Wildest Dreams

by Kristen Ashley

  Then he stood there staring at me.

  When he didn’t say anything, I asked, “Is there something you wish to say?”

  He shook his head and his body shifted again before he stated, “You haven’t dismissed me.”

  Oh. Right.

  I smiled again before telling him, “You can see to that water now, Skylar.”

  He nodded again, once, quickly, then raced out.

  Well, that was a little weird but… whatever.

  Determining to ask Frey later, I finally set about having a good look around.

  I’d had the opportunity to take off my cloak, hat and gloves, nose through Frey’s stuff on his desk and wash up when Skylar brought some warmed water to pour in the copper pitcher and I had a brass spyglass to one eye and was on my knees in the bench at the back, peering out at pretty much nothing (because it was still dark and there was a huge ass ship behind is that was in my way) when Frey came back.

  I turned my head to watch him walk in and saw him stop and stare at me with unconcealed puzzlement.

  “What are you gazing at, wife?”

  I grinned at him, moved off the bench and put the spyglass on his desk while I walked to him and answered, “Seeing as it’s night, a whole lot of nothing. Still, that spyglass is cool, that bench is cool, that window is cool and this whole freaking cabin,” I stopped in front of him and slapped my hands lightly on his chest, tipping my head way back to look up at him, “is cool.”

  His eyes moved over my face then he lifted a hand to cup my cheek, his thumb sweeping out to stroke my cheekbone.

  What he didn’t do was smile back and I saw he looked distracted.

  So I leaned in closer and asked, “Is everything okay?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead he informed me, “We’re away soon.”

  I smiled again and whispered, “Awesome.” Then I asked, “Can I come up on deck and watch while we set sail?”

  He shook his head. “You need to sleep, wee one.”

  I shook my head too. “Frey, I’m totally not tired.” And this was true, I was wired, not tired.

  “All right,” he replied, “then I need to concentrate on navigating my ship out of the bay, my men need to concentrate on setting sail and while we do that none of us need to concentrate on my curious wife finding trouble as she wanders around discovering so I’ll ask you to stay in our cabin and stare through your scope at a lot of nothing.”

  Hmm. Bummer.

  Though I could understand why he wanted that and I could also do that for him.

  “Okay,” I gave in. “But can I get a tour later?” I pushed and he again shook his head, not in the negative but as an indication he was used to me not giving up and I knew this didn’t annoy him when I saw his eyes warm but his mouth still did not curve into a smile.

  “Skylar will take you around once we’re away.”

  “Cool,” I said softly, studying him and sensing his thoughts were elsewhere but I wasn’t certain they were on navigating the bay.

  He nodded and his hand dropped from my face but I caught it before he moved away.

  “Frey,” I called, he stilled and his eyebrows went up. “Is everything okay?” I repeated my earlier question.

  This time, he answered instantly, “Everything will be okay when we’re at sea and you’re surrounded by men I trust not to poison you or sink a dagger in your flesh.”

  Ho boy.

  Clearly someone had not had his mind taken off the events of the night by an awesome new city, doxies, galleons and a cool-as-shit captain’s cabin all of it straight out of a movie.

  Therefore, I moved into him and circled him with my arms.

  Pressing close and tilting my head way back, I whispered, “Honey, I’m okay.”

  “Indeed,” he replied, curving his arms around me.

  I tipped my head to the side and smiled big at him. “And we’re off on an adventure.”

  His eyes again roamed my face before he murmured, “That we are, my Finnie.”

  “So it’s all good,” I concluded and watched a darkness settle in his eyes.

  Hmm. Maybe all was not good.

  I gave him a squeeze and prompted, “Frey.”

  “I bedded her,” he said quietly and I felt my brows draw together as my body tensed at his words.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I bedded her,” he repeated, one of his hands coming up to curl around my neck, he bent slightly so his face was closer to me. “I bedded her,” he said yet again and went on. “And asked her to attend the table the first night I returned with my new bride and your Mother shared that, in doing this, I gave her hope that she would again warm my bed, which, Finnie, I vow to you now that no matter what I said when I was angry with you, she did not.”

