by Kris Tualla
“I go to keep for meal and blankets. I come back and you come, Grier.” Rydar smiled at the knight, throwing a challenge of his own. “And then I ken you are safe.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
July 16, 1354
With Grier’s permission, Gavin created a bed for Lars in the boat’s front cabin. They carried him in there the second day, but only after Grier tied his splinted arm to his side. It was a bit awkward, but Lars was so relieved to still have his arm intact that he thanked her constantly and didn’t complain.
Nor did he complain about the pain. She told him to move his fingers and flex his hand to keep his blood flowing, and he did so every time she was with him. She checked the stitches daily for infection, though she knew that danger had most likely passed—Lars ran a slight fever, but it had lessened in only two days.
He was healing beautifully. There was only one remaining concern.
“I do no’ think the stitches should come out for another ten days,” she remarked to Drew as they walked together along the main street of Durness. She was looking to purchase enough wine for the wedding dinner. The McKay house was too small to host the celebration, so the dinner was to be held at the keep.
The knight held Grier’s arm tightly hooked through his. “Why is that a problem?”
“Because”—Grier beat down the slithering despair that snaked through her gut—“they plan to sail for Norway in five.”
Drew waved his hand as if to wipe away her concern. “I’m certain someone at their destination would be capable of removing the threads.”
“Aye. I suppose so.” Grier could not stop herself from glancing in the direction of the sea. And Rydar’s boat. “It might be Rydar can do it…”
Lord Andrew stopped walking. He stared into one of the many abandoned buildings that lined the main thoroughfare of Durness. His demeanor shifted and he looked defeated.
“It’s like this everywhere.”
Grier was surprised to see the unflappable knight’s features so drawn. “Empty houses?” she ventured.
His jaw clenched and loosened. “Aye. And it’s worse in England.”
“Worse?” Grier asked, skeptical. “I can no’ imagine anything worse.”
Drew’s eyes met hers, dull and lifeless. “I have been through so many villages that had no living souls left, that we rode through the night rather than rest in the omnipresence of death. I have seen shallow graves with so many bodies that the earth could no’ contain them, but spilled them out.”
She gripped her crucifix and crossed herself, trying to ignore images that the horrific description placed in her mind. “Merciful God in Heaven.”
“In all my travels I have no’ found a family intact, nor a single estate untouched. It is as if God Himself was clearing the land of humankind.”
Grier nodded. Though her own faith remained strong, many around her had abandoned the church for exactly that reason. Some went so far as to curse Pope Clement VI for being unable to persuade God to have mercy. Or worse—for bringing His judgment.
“Was it so bad here?” he asked.
“No,” she admitted. “Not quite half of our people died. But then some of their family members moved away, looking for relatives or to save themselves.”
“Eight out of ten, Grier. In cities where they were living on top of each other, places like London, Edinburgh, Paris and Sienna, that many died. No’ all of plague, but when the adults died, their bairns froze or starved.” Andrew gazed down the cobbled street.
“And yet, our King sends ye to raise support?” she asked.
“Aye,” he grunted.
“If he’s been in the Tower all through the Death, can he truly know what hell descended on us?” And if he did, she realized, Lord Andrew wouldn’t be standing in front of her now.
Drew’s gaze swung back to hers. Their golden specks glinted in the sun. He shook his head slowly.
“No. I’ve told him, of course. But he’s only seen London’s struggles from the safety of his prison. He thinks I exaggerate to explain my limited successes.”
“I’m sorry, Drew. Ye’re path is no’ an easy one,” she empathized.
He turned to face her and took both of her hands. “My lady, I have a matter of grave import to discuss with you.”
“Here?” Grier blurted. “On the street?”
The knight chuckled a little. “Nay. But I would ask that ye ponder a question until this evening when we might discuss it properly.”
The despair of Rydar’s impending departure uncoiled in her gut and began to twine through her chest. “What question?”
