The Heart's Warrior (24 page)

“And finally, there will be peace. I look forward to prosperity and many new grandchildren.” Tovi showed her sense of humor and keen wit all evening, but this was her first reference to Kerstin—albeit in a roundabout way.

Jonas’s grin widened, but Kerstin stared down at her laden plate.

Although Letta remained by herself, almost invisible to others in the hall, Tovi went to speak with her again.

Kerstin watched the two, dumbfounded when Letta sat up 159

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straighter and smiled. She rearranged her mussed

clothing and hair, almost appearing to be her old self again.

Kerstin wondered what Tovi had said to make the

difference. Whatever it was, the gesture touched Kerstin.

Then, she thought better of it. Tovi might try to turn Letta against her.

A twinge of jealousy pricked Kerstin’s heart. They had meant so much to each other, ever since Letta married Kerstin’s brother nine years earlier. It would hurt Kerstin to lose her as a friend.

Late in the evening, the men and women became

drunk. Kerstin’s eyelids drooped. She scuffed her feet against the fresh rushes on the floor and longed to leave the hall so she could find a place to sleep. She didn’t know where to go. Would she sleep in Jonas’s bed, or

somewhere else? Right now, she didn’t care.

The thralls cleared the meal away but others kept the drinking horns filled to the brim. Kerstin refused more wine, knowing it would result in a vile headache in the morning. She noticed Jonas also refrained from drinking too much.

As Kerstin’s shoulders sagged, she rested her elbows on the table, her chin cradled in her palms. Her eyes drifted closed, but she couldn’t sleep here and jerked awake.

One-by-one, the men and their women sought their

beds. Kerstin watched with envy as they left.

Tovi gave orders to the thralls concerning their work the next morning, then she hugged Jonas. “I’m so glad you’re home safe.”

With no more than a nod in Kerstin’s direction, she went off to seek her rest.

Jonas smiled at Kerstin and she reconsidered.

Perhaps she would stay right here and sleep with her head on the table. The fire in the large pit in the center of the room had burned low. The glowing coals winked at her, beckoning her to close her eyes and rest.

As Jonas rose, his shadow lengthened and moved

across the walls like a dark demon cavorting around the hall. Kerstin stiffened. Weariness frayed her nerves, her 160

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throat hoarse with unshed tears. She doubted she could stand any more drama today. If he demanded she

consummate their marriage, she might scream.

“Come, wife. You need sleep.”

Standing, she took his hand and prayed silently in her heart.

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Jonas led Kerstin from the table. Her hand trembled in his. She’d had a difficult day and a surge of pride filled him at the way she handled herself with his people.

The smell of tallow and extinguished candles hung in the air. Though he refused to show weakness in front of his mother, he felt exhausted and longed to sleep.

“I must see to Letta’s welfare,” Kerstin said, her eyes clouded with uncertainty.

He searched the shadows for her sister-in-law and nodded at one long bench lining the far wall. “My mother has already seen to her. I believe that is her curled up beneath those furs.”

Sure enough, Letta slept, her stomach full of bread and roasted meat, her thin shoulders covered with rich wolf and fox furs. Her face looked relaxed and calm in slumber, completely at peace. His mother had done as he asked and treated Letta with kindness.

Glancing at Kerstin, he noticed her curious

expression. “You’re surprised that she is asleep?”

Nodding, Kerstin tossed him a sideways glance.

“Most nights, I have to prepare a sleeping tisane to help Letta rest. It makes me wonder what Tovi did to achieve this tranquility.”

He chuckled. “My mother is a gracious woman, and

very kind. No doubt she treated Letta with respect.”

Though she didn’t respond, her brow crinkled with disbelief. Did she suspect his mother of hidden motives?

He prayed the two women got along. He wouldn’t be able to choose between them, not with Kerstin’s spell over him.

His mother was a kind and fair woman, but she still grieved for her dead son. It didn’t sit well with her to have Bjorn’s accused murderer living beneath her roof.

