A Beast For The Eyes: A Steamy Shifter Romance (A Ravenswood Romance Book 2) (22 page)

Aife felt a great compassion for him. The idea of deeply loving a woman only to loose her at sea was so distressing to her, and reminded her of the tale of Cliodhna. A fairy woman loved deeply by a mortal man, but swept away by the music of the ocean to become the foams of the sea. She relayed the tale to Erik. His face hardened,

"It was a long time ago, little bird. I'm grateful she joined her ancestors, but I want to move on with my life rather than have it poisoned by her ghost and her memory. I want to love freely again."

Horses cried out of the blue, causing her, Erik, and the entire tribe to turn and look in the direction from which it came. Armoured knights rode forth into the villager, brandishing spears and swords. Leading the pack was no knight, but a skinny man with straw hair in chainmail bearing the crest and standard of his father. Seamus took in the sight he saw before him, and the metal of the men he was willing to take on. He looked like a man who had no idea what he had gotten himself into.

Aife pulled closer to Erik. Part of her had felt a desire to go back, but only out of obligation. She didn't love Seamus, not in the way she had begun to feel for Erik. All the same, she didn't want to see Seamus harmed or killed. He could still find himself a nice wife, just so long as it wasn't her.

Seamus pulled his horse to a stop in front of the gathering. "I've come here for my bride. Barbarians took her from me on the eve before we were to be wed. She has hair kissed by fire and is the greatest beauty in all the world. I have taken my host from village to village in search of her. Whoever returns my bride to me shall be rewarded handsomely!"

Many of the men who had been with Erik on the night of the raid clutched their axes and swords, preparing for a fight to start. Erik had no such designs. He walked out of the crowd to face Seamus himself.

"I'm a man of honour, and I will not hide from the son of a Scottish lord," he announced with pride. "I partook in the raid on your village, yes. When I saw Aife's great beauty, I was compelled to protect her, and also take her for myself. I would have her be my wife if that was her wish, though unlike you I shall never force that on her. Regardless, I have grown to love her. Should she wish to go with you, she may. Though should she wish to stay, I would give my life to ensure that she could."

Seamus drew his sword, and his voice cracked as he spoke, "Barbarian! You don't understand our ways. Marriage is not a choice that we make, it's something that must be done for the good of our families. I'm not afraid of you, I will fight to perserve her honour and the honour of my house." He dismounted his horse and strode towards Erik.

"You are brave, I'll give you that," Erik acknowledged. He turned to Aife, "is it your wish to return with this man, little bird?"

She didn't want anyone to be hurt, but it was the moment of truth, "No, I don't want to go back. I want to be free to make my own fate."

Erik nodded, "Very well," he drew his own sword and went to meet Seamus. "You can still choose to respect her wishes and leave."

"Her wishes and mine don't matter. Only honour does," Seamus yelled and went to strike Erik with his sword.

Erik blocked the blow as easily as a horse swats away a fly with its tail. Each strike from Seamus was deflected without effort by Erik, which only seemed to make him angrier. Seamus's strikes grew ever more ferocious and reckless, all while he yelled obscenities at Erik for stealing his bride and stripping the honour from his fathers proud name.

Erik parried away from a particularly vicious strike, but not quite in time. The sword bit into his unguarded flesh, spraying his blood across the ground. He cried in pain, clutching the shoulder where the sword had struck him. This made Seamus overconfident, and he went in again to strike. Erik dodged it and in a single motion drove his sword up through Seamus's belly, withdrawing cleanly. It didn't take very long for Seamus to die, but Aife cried all the same. In the confusion one of the banner men tried to grab her, tearing her dress and digging his nails into her skin. She had started bleeding before another man killed him. Knowing they were outmatched, and their young lord dead, the banner men turned tail and ran.

Panting and wincing from pain, Erik made his way back to Aife. The sight of her blood worried him. "I'm sorry you had to see that, little bird. Are you okay?"

"Did you mean what you said? About loving me?" she queried.

Erik took her face in his hands, and gave her a deep, impassioned kiss. "Every word, my little bird. I was willing to die so that you could choose any destiny you wanted."

