The Seducer (Viking Warriors) (14 page)

Her long lashes fluttered. “’Twas because you had me all a-flutter. I am agreed. What else would you have from me?”

“I would have four words from you every morn and every eve. And I will give them back to you in kind.”

She reached up to outline his mouth. “I love you, Jarvik. I believe I always have, and I know in my heart, I always will.”

Jarvik bit his tongue and welcomed the pain for his eyes pooled with moisture. He swallowed hard. “Those are the four words I have craved for an eternity. I love you, Elaina.”

And there was naught to do but love her again.

***

Night had fallen. Owls hooted, swallows cawed, and the rebuilt fire blazed, chasing the early evening chill.

Head cradled in his hands, Jarvik enjoyed the sight of his naked wife’s bottom swaying as she lit the hanging lamps while munching on wedge of farmer’s cheese. For some reason, the cheese smelled stronger than he usual. His belly rippled.

“Shall I bring you some ale and cheese?” Elaina threw him a saucy look over one shoulder.

“Nay. Mayhap ale.”

Elaina moved with such grace, her long legs striding sure and steady as she brought the ale to him.

He sat up against the headboard to take the horn. “I find, wife, that I like your two surprises.” For they had sent for a dozen spiced balls earlier.

“Three.” She edged onto the mattress and lay her head on his shoulder.

“Three?” He fitted her to him.

She captured her hand and laid his palm on her stomach.

Jarvik slowly stroked her belly, which seemed more rounded than he remembered.

“I am with child.”

The ale raced back up his throat. He tried to swallow, but the brew had a will of its own. Jarvik leaped off the bed and made it to the bed bowl before spewing. All the ale he had consumed, the spiced balls, all came back up.

Elaina ran to his side. She snatched a drying cloth and mopped his face. She dampened the cloth with cool water, wrung the linen dry, and placed the band over his forehead.

“Forsooth, Jarvik. ’Tis not the reaction I had hoped for. Are you not pleased?”

“Aye.”

Women died in childbirth more oft than not.

“Nay.”

But she would have a dearling babe. One like Kateri or Kitti. A girl. A little girl. A tiny girl.

He inhaled, smelled the cheese, and vomited bile.

Epilogue

Jarvik glared at his four brothers, fixing each one in turn with a glower. Though he welcomed their support this past week while he and Elaina awaited the birth of their first child, of late their constant lording of their collective fatherly experience had begun to irritate him.

“’Twould have been better if you had indeed handled Elaina with child like I had Ainslin.” Torsten stared into his mulled wine.

“And the birthing as I did Catriona’s.” Ruard added.

“You swooned.” Njal rolled his eyes. “I did not.”

“You cried like a babe and pleaded with Odin, the Christian God, and many Eastern deities.” Magnus added another log to the low fire.

“And what of you? You tore apart two crofter’s huts with your bare hands in the dead of winter.” Jarvik scanned the quiet Great Hall and found it empty save for two boys clearing ashes from the dead fire.

“We were all better than Magnus.” Torsten signaled for more ale. “Aye. Are you able to eat or drink anything yet?”

Jarvik eyed his brothers. “Nay. Mayhap, after I have seen the babe.”

Spring had finally declared victory over winter and fruitful the seasons had been. In late fall, Ainslin had gifted Torsten with a son, Leiknir. Bettina delivered a girl of her own image in early winter, who they named Dalla. Not days after the New Year began, Catriona had presented Ruard with their second son, Grani. During a fierce and furious blizzard, Deidra had birthed twins, a boy and a girl, Olvir and Maria.

And not minutes earlier, Elaina had safely delivered a son who they decided to name Peyton, after her father.

Soft footsteps drew Jarvik’s attention. He glanced to the doorway, and when he saw Ainslin, shot to his feet.

“Elaina and Peyton are ready. He is easily the largest newborn I have ever seen.” Ainslin had acted the midwife for Elaina when Magnus refused to allow Deidra and the twins to travel.

The largest newborn. He had to grab the chair to remain standing and doubted if his feet still worked. Jarvik swallowed. “All is well?”

“Aye. Go to them. I must tend to our babe.”

“I thank you for your help. I know not what we would have done without you. No midwife serves this region.” Jarvik nodded to everyone and left the chamber.

He climbed the stairs slowly. Their corner of the land remained peaceful and prosperous even though war raged almost everywhere else. Few men trusted others, and more oft than not, brother murdered brother. But he, Magnus, Ruard, Njal, and Torsten trusted and relied on each other. And now he understood the reason.

Their wives and children.

Honor and family were the worth of a warrior.

Naught else.

~ End ~

~ About the Author ~

Jianne’s an Iron Chef America and Law and Order addict who loves to cook, eat, read, and write. She wishes a body could burn a ton of calories being sedentary and eating. Don’t you? If only…

Married for 34 years to an amazing man who still manages to sneak up on her every single day, she’s also the proud mama of three fantastic sons, all of whom are now of legal age. Now if only they’d stop changing majors in college…

Alpha males, strong heroines, exotic locations, and cultural differences are her forte.

She’s travelling the world and time through her books. From Manacled, which is set in modern day Monaco, to D is for Desire (set in Trinidad at Carnival time), to The Bear and The Bride, set in Norway circa 1029 A.D.

Jianne’s writing career began in 2008, and since then she’s been lucky enough to have fourteen books published. Nothing makes Jianne’s day more than an email from someone who’s read one of her books. Jianne loves to hear what tickles your fancy. So far, she’s received emails from almost every continent on the planet. Almost…

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