The Barbarian's Bride by Loki Renard

Author:Loki Renard [Renard, Loki]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: RFU
Publisher: Stormy Night Publications
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

“I do not feel well,” Aisling protested as they waited for their guests to arrive.

“Are you ill, or are you wishing to avoid Helsa’s company?” Rikiar gave her a knowing look. He was very handsome that evening, his long hair tied back behind his head, giving him a rakish appearance. His sensual lips made her yearn for his kiss, but the words that came out of them made her temper rise.

“Her company makes me ill,” Aisling complained.

Rikiar stroked her cheek and pressed a kiss to her lips. “You are better than this, Aisling. You who so graciously accepted being kidnapped and sold can certainly endure a dinner with a woman you dislike simply because she disciplined you.”

Being kidnapped and sold had not felt nearly as personal as being spanked by Helsa. Aisling had been kidnapped and sold simply because she was a princess. It had very little to do with her. But Helsa’s discipline, that had been deeply personal. That had been the result of the woman completely ignoring their natural roles and thrashing her simply because she talked to a friend. It went against all Aisling was and ever had been.

Unfortunately for Aisling, Rikiar’s insistence compelled her to sit in her seat and force a smile when first Helsa, then Dalon entered the room. They too had washed, though they were still wearing leather tunics and fur boots. Common clothing for common people—common men, no less, Aisling thought sneeringly.

“Will you not greet our guests?” Rikiar raised a warning brow in her direction.

“Greetings,” Aisling said dutifully.

Dalon and Helsa sat at the table. Aisling did not like to meet either of their gazes. She hoped very much that she might be able to avoid the bulk of the conversation by sipping wine. To that end, she began sipping almost immediately.

“Did Dalon catch you sleeping today?” Rikiar gestured to the scratch on Helsa’s arm.

“No,” Helsa said. “I received that from your bride.”

“From Aisling?” Rikiar could not have sounded more surprised if Helsa had told him Aisling had single-handedly defeated an enemy army. “Aisling, you did not tell me you bested Helsa.”

“She was no doubt distracted by the thrashing Helsa handed out,” Dalon interjected. “Poor girl had her hide tanned to leather.”

“That I did hear about,” Rikiar drawled.

“We do tend to remember our defeats more than our victories,” Helsa said.

Behind her vessel, Aisling’s face burned with embarrassment. She had held out some small glimmer of hope that the indignities of the day might go unmentioned. Instead it had instantly become the prime topic of conversation. It was most upsetting. Surely Rikiar could have excused her to spare her feelings, or at least changed the subject to something less humiliating.

For the second time that day, tears pricked at her eyes. But this time they were not of pain, but of pure frustration. She put her head down and focused on the soup they had been served. It was flavored with potato and leek and shame.

“Aw,” Dalon said, reaching across to muss Aisling’s hair.

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