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His face turns red. “Put me down, savage!”
I tighten my fingers around his throat as his feet kick where they hang a foot from the floor. “If the lass wants to visit her childhood friend for the last time, she will visit her friend for the last time.”
“Freya is to be my wife soon! What business is it of yours?!”
“I’m making it my business.” I drop him. He staggers back and bangs his head against the wall. I help straighten out the collar of his smart suit while fixing him with a look. He tries to bat my hands away. I tighten my grip.
“Don’t even think about sending a couple of thugs around to thump me.”
His eyes widen.
I grin and get my face right up in his.
“I’ll kill them if you do. Don’t mistake me for a fool. It’s no hardship for you to let the lass see her friend. Think of it as being charitable.” I pat down his scuffed-up lapel and tap his cheek. “The lass and her mother are destitute save for this house. You don’t need to offer her much to make her happy. Happen she will be sucking on your tiny prick enthusiastically for this small kindness you offer.”
His nostrils flare.
I should not have put that thought in the bastard’s head.
“I will get your horse ready while you let the lass and her mother know you’ve had a change of heart.”
I step aside. He glares at me, seething. Not that I could give a fuck. He will toe the line, or we shall have more than a chat.
I ready his horse, half expecting him to cause a ruckus or send for the city guards. I have a few friends among them, men I fought alongside during the war. He is welcome to give my arrest a go.
The next time he emerges from the house, Freya is at his side, pink-cheeked and smiling.
“Oh, thank you for understanding,” she says. I bite back a growl seeing her arm through his, but the joy on her face is a reward enough.
Marshal sends me a shifty look as he pats her hand. “Perhaps I should come with you?”
“No need,” I interject, walking his horse over and getting into his personal space. “I’ll accompany the lass. Make sure she gets back to you safely. Those barbarians are a strange lot. They don’t take to strangers. Wouldn’t want you run into trouble.”
Freya looks like she might protest on their behalf. “Don’t mind it, lass. I’ll see that you make your journey without incident. Snow is coming, and the road won’t be open for much longer. We should make that trip sooner rather than later.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea, thank you.” She smiles brightly until she cops a glare from Marshal the prick. Her smile falters before she plasters it back on and leans in to kiss her betrothed on the cheek.
My knuckles turn white around the horse’s reins. It’s all I can do not to peel him off and put my fist down his throat.
I don’t. That would be a non-civilized thing to do, and my friendship with the city guards will only get me so far.
ChapterSeven
Freya
“Have another slice of cake,” Dara says, pushing a freshly laden plate toward me across the table.
I have already eaten one piece, but there is always room for more where her mother’s baking is concerned. A smile brightens my face. Dara has been my best friend since we were little, from the time of our fateful meeting in the woods. Despite their different dress and fearsome reputations, barbarians are warm, friendly people with good values.
I’ve no idea what had gotten into Lor saying they didn’t take well to strangers. They are the most welcoming people I know.
Unless you wrong them. Wronging a barbarian is a very bad idea.
And now that I think about it, I cannot imagine them taking well to Marshal. I can just picture him having tea and cake with a sour expression on his face. It would have ruined the trip. I admit Lor was sensible in warding Marshal from joining us.
I savor my next bite of cake. Life is so different in the city, and that is my life now. Dara knows this… and my partiality to her mother’s baking. She is a sweet young woman full of fun and mischief, like I used to be. It has been some time since I last visited. With winter closing in, and the wedding looming, I wonder if I shall visit again.
The room is warm and cheery, but I feel cold thinking about never being here again. My wedding does not exactly fill me with cheer either. I had a stupid notion that Aston might be here, that he might see me and remember that he made a vow to marry me.