  He was talking about Viola.

  I nodded at this news that was not news to me and Frey kept talking.

  “I’d no idea she was of weak character. I’d no idea her time with me led to an infatuation that was unhealthy. I’d no idea she would be open not only to conspiring to harm you but actually moving personally to carry out a plot to murder my wife.”

  Ho boy.

  “Frey –” I tried to break in on another squeeze of my arms but he bent deeper, got closer and kept talking.

  “But she did and I knew the dangers you faced and it wasn’t my hand that tipped the vial of poison in the glass delivered to you but it was my actions that tipped her actions which means events unfolded, a woman lost her life and another woman narrowly avoided losing hers and that woman is my wife. So no, wee one, everything is not okay.”

  All righty, this was a leap he was clearly determined to make, a leap that really made no sense but a leap founded in deep feelings of guilt and those kind never made any kind of sense.

  And lastly, it was a leap from which I had to reel him back.

  In an effort to do that, both my hands slid up his chest and came to rest on either side of his neck as I whispered, “What happened was not your fault.”

  “I disagree, Finnie.”

  I gave him a squeeze and a gentle shake. “Frey, you’re wrong.”

  “Change places with me, my love, and tell me…” his hand gave me a squeeze too and he continued, “even if it was anyone but especially that it was this woman, a woman we argued over, an argument that spurred me to do something unwise which caused a rift between us, a woman you could only be sensitive about and, perhaps not now but possibly later, think about her, think about my thoughtless actions and what they led to and then let that fester. Knowing what already happened and what could happen as your mind invariably turns over the events of last night, how would you feel right now?”

  Okay, he had a point there.

  “Okay,” I said softly, “you have a point there but think about it. Firstly, if we were to change places and I was in your arms, feeling like shit that all this went down, in an effort to make me feel better and to understand it was really, truly not my fault, wouldn’t you explain that the actions of others are the actions of others? We had an argument and people do crazy things when they’re pissed. You were pissed and you acted on that. Everyone does stuff like that. You asked her to wait on a table, that’s it. You didn’t make any promises to her. She twisted that in her head and she did what she did but she did it. You can’t help it that you’re great in bed.” He did a slow blink at my words but I kept talking. “Well, I guess you could. If you wanted to be bad in bed, you could do that, I suppose. Though I’d ask you don’t start doing that now.”

  “Finnie –”

  “Because that would suck, for me.”

  “Finnie –”

  “And I didn’t try to poison anyone so I don’t think I should be punished.”

  His hand at my neck gave me another squeeze; I focused more closely on him and saw that his lips were tipped up.

  “Are you finished?” he asked.

  “Do you feel better?” I asked back.

  “Yes,” Frey answered and I pressed closer to
him.

  “Then yes,” I said softly.

  Finally, he smiled fully at me then one of his hands slid down to wrap around me while the other hand slid up into the back of my hair so he could turn my head and press my cheek against his chest.

  And, at that point, I felt better.

  Then I felt his chest expand and contract as he let out a big breath before he whispered, “Thank you, wife.”

  With both my arms around him, I gave him a squeeze and whispered back, “Your welcome, husband.”

  He held me close for several seconds, I returned the gesture then when his hold loosened slightly, I tipped my head back to see he was looking down at me.

  “As you peruse my cabin, try not to move anything so I can’t find it.”

  Weird. He so totally knew me.

  I laughed softly and nodded. “Okay, I’ll try.”

  He grinned at me before he dipped his head and touched his mouth to mine. Then he said quietly, “We need to be away.”

  I stared in his beautiful eyes and nodded.

  He held my stare a second then let me go.

  He was almost at the door when I called his name; he turned and looked at me, waiting.

  “What’s your ship called?” I asked.

