Seven months later
“IF I HAVE TO EAT ONE more fig, I will throw off all my clothes and start dancing naked like the maiden in the work of art you’ve been admiring over the hearth.”
Gwendolyn made the threat lightly as she rubbed her flat belly and teased the overprotective warrior seated at the table beside her. They dined in a grand palazzo of Venice in a far-flung corner of the kingdom of Italy. One of many stops on a tour by sea that had delighted Gwendolyn for the past many months.
They’d traveled to Brittany and Bordeaux, hugging the coastline of Francia and then the kingdom of Asturias and Leon to visit Santiago de Compostela. Finally, they’d sailed into the blue, blue waters of the Mediterranean to see Barcelona and Rome, in honor of her parents. They’d crossed Italy by land to see Venice before they began the trek home.
After securing the keep, Wulf had offered her an adventure and she had thrived on every moment of discovery. New worlds had opened her mind and her heart until she felt full to overflowing with life, love and happiness.
And just now, figs.
“You will maintain your strength,” he commanded, though he changed strategies by handing her a plump grape from a heavy silver platter instead. “My child will not be a puny Saxon, but a Dane to be reckoned with. You must nourish the babe with this in mind. But if you are of a mind to strip off your clothing to prove a point, you will witness how fast I can have you upstairs and underneath me.”
Warming at his stare, Gwendolyn could not believe how delicious it felt to love and be loved by her husband. She had only been sure she was expecting for about a fortnight, but Wulf already treated her as if she carried a full-grown babe.
They had wed the morning after the battle with Harold since they had found ways to pleasure each other despite their injuries. With Goderic dead and Alchere fled to one of his holdings, Wulf and Gwendolyn had celebrated their nuptials. Elsa and Erik had witnessed the nuptials and the keep celebrated with feasting for a fortnight. They had timed the ceremony to coincide with King Alfred’s return. And while the Saxon king was not pleased to have a Dane in charge at a Wessex keep, he was swayed by the feasting and the news he’d received of Wulf’s resounding defeat of all comers. Besides, as a wedding present to Gwendolyn, Wulf had declared fealty to the king of his new homeland.
“You must wait,” she pleaded sweetly, knowing how fast Wulf Geirsson could deliver on a promise. “You said we could visit the countess’s library and bribe her into selling us a book.”
Part of the reason they’d made their journey—besides the adventure—was so that Gwendolyn could add to her parents’ library collection. She did not have the same ambition to be a scholar as her father, but she hoped to open the keep to visitors again, to bring the world to her door during the years when she would not want to travel. Once the baby arrived, she would be very content to stay home.
“We do not have enough manuscripts already?” Wulf downed his wine and seemed not to notice the hungry glances from the lady diners in the sun-drenched palazzo’s hall. He drew feminine eyes wherever he went, but true to his word, he never showed the slightest inclination to admire other women. “I will be fortunate to pay for our return trip home if you find many more volumes.”
He offered to buy her jewels and silks, furs and metalwork everywhere they visited. But she’d been steadfast in her wishes. Although there had been a lovely glass hanging lamp on an island called Murano that she couldn’t resist.
“Do not be cross. You made a small fortune from ransoming Margery and the others back to Alchere and we agreed we would spend every farthing that foul woman brought in.”
“True. But you realize we could acquire more books if I went raiding for them?” He rose and took her hand to help her to her feet.
“You have reformed, remember?” She tucked her arm in his as he led her over the bright marble floors and out into the sunshine. “And we agreed this would be our last book before we return home. Will you miss Venice and all our travels?”
Gwen loved the way the warm air swirled in off the water of this magical city. Still, she found she missed her mother’s garden a bit. And she had grown fond of Elsa’s surly practicality. She had not been afraid to wade into the village after the wedding celebration and help the women set their homes to right. Gwendolyn enjoyed her ease with getting her hands dirty despite her noble status.
“Now that there is the babe to consider, I will be glad to return home.” Wulf stepped off the street into the small boat he’d commissioned for their stay in this city on the water. “I want to know you are both well protected and close to the midwife.”
“You won’t miss adventuring?” She took his hand as he helped her down into the vessel that was not half the watercraft as his longship. Gwendolyn had been well educated during the voyage on what made the Danes’ ships superior to any in the world.
“Did you forget I spent the whole year on the sea before we met? I will not mind sitting still for a little while. I will have your king send me noble Saxon sons to foster and I can teach them to fight like real men.” He pounded his chest, mostly because he knew it made her smile. “Besides, I married the adventure. I cannot possibly leave it behind.”
Gwendolyn stretched out on her seat in the sun-warmed boat, happy to watch her husband’s strong arms flex as he steered her wherever they wanted to go.
“I think Italy agrees with you, my lord. You’re developing quite a way with words.”
The heat returned to his blue gaze and he dropped the oars at once. With the balance of a man who’d spent his life on the sea, he bracketed her hips with his arms and covered her mouth with his.
And for the next hour, tucked in the cramped cabin draped in silks at the back of the boat, no words were needed.