Fantasyland 01 Wildest Dreams (22 page)

I blinked again and whispered with
confusion, “My uncle?”

“As far as he knows, and now I know he is
watching, though he nor any of the others have approached the
cabin, I would know this but even if they have, they cannot see
through walls, but as far as they know what we’ve been doing in
this bed could conceive a child. And he, nor any of them, wishes us
to conceive a child. I was afraid someone would attempt something
like this and if it is as I suspect and it is your uncle who has
done this then he has, as usual, made his play and shown his hand
without delay.”

I stared at Frey.

Then it hit me.

My Uncle Baldur, who stood to inherit Lunwyn
upon my father’s death, wanted me dead before I could birth a child
to succeed the throne.

Oh my God.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

“
I see you have some understanding of
this,” Frey muttered and I focused on his face to see his eyes
alert and
very
focused on
mine.

“He’s not a good man,” I guessed.

“
No, Finnie, you speak kind but you do not
speak true. He is instead the
worst
type of man, no honor, filled with greed; he is selfish,
grasping, avaricious and underhanded.”

Sjofn had written,
My uncle is not like my father
or grandfather and it is imperative that our beautiful land not
pass into his hands…

I turned my face away and whispered, “Oh my
God.”

“Look at me, my wee one,” Frey demanded
gently and my eyes returned to his. “Those were assassins. Not good
ones. It is my guess your uncle wishes you dead and tonight he
declared his intent to see to that. Even if it is not him,
obviously, someone else wishes this so.”

“Oh God.” I was still whispering and I was
again trembling, it was again violently and, try as I might, (and I
was trying) I couldn’t seem to stop it.

Frey gathered me closer and when he’d
achieved that, he held on tight.

“
Listen to me, Finnie, concentrate on me,”
he urged and I nodded, staring in his eyes as he kept holding me
tight. “I will not allow you to be harmed, my men won’t and your
father’s men won’t.” His arms gave me a tight squeeze. “You
will
not
be harmed,
love. I’ll not allow it. If it is your uncle, I don’t know why he
announced his intentions in this way for those men were not
skilled. But I will find out and we will deal with this, your
father and I. In the meantime, you will never be harmed; you will
not even be touched. I promise you that.” I kept staring at him and
said nothing so he whispered, “Do you believe me?”

“I’ve never seen a man die, Frey,” I
whispered back and he closed his eyes.

Then he opened them and said softly, “Yes
you have, Finnie. Remember when our engagement was announced? An
attempt was made on your life then. You dispatched the assassin
yourself at the steps of your Winter Palace.” His arms gave me a
squeeze. “Remember?”

I stared into his green-brown eyes,
stunned at this news, news Sjofn should have shared with me,
all
of this news Sjofn should
have
totally
fucking
shared
with
me
way
the fuck
before we even made our deal but even as this freaked me out,
scared me to death and pissed me right the fuck off, I found it in
myself to answer quietly, “Oh yeah, right. It was… unpleasant so I
blocked it out.”

He nodded before saying, “Because of that,
my wee one, I’m sorry you saw that tonight. If it were to happen
again, my men and I will do our best to shield you from seeing it
so you experience no further…” his eyes held mine before he
finished, “unpleasantness.”

“That would be good,” I replied softly.

His lips tipped up slightly before they
moved in to kiss my forehead.

When he moved back, I asked, “Is that how
you knew this was going to happen, I mean, if an attempt was made
before?”

He shook his head but said, “I do not know
how your uncle’s mind works and do not wish to know. What I do know
is that I would not put anything passed him. Though, that said, I
will admit to being surprised if he has made this decision or
anyone has done so if it is not Baldur. When the last assassin was
dispatched, an assassin neither my men nor your father’s could
successfully trace back to your uncle, or anyone, your uncle
declared outrage at this action and we had to pretend we believed
his indignation on behalf of his niece. But both your father and I
publicly promised retribution should another attempt be made and we
both vowed to ride in war against anyone if their motives were
political should they actually succeed.”

I felt my body tense and I breathed,
“Succeed?”

His arms gave me a squeeze. “This will not
happen, Finnie.”

