By Love Enslaved Read Free Page B

Each had inherited her mother’s golden-red hair and her father’s deep violet eyes, but their personalities were distinctly their own. “I wish you had joined us earlier, Thora. I think perhaps we have been worrying over matters that have already been decided.”
    “What matters?” Thora asked as she eluded her sister’s grasp to reach her mother’s lap.
    Freya greeted her daughter with a welcoming embrace, but quickly released her. “I’ll explain later, but it’s Erik I need to speak with now. Will you please go and get him for me?”
    Thora responded with a prompt refusal. “Not if you’re going to be angry with him.”
    “No, baby, I’m not angry with him, merely curious. Now run find him for me so we’ll have time to talk before supper.”
    When Thora returned a few minutes later leading Erik by the hand, Dana quickly rose from her mother’s bed. “I’m sure you two would appreciate some privacy,” she explained as she winked at her half brother and escorted her little sister from the room.
    Having no idea why he had been summoned, Erik hoped Freya had not become so weak she needed to be carried out to the main hall where they took their meals. “What do you need?” he asked anxiously.
    “You are like a son to me, Erik,” Freya began, but then, delighted by her topic she smiled eagerly.
    “Freya?” While Erik was happy to find that the woman who had been the only mother he had ever known wasn’t as ill as he had feared, he didn’t understand why she was so amused. “Have I done something wrong?”
    “No, of course not,” Freya assured him before taking a deep breath in an effort to begin again in a more serious manner. “I just wanted to ask you a question. You know Moira is very dear to me. Since her parents are dead, I feel it is my responsibility to find a husband for her. You are quite young to marry, but if you hope someday to make her your wife, please say so now.”
    Erik was so shocked by the suggestion he didn’t know how to reply. Moira was small and dark, probably as petite as his mother had been. He thought her a sweet girl and they were friends, but she was very shy and he could not even imagine taking her for his wife. He wanted someone with the spirit of the Danish women he knew. While he thought his red-haired half sisters as beautiful as their mother, he longed for a pretty blonde like Berit. Even though he knew she was beyond his reach, he would not deny that he hoped to wed someone exactly like her.
    “No!” he replied angrily, barely able to force the word over the painful surge of emotion that filled his throat. His well-defined features were contorted in a mask of hopeless confusion at the absurdity of her question. “I know Moira would have me, but can’t I hope to do better?”
    As deeply shocked by his response as he had been by her question, Freya tossed her blankets aside and rose to embrace him. “Forgive me, Erik, I never meant to make you think I thought less of you than I do of my own sons. I have money of my own. Whenever you are ready to take a bride, I’ll see you have her price.”
    As the compassionate woman drew him into her arms, Erik buried his face in the softness of her curls, but he was far too proud a man to weep at the generosity of her offer. He had never had reason to consider the fact that he would be expected to give both his bride and her family sizable gifts which would be theirs to keep should their marriage fail, while he would have to return her dowry. It wasn’t only money he lacked, however, but a heritage he could ask a woman to share and pass on to their children. Freya had forced him to confront that issue as he never had before, and he didn’t like what he had found. Placing his hands around her tiny waist, he stepped back. He made a heroic attempt to smile, but failed.
    “I don’t want Moira, nor is there anyone else I can hope to marry now, but thank you for wanting to help me. You have always been so kind to me and I