Savage Want (Wicked Wants, #3)
Page 9
“Would have Rhion not died, this chance would never have been offered.” His voice was laced with venom. “You would have me out here in the world, battling in your name, content that I was kept occupied.”
“Revelations come in many forms,” his father reasoned. “Do not hold it against me. I see what you’ve done and who you’ve become.” Kolla wore an expression closest to a smile I’d seen yet.
“Your mother awaits your return. The witch has argued my ears off for years.”
Torsten snorted. “So she lives still.”
“I gave her a keep of her own. Grew tired of her incessant nagging about her only son.”
“The only son that is now the only son. May Rhion drink with the gods in glory forever and ever.”
“There is a keep for you as well.” The jarl stood and removed a leather cord from around his neck. On it dangled a key.
Torsten raised an eyebrow.
“Well, stand up,” the jarl growled.
Torsten complied and the jarl hung the key around Torsten’s thick neck. The key was immediately engulfed by his braided beard. Torsten looked down, then at me. He pulled the string off again and put it around my neck.
“In the North, this is an honor. When man gives his key to woman, they are then married.” His brows lifted in a gentle expression. “If the lady will accept.”
A giggle bubbled up in me and I stifled it, aware of the solemnness of the proposal. “You have no ceremony? No ring?”
“Would you have one here in the woods? Shall I carve you a ring from a tree? Woman, I ask you to accept.”
I did laugh then, as did he. My fingers closed around the rather large key, as long as my hand. The edges dug into my skin, but not like the collar had. I wanted it there. I wanted him there, by my side, for the rest of my years. Tears brimmed in my eyes and I blinked to clear my vision. Magus and Eron looked on, as did Kolla, seemingly amused that his son would make his commitment then and there.
With tears streaming down my cheeks, I smiled. “It’s best that I keep this for you. You might lose it.”
“You are as evil as my mother,” Torsten said with a grin. He kissed me, cupping my face in both hands tenderly. “I shall never tire of it.”
Author bio
Annice Sands is a writer/editor/admin that lives and dreams in Austin, Texas. She collects dragons, pirate ships and books, and wishes she had her own TARDIS. When not writing or reading, she indulges in history documentaries and financial planning. You can follow Annice on Twitter @AnniceSands and on her Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/annicesandserotics