“But, what if it –”

Another squeeze then, “It will not happen,
my love.”

“I know, but what if –”

His face dipped close to mine and his
voice was quiet but low and fierce when he said, “It will not for
you will never be far from my side. It is a measure of a man, my
wife, how he cheats in cards. And it is a measure of a man, any
man, be he married to a pub wench or a princess, how he cares for
his bride. I am a Drakkar, my measure is different than any man’s
and there are many facets to that but one of them explains why I
turn away without a thought from those whose lifeblood seeps into
the snow, those who moved with intent to harm my bride and I won’t
think of them, ever. I will only turn my mind to how I can best
care for my bride and that now includes undermining any threat that
may loom for you and I vow to you, my princess, if it means my own
life, this will
not
happen.”

I stared into his eyes. Then I whispered,
“Okay,” because really, what else could I do? He sounded pretty
freaking serious.

His eyes shifted from serious to soft and
then they smiled.

Then he repeated, “Okay.”

I sucked in an unsteady breath.

Then I said, “Though, um… just to say, if
you’re going to vow to keep me safe I’d kinda like you to vow to
keep
you
safe too.”
His soft eyes started to warm and I rushed on, “You know, because…
well, who’ll chop the wood and lug it into the house if you’re
assassinated or something?”

The soft warmth of his eyes took on another
smile and he muttered, “My wife does not like carrying wood.”

“It isn’t my favorite chore,” I admitted.
“My time is better spent baking pies.”

The smile reached his mouth before he
murmured, “Then I best stay around to do it.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

He moved his head and brushed his nose
against mine.

Then he whispered, “Then I’ll vow to keep me
safe too…” he paused, “so I can be around to chop wood.”

“And lug it in the house,” I added.

“And lug it in the house,” he agreed.

I stared into his eyes, so beautiful, so
close and felt his arms, so strong, so tight, and felt his body, so
big, so powerful, all of it making me feel so… very… safe and the
trembling stopped.

Then I slid my face to the side and tucked
it in his neck as I slid my arms around his body and held on
tight.

I felt Frey tip his head so his lips where
at my ear when he asked, “Are you all right now, my wee
Finnie?”

“No, not really but give me a minute and
I’ll get there.”

He kissed my neck.

That made me feel better.

Then he held me and I held on until I felt
totally better. Or, at least, better enough to change into my
nightgown.

Then I whispered, “I’m good now Frey. I need
to go change for bed.”

“All right, Finnie,” he agreed, his arms
loosening, “hurry.”

I pulled away, looked at him, gave him a
small smile then leaned in to give him a quick lip touch.

Then I moved away and hurried.

I was back in bed, held tight to my
husband’s side, cradling his thigh in less than five minutes.

It took me a lot longer to find sleep.

But eventually I did it.

* * * * *

“Frey?” I called.

“I’m here,” he whispered, his arm around my
back giving me a squeeze, “you’re trembling again, wife.”

“Bad dream.”

He rolled into me and both his strong arms
went around me.

“Hold on,” he ordered gently and my arm
already around him tightened.

He held me and I tried to find sleep.

I couldn’t so I called, “Frey?”

“I’m here.”

I hesitated.

Then I said so quietly, I wondered if he
heard me, “You were so
good
at
it.”

He heard me, his arms got tighter but he
said nothing.

“You’ve had lots of practice, haven’t you?”
I asked.

“Sleep, wife,” he said on a squeeze.

Yep, he had lots of practice killing
people.

Ho boy.

“Just tell me one thing,” I said softly.
“Were they bad guys?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment then I
heard his head shift on the pillow and with his lips against the
top of my hair, he whispered, “Most of them.”

Oh God.

“No enemy is all bad, Finnie,” he told me
gently. “They’re just the enemy.”

I nodded my head on the pillow for this was
undoubtedly true.

Frey kept talking. “But the men tonight were
paid to kill a newlywed man and his wife,” his arms gave me a
squeeze, “I lose no sleep for them and you shouldn’t either.”

“But you were awake,” I pointed out.

“Yes, I was, because my wee wife trembles
against me in her sleep,” he informed me.

