“True enough. But in my experience, some things really are worth the wait.”
Ma nodded and patted his cheek. “Indeed they are, boy. Indeed they are.”
Never a truer word was spoken. With a smile of contentment, Martha finally closed her eyes, surrendering to the pull of sleep.
Once the two weary midwives had departed, Vadim closed the bedchamber door quietly behind them. With a sigh that seemed to come from the very toes of his boots, he shut his eyes and leaned his forehead upon the smooth wooden planking.
Silently, he took a moment to offer thanks to the spirits for sparing Martha’s life, and for the immeasurable blessing of two healthy children.
Children!
This day—or was it days? Somehow he’d lost all count of time—had given him yet another title to add to the collection already owned by his name. Outlaw. Husband. Earl. Now ‘father’. Perhaps the most important and challenging role of them all. Still leaning against the door, he turned around to look at his wife.
As always, his heart lightened on seeing her. Eyes closed, Martha held a baby within the circle of each arm, reminding him of a mother swan, sheltering her chicks beneath her wings.
Son. Daughter. Family.
Yet more new words for him to grow accustomed to.
He said them over and again in his mind, trying to convince himself that it was true. After months of anticipation and anxiety, their children—their family—was finally here.
Vadim smiled as he looked at them. The babies had inherited his dark hair, but their expressions were all Martha’s, particularly whilst in repose. Just like their mother, they lay with their mouths slightly open, still partially covering their respective nipples. Every so often, one of the babies would jerk awake and begin frantically sucking again only to drift back to sleep a moment later, a thin stream of milk trickling from the corner of its tiny mouth.
“What are you doing way over there?” Martha asked huskily, her eyelids flickering open.
Vadim pushed off the door and wandered back to the bed. “I thought you were asleep,” he murmured, still smiling.
“I was, but you woke me.”
“Oh? And how did I do that?” Especially when he had taken such pains not to disturb her.
“Because you weren’t in bed beside me, that’s how.”
“Ah! I see.” Now he understood. On the rare occasions when he and Martha had not shared a bed, Vadim felt much the same way, restless and unsettled. Bending over, he brushed a strand of chestnut hair back from his wife’s face. “But I’m here now. Trust me. I will not leave you again. Now close your eyes, love. Rest.”
“Only if you climb in here with us.”
“But there’s not enough room,” Vadim protested although he longed to obey her.
“Sure there is.” Martha’s eyes were closing again, the relentless lure of sleep too powerful to be withstood. “This big old bed will always … have a place in it for you. Now get your butt in here and snuggle up, ’cause my feet are absolutely f-f-freezing.”
Vadim chuckled and placed a chaste kiss upon Martha’s brow. “Lest you haven’t already noticed, your favorite bed-warmer currently reeks of ale, smoke, and who knows what else I might have rolled in. I’m too filthy, Martha.”
“Er… hello? Have you taken a proper look at me and our bedroom lately, hon? It’s like bloodbath central in here.”
His resolve was weakening, and he knew Martha sensed it. “And I haven’t shaved in several days.”
She gave a naughty grin. “Funnily enough, neither have I. Now stop arsing about and get in here, husband.”
How could he refuse? “As you wish, wife.”
Kicking off his boots, Vadim clambered into bed. Taking great pains not to disturb the babies—though he couldn’t resist leaning down and kissing each of their tousled heads as he passed—he carefully made his way over to the narrow spot of mattress beside the whitewashed wall.
They definitely needed a bigger bed.
Cramped and crowded as he was, Vadim felt utterly content. Lying on his side, he pulled the coverlet up beneath his chin, more out of habit than necessity for the room was snug and cozy thanks to the fire that burned in the hearth. But just as she’d claimed, Martha’s toes were like ten tiny blocks of ice, probably because she’d lost so much blood. Taking her feet in his hands, he warmed each one in turn, rubbing them briskly until he had banished any lingering cold from their bed.
