Lord of Raven's Peak - Catherine Coulter [143]
He saw Merrik’s hand come down to the boy’s shoulder and gently squeeze. He saw Merrik come down to his knees and look at Taby, all the love he felt shining in eyes the brilliant blue of the autumn sky. Merrik said, “Your father lives and I have brought him back with me. What happened to him is better than any tale Laren can weave in her skald’s voice. Aye, and he will tell you about such things as he has seen when you return with him to Normandy. Come now, Taby, and greet your father.”
Hallad saw the pain in Merrik’s eyes when he gently placed Taby’s small hand into his. “This is your father. Bid him welcome.”
“I welcome you to Malverne, sir.”
Merrik shook his head and laughed. “He is a stubborn little mite and loyal to his finger bones. Come, Hallad, let us go inside and have some of Sarla’s fine ale.” He lifted Taby onto his shoulder and marched up the path, back through the fields scythed flat of their crops.
It was difficult for Hallad, Laren knew it. It was difficult for her as well, and Taby was her brother. She watched her father try to remain impassive, a smile on his face, but his little son was curled into a ball against Merrik’s chest, sound asleep, his small fisted hand clutching Merrik’s tunic.
“They love each other very much,” she said to her father. “It is very odd really. As you know, this fat merchant, Thrasco, had bought me, and they’d pulled me away from Taby. Merrik saw Taby and wanted him. It is that simple and it goes that deep.”
“You were both very lucky,” Hallad said. “The woman, Sarla, she is comely, very comely. And so very gentle. You told me she was married to Merrik’s brother, the former master of this farmstead?”
Laren nodded. “He was killed. His former skald, a jealous man named Deglin, killed him and tried to blame me, for he wanted me gone. Many believed that I did it, for Erik wanted to bed me. I did not like Erik, for he was cruel toward his wife and arrogant in his actions, but to die because Deglin wanted me blamed, it is horrible.”
“What will become of Sarla?”
Laren smiled as she sipped her cup of sweet mead.
“I may be just a few years older than she,” Hallad said sharply, eyeing his daughter, “but I am not dead. No segment of me is dead, daughter. I am still a man of many fine parts. Do you understand me?”
“Aye, Father, I understand you quite well,” Laren said solemnly.
“You should since you are carrying Merrik’s babe in your womb.” He was clearly irritated and she couldn’t help herself, she giggled. Merrik looked up and smiled widely. It had been too long since there had been lightness in her. He was enchanted, and he told her so later that night when they were finally settled beneath a soft woolen blanket in their box bed.
“If I enchanted you then I must be a witch.”
“Aye, you may be my witch. It has been a very long day,” he added and kissed her ear, then licked lightly inside.
“Aye, but we are home, Merrik. How glad I am to be home at last. And alive.”
“Your father was asking me questions about Sarla, how well placed her family was, what I planned to do with her. I told him that she would do as she pleased, that she was welcome at Malverne forever if she wished it.”
Laren came up on her elbow above him. “My father is a man of fine parts, that each of his segments was working. He told me so. Do you think Sarla would like to marry my father? Live with him in Uncle Rollo’s palace? Be a great lady?” She giggled again, nestling her face against his shoulder, and he felt her warm breath, and squeezed her tightly against him.
“I do not know. You told me that she and Cleve were growing close. Indeed you told me they loved each other.”
“Aye, but now I don’t know.” She sucked in her breath, all thought of Cleve and Sarla forgotten. “I like your hand there, Merrik.”
“Do you?” He gently cupped her breast in his hand, leaned