“You didn’t eat much.” Jonas took up an iron

candleholder and beckoned for her to follow him.

She shrugged. “I wasn’t hungry.”

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Looking at her over his shoulder, he paused. “You did well tonight. I’m pleased with you.”

Heat suffused her cheeks and he wondered if she

were happy with his praise or angry.

“I don’t understand your meaning.” She jutted her chin and he recognized the stubborn gesture.

Of course she understood. Why did she pretend?

Clasping her hand, he walked past the fire pit with her following behind. “You kept your silence. For once, your barbed tongue didn’t lash out when my people baited you.” “I’m not in the habit of answering foolish chatter.”

Her voice broke and so did his heart. It must be

difficult for her to live here. Though she showed pride and courage, she must be frightened of his people. They were strangers and had no reason to be kind to her. In fact, just the opposite. He must do what he could to ease her transition in his home or else prepare for constant contention. He preferred peace.

He squeezed her hand and tried to keep his voice

calm. “They were testing you, Kerstin. Remember they don’t trust you any more than you trust them. I’m glad you had sense enough to hold your tongue. They’ll come to accept you with time.”

Glancing at her, he saw her frown. They stepped over the prone body of Conall, one of his father’s liege-men, where he slept on the floor, his arm wrapped around a large, shaggy dog.

Jonas opened the door to his room and ushered her inside. Her eyes widened when she saw the gigantic bed filling the small chamber. The four posters showed carvings of fierce dragonheads with cruel eyes and sharp teeth. In the shadowed chamber, Kerstin shivered and stared at them.

“I had the bed made to fit my large frame. It’s quite comfortable.”

He patted the soft pallet covered by thick furs.

Kerstin gazed with longing at the fluffy goose down pillows. She looked exhausted enough to throw herself across the bed and sleep in her clothes.

Closing the door, Jonas latched it against intrusion.

Someone—Mother, no doubt—had lit a fire in the brazier 163

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and the crackling flames warmed the room. Walking to the trestle table, he set the candleholder down and unbuckled his belt, laying it next to the washbasin and a pitcher of water. Kerstin stood watching him.

“My men brought your things here.” He tried to make her feel at home and pointed to her small trunk at the foot of the bed. It rested next to his larger chest of clothes.

“You should undress for bed. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Because the bed occupied too much space, there were no chairs. The room had no windows. Great shadows flickered off the walls and he blew out the candle. The fire in the brazier offered enough light to undress and he thought Kerstin might be more comfortable in the

darkness. He also preferred the dark when he disrobed, so no one would see his scarred body. Only Kerstin seemed impervious to his ugliness, for which he was grateful. He didn’t think he could stand to see her recoil with revulsion.

In the smoky scent of tallow, he started to remove his shirt. “You must be tired, Kerstin. Come and rest.”

He held out his hand, but she didn’t move. She stood beside the door, her arms wrapped around herself. In the vague light, her eyes sparkled with alarm and she looked ready to bolt. For the first time since their marriage, she would be expected to sleep with him. She must be

frightened and he felt the need to alleviate her fears.

“Come, you need not fear me tonight. I’m too tired to consummate our marriage.”

Jonas spoke the truth, but he was surprised when

she released an audible sigh of relief. She couldn’t be pretending and his heart swelled with empathy. Again, he wondered how she had worked her way into his heart despite his best efforts to resist her. He didn’t want to feel sympathy for her. Yet, he did. He longed to hold her as he fell asleep, but in her current mood, he sensed she would panic if he touched her.

“This is our room,” he told her. “Now that you’re here, no one else will enter, unless you invite them. You may come here whenever you want to be alone.”

A slight smile curved her lips and her features

relaxed. He had provided her a sanctuary to hide from the 164

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crush of his people and knew the offering pleased her.

“Why did you tell your people I might be an asset to you?” she asked.

Ah, he hoped she would ask.

