Ice Maiden
Page 10
She tensed under his touch. “What do you want?”
“Nothing. Just to make certain ye’re all right.”
She shrugged out of his grasp. “Why do you care?”
“Because—”
Why did he care?
Merely because she was a woman, and in no small danger from Ingolf and his men? Or because she was his wife? As ludicrous as it seemed, he had to admit there was some truth to this last explanation.
“Promise me ye’ll take Ottar with ye should ye venture away from the village.”
She turned and frowned at him. The moon was not yet risen, and her eyes reflected the pale light of the stars. “I would thank you for what you did for him today.”
“For Ottar? I did naught. The lad bested me fair and square.” He patted his chest gingerly. “Aye, and it still stings.”
“No Norseman would have done such a thing.”
He looked into the silver depths of her eyes and read something new there. “I am no Norseman.”
All at once he was aware of the blood heating in his veins, of his heart beating strong in his chest. His mouth went dry, and he longed to quench his thirst.
“Nay,” she breathed. “You are not.”
He dipped his head to kiss her.
“Look!” Rika sidestepped him and pointed to the northern sky. ’Twas as if someone had dumped a bucket of icy water over his head.
George followed her gaze. “Sweet Jesus, what’s that?” A tingle of horrific fascination snaked its way along his spine as he fixed his eyes on a living veil of red and green shimmering against the midnight sky.
“The northern lights,” she said. “Aurora borealis. I, too, know some Latin.”
He stared rapt at the eerie display. “I have heard of this, but never in my life had thought to see it.”
“It comes only in the winter months, when the sky is clear and the weather cold.” She shivered, and he instinctively stepped closer.
“Is it always this brilliant?” He watched as the veil of color waxed and waned, washing across the sky in a seductive dance of light.
“Nay, it is not. In truth, the red is strangely rare. Only once have I seen it before. The night my brother was—” She hesitated. “The night he left.”
A film of tears glassed her eyes, and for some unfathomable reason, it pained him to see her so distraught. No sooner did his arm slip around her shoulder than she turned into him, clutching his waist and burying her face in the hollow of his neck.
He kissed her tears away and, before he could stop himself, his lips found hers.
Chapter Eight
It was the drink in him, but she didn’t care.
Rika’s lips parted to the gentle prodding of Grant’s tongue, and she lost herself in his honeyed kiss.
“You’re drunk.” She made a show of trying to push him away.
He knew she didn’t mean it.
“I’m not.” Grant pulled her tight against him and kissed her again.
This time she kissed back.
His hands roved her body and began to work the magic that no man, save him, had worked on her before.
Why did she allow it?
When he rolled his hips against hers she felt his hardness and his heat. It was by sheer will alone she mustered the strength to break the kiss.
“You were right,” she breathed against his lips.
“About what?” He kissed her again, more passionately this time, and she knew if she did not stop him now she’d succumb to his lovemaking all over again.
Rika felt blindly behind her for the ax resting against the well, and drew the weapon slowly upward between their bodies. “This.”
Grant jumped back. “Christ, woman, what are ye about?”
The hint of fear tinging his voice brought a smile to her lips. “It seems I might have need of it after all, to—what were your words? Ensure my safety.”
He ran a hand through his tousled hair and looked again to the northern sky. But the lights had gone out, and with them the passion in his eyes.
She’d been right to stop him.
“I…I’m sorry,” he said.
“No matter.” She hefted the ax over her shoulder and turned toward the cottage.
“About the poem, I mean.”
She glanced back at him, and knew from his sober expression he was not toying with her.
“I didna know what it meant.”
“I’m certain you did not.”
The moon rose over the sea and caught him in its light. For the barest moment she thought him the most beautiful man she’d e’er seen.
She had decided not to tell him but suddenly changed her mind. “The poem speaks of a warrior’s strength and a valor born of love for his new wife.”
He said nothing to that, but as Rika made her way to the cottage and locked herself inside, she felt his eyes on her, and knew that, once again, Lawmaker had been right.
This marriage would change them.
Had changed them already.
It was up to her to ensure it did not change them overmuch.
Dawn came, and with it an incredible calm.
The sea spread out in all directions, a silvered mirror reflecting the sun’s white light. George stood on the cliff overlooking the beach and counted the hours until they would sail.
He’d hardly slept last night, and wasn’t certain which had been more responsible for keeping him awake—Ingolf’s threats or Rika’s kisses. He told himself it didn’t matter. They’d sail on the night tide and in three days’ time Fair Isle would be but a memory.
As agreed, he hadn’t spoken of their planned departure to anyone. The two young dissidents, Leif and Erik, seemed to know all about it, though. More, even, than George knew himself.
The other islanders naturally assumed that he, as Rika’s husband, would claim her dowry at some point. They had no idea how soon that day would come—or, rather, that it would never come. Once their ship reached the mainland, he would be a free man.
“You are thinking of your homeland.”
He whirled, startled, and met Lawmaker’s gaze.
“D’ye always sneak up on a man like that?” ’Twas damn unsettling.
