Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Tears ran down her cheeks. Her father had spoken often of her mother and the love they had for each other. He had painted such a beautiful picture of their love that it was a dream of hers to find the same someday. More tears fell as she felt her dream slowly die.
“Tears will do you no good,” Marta snapped when she entered the room.
Had the woman heard what Bhric had said to her? Would she share the news with others? What then would people think of her?
Tavia was tired of defending herself. It was all she had done since arriving here only a few short hours ago and it had left her drained. She wanted no more of it. She would sit quietly like an obedient wife tonight and retire to her bedchamber as soon as possible.
She wiped at her wet cheeks. “Tears will also do me no harm.”
“Bah,” Marta said as if scolding. “Time to wash and dress.”
With a sense of defeat washing over her, Tavia allowed the woman to tend her.
Marta gave her a light washing from a fresh bucket of water, her hands a bit rough except when she got to her leg.
“What happened to your leg?” Marta asked.
“It does not concern you,” Tavia said, having no intention of discussing it with her.
The woman turned an odd look on her and appeared as if she might demand to know, then stopped and continued with her task.
Tavia wondered about Marta. She did not seem a pleasant woman. Or was she unpleasant because of the task Bhric had assigned her? Or was she set upon Tavia to spy on her? Had she been made aware that Lord Bhric was not pleased with his new wife? If that was so, she surely would not be able to trust the woman or make any friends here when they were all faithful to Bhric.
Marta helped Tavia into a gray linen underdress, then began applying layer after layer until Tavia felt weighted down from the various wool garments. A lovely woolen shawl was the last garment Marta added, tying the ends in a knot at her chest.
“Now for your hair,” Marta said and got busy.
Tavia cringed at the tight braids Marta fashioned in her hair then coiled around her head and secured with bone combs. She was stunned to see the woman smile when she finished.
“Now you look like a proper Northman’s wife.”
Tavia did not agree. She had wed Lord Bhric, ruler of the Clan MacShane, not a Northman, but she said nothing.
“The festivities have probably started. I must go see that all goes well. Come, I will see you to the Great Hall,” Marta said, stretching her hand out.
“I need a moment to myself. I will be down shortly.”
“Do not take long,” Marta ordered. “All wait to meet you.”
Tavia nodded and after Marta left, she stood staring at the door. Her feet would not move for her but then she did not know who she was, this woman in strange garments, her hair styled so foreign to her. She felt robbed of her identity.
“Go and be done with it,” she encouraged herself with a whisper.
Still her feet would not budge.
This was not who she was. This was not who Bhric had wed.
Without hesitation, she turned, pulling the combs out of her hair.
CHAPTER 8
Bhric walked from table to table talking and drinking with his warriors and the wives of those wed. There was endless talk and laughter, words of congratulation, and teasing about how fast the new bride’s stomach would grow. He only wished he could feel the same enjoyment. He had had hopes for this marriage, his mother insisting she would find a woman for him who he would come to love.
He had been disappointed when arriving here to find his mother had left for home. He had wanted to know if what Newlin had told him was true. If she had been good friends with Tavia’s mother, why then had she not told him of her intentions to wed him to her best friend’s daughter?
“It is done. Enjoy bedding her,” Sven advised with a grin and a friendly slap on Bhric’s back. “It is not as if she is hard to look upon, a bit tiny, but pretty.”
Bhric could not argue with that. His wife was more than pretty, she had lovely features that stirred him whenever he looked upon her. But that could be because he had not been with a woman in a while. Why then hadn’t other women he looked upon since meeting her stirred his loins as she did? The thought annoyed him though it shouldn’t. At least it would not be hard to bed her.
“I want more,” he whispered, not expecting Sven to hear him.
“Don’t we all,” Sven said with a hardy laugh.
“What have you said to my brother to put such a foul scowl on his face?”