Book two of Blind Love
After being saved from the Saxons and brought back to the man she loves, Ailbe has grown far less naive. Still a gentle soul with a heart of gold, Ailbe begins to find the balance between compassion and subservience. She becom...
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
This is what I meant when I said I was writing something out of my comfort zone....
The hall was filled with even more people that night, if that was actually possible. Though Ailbe was quiet, and could feel her nerves building, she felt more confident beside Ivar - who seemed to expell confidence as she did oxygen.
The smile never left her lips, and Ivar kept a firm grip on her hand to reassure her so she remained in the celebrations. Ivar understood her nervousness around others and her general shyness, and it was even something that he appreciated. Their personalities seemed to compliment eachother and much like having her there grounded him, having him there lifted her. She'd been happy there beside him all night, happier than she'd ever been in her life.
"So how did you two end up together?" One of the earls spoke up, suddenly bold enough to speak his mind after many cups of mead. "You seem quite different."
Ailbe felt her husband tense a little beside her, as though he was awaiting some further statement. But she understood his paranoia, with disabilities like both of there's, such statements often followed anything.
The new queen spoke up as best she could in their language, though her thick Irish accent was still rather present in her speech. "I called him nice and he got mad at me."
The men at the table laughed heartily, even alvar himself couldn't help but chuckle at the fond memory.
"When I first met you, I was fascinated." He told her, almost as though he'd forgotten about everyone else in the room who listened. "You seemed so fearless and stubborn, and scarily nice." Ailbe cracked open a smile at his words. "And you understood me. You understood my legs, you understood my mind."
"I told you you were nice." She whispered with a grin, leaning in to kiss him.
The crowd cheered before another Earl quickly stood up on the table, horn of ale in hand as he stumbled forwards. "And we all know what happens now!" He yelled in a slur, earning yet more drunken cheers.
Ivar looked over at Ailbe, nervous for the first time in the night. She felt the tension rise at this statement, and quickly understood what was happening.
"Ivar, my love, shall we?" She suggested, standing to make her way towards their room.
Ivar looked at her with confusion for a moment before quickly nodding along and standing in agreement. They both left, with congratulations consuming them until finally they exited the main hall and the door slammed behind them.
The festivities continued, but were muffled out by the walls that parted them.
"Ailbe I-" He began but she hushed him again with a kiss.
"I know." She answered gently, resting her hand on his chest. "You don't have to tell me again."
"So what now?" He asked curiously as she strolled over to the bed, her previously braided hair now loosely swaying behind her. Her vacant eyes looked back to him, almost exactly making eye contact, as she reached the side of their bed and a small smirk pulled at her lips.
"Now we're married." She answered, fingers tugging delicately at the lacing of her dress. Ivar watched in awe as she effortlessly undid the intricate lacing. As it loosened, it slid slowly down her shoulders, leaving them bare. "I'm your wife." She smiled, still thoroughly excited by the concept.
"Yes you are." He breathed out, watching her every move closely.
It was then that Ailbe let the crimson dress drop to the floor, pooling around her feet. Slowly, she stepped over it, strolling back to Ivar with an agonizing pace. When she met him again, her lips pressed against his passionately and her hands slowly made their way up his shirt.
Ivar was the first to pull away, pausing with a clouded mind as he looked down at his beautiful wife. "I can't. Why are you doing this?"
"Because I love you, Ivar." She answered gently, kissing him with a gentle tenderness.
"Ailbe." He tried, barely above a whisper, and she paused momentarily. "I can't."
"Why not?" She asked stubbornly, something she'd probably picked up from him. "Because some thrall said you couldn't? Hm?"
"Because I can't." He reminded her sharply. "I want to Ailbe, God's know I do, but I can't."
"Ivar," She began, walking him over to their bed and sitting beside him. "You are no less my husband if you can't." She told him, holding onto his hand. "And if you think that I'm doing this for me, you're wrong."
"I know but-"
"Just trust me." She whispered, pushing him back. "Trust your wife."
Again, their lips met but this time Ivar didn't pull away or hold back. This time he kissed her with all of his yearning, and slowly moved from her lips down to her neck. With every muffled noise she made, she felt his eagerness grow. And then a moan escaped her, a moan that shook them both with pleasure, and Ailbe felt something grow against her thigh.
"I told you." She grinned a whisper in his ear as Ivar stared at her in utter shock.
