When Rollo awoke, his eyes were only interested in one thing, Edithe. He could eat her up and never be full. Gods, she was beautiful. Lying naked, her hair tangled across the blankets. So peaceful and every inch of her, his.
He rested his palm on her stomach, memorising the feel of it and wondering how many months it would take until he felt it curve and thicken with his child. Already he was impatient and perhaps one day he'd kick himself for such feelings. But he couldn't wait to fill their home with little ones.
"Good morning, wife," he whispered, brushing his fingers through her hair, unable to stop himself from waking her.
Slowly she stirred, her eyes inching open. Her limbs stretching like a cat in the sunshine as, one by one, memories of their union seemed to cross her mind and flood heat into her cheeks.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she buried her face into his arm but it was no escape from the soft laughter which rumbled in his chest. Or from Rollo, who scooted down the bed so their eyes were level.
"How did you enjoy your wedding night?" he asked, knowing she'd enjoyed it well enough but wanting to hear it from her lips in the cool morning light.
She frowned, as she always did when he asked impertinent questions but as usual, he felt no regret. He liked to rattle her mild Christian manners at every opportunity and there was never an opportunity more irresistible than this one.
"You already know how I enjoyed it," she conceded, cheeks still pink.
"But I like to hear you say it," he grinned, ducking his head to catch her lips for a good morning kiss.
With a thoughtful sigh, she rolled onto her back. "I suppose for you it was just another night to do as you've done a thousand times before."
Rollo frowned, "is that how you think I feel?"
"Is it not?" she glanced at him, her eyes wide with innocence.
"I'm the only man you've ever been with so I suppose you don't know any different. But I know I've never felt for any woman the way I felt when I was inside you. Gods, Edithe," he cupped her mound and slipped his finger over her arousal before sinking inside her deliciously tight cunt. "It was like finally finding my way home."
She gasped, arching into his hand. Inside Edithe was the only place he wanted to be. Not just between her legs but in her arms, in every thought which trailed across her mind and every thud of her heart.
Already she was wet enough to take him and he couldn't wait any longer to have her again. Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her onto his lap, her legs straddling his.
"Remind me how good you feel..." he coaxed, gripping the base of his cock, angling it for her to sink down onto.
Just like in the meadow, Edithe was a fast learner. So attuned to his instructions and so perfect as she engulfed him in her soft, wet embrace. His eyes practically rolled into the back of his skull as tingles pulsed excitedly along his length. If there was a Christian heaven, this was it and he had to restrain himself from thrusting eagerly into her.
"We can stop if you need to," he promised through panted breaths even though every fibre of his body wanted to fuck her until the walls were shaking. But pleasure didn't turn him entirely into an animal. This was only her second time. If she was sore, he could hold back. It wouldn't last forever.
Slowly she met his gaze, "it's not so bad."
Not so bad. Hardly the words he wanted a woman to say when she was in his bed.
"Then let me make it better," he crooned, inching between her thighs, coating his fingers with more of her silky smooth arousal. Slowly, he rubbed tight, leg quivering circles and almost instantly, he felt her walls relax and a gush of warmth soaked over his length.
"How about now?" he asked, his voice strained, his body wired. Desperate to feel movement along his shaft.
"Better," she sighed and slowly, instinctively, her hips rocked. Teasing him in the best way as his fingers brought her right to the edge.
He could hear the frustration in her panting when he stopped, his hands sliding onto her rear, guiding her movements into longer more purposeful strokes.
"Just like that," he praised, as she glided up and down in full control of his pleasure and her own.
Now he could enjoy the show and his greedy eyes didn't know where to devour her first. The bounce of her firm breasts, the sight of his cock plunging into her over and over again, or the look on her face as she unravelled before him. As usual, she was breathtaking and, the tightening of her climax pushed him closer to his own.
Grabbing her hips, he urged her on, "faster, Edithe. That's right… yes..." His release became unstoppable, his cock pulsing hard as he filled her with his seed.
Like last night, she became boneless after her orgasm, slumping into a puddle on his chest and he savoured the closeness. Enjoyed how pliable she was as he stroked his fingers down her spine. Long minutes passing by in a dreamlike haze until his cock began to twitch and harden once more.
Rolling on top of her, they made love again. He couldn't keep his hands off her, couldn't satiate his desire to have her. Slow and tender. Fast and desperate. All morning they fell deeper and deeper into toe-curling bliss before sleep reclaimed them well into the afternoon.
It had been a while since he'd spent the day in bed like this. Even longer since he'd been so consumed he'd forgotten to eat or drink. But now he was waking up to a grumbling stomach and a very pleasantly sore and satisfied body.
