A/N - As usual, this is an adult fic. It is not meant for children. Thar be a weddin' night up ahead. Batten down the hatches, mateys.
My Sweet Thing
Chapter 14
You can make me Free
Elfhelm gingerly entered the cottage. He expected crockery to be thrown at him, curses to be hurled, but none of that occurred. There was no light in the living area, save a low glow from the fireplace. As he closed the door and dropped the bar, he noticed his bedroll was packed and settled by the entrance with his saddlebags. He exhaled softly, not knowing what it could mean. As he looked about, he saw a white cord – a wedding cord – lying on the bench next to her.
“Lýðrest?”
“Over here. Drop the bar, please.”
Quietly, almost on cat’s paws, he crossed the living area. She had her back to him, mindlessly brushing that glorious head of hair. Golden strands glowed in the light of the fire, the reflection dancing like sunlight around the crown of her head. She was wearing the filmiest of gowns, the outline of her body, clearly visible.
“Lýðrest, about what I said-“
“Wait.“ She stood up and put the brush on the mantel. As she turned to face him, the light shown through the thinness of the gown, showing every physical attribute. He inhaled sharply; she was… léoflic… beautiful perfection. She clasped her hands in front of her, nervously chewed her lip. This was not the spitting, hissing, foul-mouthed cat he agreed to ‘marry’ and take from Druncenig Ende, rather a terrified, anxious bride, about to take a leap from which she would never return. “I have been thinking about what you said.”
“I was upset.”
“You were right,” she snapped. “You … you are right. I should have trusted you.” She exhaled and steeled her back. “I should have let you explain. I thought you meant to send me back and truth be told, I can’t go back, you can’t change things, we can’t pretend this marriage didn’t take place.” By now, her knuckles were as white as the shift she was wearing. “I know you didn’t touch… her. And it’s unfair that I deny you and yet pummel anyone who desires to take my place and take what is mine. It’s unfair to you.” She dropped her head before whispering, “If you do not take me tonight and make me yours, I am afraid of what I will become.”
For several moments, the only sound in the room was the crackling of the wood in the fireplace.
“Elfhelm. Please. I don’t know what to do.”
He sat at the foot of the bed, scrutinizing her, her face, her body language. This was not the posture of a woman in passion, rather more like a beaten dog, backed into a corner.
He didn’t like it. Not a bit. This wasn’t how he imagined a marriage, married life.
Not at all. Not with her.
“Lýðrest, look at me.” Slowly, she looked up, a single tear trickled from her right eye. “I do not wish to spend the rest of my life, living for campaign after campaign. I know Riders who live like that. Anything to keep from going home to the bicce they married. I want to look forward to coming home, look forward to the arms that will welcome me. Do you understand that?”
She nodded. “Aye.” Gingerly, she reached out and took his hand. “I’ll try if you will. I want you, I really do. I just don’t know where to start… Please?”
The question in her voice tore him apart. He pulled her to him, between his legs and with a single motion, drew her down.
His lips were questioning, soft and pliable against hers. For a moment, she was shocked at the contact; she expected them to be as hard and unyielding, furious at her. Very gently, he cradled her, cradled her head, his thumb stroking the lobe of her ear, while his mouth searched hers. She was unaware of when he pulled her to the bed and rolled her to tight crevice where his body met the mattress.
