‘All right.’ She let out an exasperated-sounding sigh. ‘I won’t go.’
Danr watched as she turned and walked away. She was right, it was a good plan, only there was no way in hell he was going to let her go through with it. He didn’t want any more lives on his conscience, especially not hers. His chest constricted with a painful tightness just at the thought. If anything were to happen to her, he didn’t know what he’d do...
He took a deep breath, trying to control the feeling. A few shafts of evening sunlight had broken through the clouds, bathing the scene in an orange-gold glow. Sissa was just ahead of him, looking so slender and vulnerable, walking amidst the ruins of her former home, yet she’d proven herself stronger and tougher than most warriors he’d known. He doubted many of them could have survived in the wild on their own for so long. Or had the strength of mind to bear it either. He didn’t think he would have been able to. Whereas she... He felt a rush of tenderness. She was independent, indomitable and invincible, with a spine made of finely tempered steel and a pair of grey eyes that seemed to penetrate through to his very core. Looking at her now, she struck him as the most beautiful, desirable woman he’d ever laid eyes on. How could he not have seen that at the start? He desired her in a way he’d never desired anyone before and not just because it had been so long since he’d lain with a woman, but because his heart wanted her, too. Unworthy as he was, he wanted to be with her as much as he wanted to bed her. Because he loved her. He’d never expected to feel the emotion, had always distrusted it, but now that he did, it made him feel clean inside somehow, exhilarated even, as if he could be worthy of her some day. He was in love with her.
And he’d sworn an oath that meant he had to leave as soon as he was able...
He clenched his jaw and shifted his attention to their surroundings. The outline of the half-destroyed village was mostly hidden by brambles and nettles, but the positions of the old houses were still clear if you knew how to look.
‘It’s a good site for a village.’ He came to stand beside Sissa. She was on the edge of the shore, looking out at the waves. The sea and sky were almost the same colour now, a darkening slate-blue. If it hadn’t been for the hills of the mainland in the distance they might both have merged into one.
‘It is...’ she twisted to look at him ‘...but people are afraid to come here. Even the Gaels think it’s haunted.’
He nodded with understanding. He couldn’t blame anyone for that. He’d never felt the same about Maerr after the massacre. ‘Don’t you?’
‘No, but if it were then I don’t believe the ghosts of my family would ever hurt me.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘But I wouldn’t want anyone to build here either.’
‘Over there, then.’ He pointed further along the shore to where the land rose up to a plateau. ‘That would be a good site.’
‘Are you looking for a new home, Norseman?’
He blinked as she turned to look fully at him, her golden hair blowing around her shoulders and glowing copper-red in the fading sunlight. He’d often thought of it as a cloak and now it looked more like one than ever... He held his breath, trying to fix the image in his mind. At that moment he could almost believe that the rest of the world didn’t exist, that there was only the two of them, that Hilda and Joarr held no importance for him, that he had no oath to fulfil, that he was a free man...
Was he looking for a home? The question seemed to echo around his head. He was a man who’d spent most of his life living for the moment, never considering the future, never looking for anything resembling commitment. Then after the massacre he’d never allowed himself to think beyond fulfilling his oath, but what would he do if and when he finally redeemed himself in his brothers’ eyes? Where would he go? To Rurik in Glannoventa? Alarr in Eireann? Sandulf in Strathclyde? None of those ideas sounded very appealing any more. Not compared to a rain-soaked, mist-covered island and the wild-haired woman who lived there.
But she wanted to be on her own, away from people, away from warriors especially. Unless he could persuade her otherwise...and then prove himself worthy.
‘Not yet.’ He felt a new sense of determination. ‘Just a place to camp. It’ll be dark soon.’
Chapter Fifteen
‘What are you doing?’ Sissa sat down beside the fire, looking quizzically at the knife and block of wood in Danr’s hands.
