Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

Waking, Frida reached for him.

Gunnar?

But this was not her bed nor the hard earth beneath the mattress that softened her usual rest. She was in the cave, and all was dark, an unrelenting blackness that entered her eyes and mouth, filling her with its endless shade.

She'd dreamt of him running to find her, as if he was healed, plunging through a mist that obscured her from his sight. He was fearful and calling her name.

She was alone, yet something was different, as if another shared this darkness with her. ‘Twas nonsense, of course, for none but her grandmother knew of this place. If any came seeking, ‘twould be she, but Frida did not think she'd been absent long enough to stir Bothild to such exertion.

At some point, nonetheless, Bothild would grow anxious; Hedda too, perhaps, and Elin more certainly. Frida rested her forehead on her knees. She could not hide forever, nor was it right to cause others distress. They deserved better, and Elin deserved a great deal more.

Frida needed to return for her, if for no one else, so she might tell the truth of what the runes had shown. The decision would be Elin's, then, as to what might be.

And what of Gunnar?

He'd said the distance between them could not be breached, asking if he might go to another! But to whom could she ever give him up? To see him with another would tear her asunder.

Did he not see how much she cared for him? That he'd changed her in ways she could not have imagined? She'd begun to think he cared for her, too. He had, she was sure! If that was the case, this rift could be mended, couldn't it? They could start anew?

To not even try was unworthy of them both.

She would hide the side of herself that had frightened him, if necessary. If only he would look at her as he had before.

What hour is it? Yet evening or now the night? Perhaps morning, for I slept long and deep, or so it felt. Impossible to tell without venturing out. Even if ‘tis the night, I might find my way back to the settlement, if the clouds do not too far conceal the moon.

Would he still be in her hut, perhaps resting upon the bed? She prayed it was so—that she might lie down beside him and whisper her regrets. Would he not soften, and they would simply kiss and…

She needed to find her way back to him, and they would make all well. It had to be!

She'd made the cave her study in the many years she'd been visiting. The terrain of these walls was familiar, and with care, she was able to ascertain her position.

As she approached the narrowing portion, she heard him. Not as in her dream, but a real voice carrying on the cool air, speaking her name in a wail of despair. Somehow, it was him!

"Gunnar?" She hastened forward, following the wall with one hand and reaching out her other, unsure of how close he might be.

Her foot found him first, giving him an unintended kick, to which he groaned, but then two arms were flung about her.

"Frida! My Frida!" He buried his face in her hair, then his lips claimed her face, covering her brow, her lids, and her cheeks with kisses. When he reached her mouth, his arms tightened further, and she was pulled close to his chest. Wrapped in the warmth of him, she moaned with sweet pleasure.

His cheeks were wet, or perhaps the tears were her own. She couldn't tell, nor did she care. He'd come for her, despite pain or because of the pain that was like her own. He needed her.

She broke the kiss at last.

"My grandmother…"

He smoothed back her hair.

"She told me where to find you and other things. I didn't know, Frida, or I wasn't listening. You tried to tell me. The runes…"

"Please,"—she stopped him—"it's nothing. I don't want it to come between us. We need never speak of those things."

She could feel his breath on her cheek. His hands were in her hair, cupping her nape, and his thumbs caressed there.

"Don't say that," he answered softly. "I don't want you to hide any part of yourself. ‘Tis who you are, and I want to know all of you." His lips touched her brow again, and his voice was beseeching.

"There is nothing I would not do. ‘Tis only you who have my heart, and if you have no use for it, none ever shall, for I love you, Frida. I am yours in every way, and if the gods have chosen you for a special purpose, surely they have sent me to you for a reason. Let me help you as you desire and need. I shall be your lover, your soulmate, and father to our children, your protector, and your champion. I shall never leave you nor let harm come to you."

She felt as if she would burst. He was hers, and she would give him all that she was.

Including children.

She still wished for them—sons and daughters born of their shared flesh. A whole brood—boys with Gunnar's wild streak, his endurance, and his thoughtfulness, and girls who would see the love she and Gunnar bore for one another. She'd teach them to be kind and to appreciate the beauty of this world, to revere their home and the gods who bestowed such blessings.

Frida wanted it all.

No matter her fears for what lay ahead, she believed in a future for Gunnar and herself. Deep down, her heart told her it was right.

One day at a time, that's all you need to see.

She would keep telling herself, and those days would become seasons. Her life would bloom under the protection of Gunnar's love. She felt it as strongly as any vision.

All else would unfold as the gods chose.

And if calamity awaited, they would face it together. She had the strength to believe that, knowing that Gunnar would undertake any trial to remain at her side. Freyja had granted her this happiness, and Frida intended to hold on to it.

"You accept me, Frida?"

His head dipped, so his lips brushed hers, and she clung to him, knowing there was no other answer but assent.

"Yes," she breathed against his mouth. "I belong to you, and I love you. I shall always."

Hungrily, he took possession of her again until his arousal pushed hard to her belly, and Frida knew that she needed more than his kiss.

Fumbling with the tie of his braies , she reached within to encircle his shaft, rubbing it in her palm, then raised her leg and skirts. His hands slid down to cup her buttocks, and he tried to lift her upon him, then cursed as he staggered.

"This damn foot. I fear I cannot…" He groaned his frustration.

"Come, we should leave this place." Breathless, she took his hand and placed it upon her shoulder. "Rest upon me."

He might be her protector, but she would be his support.

They were soon pushing through the vines, emerging into the night air, where the moonlight seemed extraordinarily bright after the darkness of the cave. She helped him to the ground and lay down upon the grass, opening her arms to him.

"How beautiful you are." Leaning over her, he looked pensive, smoothing a finger across her lips. "The moon silvers your hair and brings its cool magic to your eyes. The mysterious night, with its secrets, suits you better than the sun, perhaps."

"No more secrets," she whispered. "Now, worship me with your body, Gunnar. Adore me in all the ways, for I have waited long, and I am ready."

She pushed away her clothing and his, freeing him to enter her, and she delighted in their joining.

His name was upon her lips, and he called hers, over and again, as they rocked and tumbled to the pleasure that is strongest when there is love and trust and faith.

He possessed her many times that night, and she reveled in their union.