Magnus was miserable. He sat in the hall and drank ale, hoping to numb his pain and quieten his thoughts. Except he’d failed to even do that, as he continued to wrestle with indecision—as hopeless as when Thor had wrestled with Time and failed to beat it.
Should he ride out to Kendra’s cabin and check one last time?
No, she had made her feelings and decision clear. She did not love him and never would. He would only embarrass himself.
The feasting hall was full of revellers, the large doors at the very end of the chamber opened slightly, and he saw that it was snowing outside before they closed again.
Would she be warm enough? Had the midwife arrived safely to care for her? He had paid Gyda extra silver to arrive early, and to stay with Kendra for as long as she needed. Not wanting to upset Kendra, he had insisted Gyda not tell her of his payment.
‘Magnus!’ shouted his father from the head of the table, grabbing his attention from his spiralling thoughts. ‘Enough of this idiocy! You need to marry and have an heir! I will not accept your refusal any longer!’
His father was drunk and slurring. Normally his mother would have used her influence to calm him, but she must have been equally frustrated because she did nothing, just stared at her son with a stony expression.
Magnus ignored their disapproval and took a deep gulp of his ale.
‘Hilda is a beautiful woman. Refusing her has brought shame on our family!’ shouted his father. ‘I could barely look her father in the eye as they left! What is wrong with you, boy? She would have made a fine wife!’
‘Not for me.’
This only seemed to enrage his father further, who stumbled to his feet, thumping the table with his fist. ‘No! You will marry! Our family depends on you continuing the bloodline. Hilda is the third match you have rejected, and I will not accept another refusal!’
Magnus glared at his father, rising to his feet to stare him down. ‘I am a grown man. You cannot order me to do your bidding. There is only one woman I want to marry, and until she accepts me, I will have no one else!’
Silence descended over the hall. No one had ever dared speak to the Jarl with such disrespect and he wondered if his father would disown him there and then. But to his surprise, his father slumped back into his seat with a satisfied sigh.
‘Well done, my darling,’ said his mother, patting his father’s arm with a pleased smile, before calling out, ‘What say you, Kendra? It seems my son will have no one but you. Will you end our misery and finally accept him?’
Magnus turned to see a shocked and heavily pregnant Kendra staring at him.
‘Do you mean it?’ she asked, and he noticed his Thor’s hammer was worn around her neck. She had kept it.
He strode towards her, imploring her not to judge his broken heart too harshly. ‘Every word. But please do not worry, I expect nothing in return… Why are you here? Are you and the babe well?’ He glanced towards Gyda, who stood beside her.
The woman shrugged. ‘There is nothing wrong with her. Except for being a dim-wit, she is perfectly well.’
Magnus scowled at the midwife’s harsh words. ‘Be careful with that sharp tongue of yours, Gyda, or you might find I cut it out!’
Gyda was not bothered by his words, but Kendra took a step forward and reached for his arm. ‘She is right. I am a dim-wit. Can you ever forgive me?’
‘Forgive you? For what?’
‘For lying…about everything. I love you, Magnus. I was just…afraid.’
Relief and joy washed through him like the spring rush of the river. He cupped her face in his palms and pressed a tender kiss against her lips. ‘There is nothing to fear. I am here, and always will be, my love.’
A few weeks later
As the last piece of the yule log burned in the great hall, and people made toasts for a bright new year, a new-born baby’s shrill cry filled the air.
‘Meet my son, Magnus Magnusson!’ shouted Magnus, raising the babe in the air proudly, so that all could see the fierce little warrior who had only just arrived in the world.
A cheer roared around the golden hall and Magnus brought the precious bundle down to be cradled in his arms. Now that the public acknowledgement was done, he could return to his wife.
Hurrying back to the birthing room, he saw an exhausted Kendra smiling weakly from the bed. Despite her tiredness, there was a reassuring colour to her cheeks and her grey eyes were bright with affection.
‘Give him back!’ she laughed, and he carefully placed his son back into her waiting arms.
Kneeling beside her bed, Magnus kissed her forehead quickly before he was once again transfixed by his son. ‘You did well, wife.’
She smiled, wincing a little as the babe latched on to her breast. ‘Thank you, husband.’
Magnus grinned. ‘I will never grow tired of hearing you call me that.’
‘And I will never grow tired of you.’
He pressed a kiss to her lips and then stroked his son’s head. ‘I love you.’
‘I have only ever loved you.’
If you loved The Viking’s Secret Heir, be sure to read other books from Lucy Morris.
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