Walking into the front room he felt lighter, like he could float on the very air as he grabbed whatever was to hand. Having Edithe had certainly been worth the wait and the months of torment seemed so insignificant to him now as he bit down into the sweet crunch of an apple, refuelling his body.
Returning to the bedchamber with a plate of food and a flagon of ale, he breathed in the heady smell of sex and sweat with a contented grunt. He didn't think he would ever get over the sight of her laying across the furs. There wasn't a piece of skin he hadn't found with his mouth this morning. Yet he wanted to find it all again and, if he wasn't completely spent, he would have nudged her awake. But for now, he was satisfied to let her sleep as he picked at his lunch.
Last night he'd promised himself he would present her with her Father's sword come morning. Yet it was an oath only to himself and he'd been more than willing to break it the second he was reminded of her body. But the delay had only been temporary and, as she stirred, he knew it was now or never.
"I have something for you," he said when she'd filled her belly with food and mead.
"A present?" Immediately excitement brightened her eyes and an easy smile graced her cheeks. He enjoyed the way it made him feel, if only for a moment.
Forcing a smile in return, he wondered suddenly if he was making a terrible mistake. But he could not begin their marriage with a secret resting like a wedge between them and it would only get harder to reveal as time went on.
"I'll be right back," he said, grabbing his trousers as he slinked from the room to retrieve it.
The sword was still wrapped in cloth when he held it out for her to take and Edithe's excitement only increased. After all, he'd promised to replace the wooden one when they were wed. Except, he was sure she would not be expecting the replacement to be this. But it seemed fitting to him that she should carry her ancestral blade and, perhaps one day she'd give it their son or daughter to carry beyond her lifetime.
Perhaps a smarter man would have thought of something to say, a way of softening the blow but Rollo could think of nothing. His throat seized up and he could only watch with morbid fascination as she unravelled the cloth. Recognition falling sadly onto her face in an instant. There was no mistaking a sword such as this. So intricate, so beautiful. She'd probably seen her father carrying it her whole life.
Don't hate me, he wanted to say but neither of them said a word. Nor did they move. The room was frozen in time. Rollo watching Edithe while Edithe stared at the blade, her eyes downcast. Her face unreadable.
"Do you know what this is?" she whispered, her voice shaky and her fingers brushing lightly over the mossy green pommel, as if awestruck by its presence in her hands.
"Yes," his heart thudded, "Ragnar gave it to me but I thought it should be yours."
Her eyes slowly met his, "did he kill him?"
There was no point lying to her, no point denying the heartbreak his family had brought on hers. "Yes."
A single tear carved its way down her cheek. The rest she held onto fiercely. "This sword belongs in the hands of a Lord of Northumbria as it has always been. Not here. So far from home…"
Just like her. She didn't need to say it for him to know it was what she was thinking. "We can return it to Northumbria if that is what you want."
"Why? So you can kill the next lord who carries it?"
He felt a knot begin to form in the pit of his stomach. Was it guilt? Or just regret? "Edithe," he reached to brush his finger over her cheek but she drew away.
"Don't touch me."
"I've spent the entire morning touching you."
"And you think I wanted that?" she snapped, venom pouring from her lips and finding its way right under his skin.
"You wanted it well enough when you were begging me to fuck you! Don't lie to yourself, Christian," a wicked smile creased into his cheeks, "it's a sin, is it not?"
Edithe leapt from the bed, clasping the grip tightly as he'd shown her many times. Back straight, legs balanced. So often he'd called her Valkyrie. Only now did she embody the word entirely. Backlit from the light sneaking in at the window, sword unyielding and raven black hair cascading over her milky white breasts. He could almost hear Odin urging her hand.
"I swore to God I would have vengeance," she said, stalking closer until pain burned, hot and sharp into his chest.
Glancing down, he watched blood trickle, thick and warm, carving a path along the tattoos on his ribs. He'd bled countless times on the edge of a blade but this was different. He didn't move, didn't fight. His gaze returned to Edithe, feeling strangely entranced.
"I should cut out your heart," she spat, anger filling her with fire while tears betrayed her eyes.
"Do with it as you please, wife. It beats only for you."
She breathed out slowly, her arm losing its tension, "aren't you going to fight me?"
"Would that make it easier for you?"
"I will do this," she insisted. To him, herself, her God. Who could say?
"Then do it…" he dared her, arms out at his side as he shifted position. Leaning into the blade rather than pulling away. It sank deeper and the look on Edithe's face changed from anger to fright in an instant.
"Do it!" he commanded and a pounding on the front door startled them both. Her stance softening, the sword lowering.
"Would you like to kill me now? Or shall I answer the door first?" he asked, adrenaline now pumping through his veins.
