Page 23 of The Handfasting
Ysenda nodded. She had to admit itwasbetter. But not because she was cold. She had the thick blood of a Highlander, after all. And her sister’s fur-lined wool cloak and sturdy leather boots were good protection against the snowdrifts.
It was better because she felt…protected…in No?l’s arms.
She could protect herself, of course. Her mother had passed on enough of her fighting skills to ensure that her daughter wouldn’t be left vulnerable.
But there had never been anyone to champion Ysenda. She’d fought against the prejudice of her father. She’d battled the arrogance of her sister. She’d defended her brother when he was too weak to defend himself. But she’d always fought alone. No one had ever stepped in and taken her side.
Now, for the first time, snuggled in the arms of this Norman warrior, she felt absolutely safe.
“How long have ye been a knight?” she asked.
“I’m a de Ware. I wasbornwith a sword in my hand.”
She chuckled and gave him a poke in the ribs. “That must have been painful for your mother.”
“Oh, aye, the poor woman had eight of us wee knights.”
“Eight? ’Tisn’t a family. ’Tis an army.”
“France’s best,” he said proudly. He wrapped his arms tighter around her. “I can’t wait to show ye off to my brothers.”
He began to rattle off their names, too many to remember, giving a humorous description of each. And with each name, Ysenda grew more and more despondent. They sounded so wonderful. But she was never going to meet them. And she had to face that fact.
Indeed, the reason she wouldn’t wish at the Viking well was that she didn’t want to indulge in the false hope that she could somehow keep him for herself.
As she watched the stream in silence, her eyes mirrored the well, filling with water. A secret tear trickled down her cheek as she longed with all her heart for that which she couldn’t have. Then, ashamed of her selfishness, she quickly wiped it away.
His voice was full of affection as he continued speaking about his family. Meanwhile, the water gurgled over the rocks. The ice at the edges of the rill made soft cracks as it yielded to the sun. Snowmelt dripped from the trees.
Ysenda closed her eyes, wishing she could stay here forever, enfolded in his arms.
She wished a lot of things.
But what she’d said was true. She didn’t believe in wishes.
Chapter 6
No?l spent most of the morn with his new bride, hiking across braes and moors, through the pine forest and past a great loch. They stopped along the way to share the small feast of oatcakes and soft cheese they’d packed, washing it down with cider.
Afterward, she pointed out the best fishing place and the spot where the lasses liked to bathe in summer. She showed him the rotting remnants of a Viking longhouse where she used to play and the holly grove where her mother had once frightened away two wolves. He saw how much she loved the land. It made him love it as well.
But there was also a touch of sorrow in her gray eyes. He wondered… Was it the idea of leaving her home that saddened her? Or something more?
He thought again about the young man who’d sat next to her at the table. They’d seemed very close. Did her heart belong to him? Jealousy pricked at No?l again.
He supposed it didn’t matter. They’d journey to France in a day or two, leaving everyone she knew far behind.
Still, that didn’t change the way shefelt.And No?l wanted his bride to be in love withhim.
The idea was laughable. He’d come to Scotland for one purpose—to make a political alliance. Falling in love had never been part of his plans.
But that didn’t change the fact that he wanted to win her heart now. He wanted to make her smile. He wanted to bring the joy back into her eyes.
“So, lassie, when was the last time ye made a snowwoman?” he asked.
She quirked her brow at him. “I’ve made a snowman.”
“Oh, aye, everyone’s made a snowman.But have ye made a snowwoman?”