Brynhildr saw to her minor wounds, while Erik went off to seek the services of the village healer. She didn't know quite what to make of what had just happened. Freedom. It was a concept and idea that she had always dreamed of truly possessing, yet now that she had it she didn't know what to do with it.

"I've not seen him so devoted to any one woman since his wife passed on to the next world," Brynhildr told her in extremely broken Gaelic as she began to braid her hair, "you bring out the better parts of him."

CHAPTER 4

Aife had the entire night alone in Erik's home to mull over that. At times she cried for fear that his wound might kill him as hours passed without him coming home. She took in the scent of him from the furs of the bed, and their warmth only reminded her more of his tenderness and his love. Tears fell from her eyes until she simply couldn't cry anymore. Come morning, Brynhildr came for her.

"He wants to see you," she told her, "he won't stop asking for you."

Erik was sick from blood loss, but otherwise he was going to live. The arm would take quite some time to heal, however.

"Aife," he reached up to touch her face. She leaned down to accept it, leaning into his touch. His hand was cold from losing blood, but still retaining its vitality and regular strength.

Erik coughed, "I want to ask you something, Aife. No matter what you answer, I will always care for you and protect you. You'll always have a place in this village and in my home. Do you understand?"

She remained silent, anticipating only one question.

"Be my wife," he stated plainly and hopefully.

Moments passed as Aife processed that. She wanted to give an answer that allowed her to choose her own destinies. Yet, the idea of marrying a man like Erik filled her with joy. Where the idea of him would have once filled her with fear, whereas now it excited her. She wanted to learn of this new culture and live her life the way that she saw fit.

"I- I need to think," she stammered before hurrying off back to Erik's home and locking herself in the room that he had given her. She had wanted to say yes, with all of her heart. But, she had to be sure that she was marrying him out of love and not because of the excitement and novelty that he had shown her. Seamus was dead, and if her father was still alive he would have her married off to someone else for sure. Perhaps to the son of a lord, but perhaps not. She would have no choices in how she lived her life.

Erik gave her choices and respected them, regardless of what they were. If she wanted to leave today, Erik would allow it. If she wanted to stay, surely he would find her a suitable place to live. In her heart though, she knew that the way he looked at her was filled with nothing but love. He would have her as a wife and stay just as devoted to her as he had been to his wife who had died of fever so long ago. He would always treat her gently and with kindness for as long as she wanted to remain with him.

The idol of Freyja stared at her from the hearth, as though it were trying to communicate the correct answer to her. Fire crackled in the low embers of the hearth, sustaining their heat even with the ravages of time. Burning passion did not necessarily have to diminish as soon as it ignited. The hearth embers showed Aife that it could endure, becoming stronger and hotter as it was fed but never dissipating no matter how much time had passed. The love between her and Erik, she realized, did not have to be the fire that took hold of a forest, short lived and hot. Rather, it could be like the embers of a hearth. Eternally smouldering and enduring even in the face of hardships.

Deep in her heart, she knew the answer that she wanted to give him. Her mind balked at the seemingly impossible task of adopting and learning and entirely new language and culture, yet all the same her excitement grew all the more impossible to contain.

She looked up at the idol again, and it filled her with newfound strength and determination. She sat down on her bed and waited for Erik to return home.

It was three days before she at last heard a knock at her door. She opened the latch to see Erik standing there, still awfully pale but otherwise okay. The healers of this village clearly had skill which far surpassed anything the Scottish knew.

"Little bird," he said, "may I come in?"

Aife cast the door open for him and sat back down on the bed. Erik got down on his knees before her, and took her hands in his. Warmth had been returning to them, and her touch brought a new vitality to his visage, light to his eyes. Oceans of blue stared up at her, full of both passion and pain.

"Ek elska þik," he told her in his own language. Realizing that she didn't know what that meant, he translated, "I love you, Aife."

She didn't reply at first.

"Regardless of what you answer, that will not change. I assure you. I want only to see you happy, and I will do anything to make that possible for you, for all the days of my life. Aife, my little bird, will you marry me?"

