announced? An attempt was made on your life then. You dispatched the assassin yourself at the steps of your Winter Palace.” His arms gave me a squeeze. “Remember?”
I stared into his green-brown eyes, stunned at this news, news Sjofn should have shared with me, all of this news Sjofn should have totally fucking shared with me way the fuck before we even made our deal but even as this freaked me out, scared me to death and pissed me right the fuck off, I found it in myself to answer quietly, “Oh yeah, right. It was… unpleasant so I blocked it out.”
He nodded before saying, “Because of that, my wee one, I’m sorry you saw that tonight. If it were to happen again, my men and I will do our best to shield you from seeing it so you experience no further…” his eyes held mine before he finished, “unpleasantness.”
“That would be good,” I replied softly.
His lips tipped up slightly before they moved in to kiss my forehead.
When he moved back, I asked, “Is that how you knew this was going to happen, I mean, if an attempt was made before?”
He shook his head but said, “I do not know how your uncle’s mind works and do not wish to know. What I do know is that I would not put anything passed him. Though, that said, I will admit to being surprised if he has made this decision or anyone has done so if it is not Baldur. When the last assassin was dispatched, an assassin neither my men nor your father’s could successfully trace back to your uncle, or anyone, your uncle declared outrage at this action and we had to pretend we believed his indignation on behalf of his niece. But both your father and I publicly promised retribution should another attempt be made and we both vowed to ride in war against anyone if their motives were political should they actually succeed.”
I felt my body tense and I breathed, “Succeed?”
His arms gave me a squeeze. “This will not happen, Finnie.”
“But, what if it –”
Another squeeze then, “It will not happen, my love.”
“I know, but what if –”
His face dipped close to mine and his voice was quiet but low and fierce when he said, “It will not for you will never be far from my side. It is a measure of a man, my wife, how he cheats in cards. And it is a measure of a man, any man, be he married to a pub wench or a princess, how he cares for his bride. I am a Drakkar, my measure is different than any man’s and there are many facets to that but one of them explains why I turn away without a thought from those whose lifeblood seeps into the snow, those who moved with intent to harm my bride and I won’t think of them, ever. I will only turn my mind to how I can best care for my bride and that now includes undermining any threat that may loom for you and I vow to you, my princess, if it means my own life, this will not happen.”
I stared into his eyes. Then I whispered, “Okay,” because really, what else could I do? He sounded pretty freaking serious.
His eyes shifted from serious to soft and then they smiled.
Then he repeated, “Okay.”
I sucked in an unsteady breath.
Then I said, “Though, um… just to say, if you’re going to vow to keep me safe I’d kinda like you to vow to keep you safe too.” His soft eyes started to warm and I rushed on, “You know, because… well, who’ll chop the wood and lug it into the house if you’re assassinated or something?”
The soft warmth of his eyes took on another smile and he muttered, “My wife does not like carrying wood.”
“It isn’t my favorite chore,” I admitted. “My time is better spent baking pies.”
The smile reached his mouth before he murmured, “Then I best stay around to do it.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
He moved his head and brushed his nose against mine.
Then he whispered, “Then I’ll vow to keep me safe too…” he paused, “so I can be around to chop wood.”
“And lug it in the house,” I added.
“And lug it in the house,” he agreed.
I stared into his eyes, so beautiful, so close and felt his arms, so strong, so tight, and felt his body, so big, so powerful, all of it making me feel so… very… safe and the trembling stopped.
Then I slid my face to the side and tucked it in his neck as I slid my arms around his body and held on tight.
I felt Frey tip his head so his lips where at my ear when he asked, “Are you all right now, my wee Finnie?”
“No, not really but give me a minute and I’ll get there.”
He kissed my neck.
That made me feel better.
Then he held me and I held on until I felt totally better. Or, at least, better enough to change into my nightgown.
Then I whispered, “I’m good now Frey. I need to go change for bed.”
“All right, Finnie,” he agreed, his arms loosening, “hurry.”
I pulled away, looked at him, gave him a small smile then leaned in to give him a quick lip touch.
Then I moved away and hurried.
I was back in bed, held tight to my husband’s side, cradling his thigh in less than five minutes.
It took me a lot longer to find sleep.
But eventually I did it.
* * * * *
“Frey?” I called.
“I’m here,” he whispered, his arm around my back giving me a squeeze, “you’re trembling again, wife.”
“Bad dream.”
He rolled into me and both his strong arms went around me.
“Hold on,” he ordered gently and my arm already around him tightened.
He held me and I tried to find sleep.
I couldn’t so I called, “Frey?”
“I’m here.”
I hesitated.
Then I said so quietly, I wondered if he heard me, “You were so good at it.”
He heard me, his arms got tighter but he said nothing.
“You’ve had lots of practice, haven’t you?” I asked.
“Sleep, wife,” he said on a squeeze.
Yep, he had lots of practice killing people.
Ho boy.
“Just tell me one thing,” I said softly. “Were they bad guys?”
He didn’t say anything for a moment then I heard his head shift on the pillow and with his lips against the top of my hair, he whispered, “Most of them.”
Oh God.
“No enemy is all bad, Finnie,” he told me gently. “They’re just the enemy.”
I nodded my head on the pillow for this was undoubtedly true.
Frey kept talking. “But the men tonight were paid to kill a newlywed man and his wife,” his arms gave me a squeeze, “I lose no sleep for them and you shouldn’t either.”
“But you were awake,” I pointed out.
“Yes, I was, because my wee wife trembles against me in her sleep,” he informed me.
God, that was sweet.
“Sorry, Frey,” I whispered.
“Do not be sorry, be drowsy,” he ordered.
