“Father is already working to improve the position of women, and—”
“Neven?” Cele asked, astounded.
Dahleven nodded and grinned. “Yes, and I agree with him, though I’d rather not discuss gender politics just now.” He grew more earnest. “The protocol you can learn. And your lack of connection with any of the other Jarldoms is as much an asset as a liability. Alliances can place awkward and difficult demands. Your unusual background will keep the Lords and Jarls and their ladies from easily taking your measure. And Mother already respects your strength and honesty.”
“She does?”
“So she said. Don’t let her worry you. Not many have the backbone to stand up to her. She rather liked that. She’ll accept you as my wife.”
Doubt lingered. “Your father will never allow it.”
“He already gave his blessing.”
Cele gaped. Neven had approved of her marrying his heir? Neven, who had bullied her unmercifully?
Again Dahleven seemed to read her mind. “He didn’t know who was working to topple Nuvinland and bring us to war with the Tewakwe. He hoped you would attract attention, and he needed you to be vulnerable to his enemy’s lure.”
“He used me as bait?” Cele exclaimed, pulling her hands free of his. “And you let him?”
“He didn’t ask my advice on the matter,” Dahleven growled.
“He could have told me what he had in mind, asked me to help, instead of…using me.”
“He didn’t tell me his plan until I forced the issue. And you couldn’t know Neven’s plan, or Jorund might have sniffed the lie with a Truth Sayer. That would have put you in even greater danger.”
“Even so, why set his dog on me? Gris practically accused me of murder!” Outrage sharpened her voice.
“I know. Sometimes I think the Chamberlain enjoys his work a little too much.” Dahleven clasped her fist between his palms. “But if Neven had been kind and helpful to you, would you have listened to Jorund?”
Cele growled. She’d never been so angry in her life, except at Jeff. That Dahleven was right didn’t make her any happier. “No,” she finally grated out. “I probably wouldn’t have, once I was away from his Persuasion.”
Dahleven waited silently, stroking with his callused hand until hers relaxed. Gradually, Cele’s anger faded. He loved her. How could she stay mad? He traced one thumb over her palm. How could such a small gesture be so stimulating? She pulled him closer for a kiss. She’d meant it to be quick, but the moment their lips met, she wanted more. Apparently, so did he.
Dahleven cupped her head and slipped his tongue into her mouth, teasing and caressing. His kiss was better than New York cheesecake drizzled with chocolate. All she wanted to do was nibble him up and swallow him down. His hand found her breast. Had anything ever felt so good? Her nipple rose and she pressed into his palm. He started to pull up her skirt. Cele wriggled against his arousal and Dahleven moaned. Then he froze.
“We can’t.” He dropped the hem of her dress. “Not here.”
Cele blinked, trying to think over the clamoring of her body. “Why not?”
“Sentries.”
She groaned. “Damn. I forgot.” She rested her head against his chest while she caught her breath. Maybe we could sneak back to my tent.
Dahleven interrupted her lustful thoughts. “There’s something else. Something you must agree to before we can marry.”
A ripple of dread ran down Cele’s back. Now what?
*
Dahleven took a deep breath. “Sorn was my sworn brother, and he died without children. Sevond has no one now. I—I’ve promised him my second son.” He tried to keep the hope and despair out of his face. A woman who married for position and power wouldn’t balk at his promise. Celia had no such ambitions. His oath could cost him his happiness, but there was no going back.
Celia frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Our son would take Sevondsson as his paternavn and at his fifth summer he would go to live with Sevond as his own blood. He wouldn’t inherit the Jarldom even if our other sons were lost to us, may Freyr forbid.”
Sevond lived in Quartzholm. The child wouldn’t be lost to her. He’d be closer than if he were fostered with another Jarl. Dahleven searched Celia’s expression. Her customs were different than his. Could she give up a child, even if she could see him every day?
He saw the anguish in her face and knew what she would say before she spoke. He could barely hear her words over the knife thrust of anticipated pain.
