Tatiana March (8 page)

Soft curves nestled against him, slim arms sliding around him. Warm breath brushed his skin as Lady Brenna pressed her face to the crook of his neck. “What about love?” she whispered. “Can a wife expect to be loved?”

“No. Wives cannot expect love, nor can they demand it. They have to earn it, just like husbands do.”

“I have few wifely skills. No cooking, no cleaning, no sewing. I can’t play music or sing ballads or charm visitors.”

Olaf wrapped his arms around his wife and hauled her close, pressing her breast against his chest so that she might feel the pounding of his heart. “I married you for lands, for a place to call my own, and you gave me those.” He fisted his fingers in her hair, as if to lock her in his embrace. “But you have given me so much more. You’ve given me the gift of your body in passion. You’ve given me the love I’ve sought all my life, the love I feared I might never find. You might know little about cooking and sewing, but you possess the courage and loyalty of a knight. You’ve earned my love a thousand times over by loving me, and my love will be yours till the day I die.”

Lady Brenna bowed back in the circle of his arms. Although the darkness around them was solid, Olaf knew she was studying his features. “Perhaps I won’t take all your love after all,” she said, a note of amusement in her voice. “I’ll leave a bit to spare.”

Puzzled, he asked, “And what shall I do with it?”

She tugged at his arm, pulled it free from around her and grabbed hold of his wrist, guiding his palm to settle on her belly. “Save some of it for your child, whether it be a boy or girl, perhaps with your green eyes and my black hair, or with my brown eyes and hair as fair as sunlight.”

“A child.” Olaf flexed his fingers over the smooth, warm skin. “Are you certain?”

“Aye. I am certain.”

The words came out low, his voice rough. “I love you, my lady knight.”

“And I love you, my husband, even if you expect me to obey you.”

Releasing a long, satisfied sigh, Olaf anchored his wife in his arms and closed his eyes. When he drifted off to sleep, he dreamed of a dozen children. Some had black hair and green eyes, some had fair hair and brown eyes, and they were all tearing around the castle bailey, clashing wooden swords, training to be knights, no matter if they were boys or girls.

* * * * *

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ISBN: 978-14603-1925-3

SURRENDER TO THE KNIGHT

Copyright © 2013 by Tatiana March

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