Tomorrow would be soon enough to face Jarl Eirik. After the Jarl left she would consider how to tell Rurik about Maerr. Tonight, she would bask in the simple pleasure of sleeping near this man who by a strange twist of fate had become her husband.
Rurik could not sleep. Too much had happened in the past day to allow him a peaceful rest. And with Jarl Eirik expected to arrive tomorrow, there was even more in store for them. But that was not why he could not take his eyes from the woman slumbering at his side. In her sleep she had turned to him and now her head rested pillowed on his shoulder, while he gently twisted a length of her auburn hair around his finger. He took in her sleep-softened features, greedy to savour them before the single remaining candle burnt itself out.
She was beautiful, but he’d had beautiful women before. She was courageous, but he had known many courageous women. No matter how he studied her features, he could not understand exactly what it was about her that drew him in. Or why joining with her had felt as if he had given her a piece of himself that would belong to her for ever. It must have been the words he had spoken when he’d been inside her. He had bound them together, saying the only vows that mattered to him as he took her as his wife and gave himself to her as her husband.
The immediate closeness with her was both welcomed and unsettling. It seemed only right that he would feel this with his wife, but it was, nonetheless, unexpected. Drawing a length of her hair to his nose, he breathed in the soft and sweet scent of her. The heavy mass fell through his fingers to lie on her breast where the blanket had pulled down. Her pink nipple peeked out at him through the auburn strands.
He smiled and stroked it with a fingertip, watching it draw up as if eager for more of his touch. His shaft swelled immediately, ready for more of her, but she needed her rest. And if he was being honest with himself, a very real part of him was afraid of what might happen if he allowed himself to have her too often. What if every time they came together he gave her another piece of himself? What if soon she had all of him?
What if it was already too late to worry about such things?
He wanted a true marriage, but the truth was that he didn’t know if he was ready for that closeness. Only now, after glimpsing how good things could be with her, was he coming to appreciate the vulnerability required for what he wanted. He’d not had much experience of leaving himself defenceless. Life had always been about strength and fortification for him.
Pulling the blanket up over them both, he hugged her against him and closed his eyes, willing sleep to claim him. Tomorrow would be the first test of their marriage and he planned to meet it with a clear head.
Chapter Seventeen
Rurik would be proud. Sandulf Sigurdsson surveyed the mean chamber where the assassin had attempted to hide like a rat run to ground. The stench of the overturned sweet wine vied with stale sweat and the reek of death, getting into his lungs. Sandulf breathed shallowly through his mouth, keeping the roiling in his stomach down.
The memory of his first battle and its aftermath swamped him—his distress had amused his father. After he’d scrubbed Rurik’s boots clean, his half-brother had given him invaluable advice on how to control his wayward stomach.
Sandulf plucked the golden-arrow pendant which his mother had once worn from the corpse’s fist. The dead man had tried to bargain with it, pleading for mercy. Sandulf had given it—a clean death, far more than the worm deserved.
His next target lay far to the north and west. Glannoventa in the Kingdom of Northumbria and the woman he had marked. Two dead, two to die before he embraced his brothers. He carefully closed the door with a click and strode towards the port.
Chapter Eighteen
The insistent pounding on the door woke them long before either would have risen on their own. In the cocoon of their bed, Rurik had found the best sleep of his life with Annis cuddled next to him. He had woken several times, but only long enough to pull her against him and hurtle headlong into sleep once more. He meant to do that again, especially when she curled her fingers against his neck and let out a soft breath, but the pounding would not stop.
He opened his eyes to faint morning light coming in through the small cracks in the shutters. Covering her ear, he held her face cradled to his shoulder as he called, ‘What is it?’
The reply was muffled, but the name Jarl Eirik set him on alert. Sliding out from under her, he grabbed the discarded tunic and slung it on, heedless of the fact that he was half-hard with wanting her again. By the gods, he must have passed the entire night in that state. Opening the door a crack, he found Alder scowling at him.
‘You had better have a damned good reason for waking us.’
‘Jarl Eirik has been sighted. He will arrive soon,’ said Alder.
‘How soon?’ Despite the fact that seeing to Jarl Eirik was important, Rurik wanted to see to his wife more. He had anticipated at least a morning in bed with her. He was starting to resent the lack of time they had been allowed alone together.
‘Within two hours.’
He had not yet met the warriors at any length, but he had no problem coming up with orders for them. ‘Gather the warriors. We will