“I can’t do it. I’m sorry. Family is everything to me. My mother kept me and loved me even when her folks pressured her to give me up for adoption. I don’t think I could give up our child.”
Dahleven clenched his jaw, making the muscles jump. He nodded once. He could find no fault with her. “It’s not uncommon for us to foster our children away from home. I never thought before how it must rend a mother’s heart. Or a father’s.” Giving a child they’d made together into the care of another, even Sevond, now seemed more than he could do. But his word was given. He looked up, directly into her eyes. The love and understanding in her gaze stole his breath.
“You did it out of compassion.” Her tone was gentle.
She might forgive him, but there was no getting around this. He looked down at their clasped hands, dreading the answer to his next question. “Will you return to Midgard, then?”
She was silent for a long time. When she spoke, she sidestepped the question.
“I think Sevond may release you from your promise.”
Dahleven’s heart skipped a beat and he looked up sharply.
“Will you keep a secret?”
“As long as doing so is within my honor, yes.”
A grin stole over Celia’s face. “Aenid is pregnant with Sorn’s child.”
Delight burst in him, filling his chest. “Truly?”
She nodded and recounted the tale of Aenid and Sorn’s love for each other.
My sworn brother knew more than sisterly love before he died. Dahleven laughed and hugged her and didn’t bother to wipe away the joyful tears that tracked his face. When he could speak, he said, “Sevond will be elated by this news. I believe you may be right. Knowing Sorn lives on through this child will likely give him sufficient reason to forgive my vow.”
He drew her close, and Celia nestled under his arm. It felt so right, as though she belonged there. Nevertheless, the tension still in her shoulders told Dahleven that her mind was unsettled. She had not yet given him an answer.
“What if Aenid’s child is a girl? Will that make a difference?”
He didn’t flinch from the truth. “Boy or girl, my promise stands. It’s Sevond’s choice alone whether to release me from it.” Dahleven fell silent, waiting for her decision.
*
Cele thought of the time she’d spent with Sevond, remembered the stories he’d told about his family. He was a good man, and he’d obviously been a loving father. Sorn had spoken of him with great affection. But to give up our child, even to him…
She ought to be angry with Dahleven for making such a rash promise, for forcing her to make this choice, but she didn’t have it in her. She understood why he’d done it. She took a shuddering breath and blinked at the tears that stung her eyes.
Stay or go, she would face heartbreak.
She couldn’t give up a child, but she couldn’t give up Dahleven, either.
Don’t let fear stop you.
“If I stay, you have to promise you’ll never again make a decision that affects us both without me.”
Dahleven lifted a brow. “And you as well.”
“Fair enough.” Cele nodded and sealed the promise with a kiss. She barely noticed the single sharp caw of a raven.
“I want a long engagement,” she added, when they broke apart. “And don’t even think about taking an elskerinne.”
EPILOGUE
Cele smiled as Father Wirmund held Aenid’s child above his head with two
hands. The little girl was small and pink, with a thick thatch of dark hair that was Sorn’s gift to his daughter.
“Let Freyr bless thee, and Freya guard thee, and may Baldur be your guide. From this day forth, all shall know thee as Kaleth Sornsdatter.” Wirmund intoned the concluding phrases, then handed the little girl back to her mother.
The assembly hall was filled to capacity. Quartzholm was crowded with those who had arrived early for the Midwinter Feast, and all had been invited to the Naming Day Ceremony. A spontaneous cheer erupted and continued until Neven stepped forward. The baby, who had cooed happily throughout the ceremony, now let loose with a sharp cry. A ripple of laughter ran around the room, then all were silent again.
“Let us all now honor the gods and my new-named great-granddaughter by feasting in their honor!”
The crowd cheered again and began to disperse to the banquet hall. The family would make an entrance the near the dais, but not until the guests were seated. On this occasion, Sevond would join them at the head of the room.
Dahleven’s arm stole around Cele’s waist while they waited.
