“This is not needlework!” he exclaimed. “’Tis genius! I have never beheld such artistry!”
“I am gratified by your praise,” she replied politely.
He rose and came to her. “Tell me about this. I would know more.”
“’Tis my family history, wrought with wool,” she replied.
“What compelled you to do this?”
“I wanted to ensure that the history of our kingdom would never be forgotten. The Church records everything in Latin that the common man cannot comprehend, but even the illiterate understand pictures.”
He gazed down at her tambour and the sketch she had just completed of him battling the boar. Gwened fought the urge to snatch it from view.
“’Tis a good likeness,” he remarked. “But perhaps you could make me bigger?” he added with a grin.
“I will not humor your vanity with this,” she replied. “Besides, you are already one of the largest men I have ever seen. Why are you here?” she demanded.
“I have spoken at length with Mateudoi,” Bjorn said. “He has told me of your refusal to join in an alliance with Neustria.”
“I saw little point in it,” she said. “Twould only result in needless death, and Brittany would be no better off under Neustrian control than yours.”
“I am gratified by your good faith,” he replied.
“’Tis not so much my faith in you, as the simple facts,” she answered. Taking up her needle, she resumed her work, but to her dismay, he still didn’t leave.
“You created this shade of blue?” he asked with a look of admiration. “’Tis even deeper than my tunic.”
“I had to experiment, but I am satisfied with the result,” she said, stabbing the linen and pulling the thread through it.
He unexpectedly laid his hand on hers. Forced to stop, she reluctantly looked up at him. “I came to make peace with you,” he said.
“We already have peace,” she replied.
“Nay,” he shook his head. “What we have is nothing more than a truce. ‘Tis not enough.”
“Is your bed too cold?” she snapped. “Is that why you suddenly come to me with sweet words? Surely there are servants willing to lift their skirts for you.”
“Why are you making this so difficult?” he demanded.
Feeling at a disadvantage, Gwened dropped her needle and stood to face him. “I have given the cooperation you sought, so why do you disturb my peace like this?” she asked in a choked voice.
He gripped her arms in a hold that was solid but gentle. “Perhaps I want more than just cooperation.”
“I thought we had friendship,” she replied. “But then you acted like a…a…” She was growing too flustered by his touch to think clearly. She hated that her body still reacted to him this way.
“Jackass?” he offered with a look of chagrin. “I thought you betrayed me, Gwened. I thought you only came to distract me while Mateudoi worked against us, but now I know this isn’t true.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me that you refused to join him.”
“Why would he do such a thing?”
“Because he wants to renounce his title and retire to Redon Abbey.”
“And you will let him do this?” she asked.
“I will if you give me a reason.”
“A reason?” she asked. “What do you mean?”
“If he were out of the way, would there be any other obstacle between us?” he asked.
Her heart raced. “You mean for you and I to be together?”
He cupped her face. “Do you desire it?”
“It doesn’t matter what I desire. It cannot be as long as I am another man’s wife.”
“You will not be for long,” he said. “The church can have no reason to deny the annulment if your husband has chosen to become a priest. Are they not required to live in abstinence?”
”I suppose that’s true,” she said. “But the proceedings could take some time.”
“I assure you, I am not going anywhere,” he said. “I’m sorry I mistrusted you, Gwened. I have guarded myself for a long time.”
“As have I,” she said. “But it only leaves an emptiness inside.”
“When I was injured, the goddess Frigg came to me in a dream. She said the wound in my heart would only heal when I met the one destined to be my life mate. I know now that she meant you. Can we put the doubt and suspicion behind us?” he asked. “Can we begin anew?”
His soft eyes and imploring tone melted the walls of steel she’d erected around her heart. “Aye,” she replied in a whisper.
“I had hoped you would say so.” His smile warmed her to the core. “Then let us seal this treaty with a kiss.”
He took her into his arms with a long, lush kiss that promised much more than a night of passion. He promised a lifetime of it.
