Dream of Me/Believe in Me

most peculiar look, combining tenderness, perplexity, and suspicion. She ignored it and picked up her lute. They'd wanted music; they'd damn well have it.
    And they would go off the next morning, after telling her she couldn't come along because the sailing would be so fast and rough that she wouldn't enjoy it. She managed to smile through that and continue smiling when theyreturned hours later, tunics stiff with salt spray, faces wind scoured, seeming in high good humor.
    “A tie,” Wolf said with some amazement. “We raced four courses, I won twice, Hawk the same.” He clapped his brother-in-law on the back, a blow that would have leveled a lesser man but which Hawk appeared not even to notice. “Not bad at all. How about we give it another go tomorrow?”
    So they did, and the next day and the next. Grateful though Cymbra was that the parade of bloody carcasses had stopped, she chafed at having to remain in the hill fort, seeing to her
womanly
tasks, while the men amused themselves.
    Almost a fortnight after Hawk's arrival, she sat ignoring the sewing in her lap and struggled to come to terms with the fact that she felt neglected. It was absurd, really, and even admitting the truth to herself was embarrassing.
    She was surrounded by people who cared about her, most particularly a husband and a brother who were both determined that she should be happy. She had a household to run as well as her work as a healer. Her days were full and her nights …
    Although she was alone, color suffused her cheeks. Regardless of his exertions during the day or what hour he finally retired, her husband never failed to make passionate love to her, often rousing her in the early hours of the morning to do the same again. She existed in a cocoon of sensual satisfaction, gentle care, and safety.
    And she chafed. Really, she must be the most contrary woman ever born.
    Wistfully, she looked out beyond the shore. Sunlight sparkled on the water. Seals played in the waves near the islets that guarded the approach to the port. Farther out, where sea and sky blurred together, she could make out the sails of proud longships speeding so swiftly that they seemed to fly.
    Even as she watched, they turned landward. She set aside her husband's tunic, still to be mended, and went to greet the returning men.
    S O SOON, CYMBRA MURMURED. THE MOMENT THE words were said she regretted them. She sounded like a petulant child, always wanting more instead of being glad of what she had.
    “It's been almost a fortnight,” Hawk reminded her with a smile. “I do have to get back to Essex.” He touched her cheek gently. “You can understand that, can't you?”
    “Yes, of course, I'm very glad that you've stayed this long. Certainly, you have responsibilities at home. I know that.”
    Beside them, Wolf said, “Your brother is always welcome to return,
elskling.”
    “And you are both always welcome at Hawkforte. But now I must carry word of all this to King Alfred. He will be most interested to learn of it.”
    Time seemed to speed up then, moving far too quickly as her final hours with her brother dwindled to nothing. Too soon, the farewell feast was done, the last embraces given and loving words said. Standing beside Wolf on the wharf, she watched the proud, hawk-emblazoned vessel vanish into the mists beyond the rocky islets. As it did so, a gull called long and hauntingly out over the water.
    On the cusp of that eerie sound, Cymbra recalled her brother's words and belatedly realized why they had stuck so oddly in her mind. King Alfred would be
interested.
Wouldn't
pleased
have been a better way to describe the monarch's likely reaction to news of a Norse/Saxon alliance?
    She puzzled over it for a moment, then shrugged and told herself she was fretting over trivials. Hawk'sdeparture saddened her for she loved him dearly and would miss him. Yet it was also a relief, for now she could stop fearing the nightmare that had haunted her since the very beginning of her marriage. There would be no confrontation between her husband and her brother. Indeed, far from being enemies, they showed every sign of having become friends.
    The wind picked up just then and she was glad to snuggle closer beside her husband. Wolf had an arm around her shoulders. He squeezed gently and smiled down at her. Together, they walked back up to the stronghold.
    Cymbra woke the next morning to a strange sense of calm, almost like that which presages a violent storm. Yet the