She fit her head under his chin and he felt her weight settle against him. He held her close and the words that he’d wanted to say spilled out, unchecked.
“I fell in love with you when I first saw you,” he said, pressing his face against the bright cloud of her hair. “It was when you were chained up with the other slaves on your way to the slave market.”
She drew a deep, sobbing breath as the memory arose, vivid and disturbing.
“I wanted to save you then and make you mine,” he continued. “You deserved to be set free, to be a person of worth. And I could give that to you, at least in part. But as I thought about it, I realized that setting you free meant that I could never have you for myself. Not unless you chose to be with me. Otherwise, you would still be a slave, owned by me, bought by me. I did not wish that for you or me.”
Her fingers curled and uncurled around the brooch that held her cloak in place. He wondered if revisiting her recent past was hard for her to hear. He paused.
“I am listening,” she whispered.
“So, I faced a dilemma,” Erik went on. “I could not love you unless I set you free. Otherwise, it would not be love.”
“So you set me free,” she said softly.
He nodded against her hair. “I love you, Tara. I cannot ask you to love me in return, for that would place you under obligation to return my love in exchange for your freedom.”
She straightened up and looked deeply into his eyes. Then she reached up and drew his face towards hers, her small hands clasping his cheeks. A moment later, their lips touched, the satiny warmth of hers sending a jolt of knowing and connection through his entire body. He responded eagerly, drinking in the scent and taste of her as she pressed her body against his. His hands found her glorious curls, tangling his fingers around them as he cupped the back of her head with his hands, drawing her closer. His breath came quickly, but she was his air, the desire of his entire being. He wanted to stay there with her forever.
At last, she pulled away, her face flushed and her eyes bright. “Does that answer your question?” she asked him, a hint of mischief in her voice.
He pulled her against him again. “Oh, my darling Tara, I love you so much,” he said. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me? Will you choose me?”
CHAPTER 12
Erik looked at his sleeping wife with pleasure. She was even more beautiful than when he’d first laid eyes on her. She’d put on a little weight and it suited her. She no longer looked as if she hadn’t had enough to eat and her eyes had lost some of their haunted look. She was doing her best to thrive in her new environment.
But there were times that Erik was concerned. Sometimes, she would go quiet and get a faraway look in her eyes and he wondered if she was pining for her homeland. She never said much about it but he was sure she wished she could see her family again.
And another matter troubled him. They had married soon after his final journey for the season, just before the long winter months. It had been a simple ceremony attended only by their friends from both villages. But not once, not on their wedding day, or any day since, had Tara told him she loved him.
She was affectionate and their love-making was passionate. She frequently snuggled up to him and told him how wonderful he was and how glad she was that he had rescued her from slavery. But never did she reveal her true feelings and Erik began to wonder if she had married him out of obligation, after all. It troubled him so much that he decided to talk to Inger about it. He had come to value the kindly older woman’s wisdom. He slipped out of bed, leaving Tara still sleeping. It was early; Inger would be up by now, preparing the morning meal.
“Good morning,” she greeted him. “You are awake early.”
“I have something I want to ask you,” he told her, bending to stroke Kappi as the fluffy cat brushed against his legs.
“Ask away. I am listening,” she said as she put more wood on the fire to cook the breakfast.
“I am worried about Tara,” he said.
“Is she unwell?”
“No, she is very well.”
“Is she with child?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Well, what troubles you?”
“It is a matter of the heart,” he said. “I know not if she truly loves me or if she married me out of obligation.”
“Can you not see that she loves you?”
“She acts as if she does, but she has never said so.”
“Do words matter that much? Surely actions speak louder.”
“That is what I thought also,” he said. “But I realized that they both matter. One without the other is an incomplete picture.”
“I know not the answer to your problem,” Inger said. “Most men would not query the matter. As long as a wife is fulfilling her duties, they are satisfied.”
Erik shook his head. “It is not enough for me,” he said. “I need to know if she chose me because she loves me, or if she married me out of obligation, or because she had no other options. The answer matters to me.”
“Have you tried asking her?”
“No. I do not wish to place words in her mouth or for her to
