Lord of Falcon Ridge by Catherine Coulter Read Free Book Online Page B

beside William before a Christian priest. Then she would be William’s wife and nothing more would matter.
    Duke Rollo shook his head. “Actually, I have already sent two warships to Dublin. They should return shortly. Now, where is Laren? I wish to hear a story. She keeps me guessing, what with the queen who was captured by a lord of Bulgar and how she kept him at bay by telling him stories. Aye, Laren is wily. She is sly. She is a good skald.”
    â€œI believe she and Merrik are with Taby. Merrik misses the boy sorely.”
    â€œAye, I know it, but now he has his own sons. What are their names? I forget such things now.”
    â€œKendrid and Harald, both the image of their father. They will be men of valor. But it makes no difference. Taby is the son of Merrik’s heart. I hope his own sons will never realize it.”
    Duke Rollo rubbed his chin, felt the sagging skin, and frowned. “Nay,” he said, “this princess doesn’t sound at all submissive. Think you that William will have to beat her?”
    â€œIf he did I fear he would receive an unwanted and unexpected purge.”
    â€œA woman is submissive when her belly is filled with a babe. William will see to it immediately. Think you she’s a good breeder, Cleve?”
    He pictured her in his mind’s eye. Not all that tall, slender waist, full breasts, the size of her hips unclear because of the draped, full-cut gowns she wore. “She seemed of adequate size, sire.” He pictured his hands splayed, nearly meeting around her waist. Then going lower to spread over her belly, letting his fingers span outward. Aye, she was large enough to bear children.
    But not William’s children. Not Ragnor’s children.
    As he left the duke’s presence Cleve wondered from whence that errant thought had come.
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    Dublin, Ireland
    Court of King Sitric
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    She’d caught a netful of glailey fish and was laughing as she scooped it out of the river Liffey only to have one of them wriggle through the net and fall back into the water. “You escaped me and ’twas well done,” she called to the wildly escaping fish, only a small blur now.
    Chessa was alone, Brodan having been escorted back to the palace by two of Sira’s bodyguards. He’d complained, but the bodyguards had their orders. Chessa had told him to go. They’d catch glailey fish another morning. She loved Brodan. Nearly eight years old, he was bright and loving, like their father, thank Freya’s beneficence, and not at all like that witch, Sira. He was usually a very serious boy, studying with the Christian scholars, dreaming silent dreams whilst he was awake.
    But her father wasn’t all that loving.
    He’d told her that morning that William had sent two warships to take her to Rouen. She would leave on the morrow.
    She’d said, her chin up, for she’d thought and thought about it, “No, Father, I don’t wish to wed with William. I don’t wish to leave Dublin. I don’t wish to marry a man I’ve never met. I won’t do it. Besides, he is nearly your age. I don’t wish to wed my father.”
    He’d held to his patience, she recognized the slight stiffening of his shoulders, the pursing of his lips. “Men come in all ages, Chessa. They are still men. As for William, Cleve told me he was only thirty, not old at all.”
    â€œWomen come in all ages as well. Let this William marry one who is closer to his age than I am. There are still eleven years between us.”
    â€œHe needs a young woman, one to bear him children.”
    â€œI refuse to become like Sira, who breeds one child after another. It is all she does. It is all she is. No, she is also a witch and mean-spirited and—”
    â€œWe are not speaking of Sira,” the king said, and she saw now that he was losing patience and sought another path to convince him.
    She placed her hand in his, as