Branded By Etain Read Online Free PDF Page A

harmed, king or no king—you will pay,” Brand snapped. By Freya, she had scared his pecker flaccid.
    The king’s lips twitched. “Étaín has chosen wisely. Brand of Bärvik, I cannot deny my daughter’s choice, but I can withhold my approval. I make you a bargain this day. Wed Étaín in the Christian way when she awakens, and I will give this union my blessing.”
    Since Brand had every intention of consolidating his marriage with Étaín by getting her with child long before the year and a day ended, he said, without a pause, “Call your priest. ’Twill be done as you say with all here as witnesses.”
    •●•
    Étaín interrupted Margie’s third iteration of what to expect when Brand consummated their marriage. She had not a shred of worry that the act would be anything but wondrous. “Be done with it, Margie. My head fair throbs with thoughts of peckers, stones, pearls, and quims. I trust in Brand. Did he not say he would cherish me when Da asked? I am a truthsayer. He spoke truly.”
    “He is a very large man.” Margie picked up a tortoise shell horsehair brush and stroked Étaín’s springy curls.
    “So is your Darren.”
    “I am twice your height and weight. ’Tis easier for a woman like me to accommodate a large pecker. You must not overexcite him, otherwise he will be rough with you.”
    “How could I overexcite him?” The mere sight of him made her woman parts moisten. Did the same happen with men?
    “Do not caress his willy and touch not his balls.”
    “Willy? Balls?” ’Twas a new language to be learned for this bedsport.
    “Pecker, stones. Men have scores of names for their parts. Some e’en name them. Darren says his brother, Padraig, calls his prick ‘Olympus.’”
    Étaín’s heart skipped a few beats when the sound of stomping feet reached her ears. “Did you hear that?”
    “Aye. They approach. Quick, under the sheets. I will leave after the last man departs.” Margie drew the linen covers to right under Étaín’s chin and gave her a quick hug.
    The doors slammed open, and the men of Caul Cairlinne, carrying a naked Brand above their heads, tramped into the room roaring the limerick Prick Her Well. The words ricocheted around the chamber:
    Prick her well,
    And her belly will swell,
    Fill her with your seed,
    And ease your need,
    Make her see stars,
    And sons be your rewards
    The singing faded into the background when the men dumped Brand onto the other side of the bed. He quickly slid under the sheets, scrabbled to the middle of the mattress, and gathered her close.
    The side of her breast skimmed the coarse hairs on his chest, her leg brushed a thigh forged of iron, and his male aroma, soap, some spice redolent of pine, and the yeasty smell of ale, intoxicated her senses.
    “Out!” Da bellowed. “Out. At once.”
    A momentary silence ensued, and then the crowd began streaming out of the room singing yet another naughty limerick. Étaín was too busy trying to absorb the details of her husband to notice anything or anyone until there was another quiet.
    She flinched, glanced up, and fire roasted her skin when her gaze collided with her father’s. Mother Mary have mercy and let not her carnal thoughts show on her face.
    “You can yet change your mind, Étaín. Do you still choose Brand of Bärvik?”
    Concern and worry furrowed deep lines in Da’s forehead.
    “I do, Da.”
    For a few moments, the monarch’s cheeks puffed and hollowed. He stared at the far wall. Then he blew out a long exhale. “Be gentle with her.”
    Margie curtsied to the king. “My liege, may I walk with you to the hall?”
    Étaín fisted her hand against her mouth. Da looked so forlorn. She yearned to rush to him and give him a hug of reassurance.
    Da offered Margie his arm, and the two of them left the chamber.
    ’Twas only then she noticed the lone man standing in the far corner of the room. A warrior of the same height and build as Brand, but with hair the color of a fire-streaked