Brede pinches his lip

Ever since she had arrived, Brede had been watching Estrid out of the corner of his eye—when he wasn’t simply staring at her—trying to find an opportunity to follow her out of the hall and to someplace where they might be alone together, if only for a moment. He thought he would go mad if he didn’t.

It meant that he couldn’t keep as close an eye on the girls as he would have liked, and he could see that Synne was already trying to catch the attention of Malcolm and his exotic and handsome brother. But his uncle was there, and he did not think the priest would let her make a fool of herself. Indeed, it was all the better for him if she tried to flirt a little—it meant that Father Aelfden would be too busy watching her to give much thought to Brede’s own whereabouts.

But Estrid sat calmly beside Lady Ragnhild and her husband, and seemed determined not to look at him. He supposed they were waiting politely to meet and speak with the Scottish lord, who had long been in an animated conversation with Alred. If only he would hurry! If he waited too long, then it would be time to eat, and they could not escape until afterwards… and he thought he would go mad…

Finally, in desperation, he stared at Hilda until she looked up at him. Although he was not fond of the young woman, and hated to get himself into her debt, he knew that his meetings with Estrid were often due to her intervention.

Now she smirked at him and then turned to speak to Estrid. He could see how she rubbed her great belly in weariness, and how Estrid began to rise, and how Sir Sigefrith tried to stop her, and how Hilda grabbed his arm to beg him to stay with her and let Estrid go.

And he saw how Estrid gave him a furtive glance as she rose, and it was all he could do to sit quietly and wait a few moments before following her out, so as not to make their flight too obvious.

He supposed Hilda would have sent her up to the nursery, where Haakon would be having his supper with the younger children. He thought that she would be certain to go in that direction, in case she was asked, but that she would linger somewhere along the way…

Indeed, he found her standing before a window in the broad corridor that overlooked the cloister, her slender body so well hidden in the arch that he nearly walked past her. But after a moment’s surprise and a brief exchange of glances, he did walk past her, down the corridor to the room that had once been his and was now Malcolm’s brother’s for the length of his visit.

He only stood a moment in the dark before the door opened again behind him and she slipped into the room and into his arms.

He regretted having come to this room now, this familiar room… he remembered the long hours he had spent with her on the bench behind him, and cursed himself for not having appreciated them then. It had been but a game to him then—how far could he go with her? what could he get her to do? What a dog he had been!

She made a little yelp in her throat as he kissed her, and he loosened his hold on her in alarm. “Was I hurting you?” he asked. He hadn’t been paying attention—but the poor thing was so delicate…

“No, no,” she murmured. “I only think that we have no time, and I don’t want it to stop. We never have time.”

“What can we do?” he whispered. “I must see you.”

“I don’t know. You are never here except when you are busy with Sigefrith, or so.”

He rested his elbow on her shoulder and pinched his lower lip as he considered the problem.

“What are you doing?” she asked, and he could hear a smile in her voice. Her hand came up and patted at his face, and he took it in his and kissed it. “No!” she laughed softly. “I want to see if you pinch your lip. You always do that when you think.”

“I do?”

“Yes! I love it so, to see it.”

“You do?” he smiled. “Well you might, for I am always thinking of you.”

“Is that what it means?” she asked with her dear, tinkling laugh.

“If you see it, then you know I am thinking about you. It’s all I ever do anyway. Sometimes I try to figure out how to see you, and sometimes I simply pretend I may see you whenever I like, and I imagine how that would be.”

“Oh, yes,” she sighed. “I too. I pretend we may be alone and no one may say anything.”

“And we needn’t be afraid every time someone walks down the passage.”

“And I may sit beside you in the hall and not beside Hilda.”

“And I may dance with you.”

“And I may go out with you in the dark night, which I like, and you hold my hand and I don’t be afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” he asked, pulling her against him again with little regard for her delicacy.

“Afraid of the dark, or of animals or other men.”

“But not afraid of me.”

“No, no, no, not afraid of you,” she said in a sigh that died off into a kiss.