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Harald shrugged. “I do not know what happened. Could be that your wife has a gentling touch.”
That she does. This morning her hand had drifted close to his manhood, soft and gentle, and the unexpected results had been the reason he had vacated the bed so fast, and the thought annoyed him.
“See that the hounds are kept hounds and not playthings for your daughter,” Bhric ordered harshly. “Especially Fen. He has been nasty, snapping and growling at anyone who goes near him since he last saw battle with my father.”
“Aye, my lord. Fen stays much to himself these days, the other hounds not going near him,” Harald said, then hurried off after his daughter.
“You, wife,” Bhric said, turning to her.
Tavia waited for the reprimand that was sure to come.
“Will not do something so foolish ever again.”
And there it was. “Aye, my lord,” she said and went to leave, disappointed that in three days’ time, he had barely spoken to her and when he did it was usually telling her what she should not do, what she had to do, what he expected her to do.
Bhric grabbed her arm, stopping her. “You smile often at Hume.”
“He gives me reason to smile,” she said, without thinking since conversations were always interesting with the young man.
Bhric leaned his face down close to hers. “And why would that be?”
A puzzled expression crossed her face. “He has a bright mind and is witty.”
“So, you think highly of him?”
“Aye, I do just as I think highly of the woman he loves… Hertha,” Tavia said.
“Are they wed?” Bhric asked.
“Aye, they were wed the same day Flora and Lord Torin were wed.”
“Something else you failed to tell me?” he accused.
She tilted her head slightly and a small crease appeared between her eyes. “I did not think it would be of interest to you, my lord.”
Truthfulness. That was what he saw in her eyes. It was difficult to miss, it sparked so bright, and that annoyed him even more. Had it been there before and had he failed to see it?
Tavia looked around for Hume, fearful for him though there was no reason she should be. It was the look in her husband’s eyes that worried her but why talk of Hume should anger him puzzled her.
“Anything that concerns my wife concerns me.” He saw that people were watching and with a firm grip on her arm he hurried her toward the side of a cottage.
Tavia felt the pull to her leg as soon as he yanked her, and she stumbled from the quick jab of pain.
“You cannot even stay on your feet,” he reprimanded.
His words not only hurt but they also angered her. “I could stay on my feet just fine if it was not for your thoughtlessness.”
His head snapped back as if she had slapped him. “You dare to chastise me?”
“When you deserve it,” Tavia said, her anger sparking her courage. “I have a limp and it slows me, and nothing will change that no matter how many times you yank me to keep pace with you.”
That she was right, frustrated him. He refused to admit it, but he wished she did not have a limp. He wished she could match his powerful strides, keep pace with him as he walked through the village, and run if necessary. How would she ever run if she needed to? But she had not allowed her limp to stop her from keeping Uta from being hurt as foolish as it had been for her to do so.
Tavia kept her voice low. “I am sorry I am not the wife you wanted, but I will make you a good wife if only you will give me the chance.”
“What happened to your leg?” he asked, taking advantage of the moment to confront her about it. Besides, her gentle tone made it seem that she spoke the truth and perhaps she would make a good wife if given the chance.
“An accident,” she said.
