A Viking's Betrothal (Book Two of The Sogn Series)

Chapter Three

The waves were rough indeed, and Clare could not stop whining about how she was hungry which was making her angrier by the second. She became irritable and often times regretted accompanying the men on their adventure. But then she found herself chastising her thoughts, because that is exactly what it was: an adventure.

And who did not love an adventure? Surely Clare was not the girl to turn one down. And with that thought in mind she became headstrong again and continued whining about how there was not enough good food to eat.

Roald shoved a cup into her hands finally, demanding that she drink the liquid. She glared at him though, exclaiming, "I said I was dying of hunger, not thirst."

He rolled his eyes, "You will be the death of me wife."

"Then so be it, for if you die then I will surely follow you to the great halls."

He rolled his eyes for a second time, this time walking away to help steer the ships.

The men were miserable the many weeks that they had traveled. Clare had managed to eat every delicacy that they had brought, and it was showing in her stomach.

And it was only when had they finally arrived at the beaches of their destination did it seem that every man kissed the ground in pure glee that they had arrived and could almost separate from Clare, who had continued to whine even after arriving.

Torsten had managed to laugh and joke about the situation by saying, "When do we raid? So that I may personally give that wife of yours some bread and ale?"

"Soon." Roald replied easily, pursing his lips in thought, "but first we must settle and rest, as I fear they are expecting us this time."

"They?"

"Of course, Torsten, for we are never alone."

Roald gathered his weapon and sack of clothes, throwing each one over a shoulder before stomping through the sand to climb over the sandy dunes. Surely enough, there were trees, plenty of trees that would hide them for the time being.

"Come," he said turning around to a still irritableClare, "Let us go make camp."

She said nothing though, as the sensation of being even remotely nearer to her home town that she had grown up in had made her shiver in both, delight and awkwardness. She felt uncomfortable and found herself once again chastising her regrets for coming along this great adventure.

The men began to make tents for cover, as others began to build small fires. They sharpened their weapons and told tales of their Gods amidst the fires, but Clare was not interested in that. Instead, she had followed Roald to their tent and she laid down by his side.

He looked at her with a worried smile and brushed a piece of hair away from her eyes as she laid next to him, "My love," he said calmly, "What has you so frustrated?"

He was hoping she would give him an answer, but she did not. Instead she shrugged and frowned, "I do not know. My frustration is in my nerves and sometimes I am even unaware of why I have become this way."

Roald frowned, "Is it something I have done? You have been like this since right after our matrimony."

"No," she said hurriedly, "Of course it is not you. I," she trailed off for mere seconds before finishing, "I just do not know."

Her hesitation made him frown, and her answer made his frown deepen even more. He only wanted an answer and could only hope she would not be like this forever.

"I promise you," she said once more, "Whatever it is, I am sure we will get through it together."

She began to fall asleep by his side after that, and he could only say in response, "I hope so."

~~~

AN:

Sorry for the really super duper uber long wait. Just stay with me, try to understand that I have had a lot going on this past year.... this is a bit of a filler chapter. I do have a lot planned for this book, just dont have enough time to write it all down.

Best,

Savannah