“Papa,” Kiri said. “You don’t have any clothes on.”
Chessa threw him a woolen blanket, drawing Kiri back to the middle of the bed. “Now, sweeting, what are you doing here? Couldn’t you sleep?”
Kiri smiled and slipped away from Chessa. She called out, “Kerzog! You were right. Come here, Kerzog. No, stay, I’ll come with you now.”
“What was that damned dog right about?” Cleve said as he eased back between the woolen blankets.
“I’m afraid to know,” Chessa said, and snuggled against her new husband.
“No,” he said firmly, “don’t touch any part of me, Chessa. You’re sore and I won’t ravage you again until you’ve healed.”
She cursed and he laughed.
18
CLEVE STARED DOWN at Utta’s porridge. For the first time since he’d tasted his first blissful spoonful, he didn’t even like the looks of it. He set his bowl aside. He heard a laugh and looked up to see Chessa grinning and shaking her head at something Laren had said.
How could she laugh after what he’d done to her? She was strong, this wife of his. She wasn’t one to complain or cry. But still, did she have to act so very contented? So happy? Didn’t she realize what he’d not done to her? And she’d smiled at him and wanted to have him hurt her again after Kiri had left at dawn. At least he’d been civilized enough to be firm about it. He didn’t begin to understand her.
He rose from the bench only to be pounded on his back, in turn, by Hafter, Rorik, and Gunleik.
“She looks pleased,” Hafter said. “Not as pleased as Entti after our first married night together, but still, she’s smiling and laughing.”
“Aye, it appears you didn’t exhaust her with your lust,” Gunleik said. “It’s always uncertain what will happen with an innocent girl like Chessa.”
“I’m just pleased she can still walk,” Merrik said, walking up to them. “You’d been a long time without a woman, Cleve. Truth be told I was a bit worried you’d be too enthusiastic.”
Rorik said. “Mirana told me Kiri ended up between the two of you.”
Cleve nodded. “She kicked me off the edge of the bed, then called Kerzog, thinking it all a great jest.”
Gunleik said, frowning at Cleve, “You don’t look like a man who’s enjoyed himself all through a long dark night with a new wife who worships you.”
“Gunleik’s right,” Hafter said, adding his frowning to Gunleik’s. “You look like you’ve got a cramp in your bowels, that, hmmm, or you’ve done something incredibly stupid with your new bride.”
It was too much, damn their interfering eyes. He shouted, “Damn all of you. My bowels are just fine. You want the truth, you damned meddlesome sods? Very well, I failed her. I fell asleep like a stuporous goat.”
Rorik groaned and struck his fist against Cleve’s arm. “You didn’t. Truly, you fell asleep? Quickly? Aye, I see by the guilt in your eyes you did. By all the gods, Cleve, you give us all a bad name.”
“I’m going to the bathing hut,” Cleve said and left them to stare after him. He rubbed his arm as he walked out of the longhouse. He didn’t look at his new wife, the wife who’d hounded him since he’d met her, the wife who’d stood firmly against a marriage to either the future king of the Danelaw or to the future Duke of Normandy. It made no sense that she’d always wanted him. Now she had to regret her choice, surely now she didn’t want to see him again. Then why was she laughing with Laren? Why did she look so happy?
Chessa was very aware of every movement he’d made since he’d picked up a bowl of Utta’s porridge, then quickly set it down again as if it were a bowl of snakes to bite him. She saw the men jest with him, doubtless questioning him about what he’d done the previous night. She smiled. She couldn’t wait to kiss him, to touch him again. Then he turned from them and walked out of the longhouse
, never looking back, not even at her. What was wrong with him?
Rorik came up, kissed his wife, then turned to Chessa, a big grin on his handsome face. “So Cleve finally confessed that he’d failed you. The men have berated him unmercifully. Tell me, Chessa, did he truly fall asleep?”
Ah, so that’s what it was all about. Chessa looked shyly down at her shoes. In a voice so soft Rorik had to lean down to hear her, she said, “He did finally, just before dawn. I have to admit I was relieved. It was more than I expected. No one told me about how it would be.” She gave Laren and Mirana a reproachful look.
“Relieved he fell asleep?” Rorik said, looking at her closely. “That makes no sense at all. Why the devil would you be relieved?”
“I was so very tired, Rorik,” she said, eyes still on her shoes, her voice very faint now, a thin thread of a sound. “Ah, it’s not that I didn’t enjoy it, for Cleve is a man who demands passion and knows how to call it forth from a woman.” She shuddered delicately in memory. “But truly, isn’t mating five times sufficient for a man? Must he continually want more? Does he never tire?”
Rorik just stared at her. “Five times?”
She nodded, shy as the shyest maiden, eyes still down, mute as the babe in Entti’s arms.
Rorik frowned. “Chessa, are you certain you counted correctly? That is, to be five times, it’s not just that he comes into, well, never mind that. It’s separate times with time in between so that, well, it means—” Mirana poked his arm. Rorik shook his head. “By all the gods, you’ll be pregnant by the end of the day if he continues as he’s begun. Five times? You’re sure it was five separate times?”