Page 62 of Haakon's Fate
“What do you mean?”
Wonderful. Steinar made sure to remind him of his ill-considered words almost every time they met, but it seemed that his wife didn’t even remember them. It had never been an issuein her mind. Had she even noticed he had hinted none too subtly that she would enjoy sucking his cock?
“Well, I thought I might try my luck with you that day but I was a bit heavy-handed, I fear,” he offered. He would not be more specific, could not.
“Oh, yes, I seem to remember Steinar saying something to that effect.” She waved her hand and gave a little smile. “He was very angry about it. But don’t worry, I never thought anything of it. I hadn’t even realized anything until he pointed to me how what you said could be interpreted.”
Haakon gritted his teeth. He would kill Steinar next time he saw him. Without him, Cwenthryth would not have thought twice about what he had said.
“I’m still sorry,” he said, feeling better for having finally apologized to her.
“Think nothing of it.” She placed a hand over his, stopping the nervous crunching of the bag. “And try to get some rest. You look tired yourself. I will be back on the morning.”
18
The next three days were the most trying of Haakon’s life.
He spent long moments bathing Gytha’s limp form to try and bring her temperature down and helping her sip the willow bark tea. It was relentless work, and more than once he felt like giving up to despair. Was it normal that the fever had still not broken? Would she survive the ordeal? He had suffered from high fever himself on occasions, and though it was never pleasant, he had never feared he would die from it.
Now he did fear it. She was so much more fragile than he was…
Every time he lifted a delicate, naked arm, or uncovered a shapely thigh, he wondered what Gytha would have thought of the fact that he was seeing more of her body than anyone else likely had, before concluding that she wouldn’t mind. He was only trying to make her feel better and, after all, they had slept together already. That night on the shepherd’s furs, he had done much more than touch her. He had caressed her. He had filled her body. He had covered her with his seed. He had moaned in her ear and heard her moan in answer, he had given her pleasureand thought to die in turn. Washing her brow and making sure her skin was cool was nothing compared to that.
Besides, he’d surprised himself by not thinking of anything other than her well-being while he took care of her. This had not been a sensual exploration, he just wanted her to get better, so he could hear her waspish comments again, see the thunder in her eyes when something upset her and the hunger when she looked at him.
Finally, one morning, he got his heart’s desire.
Gytha woke up and looked at him with eyes as clear as usual. The green in them was shining bright, as if lit up by an inner fire that had been restored. He let out a sigh of relief. Now that the fever had broken, the worst was over. She would be all right, thank the gods. Another few days and she would be back on her feet.
Yes, and then she would leave, go back home.
The thought brought a lump to his throat.
The morning after she’d taken ill, Haakon had sent Torsten to town to inform her father about her illness. But the reeve hadn’t been home. A message had been left, but he was still to come visit his daughter. Apparently, he had taken advantage of her absence to go on a mission of his own and he had been detained for longer than expected.
Perhaps it was for the best. At least when Elstan did come to village, he would have the pleasure and relief of seeing his daughter up and well again.
“How do you feel?” Haakon asked Gytha, kneeling by the pallet. Only the day before he would have touched her brow to make sure it was cool, but now that she was fully aware of what he was doing, he felt strangely intimidated.
She made a grimace. “I’m thirsty, even though I feel I’ve done little else than drink willow bark tea in the last few days. Itwaswillow bark tea, was it not? You didn’t try to poison me? I felt so wretched I sometimes wondered.”
Her question brought a smile to his lips. “Definitely not poison,” he breathed, relieved to see her restored to her teasing self. “If I wanted to get rid of you, I would choose a more expeditious method, don’t you think?”
“Yes. You are, after all, a filthy Norseman.”
Oh, yes, the impudent woman was definitely over the worst. Relief exploded out of him in a bark of laughter. “A filthy, despicable, dangerous Norseman. You had better beware, puny Saxon.”
“I will,” she murmured, closing her eyes again.
Feeling a hundred times lighter after this exchange, Haakon brought her a cup of fresh goat milk, thinking that, with her throat so dry, she would prefer its soothing smoothness to the piquancy of ale. She drank in one gulp, proving his intuition right.
“Are you hungry as well?” She had barely eaten in the last few days, only managing to swallow a bit of sweetened gruel every now and then.
“No, not yet.”
Gytha lay back on the furs, feeling drained of energy but finally able to think. She had been writhing and sweating on that pallet for what felt like months, and it was good to be able to open her eyes without wincing and move without feeling her skull throb.
Haakon had been by her side all this time, bringing her drink and wiping her brow as tenderly as any mother would. Though she had been delirious with fever, she still remembered his care of her. His gestures had been careful and he had done his best to respect her modesty. Though he had bathed her regularly, he had never uncovered more of her body than was necessary. Another man, especially one who had bedded her already, mighthave made the most of the opportunity to bare her breasts and maybe even fondle her. Haakon had not.