THE END
EPILOGUE
Four months later
“I thought I would find you here,” Bjorn entered her solar with his long and easy stride. “I have some good news to share.”
“Do you indeed?” she remarked as he came toward her. She was glad to see a smile on his face.
She looked forward to these fleeting moments in her private sanctuary when they were completely alone, and able to show their affection. But even with Mateudoi’s departure, they had made a vow to exercise extreme discretion. The kingdom was on shaky enough ground without creating a scandal.
Her pulse raced as he bent his head to place a kiss on her lips. To her surprise, it wasn’t a brisk brush as she’d expected but a long and lingering kiss that made her long for much more.
“What has put you in such a good humor?” she asked.
“I have been given my heart’s desire this day.” He then produced a rolled parchment from the folds of his tunic.
“What is this?”
“’Tis notification of your annulment,” he replied.
Gwened’s breath hitched. It was the answer to her own secret prayers. “What does this mean?” she asked, her heart racing with anticipation.
“It means I will soon make you my bride,” he replied, adding with a grin, “if you will have a savage Viking to husband.”
“It is what I most desire…given the change in circumstances.”
His dark brows arched over his golden eyes. “What change is this?”
Gwened licked her lips in hesitation and glanced down at her tambour. His gaze followed hers. “What is this new picture, Gwened?” he asked as he took it from her hands. His pupils widened as he studied the loving work of her needle.
“Tis a babe wearing a crown?”
“Aye,” she whispered. “’Tis Brittany’s next king.”
He frowned. “Valdrik is duke of this land. Brittany no longer has a king.”
“’Tis not the past or present that I depict, but the future,” she replied softly.
He regarded her quizzically. “A future king?”
“Aye, from the line of the Great King Alain,” she replied.
“Alain? Was he not your own father?” His expression slowly changed from confusion to enlightenment. “You cannot mean?” He stared down at the growing belly she would soon have trouble concealing.
“’Tis your son I carry, Bjorn. He will be the next king of Brittany.”
He reacted with a stone cold silence that made her heart sink into her belly.
“You are not happy?” she said, fighting back the sob that threatened to choke her.
“’Tis not that!” he replied with an anguished look. “’Tis that no one can know this child is mine. You were still wed to Mateudoi when he was conceived. The world must believe it is his.”
“Why?” she asked.
“This kingdom will only weaken if your child has the taint of adultery. I will raise him as my own and guard him with my very life, but this must remain our secret.”
“But Mateudoi will know!” she protested.
“I will go to him. If he does not agree to
silence on this, I will silence him.”
She gasped. “You wouldn’t!”
“Indeed, I would,” he replied darkly.
He grew silent once more. “There is something even greater to consider.”
“And what is that?” she asked.
“Valdrik,” he replied. “My brother claimed this kingdom as his own. Your child… our child… will eventually pose a threat to that claim.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Gwened’s chest tightened. “But this babe will be the only grandchild of the last king, and the rightful heir to Brittany. What will you do? If forced to choose, who will you support?”
“There is no question,” he answered, placing his large, warm hand on her belly. “I love my brother, but there is nothing I would not do to protect you and the child you carry.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Readers who are familiar with early European history may recognize that many of the characters and events in my Wolves of Brittany books are either true or inspired by actual people and historical events.
Although THE BASTARD OF BRITTANY takes place about one hundred and fifty years before the Norman conquest of England, The Bayeux Tapestry (a fascinating 220- foot-long example of Noman embroidery depicting the event) was very much the inspiration for this particular story.
By the time of the conquest, Brittany was completely under Norman control, and many Breton nobles crossed the channel with Duke William to conquer England.
If you enjoyed this story, please check out my SONS OF SCOTLAND SERIES!
World of de Wolfe Pack: THE BASTARD OF BRITTANY (Kindle Worlds Novella) (THE WOLVES OF BRITTANY Book 3) Page 10