Lawmaker smiled. “What is it that you most miss?”
Together they turned toward the sea and stared out across the water toward Scotland.
“It doesna matter what I do or do not miss. I am a laird, and have many obligations—to clan and king, and to the father of the woman to whom I am betrothed.”
“Ah. You are a man who takes his duty seriously.”
“Most seriously.”
Lawmaker nodded. “I would not have expected less. Tell me about this bride, this woman who waits for you.”
“Anne Sinclair?” He shrugged. “I know her not.”
“And yet you are intent on taking her to wife?”
“Of course I am. I must. ’Tis all agreed.” How could the elder think he’d do otherwise?
A pelican drafted low along the surf line and dove with graceful precision upon its breakfast, an unwitting school of perch.
“Is she remarkable, this Anne Sinclair?” Lawmaker said.
George thought it an odd question. “So my king tells me. But of what consequence is her remarkability? As long as she is obedient and fair of face, she will suit me well.”
“Will she?”
He frowned at the old man. “Why would she not? What more could a man ask in a wife?”
“There is much.”
“Oh? Such as…”
Lawmaker raised a peppered brow at him. “A sharp mind, for instance. Courage. Strength of character.”
George laughed, and together they turned onto the rocky path leading back to the village. “Those things a proper wife dinna make. I would have a woman obey me, unconditionally. Fear me a little, if that served to fortify her obedience.”
“I see. You would not have your wife challenge your thinking in any way?”
“Ye mean like she does
?” He nodded at the row of longhouses in the distance. Rika stood, fists on hips, barking orders to Leif and Erik. “Nay, I would not. ’Tis no a woman’s place to question a man’s decisions.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the edges of Lawmaker’s mouth curl into a smile. “Ofttimes a woman’s questions can lead a man to better answers.”
The old man was daft. George knew what he wanted in a wife—exactly the opposite of what Lawmaker suggested. His gaze raked over Rika as they approached.
Exactly the opposite of her.
And yet…
He watched as she hefted the end of a chest Erik was dragging and helped him to set it on a bench. Last night in the courtyard she’d faced Ingolf and his men with valor, not fear. Her courage had fortified his own.
Och, he was as daft as the old man.
The woman meant nothing to him. Aside from his occasional physical response to her, which was not something a man could always control, he was entirely certain he loathed her.
She glanced up at him suddenly, and smiled.
Didn’t he?
“Come,” Lawmaker said. “Let us take to my cottage and break our fast together. I expect the others have already eaten.”
George shook off the unsettling feelings eating away at his convictions, and followed Lawmaker past the central courtyard and into his tiny abode.
The air was damp and musty. Bread and cheese sat on a trencher on the table. His stomach growled.
“Sit, eat.” Lawmaker threw off his cloak and gestured to the bench.
George obeyed. The remnants of a peat fire smoked in the brazier behind him, giving off just enough heat to warm the cottage. He hadn’t donned a cloak that morning, and didn’t realize how cold he was until he sat down.
“I have something for you,” Lawmaker said.
“Aye?” He devoured a hunk of cheese. “What?”
“This.” To George’s astonishment, the old man handed him his weapon—the strangely runed broadsword he’d loaned George for the wedding.
“I dinna understand. ’Tis your weapon, is it no?”
Lawmaker set the sheathed sword on the table before him. “It’s yours now. Methinks you will have need of it before our voyage is over. Or even begun.”
He remembered well the malice smoldering in Ingolf’s eyes last eve. “There are some who would stop us from sailing. Is that what ye mean?”
“They would if they could, but they’d dare not try. They are small in number and should we wish to, we could call a score of kinsmen to our aid—though I’d prefer not to risk such bloodshed. Besides, as long as your tongue’s not wagged, no one knows we sail.” Lawmaker looked at him hard. “And once we’ve made the mainland, there will be other dangers. But you know that.”
The elder’s penetrating gaze unnerved him. ’Twas almost as if the old man read his mind about abandoning them once on Scottish soil.
“Take it.” Lawmaker pushed the weapon toward him.
His hand closed over the finely crafted hilt, and a stab of guilt twisted his gut. “What about ye?”
“Oh, I have other swords. Besides, my fighting skills are not what they were. I’ve no need of so fine a weapon.”
’Twas an honor George couldn’t refuse. He met the old man’s eyes and nodded. “All right, then. Thank ye.”
“We set sail as soon as the night is full on us.”
“Does it have a name?” George unsheathed the sword and held it aloft, marveling at the workmanship. “I’ve heard that Norsemen name their weapons.”
Lawmaker pointed to a runic inscription on the weapon’s hilt. “She is called Gunnlogi—Flame of Battle.”
“Battle Flame,” George repeated. “I like it.” He ran a hand over the runes peppering the blade. “And this? What does this say?”
“It’s a series of spells—for luck.”
He eyed the spidery engraving and frowned.
Lawmaker laughed. “Don’t worry. No longer do we invoke such magic.”
“That’s comforting. I think.” He sheathed the sword and returned his attention to breakfast.