God, that was sweet.

“Sorry, Frey,” I whispered.

“Do not be sorry, be drowsy,” he
ordered.

I smiled and pressed closer to my
husband.

Then I whispered, “Thanks for saving my
life.”

He didn’t answer.

He just gave me another tight squeeze.

Return to Fyngaard

We didn’t leave at dawn; we left three
hours before it. But considering the sun kissed the sky around nine
in the morning, this wasn’t
that
early. Nevertheless, with a restless night of sleep that
included several awakenings, I was exhausted.

Luckily, I had packed the trunks and Frey
had loaded the sleigh the day before. However, even if we hadn’t
done this, it would have been made light work of by the tall, burly
men who were to ride with us.

Before leaving, I met them briefly. Thad and
Ruben were among them. Then there was Annar, Orion, Stephan
(pronounced Steh-fawn), Gunner, Maximilian (but he told me everyone
called him Max and invited me to do so too), Lund and Oleg.

Oleg, I learned when Frey pulled me up in
front of him on Tyr, was driving my sleigh which had the horses set
to and was ready to go by the time I wandered sleepily outside
wearing a cloak Frey chose for me (due to its warmness) that was
made of white fur pelts dusted with black and gray hairs, gloves
and a furry hat that matched the cloak.

By the way, all of my fabulous outerwear was
over a gown I chose for the purpose of meeting my parents, a softer
than soft winter white cashmere that had an intricately crocheted,
low, square neckline and a matching crocheted belt, so long, its
ends hung to the hem of my skirt. I’d added a pair of fabulous
fur-lined, over-the-knee charcoal gray suede, low-heeled boots and
select pieces of very elegant but understated jewelry.

Yes, it was the wee hours of the morning
when Frey woke me and told me to get ready. And yes, we were going
to be travelling all day, on the back of a horse no less. But also,
I would be seeing my parents at the end of our journey, they didn’t
seem to like Sjofn much and I wanted to make a good impression.

So, off we went, the sleigh led by a big,
black horse added to my grays (Oleg’s mount).

The day before, I had asked and Frey had
agreed to take the ride slower so we could stop in some of the
villages on the way because I wanted to have a closer look and so
we could have a break (and the horses could too) and something to
eat. We were even going to spend the night in one of them so I
could be rested and have the time to get presentable to meet my
parents.

This plan went out the window with the
assassination attempt (understandably) and we were to press on
swiftly and get to Fyngaard without delay.

And this we did.

Surprisingly, for the first couple of hours,
I turned and curled as best I could into my husband’s big, warm
body and somehow managed to fall asleep in the cradle of his
arm.

Once I woke, Frey ordered a halt and we all
stopped to eat sandwiches Ruben’s woman made for us filled with
cold, lean roast beef that had been stacked on slices of thick,
chewy white bread while the beef’s juices still flowed, soaking the
bread with flavor. It also had a spread of creamy horseradish sauce
that was delicious but so thick it made my eyes water though none
of the men even made a face as they wolfed the sandwiches down.
This was followed with long pulls on wineskins that were filled
with smooth whisky that, no matter how smooth, still made my eyes
bug out. But Frey gently urged me to drink it to “keep warm
inside”. So, since he was being gentle and Lord knew I needed to
utilize every tactic to keep warm, I sucked back three big
sips.

He was right, it worked. After that, I was
definitely warm inside.

As we rode (and Oleg sledded with Penelope
curled in the fur rug at the floor of the sleigh, oblivious to the
ride, the scenery and everything, in kitty cat la-la land of warmth
and definitely liking the sleigh better than riding on a horse and
I knew this because she… freaking…
told me
), the men did not converse at all. They were alert and
wary and Thad and Stephan often galloped away from the group,
disappearing in front of us, obviously assessing if our path was
clear. Lund and Annar often rounded back, clearly assessing if we
were being followed. And Orion rarely rode with us, obviously out
in the countryside somewhere, assessing if we were safe at our
flanks. But Ruben, Gunner and Max stayed put, Gunner riding steady
to Frey and my left, Max riding steady to Oleg’s right, Ruben at
the front, our constant guard.