He walked to her and lifted his hand to cup her

cheek. Her skin felt warm and smooth as flower petals. “I want them to know I’ve accepted you as my wife and that I’ll protect you. Many of my people didn’t see our wedding.

I spoke for their benefit. I don’t want you to run away again because they trouble you. It’s best they realize I won’t tolerate any cruelty.”

Kerstin nodded and walked to the bed, patting the mattress before she sat on the edge. “It’s a fine bed, wide enough for two to sleep in comfort.”

Looking up, she stared at him, her eyes glittering in the dark.

“Will you?” he questioned in a low tone.

“Will I what?”

“Will you run away again?”

Her gaze lowered to where his gleaming sword rested at his side. “I won’t endanger Elezer or his people again.

You needn’t fear another expedition to Lade.”

Endanger Elezer? Jonas longed to decapitate the

man and feed his eyeballs to the buzzards, but he didn’t think Kerstin would appreciate that. “Will you run home to your father?”

She gave a short laugh. “He would send me packing right back to you.”

He laughed, knowing she was right. Alrik was an

honorable man, though Sigurd was not convinced.

“Do you need help to undress?” he asked in a husky whisper.

“Of course not.”

He stepped behind her and removed his shoes and

britches. The quiet rustling of his clothing could be heard as he folded his shirt and laid it neatly on top of his trunk.

Jonas lay down. He desired his wife and wished she would accept him willingly.

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many difficulties she would have to cope with as they all went about their mundane chores.

She heard the clink of Jonas’s sword as he placed it by the bed and wondered if he slept in the nude. Though she knew every contour, every rippling muscle of his body from tending him while he was sick, sleeping with him was another matter. She couldn’t bring herself to remove her clothing.

Doffing her shoes, she pulled the scarf from her hair and climbed into bed. She burrowed under the furs, fully dressed. Staying as close to the edge as possible, she turned on her side and rested her head on a pillow that smelled of Jonas’s spicy scent. The pallet dipped as Jonas joined her. She tensed, fearing the unknown.

As she snuggled into the furs, she closed her eyes.

She jumped when his hand brushed against her side.

Aware of his every movement, she knew he sat up,

looking at her.

He leaned over her, his palm cupping the back of her head. His eyes glittered in the dark as his hands caressed her arms and shoulders. “You haven’t removed your clothes.”

Kerstin stared as Jonas pulled the leather thong free of her braid and undid her hair.

“What do you intend? This isn’t sleep,” she said.

“I’m helping you get comfortable.”

She shook with anticipation. He spread her hair out across the pillows. His legs brushed hers; the fine hair of his calves tickled her toes. She drew her knees up tight to her chest and flinched when he dipped his head and buried his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply.

“You smell of lavender.” His voice sounded like a sigh. “I make the soap myself.” Now, why had she said that? What a silly comment, but she couldn’t think of anything more intelligent.

“You needn’t fear me, Kerstin.”

Tugging on her shoulder, he rolled her onto her back and leaned over. In the glowing light of the fire, she gazed at his shadowed face above her. Lifting her hands, she rested them against his chest, pushing to keep some small distance between them. Her fingertips burned where they 166

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touched his warm and supple skin. The ridges of scars and hardness of solid muscle beneath her palms reminded her of all he had endured. A longing filled her, to understand this man, to know every facet of him.

The whiteness of his smile flashed above. His scent engulfed her, masculine and exotic. His vibrant presence, his strength, his smell surrounded her.

She stared into his eyes, unable to blink. As his mouth poised above hers, she centered her gaze there and swallowed hard. His fragrant breath brushed against her cheek. When he moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, her eyes widened. The movement enthralled her and she felt an overwhelming urge to taste him.

“You’re tired and so am I,” he said.

“I am very tired.”

His laughter sounded deep and scorching. “We’ll

sleep tonight, but you should remove your clothes. Do you wish me to help you?”

“No…I’m cold.”

“I will warm you.” He reached to pull up her over-dress.