anger dissipated from his face. His lips twitched, and then he caught her by the waist and stared into her eyes. “Say it slowly.”

“I love you, Brand.” Heat scalded her throat and tears pricked threateningly.

“You are branded on my heart, Étaín.”

Award winning author, Jianne Carlo’s motto is simple: Alpha Me, Please.

While strong heroines, exotic locations, and cultural differences are her forte, she goes weak in the knees for warriors and alphas. Send her a man with an attitude and she’ll find the right woman to tame him.

Jianne loves hot and spicy food, stomach-plunging park rides, and is kept on her toes by her Viking husband of thirty-five years, and three, handsome grown sons. There’s nothing she likes more than hearing from readers.

http://www.jiannecarlo.com