Drew bent forward and pinned her with intense consideration. His voice rumbled toward her like soft thunder. “Lady Grier, what holds ye here in Durness?”
Pinpoints of black and white swam through Grier’s vision and she suddenly felt quite hot. “I need to sit down,” she croaked. “Tis a warmer day than I realized.”
Drew slid his arm around her waist and pushed her into a tavern. He ordered the maid to bring her a cooled glass of cider, then watched her oddly as she gulped the liquid and asked for another.
“Are ye ill, Grier?” he asked. “I’m sorry I spoke so plainly about our unpleasant past. It was insensitive of me…”
“No, it’s no’ that.” Grier wasn’t sure what was wrong with her. “I believe, it’s only that, well with all the wedding preparations, I think I’ve neglected, I mean I… What do I mean?” Confused, she looked into Drew’s concerned eyes.
“I’m no’ certain I ken,” he answered, his changeable irises shadowed by lowered brows.
“Neither do I,” she sighed.
The pair sat in silence for several minutes, and then Grier straightened in her seat and lifted her chin. She had no desire to wait several long hours to hear what Drew had in mind, knowing that such waiting and wondering would only lead her down paths of unbridled imagining and brutal trepidation.
“Drew, would you please tell me what ye’re about?”
“Here?” he mimicked. “In a tavern?”
Grier tilted her head. “It will no’ help your cause to wait, I assure you.”
Drew laughed at that. “Ye’re an interesting woman, Grier.”
“Aye.”
That made Drew laugh again, but Grier was no closer to discovering his mission. She decided to try a different tack. She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair and stared at Drew in cold, stone-like silence.
He sipped his ale and seemed to be pondering how best to begin. He chose, “Ye’re quite a skilled woman, Grier.”
That piqued her interest. “Skilled?”
“Aye. At healing, amongst other things.”
Her expression didn’t change. “Thank you.”
Drew smiled again. “Ye’re making me laugh and it’s no’ a laughing matter.”
“What is no’?” Grier pushed. Her nerves were already strung tight as a bow and she believed she would go daft with his delays.
The smile faded. Drew leaned forward. He crossed his arms and rested his elbows on the table. The beautifully carved planes of his clean-shaven face stilled and his eyes deepened in color as his pupils widened. At that moment, Grier found him handsome beyond description.
“I have never seen anyone attempt to save an arm as mangled as that boy’s, much less succeed.”
Grier warmed with the unexpected praise. “Thank ye, again.”
“Do you know how grateful your King would be if you would come to Stirling and avail yourself to his knights?”
Grier’s jaw fell open. “You want me to go to Stirling?”
Drew dipped his chin. His eyes glowed under thick black lashes. “You would be well compensated, I assure you.”
“You want me to go to Edinburgh!”
His hands spread wide. “My lady, you would be the most sought-after healer in Scotland!”
“But Stirling?” Grier squeaked.
“Would ye prefer Edinburgh? You might be allowed to live there, I suppose.”
Drew’s brows pulled together as he considered the option.
Grier pressed her hands to the sides of her head, afraid it might tumble from her shoulders in shock. “Lord Andrew. I’m an unmarried, unendowered woman with no male kin to travel with her and ensure her safety. What might ye be thinking?”
A slow smile spread Drew’s cheeks. It was the same sultry smile that made it hard for Grier to swallow her supper. Now it caused her heart to flip.
“I might be thinking that you’re a beautiful woman. I might be thinking that ye’d make a desirable wife.”
Grier jumped to her feet, knocking her chair to the floor. “You wish to marry me?” she shouted.
Drew glanced uneasily around the tavern crowd which was mercifully sparse at this time of the afternoon. “Please sit down, Grier, and do no’ announce our conversation to the world, aye?”
Grier blushed, righted her chair and sat. “Do you wish to marry me?” she whispered.
“What I wish, is to get to know you a bit more. And yes, marrying you is what I’ll consider.”
She was aghast. “Do ye no’ have a care for what I wish?”
