Epilogue

“You limp no more, Luca.” Bettina wanted to hug the boy but he had grown, now bore chin fuzz, and avoided any but the male affection of cuffs and backslaps.

“Aye, my lady.” He stretched his healed leg to the fire. “’Tis your move.”

Bettina sighed. Fox and Geese had become the rage at Arbroath during the long winter and the keep now boasted over a dozen game sets. She glanced to the doors when the sound of hooves thundering over rocks reached her ears.

Luca lurched to his feet. “’Twill be the lord and his brothers.”

But ’twas her mama and Leofric who strode into the hall afore they had packed away the game. Bettina dropped the four geese into a bucket and sprinted across the hall to hug her mother. “Mama. How do you feel?”

She drew back to study her mother’s flushed cheeks. “All is well?”

“Aye.” Lady Gwen cupped both hands over her rounded belly. “The babe grows and I am hale.”

Leofric slipped his arms around his wife’s expanded waist and tugged her back to his chest. “And how fare you, daughter?”

Gwen had almost lost her babe twice and Leofric had not let Gwen travel before.

“I am well. What has happened? Why are you here?”

Leofric kissed the top of Gwen’s head. “My wife insisted on one last visit before her lie-in. Wouldst you believe she wanted to ride? She seeks to drive me senseless with worry.”

“Pah, husband. Stop your incessant hovering. The worst is behind me.” Gwen rolled her eyes. “We travelled by cart. He drove so slowly I wanted to scream. We left at dawn. ’Tis noon.”

Suppressing a smile that the journey took thrice the normal length of time, Bettina said, “Your old chamber is prepared. Pray spend at least this night with us. Njal will want to speak with you about the treaties when he returns, and I have not seen you in ages, Mama.”

Leofric shook his head. “We stay three days at Arbroath, no longer.”

“Who arrived then on horseback if you came by cart?” Bettina glanced at the door.

“Your husband and his brothers galloped to the stables afore we entered the castle.” Mama kneaded the small of her back.

Leofric grunted, scooped her into his arms, and strode over to a chair in front of the fire.

“For the Lord’s sake, Leofric, I am carrying a child. I have not lost the use of my legs.”

“Your back aches. You will rest. Have you a warm blanket?” Leofric growled, glancing at Bettina over his shoulder.

“Luca, pray fetch a blanket.”

“At once, my lady.” Luca retrieved a woolen throw from an alcove and gave it to Leofric, who arranged the cover over his wife, tucking the cloth under her feet and shoulders.

Bettina’s lips twitched when Mama swatted at her hovering husband. How will Mama react to the news of our babe? Though she knew there would be those who frowned on mother and daughter carrying babes at the same time, she liked the idea of their children playing together.

She had not even been aware of her missed courses until Njal left to meet the king five sennights afore. Had she not caught the cook and her new maid discussing the matter, why even now she might not have realized her delicate condition. In truth, she felt not a difference save her appetite had increased threefold or more, for her belly growled and rumbled the moment she sniffed food cooking.

The hall doors banged open and a smiling Njal strode into the great hall. He tossed his helm to a squire skipping to keep up with his lord’s long legs. Behind Njal, Bettina spied Jarvik and Magnus. She frowned and studied the two brothers, wondering why Jarvik sported a wide smile while Magnus wore a scowl that would strike fear into a warrior, far less a page or maid.

Though she tried to wait patiently for Njal to reach her side, Bettina surrendered and ran to him.

He opened his arms wide and she crashed into his chest. He smelled so wonderful, of leather, horse, and Njal.

“I missed you so, warrior wife.”

“And I you.” She drew back to meet his gaze.

“Soon. Soon, Magnus, you will be enjoying the fruits of such wedded bliss,” Jarvik’s booming voice cracked the quiet of the chamber.

Bettina blinked. “Magnus?”

“Aye.” Njal’s mouth twitched. “The fate of Laufsblað Fjǫllóttr has been decided.”

“King Mael Coluim has gifted Magnus with a Highland princess.” Jarvik grinned like a fox sighting a gaggle of geese. “Laufsblað Fjǫllóttr is to be his once he marries.”

“Are you pleased, husband, to know your brother will be our neighbor?” ’Twas long after the evening meal had ended and Bettina and Njal had retired to their bedchamber. She did not want to bleat out her news, but tell him of their coming babe the way a woman of the court would.

