Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“Oh no,” she laughs.
“What.” My voice is edged as I suck on my teeth.
Freya shakes her head again. “Tor? And me?” She laughs. “You are very, very wrong, highlander. More wrong than you even know. Tor is my brother.”
My brows shoot up as I turn crimson.
“Oh, God, I am so…” I cringe, shaking my head. “I’m sorry.”
She giggles. “Don’t be. In truth, he isn’t my actual blood brother, but he might as well be. There,” she turns and nods her chin at the small group of men she was sitting with when Tor called her over.
“Oy, pig fucker!”
A tall, muscled, gorgeous blond man with a really similar face as Freya and the same piercing icy blue eyes turns instantly, half standing as he swivels his gaze to Freya. His eyes settle on her as the voice behind the words, and he grins as he gives her some sort of violent gesture with his fingers before sitting back down.
Freya laughs.
“That is my actual brother. Erik. But we’ve known Tor since we were children, and I’ve been on every campaign with them since I was old enough to wield a sword.”
I stare at her in awe, shaking my head.
“This surprises you, highlander?”
I laugh. “I think you and I come from very different worlds.”
Freya grins. “I think I agree. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, does it?”
“I don’t suppose it does.”
She frowns suddenly. “I haven’t…” she bites her lip. “We haven’t warred with your kin, have we?”
I shake my head. “No. Though I was at Dungow Castle when Tor tried to take it.”
Freya winks. “Almost did, too.”
She sighs, hands on her hips as she sizes me up again.
“We should find you a dress for the wedding.”
She smiles, reaching out and squeezing my shoulder with a strong hand.
“This is new for him, you know. Not marriage… well, of course marriage. But I mean you. A woman.”
“He doesn’t…” I frown. “He must have had plenty of girls before me,” I say quietly.
Freya holds my eye as she shakes her head.
“No, not really. Tor doesn’t take other woman. Actually, none of the men under his command take any innocents like that. He forbids it, and we support it. But even beyond that, he hasn’t been with a woman in… I honestly cannot remember how long. A very long time though.”
She chuckles.
“I’ll warn you though, though he’s nothing more than a brother to me, there are plenty of other women under his command who you’ll soon find to be quite jealous of you.”
I blush, biting my lip.
“You fight alongside the men where you come from?”
“Aye.” She shrugs. “We learn to fight where I come from, man or woman. After all, if an enemy comes at you with an axe, having tits isn’t going to save you.”
I laugh as she grabs her own breasts comically.
“And as effective as a swift kick to the balls is, a blade talks louder.”
I shrug. “You could always use both.”
Freya chuckles, grinning at me. “Rhona, I think I’m going to like having you as a sister of sorts. Come, let’s find you a dress.”
It’s midnight when I step out of the woods into a small clearing, and my breath catches.
It’s… beautiful.
The clearing in the woods, with the old trees towering high above us, is lit with a number of small torches flickering widely. A small number of Vikings sit on benches hewn from fallen logs—Freya, and the men she was sitting with, and a few others. Part of me is saddened by the fact that my friends aren’t here, but I know they’d understand. They’d understand that marrying this man as soon as I possibly can is everything, and we can celebrate with them later.
To one side, standing by a boulder carved with runes and symbols and a small wooden structured adorned with flowers, stands the pagan priest. And there, beside him, is the man I’ve fallen completely in love with.
Tor.
I move like in a dream, the pale white dress Freya found in the trunk of plundered treasures loose on me as it flows behind me. I go to him, and I take his hands as I look into his eyes. The holy man says words in a language I don’t understand, but I know the meaning behind them. And I know how they make me feel when I lock eyes with Tor.
The moon glows down on us, and the air is full of the smells of the woods, and the torches. And this is everything I’ve always wanted, even if I never knew it until now. Words are said, we repeat them. We drink wine from a shared cup, the holy man burns a slip of parchment, and when he turns to me and smiles kindly as he nods towards Tor, I know it’s real.
We’re married.
I fall into his arms as the small crowd stands and cheers. And I’m still kissing him when Tor stands and strides away, right through the woods back towards camp. Back towards his tent.