Freyja stared at her from the hearth, urging her to go with her heart. She stood, keeping her hands clasped in Erik's. "Will I always be free to choose my fate?"

"Always."

"Then yes. I will marry you Erik."

Joy filled them both and he lifted her up and spun her about the room with glee. Aife laughed and squealed, finally allowing herself to be truly happy. Where the idea of marriage had once repulsed her, now she felt only peace. Erik brought her to their room and they joined one other in passion again, continuing until they both felt like they would collapse from exhaustion. Aife kissed Erik's wounds, as though she could make them heal faster. He winced slightly, but appreciated it all the same. She shut her eyes, snuggling into his chest and felt his lips caress her forehead and eyelids.

"When do you want to marry?" Erik asked her sheepishly on the edge of sleep. She didn't hear him at first, and upon him repeating himself answered,

"I'd marry you right now if I could,"

He smiled his devilish grin, hugging her closer to him. For all either of them cared, this moment could last until the end of both their days.

"I love you Aife," he repeated. It was as though he couldn't express it properly with his words alone.

"I love you too, Erik," she told him for the first time. In that moment, she became a viking like her future husband. And all felt right with the world.

*****

THE END

One

“I, Eugenia Montague, do bequeath to my worthless nephew and his wife, the amount of ten pounds each. To my lovely granddaughter, Blair, I bequeath my mansion, Pennhalow and all surrounding land and properties thereof.”

Mr. Haines removed his glasses and peered up expectantly. “Are there any questions?”

Randall Montague slammed his fist down on the desk, making Mr. Haines flinch. “What the hell is this chicanery?” he demanded in outrage. “Ten pounds each? Is that a typo?” He snatched the will and scanned it in desperation. “There has to be some mistake.”
 “Oh no,” Mr. Haines replied crisply. “There is no mistake. Your aunt was quite insistent on the change to her will. You can see the document is dated three months before her death.”

Randall’s wife, Heather, readjusted her mink stole and glowered at Blair. “And where were the doctors?” she demanded imperiously. “That woman wasn’t in her right mind. Her physician can attest to that!”

The solicitor didn’t appear sympathetic. “I’m sorry. But everything is legal and in order. If you wish to contest the will, then you are free to do so.” Though he added mockingly, “You may want to leave the house to Ms. Evans. It’s not exactly kosher.”

Randall was livid. “Are you serious?” he choked out, pointing a shrivelled finger at his cousin. “Blair barely knew Aunt Eugenia! She’s nobody!” Randall’s beady eyes roamed over Blair’s borrowed suit in disdain. “She’s a short-order cook for God’s sake! No offence,” he blustered.

“None taken,” Blair drawled, wanting to slink away to the nearest pub and get wasted. “Are we through, Mr. Haines?”

“We are
no
t finished here!” Heather sniffed. “There is still Eugenia’s insurance policy. If anyone should get Pennhalow, it is I! We deserve the money that comes with taking care of that harridan for five years!” She glowered at Mr. Haines. “We changed her bedpans and cleaned up her vomit.” Heather turned on Blair, sneering coldly, “And where were
you? Flipping burgers at some roadside hovel that no one ever heard of!” She reached into her purse and pulled out a tissue, wiping at the pitiful dots of moisture rimming her eyes “Now, I ask you, who is entitled to Pennhalow?”

Blair peeled off her gloves. “Look, I only came here to pay my respects to a lonely old woman who showed me more kindness than you two miserable pieces of shit ever did.” Mr. Haines snickered. “If you want Pennhalow, lady. Knock yourself out!” Blair rose from her seat, shook Mr. Haines’ hand, turned on her heel and left.

Heather turned to her husband. “Well!” she snorted in outrage. “Have you ever?”

“Shut up, Heather,” Randall sighed miserably. “Just shut the hell up!”

****

“Well…?” Josie asked over the phone. “What did they say?”

Blair kicked off her heels and slumped on the sofa. “I own a rotting mansion in the wilds of Cornwall,” she groaned. “Randy and Heather were none too happy about that.”

“Greedy bastards,” Josie swore. “What else?”