  “The Finnie,” he answered casually and I felt every inch of my body lock.

  Then my jaw released so I could ask on a breath, “What?”

  Without hesitation, Frey replied, “When I decided you’d be travelling with me, and you demonstrated much excitement for this eventuality, I changed the registers, had her name sanded away, her new one painted on and rechristened her The Finnie.”

  Oh.

  My.

  God.

  He did not do that.

  I looked at my husband standing patiently but obviously wishing to be away as the realization washed through me that he did do that.

  I was stunned, my entire body felt warm, my heart felt light and I knew that quicksand was closing in on my chin.

  And I had absolutely no intention of making the slightest effort to pull myself out.

  “What was she named before?” I whispered.

  “The Skadi,” he answered then, even ready to leave, he took the time to explain. “Ancient lore told that Skadi was brave but it also said that she preferred the mountains. There was a time when she needed to be called Skadi. That time is past for my Finnie makes the most of everywhere she happens to be including, I’m sure I will find, the sea.”

  Yes, he so totally knew me.

  “I’ll make the most of it,” I promised quietly.

  “I know you will, love,” Frey replied quietly then continued just as quietly but also gently, “though, you keep talking, there won’t be anything to make.”

  I smiled at him. “We could delay a bit, go out to one of those wharf side pubs, have a drink and I could chat to some doxies.”

  He started chuckling and shook his head. “I see this would intrigue you, my wee one, but I must inform you now so when we return you won’t have your heart set on it, you will never be going to those pubs, having a drink and chatting to doxies.”

  I grinned at him.

  We’d see about that.

  I decided not to say that and instead ordered, “Go, navigate your ship, my handsome husband. I have poking around to do and important papers and instruments to misplace.”

  He grinned as he walked back to me, cupped my jaw with his hand and again touched his lips to mine, this time harder and longer but not hard or long enough for me.

  Then, his fingers drifting gently along my jaw as he released me, Frey smiled into my eyes, turned and walked out of the cabin.

  I stared at the door for awhile after he’d gone thinking I was standing on a beautiful ship a beautiful man named after me.

  Yes, I was standing on a beautiful ship a beautiful man named after me.

  Then I bit my lip but even so, I was biting it while smiling.

  Then I turned my attention to poking around and misplacing his papers and instruments.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Adela Tea

  A week and a half later…

  My eyes fluttered open and I saw velvet, I felt weight and warmth except on my leg which was partially exposed and wrapped around a tangle of hides and blankets.

  I was in bed in Frey’s cabin and I was alone.

  Then I heard papers rustling, I pulled in a soft breath and lifted up on a forearm to look toward the desk.

  My handsome husband with a week and a half of beard growth (making him, arguably, more handsome) was sifting through papers on his desk.

  “Hey,” I called, his head came up and his green-brown eyes came to me.

  Then his face got lazy, that lazy communicated itself to a variety of places in my body, and he said not a word but straightened in his chair and shifted it slightly to the side.

  He didn’t have to say a word, I knew what that meant.

  I untangled myself from the covers, grabbed my long, soft wool robe that was lying across the bottom of the divan and my cashmere-socked feet hit wood floor. I pulled the robe on over my satin nightgown as I wandered across the cabin to him, tying the belt tight just as I made it to his chair. His arm hooked me around the waist and he gently guided me into his lap.

  When I settled, both his arms wrapped around me, his head bent toward mine and he murmured, “I’ll take my morning kiss now, wee Finnie.”

  I grinned up at him, placed my hands on the hard wall of his chest and leaned in, tipping my head back, offering him my mouth.

  Then he took his morning kiss. This wasn’t the first time he got it with me in his lap in his chair behind his desk in the cabin. Other times he got it when he woke me in his bed when he was still in it. There were a few times he got it when he woke me after coming back from doing something. But there were no other times. He came to me or was with me every morning.

  Every single one.

  I was clutching his sweater and a bit more than mildly heated by his embrace when he lifted his head and muttered, “Will I ever tire of the taste of you?”

