Page 63 of To Tame a Viking Warlord

Mathias, well into his cups, leaned forward. "Do ye know, Samira, that Njal here drinks like a bear waking from winter? And Leif tells a tale so stretched ye'd think the fish was the size of a whale. But they're good men. The best." He hiccupped. "Sat down too fast."

"You are still seated," Samira replied.

"Aye. For now." He lifted his cup in a toast to no one, sloshing ale over his knuckles, and the whole end of the table cheered him because that was the mood of the night, and any excuse to shout was a good one.

Torstein watched his wife's mouth curve, and watched her guard ease a fraction as the warmth of the hall and the foolishness of his men wound around her. It did something to his chest, seeing it. She had come so far and given up so much, and here in this rough hall full of loud men and women she was beginning to look as though she might belong. That was worth more to him than any raid.

She still longed for her homeland, and Torstein was always on the lookout for any of her home delicacies. Their homestead was full of trinkets, a special garden, and fabrics and designs that reminded her of home. She missed her father and Zohra and her life in Fez, and he knew he could never replace any of those things. But he tried to make her transition easier.

Torstein had noticed another benefit of having a wife everyone recognized. The procession of women who used to flock towards him had dwindled remarkably, most likely because he only had eyes for his wife.

Once, Torstein had endured their attention with a performer's grin, courteous and distant, feeling nothing. Now he simply kissed his wife and kept her on his lap, making it clear that he was a kept man and a very happily married one at that.

And whenever a woman dared make a move, his feisty, possessive wife would reach for her blade and threaten death.

At that moment someone said something funny, the end of the table erupted, and even Samira laughed. The sound was startled out of her, bright against the smoke and the firelight. Torstein pulled her in and pressed his lips to her hair and did not let her go, and for the first time in the whole of his thirty-two summers there was no restlessness in his chest at all.

There was only her.

***

Chapter 25

1049 Spring - Hrafnaklett, Orkney

The letter came with the first ship of the spring.

Samira broke Murdina's seal at the kitchen table while Thora kneaded bread beside her. The message was short, the way all of the Abbess's letters were.

Come to Saddell before the lambing is done. There is someone you must meet. Bring your husband.

Samira folded it and pressed a hand flat against her stomach beneath the table. The smell of the dough was turning it again. It had turned every morning for a month.

She had not told Torstein. She had meant to tell him at Yule, and then at the feast after it, and then some quiet night by the fire. Each time she had pictured his face, and then his hand closing over hers, and then his voice telling her she would not so much as step into a boat until the babe was born. So she had said nothing, and now there was a letter.

Torstein came in from the yard with the wind at his back and Murdina's letter in her hand caught his eye at once.

"Saddell Abbey?" he asked.

"The Abbess sends for me. For both of us."

He sat down across from her. She watched him choose his words, and she loved him for how carefully he did it.

"Do you wish to go?"

"Yes."

"Then we go," he said. "I will have the ship ready within the week."

She let out her breath and smiled at him, and he smiled back, and neither of them said another word about it.

That night, when Samira had gone up to bed, Torstein sat alone by the hearth and drew a second letter from inside his tunic. It had come by the jarl's own messenger that afternoon, sealed with the same mark, and it was addressed to him alone.

Your wife is with child. She will not tell you, because she knows you will forbid the crossing. Bring her to Saddell regardless. My sisters will see her safely through these first months, and there is a matter of the Order that cannot wait. Say nothing. Let her think she has managed you.

Torstein read it twice. Then he laid his head back against the chair and laughed quietly at the smoke hole, so as not to wake her.

He was going to be a father.