Vevina lay silent, trying not to make a sound when Astrid's shadow loomed over, like a bird of prey, over the ceiling.
She shut her eyes tight, fearing she would swoop down and descend on her like a mighty eagle on the hunt, and after several anxious moments passed nothing happened, she slowly opened her eyes to have a peek.
No shadow hovered over her, and she briefly wondered if she had dreamed it all until she once again felt Astrid's presence. She was in the room. What should she do? What was expected of her? Did she sit up, acknowledge her, welcome her?
Vevina wanted to cry out in frustration, but instead remained silent and waited. When Astrid did not make herself known, she grew curious and inched herself up slowly in the bed. She stared with confusion at her wife, who she now could see was sleeping on the floor in front of the fire, a single blanket over her, her arm a pillow.
Relief rushed over Vevina, though she quelled it fast enough when she realized their vows would not be sealed tonight, which meant their marriage was indeed not valid. But why would she care? Why would Astrid have to claim her rights over her anyway? But at the same time, Vevina felt a new pang in her chest. She knew Astrid was a woman lover and rather unapologetic about it. Did that mean she found her unattractive? Did she despise her and want to get rid of her?
Vevina lay back down and pulled the cover up to her chin. What would happen if her father found out? If anyone found out? Surely she would be to blame. Vevina shivered. Her wedding day had turned disastrous and her wedding night had become a nightmare she would never imagine possible. She felt ashamed as she knew her father would if he learned that her wife rejected her. She had no idea what she should do.
Perhaps the morning would offer new insights. She would rise early and see to her wife's breakfast and her duties. If Astrid saw what a respectful wife she was, perhaps then she would want her around.
A yawn interrupted her worries, and before she could dwell any longer on them, her eyes closed and she fell fast asleep.
She woke with a slow stretch and a smile at the sunshine that fell across her face, then jumped up realizing it was well past sunrise. When she looked at the hearth, she gasped.
Astrid was gone.
~*~
Astrid walked the moor alone, some areas so thick with heather that they cast a purple glow in the early morning light. She needed time to consolidate her thoughts and deal with her anger. She had thought her arrival home would heal her many wounds and guilt, but not so, she seemed to have worsened. She didn't feel fit to be with her family, let alone a wife.
She came to a spot on the moor where she had often come, a place of solitude and beauty for it had a view of the sea and the angry waves that continuously pounded the cliff as if demanding it get out of the way.
Astrid empathized with the senseless battering for that was how she had felt while on the run. Her anger would futilely clash with the barbarians and she'd be left like the pounding waves against the jagged cliff, getting nowhere, still running, still suffering, still longing to return home.
Now that she was home, she felt as if she still had to run, nowhere she could belong, had no right to be here, especially since her eldest brother, Rohan was still among the barbarians.
The idea that Rohan continued to suffer while she was finally free angered her beyond words. She wanted her brother home with her family. He would then be wedded to Vevina and become the Chieftain, not Astrid. Or that she didn't have to return and sabotage her other brother's life. Arthur would have been happily married to Vevina by now. Maybe that was why she couldn't feel that she belonged here.
Unfortunately, Arthur and Lancer objected to her plan to search for Rohan. They had informed her last night that search parties were continually sent out in hopes of finding their brother and that Arthur or Lancer, sometimes both of them, would go and investigate claims that Rohan was spotted in a particular area. All that could be done was being done and had been done for her and Rohan, they told Astrid, from the first day of capture.
Astrid had exchanged heated words with her brothers last night, and her father had spoken to her after sending his disgruntled brothers away. Her father's tone was gentle yet firm, letting her know he understood how she felt but the matter was pointless to be arguing about. Scott Sinclare had confidence that his eldest son would also one day return home.
He also had cautioned his daughter to take time to know that everyone was relieved and pleased that she was once again home with them. He had also advised Astrid to take her marriage to Vevina seriously, treat her wife as a real wife, and waste no time overthinking about what others see or say about this abnormal union.
"But I can't give you grandchildren, father," Astrid had said. "I'm only a woman."
"Do not say that, Astrid," Scott said. "You're a fine woman and a warrior, and people love you not because of your bloodline to me but because you're a great leader. Don't let your nature limit your power."
"I understand that, father, but Arthur can give her a fine son or daughter to carry on the Sinclare name," Astrid said. "I can't."
"Perhaps we should allow Vevina to choose what she sees fits in that matters," Scott said. "After all, she never had a choice before coming into our house, at least, that's the least we can offer her."
Astrid understood the wisdom of her father's words but found it difficult to take them into her heart. She couldn't say she wasn't attracted to Vevina. She was a beauty, which she only realized when she took the time to consider her. Her face was flawless and kissed by the spring sun, and her violet eyes were like none she had ever seen, with long lashes that matched stark black hair falling straight to the middle of her back. Most women she had known possessed endless curls and waves, but Vevina's silky locks held not a single curl or twist.
Then there was her body, which Astrid did not want to think about because every time she did she grew hot and bothered with the want of her. While Astrid appeared a meek mouse, she was generous in shape and size in all the right places. Her breasts were full, her waist slim, and her hips substantial.
She would certainly be able to take some hardy lovemaking without protest, and Lord how she wanted to claim her and enjoy her sweet nectar. But Vevina was not simply a wench, she was her wife. And perhaps, as her father said, Vevina would be most likely to choose a fine man like her twin brother for lovemaking and childbearing.
After he was a man, and she was a woman. It only made perfect sense.