The knight chuckled. “Of course I do, Grier. But ye’re a cannie woman. When the right opportunity presents itself…” He shrugged as if the answer was obvious.
“Ye seem a mite sure of yourself,” she observed. That was Rydar’s first observation of the man, she recalled. And it was not a compliment.
“I am,” he replied.
Grier sagged in her chair, unable to dispute his confidence. “When do ye expect my answer?”
Lord Andrew reached for her hand. He squeezed it lightly and rubbed his thumb over her skin sending a delightful shiver between her shoulders. “As soon as possible. I must be on my way quickly.”
Grier frowned. “I could no’ leave afore the wedding!” came out of her mouth before she could stop it. Good God in Heaven! Now he would think she might be willing!
Drew grinned. “If you assure me your answer is ‘aye,’ then I’ll wait for ye.”
Grier stared at their entwined hands. His fingers were long and dark, hers slim and white. His nails were neatly trimmed. Hers were a little bit ragged. “I—I’ll need time. And I’ll need to discuss this with Logan.”
“Of course.”
“Ye’ll understand that I had no forewarning?” She drew a deep breath. “I’m somewhat flummixt at the moment…”
“I do, Grier.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed each finger. She watched him and could not help but wonder how his lips would feel against hers. When he spoke again, his voice was surprisingly rough. “And you understand that I had none either? That as surprised as ye might be, I am doubly so?”
Grier did not find that statement particularly comforting.
Drew’s lids lowered sleepily. “Twas no’ my expectation to ever come across such an impressive set of skills wrapped in such an attractive parcel.”
Grier could not think of one single thing to say except, “Thank you.”
***
Though it was neither his intent nor his desire, Rydar slept on the boat with Lars for the three nights following the accident. Pain woke Lars in the middle of the night, and Rydar gave him the poppy medicine that Grier entrusted into his care. Sleep returned to the boy, lasting until it was time to rise and begin another boisterous and distracting day.
Sleep eluded Rydar, however.
His ironic desire to keep Grier safe—from both ruffians and self-important courtiers—by taking her with him was a riddle he couldn’t solve. The aftermath of the Black Death was clear in every part of Durness. The actions of the lawless he had seen firsthand. Logan’s wedding and Grier’s subsequent displacement would put her in a precarious position, and only a good marriage could restore her situation.
But if they sailed—safely—to Norway, he had every reason to believe that he would find the same conditions there. And he couldn’t promise a good marriage; he was a pauper today, and had no assurance that his circumstances would change once he returned to Arendal. He was likely to spend what remained of his life in a trade.
How would that keep Grier safe? It wouldn’t.
But how could he ever leave her? He couldn’t. She possessed his soul.
Skitt. He shifted position and waited for the sun to rise.
With one man down, Kristofer, Gavin and Rydar labored longer hours to complete the boat. During the past month, he grew to sincerely care for the young fishermen. They were all hard workers and they had dreams to catch, not only fish.
But the work was so consuming, he was only able to make one trip to the castle keep during that time. And when he did, Grier wasn’t there.
“She’s gone on an errand wi’ Lord Andrew,” Moira told him.
Rydar nodded grimly. I should have cut him when I had the chance.
By the fourth midday after the accident, the boat was finished. Rydar stood on the rear top deck and stared at the completed vessel, examining every inch in his mind, determining that nothing was forgotten. He called out questions that sent Gavin and Kristopher scrambling for answers, but every task he thought of was complete. He wiped sweat with his fisted shirt, and scuttled woodchips from his hair. His burnt skin tightened across his cheeks and shoulders. He kept his weight off his throbbing shin. Satisfaction suffused his soul.
It was time to launch the boat into the water and test her seaworthiness. Rydar talked to the residents of Durness and assembled a group of men to come the next morning and help pull the vessel across the thin strip of sand and into the sea.
