Bride of the Sea (The Prophecy of Sisters #2) - Hayley Faiman Page 0,33

lowered lashes. Sliding my hand from her lower back, I travel her spine before I tangle my fingers in her long fire-red hair.

“Liv,” I rumble.

Her lips curve up into a small smile. “I can’t believe we couldn’t even speak to one another just yesterday,” she whispers. “Now we can understand each other. I want to know everything there is to know about you.”

I snort before I let out a low hum. “I have two brothers and two sisters. Fiske joins me on raids and is not married, but Tait is married with a few children of his own, and enjoys a quiet life on his farm in Serene Reef.”

“Your sisters?” she asks, almost frothing at the mouth, hungry for information.

Letting out a sigh, I look to the ceiling. “Sylvi and Oili are not old enough to be married, yet. They both drive me into my öl bær. They are wildlings, Liv.”

She giggles and the sound washes over me. It is not often a man like me is around a woman who laughs as easily as Liv seems to. She has been scared, thrust into a life that she doesn’t understand, including a language that she doesn’t understand and yet she has given herself to me, freely, since the beginning.

“I bet they are absolutely wonderful, Aaric. You know I’m the oldest of my sisters, too?”

I shake my head. “You are?”

She hums with a short nod. “They were wild too, especially when we were young.”

“How old are you, sváss?”

There’s a moment of silence, her eyes searching mine as she thinks about my question. I don’t know why she has to contemplate what I’ve asked. It’s a simple question. She licks her lips, tilting her head to the side.

“I’m thirty-one, Aaric,” she admits.

Neither of us speaks immediately. I think about the fact that she doesn’t have very many years of being able to reproduce left. In fact, I don’t know of any women who’ve had children over the afe of thirty. Why would the gods send me someone who was likely barren?

“Obviously, this is a problem,” she mutters as she sits up.

I don’t even realize that I’ve released her hair. She tugs the light sheeting cloth up her body and covers her breasts from my view. The hurt that crosses her features causes me physical pain and yet, I can’t speak.

“It is a problem,” she confides.

She turns away from me, hiding her eyes from my own. Her back is on display and her long red hair skims her waist as it lays beautifully against her pale skin.

“I have things that I need to do today. My men, Gunnar and Hagen, will be in charge of your safety. Do not get into any trouble.”

Rolling out of bed, I ignore the way my stomach clenches. I try not to think about the pain that is slicing through me as I ready for the day. When I have my boots, my pants and my shirt in place, I turn around to look at her.

Liv still has her back to me, but her spine is as straight as a board.

“I will send some slaves in to tend to you. Also, I’ll have a dressmaker come in and fit you for your wardrobe. You’ll be my wife tonight, Liv.”

She turns her head, looking at me from over her shoulder. Her eyes are wide and she shakes her head. “No slaves, Aaric. I can dress myself.”

Arching a brow, my eyes search hers for a moment. “Can you carry your bathing basin in here? Heat your water? Wash and dry your hair so that you don’t catch your death when you step outside? Feed your fire?”

“I don’t believe in slavery, Aaric. If you care for me, you won’t force it on me.”

Frowning, I take a step toward her, my anger rising quickly. “You don’t believe?” I scoff.

She stands, turning around to face me. She’s holding the sheeting to her chest as her eyes narrow on me.

“No, I don’t. We don’t do that where I come from.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I snort. “You aren’t in your land any longer, Liv. You are here, so, get used to it.”

“Never,” she hisses in anger.

I shake my head. “You are stubborn,” I bark. “No wonder you’ve made it thirty-one years and no man has claimed you. Do whatever you want.”

Lifting my hand, I wave it toward her before I walk by my small desk, grabbing ahold of the letter she wrote to her sister late last night. Without another word, I leave