Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
They belonged to each other then as they did now, and he was impatient to make her his wife.
As for the other woman he loved—he looked to see Raven—chattering away with Oria as she took her arm and approached the stairs. She was far different from Oria. Raven had been a beauty from the time she was born, her rich, shiny black hair the reason for her name. Their mum had bestowed her name on her with her last words. She had held her newborn daughter in her arms and whispered, “My Raven.”
She resembled their mum, stunning blue eyes, long, dark, wavy hair, pale complexion, and since she was tall for her ten and four years, though only two months from ten and five, she would probably be tall when a woman full grown. He was glad she had yet to grow shapely, fearing when she did there wasn’t a man around who would keep his eyes off her. He and Arran would forever be beating someone.
She had a mind of her own and strong opinions for one so young and a lass at that. Arran often commented that it wouldn’t be easy to find her a husband and their da agreed. What all three of them had agreed upon was that Raven would never be forced to wed. That Da would do his best to find her someone she liked and who would treat her well.
Royden intended to make sure about that. He wouldn’t see his only sister in a marriage that would bring her nothing but grief.
“I want to wed someone who will look at me the way you two look at each other,” Raven said when they reached the top of the stairs and smiled at how easily Oria drifted into her brother’s arms and how instinctively their arms went around each other to hug tight.
Raven wanted that kind of love, strong and undeniable.
“If you hold that tongue of yours you might find such a love, otherwise you’re doomed,” Arran said with a laugh.
Raven turned and punched her brother in the arm. “And with that wandering eye of yours, no woman will want you.”
“Then I’m blessed, for I want no wife to answer to or who will forever nag at me,” Arran said with a generous smile. “And don’t tell me I need to wed and produce heirs. Royden and Oria will see nicely to that and no doubt will have a whole gaggle of bairns for me to spoil.”
“I can’t wait to be an aunt,” Raven said with glee.
Arran leaned his head toward his sister’s. “Don’t be surprised if that comes not too long after they wed.”
“Enough,” Royden ordered, though Oria smiled and it forced Royden to do the same, since the thought of making lots of bairns with her filled his heart with joy and stirred his loins. “Oria’s father and ours are waiting in his solar for me and Arran to join them.”
“Go,” Raven said, shoving them off. “Oria and I have things to do.”
“Do not get into any trouble,” Royden ordered with a stern eye to his sister.
“That’s like asking the day not to dawn,” Arran said, laughing and hurried away from Raven so she couldn’t punch him again.
Royden didn’t laugh, but he smiled as he walked off with Arran.
Oria reached out and hooked her arm around Raven’s. “I, for one, admire your courageous nature.”
Raven’s eyes turned wide. “Courageous? You think me courageous?”
“You would have to be with Royden and Arran for brothers,” Oria said with a laugh as they entered the Great Hall. “I truly admire the way you speak up to them and even to your da. I may say my piece at times, but it’s usually ignored. I’m so grateful my da is pleased with Royden as a husband for me. I love him so much. I have ever since that day when I was young and a young lad pushed me and I fell. Royden picked me up and told me not to cry that he’d protect me, then he went and with one punch knocked the lad down, splitting his lip. I lost my heart to him that day. He was my hero and always will be.”
“I probably would have punched the lad myself,” Raven said.
Oria smiled. “That’s why your courageous and I’m not.”
“It’s grown quiet and that worries me,” William said and took a sip of wine from the goblet Parlan had handed him. “There should be more talk of what happened to Thurbane.”
“Fear keeps tongues tied,” Arran said. “Thurbane spoke up and look what happened to him, that’s what people are going to think.”
“All the more reason to find out what truly is going on,” Royden said, sitting in the last unoccupied chair that circled a round table in his father’s solar.
He had thought the room small when he’d been young, though he realized as he grew that it was more the size of the men who visited and talked here that made it seem that way. It was a sizeable room, the round table and six chairs set in the center of the room with a pitcher of either wine or ale or both always atop in the center and enough goblets or tankards for all present. A large, stone fireplace took up most of one wall and tapestries depicting battles hung from two other walls. It was a place for men to talk, debate, and plan, and decide on what needed to be done.