Then he headed for Durness Castle and Grier. This evening he was a man with a mission and he wouldn’t allow anything to stop him in its fulfillment.
Rydar asked Moira if he might have a warm bath and he dug out the best of his borrowed clothes. Tonight he would talk to Grier alone, even if that required he stay until dawn. He would tell her that she was his sun, his moon, his reason, his life. And he did not wish to live one single day of it without her.
Then she would ask to go with him. She would willingly face his uncertainty by his side, secure in his unfailing love for her. No matter what he endured, she would be his support and his succor, his healer and his strength.
***
Grier paced around her room in spastic whirls and waited for Logan. Her door stood open so she would see him when he returned to wash for supper. Drew’s proposal today had her stomach clenched so tightly, she was afraid to take even a sip of water. She must think of a way out. A way to say no. A reason that would be both believed and accepted.
Because she loved Rydar so strongly, she would decline a position in King David’s court to follow the stubborn Viking on his quest to reclaim his future. And if his quest proved a failure, she would be happy to live as a common villager as long as he slept by her side for the rest of her life. But she couldn’t admit this to anyone until Rydar asked her to join him.
The entrance to the keep opened and shut, and the echo of boots resounded up the steps. Grier hurried to her doorway. “Logan? Is that you?”
“Aye.” His head appeared above the level of the second story floor. “Do ye need me?”
“I do.” Grier waited until he topped the stairs before continuing. “Might we speak in private?”
Logan regarded her curiously. “Aye. Come to my chamber while I wash.”
Grier followed her younger cousin into his room and closed the door behind her. Logan pulled off his shirt and soaked a linen towel in a basin of water. As he wiped the day’s sweat and dirt from his skin, Grier began to tell him of Lord Andrew’s surprising suggestion. Logan stopped his ablutions and stared at Grier.
“He wants to marry you?”
Grier’s pride was pricked by his evident surprise. “Is it so unbelievable, then?”
“Aye. Well, no. I mean ye’re a fine catch. But it’s so fast,” Logan sputtered. “So he asked for your hand?”
“Perhaps. He wants to take me to Stirling,” she clarified.
“Oh.” Logan frowned. “When?”
“When he leaves Durness.”
“When is he leaving?”
Grier drew a long breath. “If I agree to go with him, he’ll wait until the day after your wedding.”
“That soon? And ye’d be gone?” Logan looked stricken. “With him?”
That was odd. “Why no’ with him?” Grier probed.
“I thought that ye—well, never mind.” Logan shook his head, tossed the soiled towel on the table and pulled a clean shirt from his coffer. He slipped it over his head and shoved his arms into the sleeves. Finally he turned to her and asked, “What do you want, Grier?”
Grier looked away. She couldn’t tell him the truth and she didn’t want him to see it in her eyes. “I do no’ wish to go.”
“Why?”
“I’m no’ willing to leave Durness.” Unless Rydar asks me to go with him.
“Ye’ll no’ have another chance with him if ye turn him down,” Logan murmured.
Grier looked at him then. “I ken.”
“Are ye sae certain of this?”
“I am.”
Logan sighed. “That explains why he asked me this morn if I was your guardian.”
“He did?” Grier bristled. “What did ye say?”
A smiled tugged at the corners of Logan’s mouth. “I told him ye had a fine mind and a strong will of your own. Whatever ye decided to do was what ye’d do. Nothing I approved or disapproved would have any hold on your decisions!”
Grier laughed, relieved that she didn’t have to fight her cousin.
“When will ye tell him?” Logan asked.
“Tonight. After the meal.” Grier heard Rydar’s door open and close. Was he back? Was the boat finished?
The fearful ache in her chest dissolved, then shifted to an entirely different need.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
When Rydar sat down to supper, Grier thought he was in a good mood. But Lord Andrew proved unusually attentive and solicitous, and by the end of the meal the Norseman’s body simmered with suppressed anger. Grier longed to confess her feelings to him, but first she must speak with Drew and decline his offer.