“This may be the last opportunity for us to speak alone before we sail.” Lawmaker settled on the bench beside him. “There are things I would have you know.”
“What things?” He cast the bread he’d been eating back onto the table.
“About Rika’s father.”
“Ah, the infamous Rollo.”
“Ja, the very same. Make no mistake, Grant, he is a shrewd man.”
George snorted. “No shrewd enough to marry off his daughter before she took matters into her own hands.”
“She was betrothed.”
“What?” His heart skipped a beat.
“Rollo saw to it before he left Fair Isle.”
“But then, why—”
“To Brodir.”
George looked at him, incredulous. “When I asked ye about that before, ye said she wasna.”
“Nay, I said she belonged to no man. There’s a difference.”
“No where I come from. Her father will have my head—and hers. She’ll ne’er get her coin.”
Not that he intended to ever meet her father. He was not hungry anymore, and pushed the trencher away.
“Relax. You shall win his respect and gain the dowry. It matters not what covenants were broken between him and Brodir.”
Brodir. The heathen who raped her. Her betrothed.
“Rollo looks out for his own interests. An alliance with a Scottish laird is a boon too precious for him to cast aside.”
George pushed back from the table, his gut roiling, sick of the whole scheme. “I will see ye at the ship.”
Lawmaker nodded, and rose with him when he made to leave. “Ja, tonight, and don’t forget this.” Lawmaker nudged the sheathed broadsword toward him.
Bloody tricksters, the lot of them. He picked up the weapon and eased the shoulder baldric over his head. “Tonight,” he said, and left the door gaping as he stormed off into the chill of the morn.
A finger of afternoon sunlight streamed through the window warming the otherwise cheerless cottage. Rika carefully arranged her brother’s hauberk and helm on top of the cloak she’d spread on the bed, then reached for Gunnar’s sword.
“I thought we sailed in search of a dowry, no a battle.”
She whirled toward Grant’s unmistakable voice. He stood in the open doorway, eyeing the possessions she’d assembled on the bed. “Thor’s blood, do you never knock before entering?”
“We are marrit, are we no?” He sauntered into the room and closed the door behind him. “I didna see the need.”
The forced casualness in his expression and offhand tone of his voice put her on her guard. “What do you want? I’m busy here.”
“I can see that.” He grazed a hand over the polished chain mail, then pushed it aside and settled onto the bed.
“Get off! Get out of here now.”
He ignored her and picked up Gunnar’s helm. “This might come in handy, after all.”
“What do you mean? Here, give me that.” She went for the helm.
“No so fast,” he said, and snatched it out of her reach. “Methinks ’twill take more than board games and poetry to win your coin. I might be able to use this.”
She frowned at him. “What’s happened? Why do you say these things?” A chill uneasiness washed over her.
“Naught has happened. I just wish to be prepared. Your father expects another man in my place.” He flashed her a cold look. “A jarl.”
She clenched her teeth, prepared for another confrontation. She’d be damned if she’d allow his prodding to reduce her to tears, as it had that day on the moor.
“Your betrothed.”
The way he said the word made her want to wretch. “Ingolf again. I told you not to listen to him.”
“Nay, ’twas not Ingolf.”
“Who then?”
“Your guardian—Lawmaker.”
Rika cursed under her breath.
She snatched Gunnar’s helm from his hand, placed it on top of the hauberk and bundled them both into the cloak. “I owe him nothing. He’s lower than a dog.”
Before she could move from the bed, his hand closed over her wrist, his eyes fixed on the bracelet. “On that last account, I willna argue.”
“This matter is of no consequence to you.” She wrested herself out of his grasp and continued to gather up the few things she’d need for the voyage.
“Methinks it is. Especially if it’s no a chest of silver that awaits me, but your father’s sword.”
She made a derisory sound. “You don’t understand our ways. If you did, this betrothal would not concern you.”
He crossed his arms behind his head and eased back onto the pillows. “Enlighten me.”
“Thor’s blood, you are a nuisance.” She pulled up a stool and sat down, resigned. “It’s true, I was promised to him—long ago when Brodir and I were children. But you must understand, it’s not a custom widely practiced among our people. Engagements are a Christian habit that suit not our style of living.”
“Go on.”
“If a man and a woman are to wed, they simply marry. There is no waiting once the woman’s father has agreed.”
“Why then—”
“When I came of age I would not have him. Besides, Brodir is gone and may never return.” Oh, if she were only that lucky. “My people know that. Why do you think so few opposed our marriage?”
He frowned, and she could see his mind working. “So, with Brodir gone, ye are…fair game.”
“Precisely.” Although she was loath to think of herself in those terms. It was…degrading. She rose from the stool and continued with her packing. “My father will see it that way, as well.” At least, she hoped he would. “You have naught to fear from him.”
“I fear no man.” He shot to his feet. “But neither will I be played for a fool. What else have ye no told me?”
She watched as the pulse point in his neck throbbed in time to her own escalating heartbeat. She gathered up Gunnar’s things and set them by her satchel near the door. “Nothing. You know all that you need to carry out your part of our—”