‘Carving tafl pieces.’ He leaned back against his pack with a grin. ‘I thought I could make us a set so we could play. The board isn’t a problem, but these are tricky. Rurik was always better at carving things. He has more patience than me, but I’m going to try.’
‘They look good to me.’ She started to smile back and then froze, struck by a strange tingling sensation, like fingers stroking the back of her neck. They’d set up camp in a cove adjacent to her old village, him building a fire, her catching some fish, then him cooking them while she’d sat with her arm around Tove, watching. She’d just been to collect some fresh water and now she was almost ready for bed. Despite the turmoil and tumult of the day it all felt so...comfortable. Too comfortable. Not only was he spoiling her for anyone else’s cooking, including her own, but she was starting to grow accustomed to companionship again, as if he were truly her mate. It was disorientating. Coming back to the site of her old village had been painful in one way, reminding her of how it felt to lose the people she loved, but it had been bittersweet in another, calling up memories of how it felt to love and be loved. It made her wonder what it would be like to open her heart again. Was it even possible after so long? Did she want it to be?
Her body went rigid at the thought. Danr wasn’t her mate and he never could be. She’d let him further into her life than she’d ever intended, but she couldn’t—wouldn’t—let herself fall in love with him. She lived on her own. That was the way her life was and the way it had to be. And even if she could let herself fall in love with him, he was only staying with her for a short while, until his arm recovered, no longer. After that, he had to do what he’d come to Skíð to do: confront his stepmother and possibly get himself killed in the attempt. Even if he survived, he’d still be leaving. She had to keep on telling herself that, no matter how much she enjoyed his company and he seemed to like hers, or how curious he made her, or that he’d saved her life that day, or that she trusted him enough to show him her village...
No, there was no future for them, she told herself as she reached into her pack and drew out a comb. She wouldn’t let herself be tempted.
‘Here. Let me do that.’
Before she knew what happening, Danr had put down his knife and was crouching beside her, taking the comb from her hand and pulling it gently through her hair.
‘Wh-what are you doing?’ She twisted around, startled.
‘Combing your hair.’ He put his other hand on the top of her head, turning her to face the front again. ‘Trust me, I’m good at it.’
‘But...’ She started to protest, then closed her eyes as his hand followed the comb downwards, stroking her head the same way he stroked Halvar. It felt surprisingly—wonderfully—soothing. Blissful, in fact, making her feel relaxed all over.
‘That’s not so bad, is it?’ There was a smile in his voice.
‘No.’ She gave a contented sigh. ‘What about your carving?’
‘I’ve another twenty-three pieces to go anyway.’
‘Oh.’ She fought to repress a smile. ‘You know, I’m not sure I remember the rules of tafl.’
‘I’ll remind you.’ The comb caught on a knot, but he untangled it deftly.
‘You still might not have time to carve all the pieces. You’ll be able to wield a sword soon enough, then you’ll get the answers you want and leave. You don’t want to be stuck on Skíð over the winter.’
‘Don’t I? It’s not so bad here.’
‘You won’t think so when the snows come.’
‘You manage.’
‘I’m used to it, but you’ll still need to leave before then. You said your brothers were expecting you in Eireann.’
‘Ye-es, but the truth is, I like it here. I still have an oath to fulfil, but after I’ve done that, perhaps I could come back?’
‘Come back?’ Her voice sounded alarmingly high-pitched. The idea made her feel tempted and panic-stricken at the same time. ‘Won’t that depend on how things go with your stepmother? She might not want you here.’
‘No, but I don’t suppose she wanders around the forest very often. I could come back and build myself a tree house.’
‘That sounds cold. Where would you put the hearth?’
‘Good point. That would be just for the summer then. In the winter, I’d build another roundhouse.’
‘You want to live in the forest? I thought warriors all wanted their own halls?’
