Page 118 of Viking in Love

“I blame myself for your horrible treatment at the hands of that brute.”

She shook her head. “’Twas my fault. I should have had more faith.”

“I love you so much. I will never let you go again.”

“All the pain…all the worry these past sennights…having you back makes it all worthwhile.”

There wasn’t a dry eye amongst them. Vana had suffered so much. She deserved this reward. Rafn, too.

“I think it is time for us to go inside and give them privacy,” Breanne said.

She looked up then and saw Caedmon leaning against the wall of the keep, watching her. She wanted to rush into his arms, to beg him to ask her to stay, to say that he loved her. And she wanted to say, “Look at Rafn and Vana. Deep, abiding love does exist.” But his arms were folded over his chest, and his eyes were blank, without emotion.

“Thank you, Caedmon, for all you have done to bring us to this happy conclusion.” Please ask me to stay.

He shrugged. “Your father has thanked me enough. Too much, actually.”

“We will probably be leaving on the morrow,” she said. Plese ask me to stay.

His jaw seemed to clench at her words, and if she had expected him to say something, she was sorely disappointed.

He just spun on his heels and walked away.

He does not want me to stay.

Good-byes are such sweet sorrow…

Caedmon was drowning in family. It was bad enough coping with his ten children, but Breanne’s family and kin were overwhelming.

Even though Archbishop Dunstan had departed with his group, leaving Father Edward behind, there was still King Thorvald, the five princesses, Rashid, Ivan and Ivar, Rafn, Adam the Healer and his child, Lord and Lady Ravenshire. If they stayed much longer, he feared Eirik and Eadyth’s grown children and their spouses, along with Eirik’s brother Tykir and his family, would be descending on Larkspur like locusts. And they all wanted to help him. Sending unusual beehives to increase his production of honey. A new bull. Grains for planting. A better market source for his cattle. And of course the damn noisy bothersome peacocks, which were driving his cotters barmy.

In order to get rid of Dunstan, he had promised to go meet Lady Helen. A promise he had no intention of fulfilling. Breanne had overheard and looked as if he had stabbed her in the back.

He was sick of hugs, and tears, and more hugs, and good wishes, and gifts, and good wishes, and all that bloody happiness. Wulf, who was a mite folk-shy in crowds, shared his opinion and decided to go visit Geoff. Unfortunately, Caedmon could not leave his own keep. Besides, he had to be here when Breanne left, even if it was like sticking needles in his heart, a self-inflicted pain.

And his children were still not speaking to him. Not that he viewed that as any great hardship. Quiet children could be a blessing.

He just wished this ache in his chest would go away. It had been difficult avoiding Breanne these past few days, but the yearning for her remained. In some ways it was like he had a pig bladder in his chest that was being blown up, and blown up, and blown up. Eventually it was going to burst, and then where would he be? Shattered, he supposed.

“Do you love her?” Wulf had asked.

“Nay! Of course not. But I have a mighty lust for her.”

Wulf had just shaken his head at Caedmon’s hopelessness. “Lust for a highborn lady equals marriage, my friend.”

“Not for me!”

“Why do you resist so much?”

“I want a peaceful, orderly life. No more upheavals. I deserve as much. My children do, too. Breanne turns me upside down and inside out. Chaos reigns when she is around.”

Matters had not been helped by Rashid, who told him, “Even the camel knows that love is suffering.”

Thank God he would be hearing no more camel proverbs after tomorrow. Well, today, actually, since it was just past midnight.

He was lying on his bed, arms folded behind his head, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for dawn to come. There would be no sleep for him tonight as his mind swirled with what-ifs.

Just then he heard a creaking sound and the door opening slowly. He shot up into a sitting position.