“Aye. Though Magnus has oft declared his intention not to wed and I fear he is not pleased by the king’s order.” Njal sat on the bed unlacing a boot. “Your mother fair glows as the babe grows. Leofric is beyond himself with worry. ’Tis amusing the way he hovers.”

Bettina shrugged off her cyrtel and tossed the garment into a basket.

“Nay.” Njal’s arms enfolded her from behind, and he stayed her fingers on the chemise’s ribbons. “For five long senninghts I have waited for the pleasure of disrobing my wife. Think you to deprive me?”

She twisted around, locked her arms around his neck, and nuzzled his bare chest.

“I would not let the maids launder your tunic, but slept with my nose buried in it. I know not which part of you I love the most. Your smell.” Sniffing his neck, she continued, “The feel of your hands on my breasts.”

Emboldened by the heat radiating from his steeled muscles, Bettina led his cupped hands to her bosom, and closed her eyes when his thumbs grazed her nipples. “’Tis amazing that you touch me there and my womanly parts catch fire.”

When she lifted weighty lids and met the roaring desire in the darkening of his blue eyes, she tiptoed, resting her palms on his shoulders. “Or is it the taste of you I love the most?”

He growled when she licked the seam of his mouth, and he gripped her bottom cheeks as she suckled and nibbled on his lower lip. His arms tightened and he crushed her to his chest, flattening her breasts, deepening the kiss, tangling his tongue with hers.

“Nay.” She jerked back. “Wait. Njal.”

“Bettina—”

Pressing her hand over his mouth, she smiled. “Nay. I have a surprise planned for you. ’Twill please you, on my oath.”

“I know not how long I can wait. My seed e’en now gathers.”

“I am with child,” she whispered and the words pricked her eyes.

His face lost all color. The hold of his embrace loosened, then tightened, the blue of his eyes disappeared, and little beads of sweat appeared at his temples. “You are with child?”

“Aye.”

“By Odin, why are you standing?” He scooped her high against his chest. “You raced across the hall to greet me this eve. Have you no care for yourself or the babe?”

Bettina went giddy as he paced furious circles in front of the roaring fire, first in one direction, then the next.

“No more riding. We must find a food taster. You cannot ingest soiled meat. Queen Emma will loan us her midwife. She is much learned.” He halted, laying her down on the straw mattress with such care she couldn’t help but smile. “Your face has good color. Are you eating? Do you have the babe morn sickness? You need wool cyrtels, mayhap a dozen heavy shawls, more bed furs—”

Placing two fingers to his lips, she said, “And you are the same man who finds Leofric’s hovering amusing?”

“Nay. The man is clearly out of his mind. Think you I will allow you to travel at all from this moment—far less in a rickety cart?” Njal shook his head. “Nay. In my embrace, ’tis the only way you will travel henceforth.”

She knew of only one way to distract him.

“Do you not want to hear of my other surprise?”

His complexion took on a greenish cant. “More?”

“Aye.” She jerked her head to the clay pitcher standing on a table not three inches from her head. “Leofric procured for me the Danish court’s coca you so love. I had thought to dunk your cock into the warm coca and then lick it off.”

Njal’s gaze jerked to the jug, to his groin, then to her breasts. “Nay. Nay. I will not let you distract me from keeping you safe and healthy.”

Bettina dipped her fingers into the warm coca, painted her nipples with the sticky liquid, and glanced up to meet his gaze when he groaned. Heated languor sank into her veins, and the hood between her folds drummed. A delicious wicked tingling curled her toes, skittered up her legs, and had her breasts throbbing and pulsing.

She slanted him a half-slotted look, drew her fingers up the center of her sex, and coated the flesh ’neath her reddened hood a deep, rich chocolate.

Njal hissed out a breath, his nostrils flared, but his eyes never wavered from her parted legs, the slick folds stained dark with the coca.

“Do you not need a sweet before you sleep, my lord?”

“Warrior wife.” Njal ripped off his clothes, sending his tunic one way, breeches another. “Know you, ’tis the last time I will allow you your way.”

Ah, but Leofric had procured not only the coca, but an aphrodisiac oil to keep a man hard and erect for hours, and a potion ’tis said drew a man to his mate the way the sirens drew ships to rocks.

When Njal put one knee on the mattress, Bettina grasped his engorged manhood between her coca-covered hands. She rimmed the purpled head, sent him a sideways glance, and before her mouth covered his cock, murmured, “I love you, peacemaker husband.”

~ End ~