‘I’ve spent enough of my life in great halls and I never particularly wanted to be a warrior. I just want a home...’ The comb stilled briefly. ‘I suppose I always thought I’d end up wherever Rurik was, but now I’m not so sure any more. I feel peaceful here. I feel peaceful with you. I know you don’t want to be around people, but would one person really be so bad? What do you think, Sissa? Would you object if I came back after I’ve fulfilled my oath?’
She sucked in a breath at the question. Would she object if he came back? He made it sound as if he wanted to come back to her. She didn’t know how to answer, especially when her heart and head were giving such conflicting opinions.
‘That still sounds strange.’ She changed the subject instead.
‘What? Your name?’
‘Yes. I thought I didn’t ever want to hear it again, that it would remind me too much of my parents, but I like it.’
‘Then I’ll keep saying it, Sissa. Would you pass me that chunk of bread please, Sissa? I’d be very grateful, Sissa.’
She rolled her eyes and reached for the bread. ‘I’m going to run out of supplies before winter at this rate. You eat like an ox.’
‘And you don’t eat enough. That’s why this is for you. Here.’ He tore off a chunk and placed it back in her hands. ‘Food isn’t just about survival, it’s about pleasure.’
‘What does pleasure have to do with it?’
He sighed. ‘You know, somewhere between the two of us is probably the right balance. My life has been too much about pleasure and yours has been too little.’
She made a harrumphing sound, accepting the bread and taking a bite.
‘It applies to other things, too,’ he carried on, still combing. ‘You’ve been too independent while I’ve relied on people too much.’
‘You talk all the time...’
‘...and you haven’t spoken enough. We’re two extremes. We should either hate each other or—’ He stopped before he could finish the sentence. ‘Well, we can be friends anyway.’
‘Yes.’ Her throat seemed very dry all of a sudden. The way his hand was caressing her hair felt more than friendly...
‘Could you tell me another story?’ she asked, stalling for time again.
‘So you do like my stories.’ He sounded pleased by the request. ‘In that case, do you know the one about Kjarten, the warrior prince who defeated Uradech, the great troll of Alba, using just one finger?’
‘No.’
‘Neither do I. Shame.’
‘Very funny.’ She reached an arm behind her back to swat at him. ‘A real story.’
‘All right. This one is about Fell, the blacksmith who forged golden rings so beautiful that all the princesses in all the lands wanted to marry him.’
‘Just so they could have beautiful rings?’
‘I expect he made other things, too. Bracelets and necklaces probably. Some women value such things.’ He chuckled. ‘Of course he was tempted. Who wouldn’t be? But his heart yearned for another, a thrall named Astrid who cared naught for gold or jewellery.’
‘I like the sound of her. Did she care for him?’
‘Oh, yes. Conveniently, he was a very handsome blacksmith.’
‘Then why didn’t he just buy her with one of his rings?’
‘Well, now you’ve spoiled the ending.’
‘What? Ow!’ She twisted her head sharply, causing the comb to snag on another tangle. ‘If that was the whole story, it wasn’t a very good one.’
‘Alas, the life of a skald... Everyone has an opinion.’
‘Tell me a proper story this time or...’ She pursed her lips, trying to think of a punishment. ‘Or I won’t let you comb my hair any more.’
‘Ah, well, in that case...’ He was quiet for a few moments, thinking while the comb continued to skim through her hair, the strokes becoming longer and surer as the tangles unravelled.
‘All right, I have one. There was once a woman who lived on her own in the forest. People were afraid of her because they didn’t know who she was or where she’d come from. Some of them thought she was a ghost. Her heart had been broken once, but it was still a good heart, a caring one. She helped people when they were hurt and healed them when they were sick, though she never breathed as much as a word. Then one day a warrior came. His heart was broken, too, but it wasn’t such a good heart. He’d done bad things in his past, but she healed him anyway. She made him feel hopeful again.’ She felt him lean closer, whispering the final words in her ear. ‘For which he was very grateful, even if he didn’t deserve it.’
She swallowed, the skin on her neck tingling as his breath warmed it. ‘Everyone deserves a second chance.’
