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Seeking Permission
When he and Aidan arrived in the dining room the next morning, Caedmon wasn’t surprised to see his host stand to attention, his shoulders rigid. Blythe’s fierce blush confirmed what he suspected. Dieter was about to ask permission for their marriage. “Good morning,” he chirped, bending to kiss his daughter.
“Good morning, Papa, and Aidan,” she replied as her brother kissed her other cheek.
“Good morning, sir,” Dieter said, bowing respectfully. “I trust you both slept well.”
“I did,” Caedmon confirmed as he sat.
Aidan pouted. “I didn’t.”
Dieter remained standing, his back ramrod straight.
Caedmon chuckled inwardly. He supposed most fathers wondered how they would react on the day a man asked for the hand of a beloved daughter. He’d always hoped Blythe would find a husband who loved her dearly. The kidnapping and confinement seemed to have ruined her chances—a prospect that had broken his heart. Now, he acknowledged the hand of Fate behind the journey to Germany.
He had two daughters, but heaven only knew if the independent-minded Ragna would ever marry. It was difficult to imagine a man willing to live with her stubborn nature, and he certainly didn’t want her tied to a husband determined to tame her.
He thought to savor this moment, given he might never have to grant permission again. He could either let the Saxon twist in the wind for a while, or get straight to the point. “Was there something you wanted to say, Count?”
Dieter took Blythe’s hand. “Sir, I wish to marry your daughter.”
Aidan clenched his jaw, but Caedmon put a hand on his son’s arm. “Do you love her?” he asked.
“More than life,” he replied. “But you must also be informed I was married before, and I have a son. He is my heir.”
“A son,” Aidan exclaimed. “It isn’t enough you kidnapped my sister and kept her against her will?”
It took effort, but Caedmon ignored him. “I assume you are widowed?”
Dieter nodded, his gaze suddenly fixed on the far wall. Caedmon decided this wasn’t the moment to pry into the count’s previous marriage. “And you, Blythe, my lass, do you love Dieter?”
“With all my heart,” she said.
“And you understand any children you bear to this man cannot inherit his title or his lands?”
“I do.”
Caedmon turned to his son. “Aidan, as Blythe’s twin, it’s as much your right to bless this union as mine. Before you speak, I would ask you to remember how your mother and I met.”
Aidan frowned. “On the battlefield at Alnwick. You were wounded. She nursed you.”
“True, but she’d seen me before.”
Aidan folded his arms across his chest. “At her family home, Kirkthwaite Hall.”
“And what was I doing there?”
“Helping marauding Scots burn it down.”
“So, if your mother can forgive me for destroying her home and unwittingly participating in the massacre of her family, surely your sister can forgive the circumstances that brought her to Dieter.”
Aidan looked into Blythe’s eyes, then stood and offered his hand to Dieter. “You have my blessing.”
“And mine,” Caedmon added. “Now, let’s eat.”
* * *
Dieter couldn’t recall a time he’d felt more relieved. He prided himself on his ability to control his emotions. The insurrection against the emperor had been challenging but, even in the midst of a bloody battle, he’d maintained his sang-froid.
