Page 166 of Whisper of Nightmares

It won’t erase the horrors that befell these lands when Reynar Varinsson conquered them. But it’s a step in the right direction.

That is, assuming everything goes accordingly when they confront Percival tomorrow.

The morning turns to afternoon, and the afternoon turns to evening.

They make their way into the sitting room for a cup of tea, before Asvald and Kelda offer to take Maryam back into town. As Asvald leaves to ready the carriage, with Kelda and Maryam follow shortly after him, Dagfinn stands in the entryway, watching them don their cloaks, heading outside, and close the door behind them.

Then, Euphemia and Dagfinn are utterly alone for the first time since he’s awoken.

It’s the first time all day that Euphemia doesn’t know what to do with herself.

She knows how to act with him in the dream world, but this is new.

Being here.

Together.

In their home.

The tempo of her heart quickens.

Suddenly, all Euphemia can think about is that they are alone. Truly alone. And that they are about to spend their first night together as husband and wife.

But perhaps those are only her own selfish longings.

Dagfinn has been through quite an ordeal.

He’s only just awoken.

Perhaps he’s not ready for something so physically taxing.

However they decide to spend their time though, Euphemia realizes she’s simply grateful to have him here.

“It’s strange,” she says to him from where she sits on the settee.

He turns around, folds his arms, and leans against the entryway. “What is?”

“Being here. In this manor. With you. Does it not feel strange to you?”

He angles an eyebrow at her. “Should it?”

Euphemia can tell he’s toying with her, so she tries to sound nonchalant when she answers, “Yes and no, I suppose.”

“Yes and no?” Dagfinn parrots back.

“I only meant that it’s different.” Euphemia is losing the battle with the sense of fluster building inside her. She sighs, trying to shake it free, but it doesn’t seem to ebb. “When I first came to Thorfell, I was nervous to meet you. Frightened, really.”

Dagfinn prowls into the room then like a predator. He stops just in front of her and kneels, his chin almost resting on her knees.

The sight of him there, so close to the tender place between her thighs, sends a shiver through her. Her knees press together instinctively, but the movement only seems to make her more aware of exactly where he is.

Heat begins to gather beneath her skirts.

He brings his face closer to hers, a low rumble in his voice. “And what do you think of me now?”

If he wants to play this game, she will play back.

Euphemia leans forward until they are nose-to-nose. “Now, I know the truth. That you are a brutish beast.”