Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Sven turned and with a quick arm around her waist pulled his wife against his side and rested his hand on her rounded belly. “He pouts like a woman.”
Ingrid jabbed him in the side and shook her head. “Your mouth has a daring tongue when you drink.”
“I will show you how daring my tongue is later tonight,” Sven said and nibbled at her neck.
Bhric cringed. “I do not want to hear that.”
“What? How do you think the bairn got in her stomach?” Sven asked, laughing.
Bhric cringed again. “I wish all daughters on you.”
Sven cringed this time. “Do not curse me when I but tease.”
“All daughters sound just fine to me,” Ingrid said.
“Bite your tongue, woman,” Sven warned. “You can have all daughters after you give me a strong son.”
“I will hold you to that,” Ingrid said.
Sven kissed her lips quick. “And I will enjoy giving you every single daughter.”
Bhric shook his head. “I do not know how Mother and Father let you wed him, Ingrid.”
“Love! I love him with all my heart, and Mother never says no to love.”
Bhric never felt envy, never had the need to but at that moment he did. He was not only envious of the love his sister and Sven shared but how happy they were with each other. But looking at them one could see they were a good fit. His sister was of good height. Sven did not have to bend down to kiss her. She had fine features, and her hair was as golden as Sven’s. She had a strong nature and the skills to stand beside her husband and fight if necessary. Their combined strength would produce many strong bairns. He pushed the thought from his mind. It reminded him too much of what his wife lacked. He spotted Marta and she nodded at him, and he returned a brief nod.
Sven caught the exchange. “So, Marta got her to wear the garb of a Northwoman.”
“My wife was ordered to wear it,” Bhric said. “I will have her show respect to the Thrubolt Tribe for this celebration.”
“I think she failed to understand,” Sven said, as his glance settled across the room.
Bhric turned and while anger rushed over him, he could not help but be captivated by his wife. She looked beautiful in a Clan Strathearn plaid artfully wrapped around a deep gold underdress intricately embroidered at the neck, wrists, and hem of the garment. Her dark hair appeared to glitter in the light as it fell in waves, free of any confinement, and her cheeks were tinged pink.
She stared at him anxiously and Bhric realized the room had turned quiet, all eyes on him as he stood there silently looking at his wife. A wife who had blatantly disobeyed him.
“Has she injured herself, she limps?” his sister whispered.
And so it began, the endless questions and no doubt surprise that he had wed a woman with an affliction. Bhric went to her and took her arm to wrap around his. He looked out over the room and announced with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, “My wife, Lady Tavia.”
The room erupted into a cacophony of shouts, whistles, applause, and the banging of tankards on the table.
He kept his voice low as he escorted her to the table on the dais where Sven and Ingrid sat. “You will answer to me later, wife, for your neglect in obeying me.”
Tavia remained silent, keeping a pleasant, yet forced smile on her face.
“You have been injured?” Ingrid asked before her brother could introduce her.
“At one time, my limp is what is left of it,” Tavia said, seeing no reason to hide it.
Ingrid raised her brow as she sent her brother a quick look.
Bhric ignored the questionable look and introduced Ingrid. “This is my sister Ingrid and Sven’s wife.”
“Be careful you don’t squash her. She is a wee bit of a thing,” Ingrid said to her brother before looking to Tavia. “Welcome to the Thrubolt Tribe.”
Tavia turned a confused look on Ingrid.
“The Thrubolt Tribe in the north is where we were raised, Bhric and I and two other brothers and sisters. That tribe is as important to us as is our mother’s Clan MacShane.”
Tavia gave no thought to the tribe but instead focused on the fact that Bhric’s mum had given his da six bairns. She wondered if she would be able to give him just one.
“I see,” Tavia managed to say and sat, her husband and Sven separating her from Ingrid.
Bowls, platters, and trenches of food filled the tables and ale and wine were endlessly poured. Tavia did not understand how so much food and drink could be consumed, but then the men were large as were the women. They were giants compared to her.
“Eat,” her husband snapped, causing her to jump and he lowered his head close to her face. “Wipe that fear off your face. They watch you.”