“Franka was busy stealing her handmaids’ hair pins and ear bobs, concealing them amongst her other handmaids’ possessions, whispering in the right ears and then watching as false accusations were thrown, unbeknownst to the accuser they were false, and then watching tempers flare. She had little time for Granny’s knee.”
I could believe this.
Frey’s arms gave me a squeeze and I watched his face grow serious.
Then he stated gently, “My wife does not sleep soundly.”
I felt my face go soft even as the pads of my fingers dug into the skin of his neck.
He would notice, Frey would. He would notice and worry.
God, I loved this man.
“Baby,” I whispered.
“Tell me,” Frey whispered back.
My hand slid up and my thumb slid out to stroke his jaw as, stalling, I asked, “About what?”
“About what keeps you from a sound sleep,” he answered patiently, knowing I was stalling.
I studied his beloved face.
We hadn’t talked about this. Any of it. There wasn’t time. Much was happening, we were travelling everywhere, I had a lot on my mind and I had Frey back, all was well, I didn’t want to relive it, any of it and Frey had let this be.
But now I saw he was biding his time.
“What parts do you want to know?” I queried.
“All of them,” he replied.
I held his eyes. Then I sighed.
Then I whispered, “I thought you were dead.”
“I know,” he whispered back.
I kept whispering. “I thought I said terrible, ugly words to you before you died.”
He kept whispering too when he repeated, “I know.”
“Frey,” I breathed, not really wanting to go on.
“Finnie,” he gave me a squeeze, not wanting me to keep it bottled in.
I looked at the pillow beside his head then my eyes went back to his.
“I took lives,” I said softly.
“You did, wee one, and I am glad of it for if you hadn’t you might not be lying, naked, astride me.”
This was true.
“I…” I faltered then confessed the worst of it, “after I killed Phobin I not only rubbed Broderick’s nose in it, I rubbed his nose in his defeat.”
Frey grinned at me.
Yes, grinned.