“Oh!” Martha groaned with her eyes still closed, her words slurred with the effort of speaking. “That’s so much… better. You have… magical… hands, hon.” A moment later, sleep stole her away from him.
But Vadim did not sleep. Not for a long time. Fighting against the unrelenting tug of weariness, he kept watch over his new family, guarding them jealously, love burning brightly in his heart.
As the dim light of the encroaching dawn advanced upon the inky-black sky, Vadim’s mind was still busily building picturing of all the adventures to come. Racing down the years, he imagined some of the many joys and trials that might await their beloved children. Such fanciful thoughts. He smiled at his own foolishness. The babies had only just been born and here he was trying to predict what would happen to them in adulthood.
No. Let the years unfurl as they would. For sure, there would be the occasional storm and squall ahead, for life was not always sunny. Not for anyone. As much as they loved one another, Martha would surely vex him, and in his turn, he would irritate her. They would quarrel—and she would call him a fuckwit—and then they would make up, just as they always had.
Simple and uncomplicated. That was real love.
He stroked Martha’s tangled hair and smiled. No matter what happened in the years ahead, they would weather the passage of days together, side by side.
As a family.
He could imagine no happier fate than that.
King’s Errand
When the new king ascends the throne of The Norlands, only Vadim and Martha’s timely intervention saves Anselm and the other knights - men loyal to the previous king - from a trip to the gallows.
Now their reprieve is over. It’s payback time.
Anselm and his fellow knights have one final chance to prove their loyalty to the crown, but King Rodmar doesn’t ask for mere lip service. To demonstrate their fealty, the knights must bring home the king’s greatest treasure.
The King’s Errand takes Anselm, Vadim, and their companions on an epic adventure, far from the comforts of hearth and home to a new and exotic world.
Together, they brave the peril of the high seas and endure the unrelenting danger of the desert lands. But when their convoy comes under attack, and the outcome of their mission hangs in the balance, will Anselm and his comrades be able to avert disaster?
Join Anselm on his epic quest where he finds unexpected friendship, acceptance… and a woman who may well be the love of his life!
Will Anselm finally get his happily ever after?
Available for pre-order now!
Website: njlayouni.com
Author’s Note.
An author is nothing without readers, and I’m lucky enough to have some of the very best! Thank you for continuing to support me and my humble ‘scribblings’.
A big ‘thank-you’ to the people who courageously waded through the earliest drafts of this book, especially Christine Clinton, Uzma Fray, Gill Smith, Jo Hodges, and Heather Cameron… you truly rock, ladies! X
To Andrea (aka Hawkeye!), thank you for your patience and your uncanny ability of being able to spot even the smallest of typos.
Special thanks to all my loyal newsletter friends, especially Nicole, Sherry Ellis, and Beth Carbutt. You girls never fail to make me smile.
Remember, it’s good to let other readers know what you think. Big or small, positive or not, all reviews are most welcome.
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Hope to see you in the next book!
N x
Other Titles by
N.J. Layouni
Tales of a Traveler Book One: Hemlock
Tales of a Traveler Book Two: Wolfsbane
Ironheart: Anselm’s Tale
About the Author
N.J. Layouni has been weaving stories all of her life—even before she could actually write. For many years, she was a dedicated ‘closet writer’. As a result, the attic space of her home is stuffed to the rafters with piles of aging manuscripts depicting fantastical romantic adventures. Tales of daring sword-wielding heroes and strong, feisty damsels who aren’t too tough to accept a helping hand sometimes.
As well as being a mouthpiece for the various characters living inside her head, N.J. is a wife, and mother of two children. She lives in Lancashire, UK.
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Also by N.J. Layouni
Tales of a Traveler
Hemlock
Wolfsbane
Ironheart: Anselm's Tale
A Scruple of Saffron. (A novella)
King's Errand
A Scruple of Saffron. (A novella) Page 12