  God, I hoped not.

  Of course, I didn’t say that. Instead I grinned at him and stated, “No way. I’m yummy.”

  He grinned back and his arms pulled me closer as he asked, “Yummy?”

  “I’m delicious,” I explained.

  His grin turned into a smile before he agreed, “That you are, my wee one.”

  I leaned in deeper, lifted my hand to stroke his rough jaw and my eyes dropped to his mouth before I whispered, “You’re yummy too.”

  I watched his mouth mutter, “Gods,” before it was on mine and he took another morning kiss, this one longer, deeper, wetter and lots better.

  Mm. Definitely yummy.

  I was clinging to him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other hand in his thick hair when he tore his mouth from mine and slid his lips down my cheek to my ear where he spoke quietly.

  “Sadly, I have no time to play this morning, wife. I’m to meet Thad and Kell in five minutes. We make land the day after tomorrow and from there we must make haste. This morning, we finalize plans,” his head lifted and his eyes caught mine, “but after that, I’m free. I’ll hand the wheel to Thad, meet you here and we will lock the door.”

  I knew what locking the door meant. So did his men.

  Awesome. Something to look forward to.

  “But now, I must be away,” Frey went on. “Would you like me to tell Skylar to bring you breakfast?”

  At the mention of Skylar, my good morning mood experienced a hiccup.

  In the time I was on the ship, Skylar had not gotten used to me. Frey had explained this was because Skylar was the son of one of his men, a man who had unfortunately died during a mission (this, Frey assured me, probably because I sucked in every molecule of oxygen in the cabin and actually felt my face go pale, was a very rare happenstance) which meant Skylar was being raised solely by that man’s wife.

  She was not a good w
oman, a kind one, a fair one, a patient one or, from some of the stories he relayed to me (stories that made my heart hurt), a sane one. Frey had learned that things were going badly for the boy and he’d taken him (yes, taken him, giving his mother no choice and honestly, I was glad of it) and now Skylar served Frey and would do so until he was old enough to make his own decisions.

  Therefore, Skylar was gun shy with women and it was no surprise. Also, this meant Frey usually did my talking with Skylar. This was at my request, mainly because Skylar wasn’t getting used to me no matter how kind or soft-spoken I was with him and I could tell I caused him discomfort so I decided to avoid doing that by avoiding him and Frey had agreed to my request.

  I wasn’t sure an abused boy should be serving on a ship with a bunch of macho men I had noted treated him like, well, a bunch of macho men and further without the kindness of a woman. What I was sure of was that, if even half the stories were true, he was better off on Frey’s ship with a bunch of brusque men than he was with his mother.

  I was also sure I liked Frey even more because he went out of his way to take care of the boy. His care might not be nurturing but it couldn’t be denied it was care.

  “Yes,” I nodded, answering his question, “and water to wash.”

  “All right,” Frey murmured, leaned in to touch his lips to my forehead then stood, taking me with him and setting me on my feet. Then he looked down at me. “Your plans for the day?”

  “Archery practice with Annar then knife work with Lund.”

  He shook his head and started chuckling.

  I had found my girls had packed some of Princess Sjofn’s shirts, sweaters and breeches and, being me, I tried them out. The first time I had appeared in these garments, I caused quite a stir. This stir caused Frey, standing at the helm, to look to the heavens as if seeking deliverance from his gods. But he didn’t say a word (this, I also liked).

  I also heard from Annar that they’d packed my bow and arrow and they did this by giving it to him to pack with his own as it didn’t fit in my trunks. He offered to work with me and I took him up on it. While practicing with the bow one day, Lund showed and offered to teach me how to handle a knife. I took him up on that too. I thought both were important to know, considering Sjofn knew them and even though I would probably never be as good as her considering the amount of practice she had, at least it would provide some cover for I wouldn’t appear a complete amateur should spies be paying attention (and, obviously, they were).