Page 97 of The Queen and the Half-blood
She nodded. “Do you want some wine while you wait?”
He smiled. “Aye … thank you.”
Trying to ignore the fluttering in her belly, she moved to the low table, where Florie had left a jug of plum wine, and poured him a cup. Their gazes met as she handed it to him—their stare drawing out for a moment too long. The air between them grew heavy.
Heat washed over Lara, and she cleared her throat. “Right … I’ll be back soon.”
Moving past him, she retreated behind the curtain, where two steaming bowls of water, blocks of soap, and drying sheets waited. Another, smaller, brazier burned in here, taking the edge off the cold, damp air. The sides of the tent billowed and snapped as the wind continued.
Lara cast off her cloak, relieved that her shivers were subsiding now. She then wriggled out of her long leather tunic, slit at the sides so she could ride. She wore simple clothing for travel, nothing that required a maid’s assistance. It was a relief to peel off the wet woolen undertunic. Even the third layer, a linen shift, was damp. Standing naked on the sheepskins, she used one of the bowls of hot water to bathe, sighing as shecleaned off the sweat and grime of the road. She scrubbed at her arms, eager to remove any trace of the bog wight’s touch.
The graze to her throat stung slightly as water trickled down her neck. Eldra had given her some salve for it, and she would apply some more after she’d bathed. The injury could have been far worse though. The Gods had been watching over her.
And so had her husband.
As she ate, Lara kept stealing glances at Alar.
Tonight, she and the prince consort ate alone. Lara had released Florie, Ani, and Lilith for the evening too; the lasses had retired to the small tent next to theirs.
Alar also had bathed. His long dark hair was now washed and brushed back so it hung in a heavy black curtain down his back. A clean leather vest and breeches encased his lithe body, although like her, he was barefoot. The warm glow of the nearby brazier cast a ruddy glow over his pale skin.
Underneath the grime, a few grazes and bruises from the fight with the Fuath were now evident. Fortunately, the injuries on his arm, shoulder, and thigh he’d sustained at Gateway were healing well and hadn’t been reopened.
“I should put some salve on those grazes,” she noted once they’d finished eating and were lingering over their cups of wine.
He shrugged. “They’re fine. Don’t fuss.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Why not? Isn’t that what a wife is supposed to do?”
Their gazes held for a few moments before Alar frowned. “That’s not part of the bargain we struck, Lara.”
She stiffened, marking his change in mood. Tonight, his shields were up. There was a sharpness to him.
“We never talked about the details of our marriage,” she said after a tense pause. “Of what exactly we expect from each other. Perhaps we should.”
He eyed her warily. “And what are your expectations of me?”
Lara stared back at him, and as she did, something inside her shifted. Maybe it was the Fuath, or perhaps it was a few days on the road with this man, but she suddenly knew what she needed. “I want our marriage to bemorethan a show put on for others,” she said, her voice roughening. “I want to trust you, Alar … and for you to trust me.”
A nerve flickered in his cheek as he stared back at her. “You don’t—”
“I don’t let others in easily,” she cut him off. “Especially men. I never told you, but after my wedding night with Dunchadh, I went, in tears, to my father. I foolishly believed he’d annul our union once he heard about how brutal my husband had been.” Her heart started to thunder in her ears. She couldn’t believe she was telling him this. “He wasn’t interested, and when I pleaded with him, he got angry and told me he didn’t care what Dunchadh did to me in the privacy of our alcove.” She paused then, embarrassment prickling her skin. “It was then I swore that I’d never give anyone power over me like that again.”
Silence followed these words.
Alar had gone very still, his fingers clenched around his cup.
Lara’s breathing grew shallow. “But you offered me your army of wulvers … and before I knew it, I was handfasted again.” She paused then, feeling slightly sick now. Being this honest terrified her. “However, marriage to you is nothing like it was to Dunchadh. Things haven’t been easy … yet you bring out the best in me. We could be partners, Alar. Together we could be unstoppable.”
Something hot flared in his eyes then before he swallowed hard. “I’m not the man you deserve,” he replied, a rasp to his voice now.
“Maybe not,” she shot back. “But you’re the man Iwant.”
36: THE DUEL
ALAR ROSE ABRUPTLY from his seat then, dragging his hands through his still-damp hair. “Fuck,” he muttered.
Pulse racing, Lara also stood up. He looked like he was about to bolt. She couldn’t let him.