Anger returned to her face, or perhaps it was just frustration. Neither wanting to yield nor ignore the insistent call which began to pound on the door again.
Moving slowly, his withdrawal from the room was carefully taken and Edithe did nothing to stop him. Perhaps she was glad for the interlude. A chance to reconsider her thoughts. At least he hoped that was what she would do. Beyond that, he wondered what manner of idiot would interrupt a newlywed. Ragnar, of course. But also Lagertha and Haedde.
"Did you sleep well, brother?" Ragnar craned his head to look over Rollo's shoulder and catch a glimpse of his new bride. "Or perhaps not at all?" He grinned at the last part, a twinkle in his eye.
"Why are you here?" Rollo sighed.
"We have come to take Edithe to be washed and dressed in the clothes of a married woman," Lagertha said and of course, Rollo had forgotten about this part. After the bedding, nothing else seemed to matter.
"Come back later," he said, shutting them out, certain Edithe was in no mood to entertain any more marriage rituals at present. But Ragnar wedged his foot in the door.
"We are here now, brother. We've already given you most of the day. Although... we could give you five more minutes to sheath your sword again if you wish."
"I fear Edithe would rather sheath hers," he retorted and only now did Ragnar notice the wound in his chest.
"Do you need me to save you from you little Saxon?" Ragnar teased.
Rollo laughed miserably, "I think it is too late for that." If he didn't want a feisty woman, he shouldn't have married one.
"I'm sure she is shaken from the wedding night. Please, Lord, I will take her to pray," Haedde insisted, eyes wide with worry as she tried to squeeze past Ragnar. But Edithe was neither shaken nor afraid. Last night and for the entirety of the morning, only one prayer had been on her mind and falling from her tongue. Oh God yes.
"Come Haedde," Lagertha said, a coy smile pressed to her lips. "All women want to kill their husbands from time to time and most women want to kill Rollo when they meet him. We should let them quarrel and make up-" her eyes caught Ragnars "-that is the best part is it not?
Ragnar removed his foot from the door, the smirk returning to his lips. "Good luck, brother and-" his eyes narrowed with mischief, "-enjoy."
Shutting the door, he wondered if he should have shut himself on the other side of it. Leaving Edithe to stew for a while but who was he kidding? He lived for the fight, enjoyed the way it made his heart race and would never run from one willingly. It was the opponent he didn't prefer this time.
When Rollo returned to the bedchamber, Edithe was no longer naked. Instead she wore his tunic, the length of it draping past her knees to cover her modesty except he knew exactly what was underneath and something told him he'd never wear it in quite the same way again.
He lingered in the doorway, waiting for her to attack but the interruption had shifted the tension in the room. Her anger now burned away, leaving only grief and Rollo mourned with her. For her family, yes, but selfishly he also grieved for the morning they'd enjoyed so happily in each other's arms. "Was it a mistake to give you the sword?"
Her thumb brushed tenderly over the grip, "no."
Slowly, he inched towards her, little by little until she was close enough for him to reach out and touch. But he didn't touch her. He stopped. Waited.
"I'm sorry," she said, meeting his stare, her words unexpected. "You gave me a precious gift and it was badly taken. I know you could have kept this from me." She held the sword flat in her palms, inspecting it once more. "I was surprised," her brow knitted, her words wistful, "sometimes I forget the manner in which we met."
So did he. When he thought about that day, he thought about how captivating she'd been, how it had been fate to find her. It was so easy to ignore how he'd carried her kicking and screaming across the sea. But he didn't know her then as he knew her now and he didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of an apology. So he hardly knew how to react. Only that she was already forgiven for the words spoken in anger and the wound biting into his chest. He could hardly blame her.
Gently he pried the sword from her fingers, resting it against the wall. Then he cupped her cheeks, holding her gaze, "never ask me to fight you, Edithe. Only for you. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"And I won't touch you again if you don't want me to," his hands slipped from her face as if to prove his words were true.
He'd woken this morning thinking she was his. Thinking he finally had all of her but he realised now, there would always be a part of Edithe he could never have. Not like this. If he thought about it too long he'd change his mind. An oath needed to be heard for it to bind him.
"No matter what, you'll sail with me to Briton and when we are there…" he braced himself, "you are free to go, if that is what you wish."
He wanted her to answer right away, to say she had made a vow and wished to keep it but she said nothing. Her arms wrapped around her centre and she turned from him, hiding whatever thoughts rested on her face.
His heart sank. What a stupid fool he was.
"I will get Haedde, she is worried for you," he said, making an excuse to leave yet hoping she would tell him not to go. She did not.
Was it Solveig who had told him Edithe would only ever make him miserable? She was right.