“Kaleth is a pretty name,” she said, leaning back against his chest.
Dahleven put his other arm around her. “What names do you like, for our daughters?”
“Kathryn, I think. And Amanda, for my mother.”
“Only two?” he teased.
Before she could answer, Sevond approached, holding Kaleth. “My lord Dahleven?”
Dahleven straightened, leaving one arm around Cele’s shoulders. She tensed, trying not to hope too much. Sevond had not yet rescinded Dahleven’s promise, and though neither of them had spoken of it, they were growing anxious that he might still want their son to replace the one he’d lost.
Sevond looked down at his granddaughter with glowing eyes. “She is perfect. And she’ll never go to fight and die in the drylands.” He looked back up at Dahleven. “I release you from your oath, my lord. It was generous, and it helped me through a dark time. But this little one is enough for an old man like me. It is enough to know my Sorn continues through her.”
At last! Cele wanted to laugh and clap her hands, but she merely grinned.
“Only, there is one thing I would ask as a condition, my lord.”
Cele’s heart stopped. A condition. What price would he ask?
“I would have you name your second boy after my Sorn.”
Dahleven shook his head. “I can’t do that.”
“What?” Cele cried. Has he lost his mind? “Of course we—”
“Because I plan use that name for my firstborn son.”
Tears brimmed in Sevond’s eyes. “You do my boy great honor. Thank you!” Sevond looked down at the little girl in his arms. “Did you hear that, Kaleth? A Jarl will one day bear your father’s name.” Sevond bowed and went to tell Aenid.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” Cele said softly, punching his shoulder. Then she hugged him. They were free. The last shadow on their happiness was gone.
“That was well done, Dahl,” Gudrun said, approaching from behind.
“Thank you, Mother.”
Gudrun looked at Cele with her usual piercing gaze. “And you, my daughter-to-be. Can we set a date now, for your final vows?”
Cele smiled back into Gudrun’s eyes. “Whenever you like, Mother.”
THANK YOU!
Thank you for buying and reading DANGEROUS TALENTS and allowing me to entertain you for a few hours. If you enjoyed this book please tell your friends, and consider leaving a review on the site where you purchased it. Indie authors depend on word of mouth and good reviews from their fans.
For news of upcoming releases, visit me at http://www.FrankieRobertson.com.
Ragni and Saeun's story continues in FORBIDDEN TALENTS:
As the second son of the Kon of Nuvinland, and a priest of Baldur, Lord Ragni understands the demands of politics. He’s not surprised when his father arranges a marriage for him to the daughter of another Jarl. Unfortunately, Ragni has just fallen hard for Saeun.
Saeun never expected to fall in love with Lord Ragni, but what began as a casual dalliance with a ladies’ man blossomed into a deep passion. But her hopes for the future are dashed when her tools of forbidden magic are discovered. To save herself, and Ragni's reputation, Saeun escapes into a deadly blizzard—leaving behind everything, and everyone, she loves.
Ragni faces an agonizing choice: enforce the law he’s sworn to uphold, or save the woman he loves.
And while the lovers' hearts are breaking, a dark and ancient threat to all of Nuvinland is gaining strength.
Best wishes,
Frankie
About the Author
Frankie Robertson writes fantasy and romantic fiction with an otherworldly twist. She has lived all over the country, but now lives with her husband in southern Arizona. Her backyard is often visited by hawks, coyotes, javalinas, and bobcats, who don't get along well with the bunnies, quail, and lizards. She brings a varied background to her writing, including experience as an investigator with the Western Society for Paranormal Research.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY~ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY~TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY~THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY~FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY~FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY~SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY~SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY~EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY~NINE
EPILOGUE
THANK YOU!
About the Author
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY~ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY~TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY~THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY~FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY~FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY~SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY~SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY~EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY~NINE
EPILOGUE
THANK YOU!
About the Author
Dangerous Talents Page 45