‘What about a third or fourth one?’ He put the comb aside and moved around in front of her, crouching down so their eyes were level. ‘Maybe some of us have used up all our chances. Maybe I used mine up even before the massacre. Maybe I’ve done too much to be forgiven. Some days it feels like too much. Sometimes I actually wish I was still the shallow man I used to be. Then maybe I could forget, but I can’t. That’s why I need to fulfil my oath. Until I do that, I’m trapped by the consequences of who I was.’
‘You mean because of all your women?’ she couldn’t stop herself from asking. ‘Did you really behave so badly?’
‘Worse than that.’
‘Just to entertain your father? To get his attention?’
‘Not just, no. As much as I’d like to blame him entirely, I enjoyed being the irresponsible joker of the family. It made me stand out. I enjoyed being the Jarl’s son, too. It had advantages.’
‘You didn’t love any of your women, then?’
He shook his head. ‘I thought love was for fools. I saw what it did to my mother. I was always determined not to end up the same way.’
‘But weren’t you angry about that? Weren’t you furious at your father for the way he treated her?’
His jaw tightened. ‘It’s complicated. When I was younger I didn’t really understand what had happened between them, but as I grew up...yes, I was angry at him. I still am.’
‘Did you ever tell him?’
‘No. He wasn’t the kind of man you could tell things to. Or maybe I was afraid he would banish me if I dared to criticise him. I already felt as if Rurik and I didn’t belong. I didn’t want us to lose what position we had. Maybe I was afraid of being cast out and left all alone. Or maybe I was just a shallow good-for-nothing and I chose not to think about it. Either way, what kind of man does that make me? To crave attention from the man who ruined my mother’s life?’
‘A young and foolish one, perhaps? You were only a boy when your mother died and he was still your father. Maybe you just wanted a place to belong and be loved. All children want that, don’t they?’
‘Adults, too.’
Her gaze flickered. ‘You just said you thought love was for fools.’
‘I also said I was a shallow good-for-nothing back then. I’ve learned a few things over
the past three years. I can’t make excuses for my behaviour, but I know I’m not that man any more. A place to belong and be loved is all I want now. Maybe it was all I ever wanted, deep down.’
She hesitated, gazing into his eyes for the space of half a dozen heartbeats. ‘It sounds like all we might want, but adults know life isn’t so simple. You know my parents used to sit outside our house on evenings like this. They wouldn’t talk. They would just sit and look at the view, resting after the day’s work. I used to sit with them, at their feet. Those were perfect moments. Moments of love and peace and beauty. I remember being happy. But it was all an illusion. It was all taken away in a few minutes.’
‘It doesn’t mean that those moments weren’t real. Love and peace and beauty all still exist. There are good people in the world as well as bad ones. You can be happy again.’
She bit her lip and looked out towards the sea. ‘I’m better off on my own. Safer.’
‘Safety isn’t happiness.’
‘No, but it’s important.’
‘Sissa...’ He dipped his head as if he agreed with her, though when he looked up again, the look in his eyes took her breath away. ‘You might be right, but maybe we both deserve a second chance. I might not be worthy of one, but I want to be. I don’t know if it will be possible, or how long it will take, but if I survive to fulfil my oath to my brothers then I’d like to come back here, to you, if you’ll have me?’
‘You mean...as a mate?’
‘As whatever you want.’
He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. Unlike their previous kisses, it was chaste and light and so brief that it seemed to come and go in a moment, yet somehow felt more powerful than all the others combined. She put her hands on his shoulders, her mind and body in turmoil, trying to unravel the tangle of her thoughts. Could she allow him to come back? Could she risk a second chance at happiness?
‘I don’t know. I need to think.’ Her voice was still strangely high-pitched. ‘We should get some rest.’
‘Good idea.’ There was a waver in his voice, too. ‘Your bed awaits.’
Redeeming Her Viking Warrior Page 13
