Warrior's Last Gift

by Melissa Mayhue

  Jeanne untangled her blankets and sat up, forcing herself to meet Eric’s gaze. Raw emotion filled his eyes, and his honesty forced hers.

  “I dinna love Eymer.”

  “Then why did you marry him?” he demanded, rising to pace away from her. “After all yer talk of the importance of love, why would you agree to wed? If you dinna love him, why do you risk yer own safety on this foolhardy mission to fulfill his last request?”

  “It is the right thing to do,” she answered, pulling the blanket back up over her shoulders and lying back down.

  She refused to answer any more of his questions, suspecting she had already said more than she should have. That last admission had cost her all she had to give tonight. Anything more and the flood of memories would leave her a weeping mess. Either that, or she would break down and confess everything.

  And neither of those was an outcome she wanted.

  Chapter Seven

  When the first raindrops began to pepper down, Eric wasn’t surprised. The sky had been heavy and gray when they had awakened, and the temperature had dropped steadily as they traveled. Late in the day, the rain gradually turned to snow.

  The heavens themselves seemed determined to keep them from reaching the coast. He’d hoped to make it out of the mountains before they made camp, but that was not to be. At least here there were caves that would provide them shelter from the snow.

  “We’ll make camp here for the night,” he called over his shoulder as he reined his horse to a stop.

  He dismounted and held out his arms to assist Jeanne down from the big animal. She fell against him, groaning as her feet hit the ground. Clearly, her tumble over the cliff yesterday had taken its toll.

  He swept her from her feet and carried her to the cave’s entrance, setting her down inside the opening.

  They’d gotten lucky for a change. The cave was just large enough for the two of them, the horse, and a fire. It was crowded, but certainly better than sleeping out in this weather.

  Once he had the fire built, Jeanne pushed up from where she sat to gather her pot and what little food they had left.

  “You rest,” he told her, taking the pot from her hands. “I can do this.”

  She didn’t argue, confirming his suspicion that she was exhausted and in pain.

  He filled the pot with snow and set it over the fire to melt. When the water bubbled, he dumped in the last of their oats, along with a few pieces of meat left from last night’s rabbit.

  “You must remember to stir,” Jeanne cautioned without opening her eyes.

  As if he weren’t perfectly capable of cooking his own food.

  When it was ready, he carried the pot over to where she sat, placing it on the ground between them.

  “This is the last of our bread,” he said, breaking the piece in half to share. “We’ll need to keep a sharp eye out for any sign of game tomorrow.”

  He scooped a bite of the porridge and wrinkled his nose. The tasteless lumps in his mouth had nothing to do with the bits of meat he’d added.

  Across from him, Jeanne coughed and grabbed for the flask of ale.

  “It seems to lack the flavor of yers,” he admitted. “And mayhap it has a few more lumps.”

  “I warned you to stir,” she said, keeping her gaze fixed on the food in front of her.

  They passed the remainder of their meal in silence, and when they finished, he again filled the pot with snow and set it near the fire. The melt would help to clean the pot in the morning.

  By the time he finished, Jean had curled into her blankets, her back turned to him.

  Though he didn’t doubt she was tired, he suspected she wanted to avoid any attempt on his part to push for the answers she’d refused him last night.

  Though her comment had eaten away at his thoughts all day, he wouldn’t try to force her to answer his questions. It made little difference now anyway. What was done was done. He would simply put it from his mind. There was nothing to be gained from opening old wounds. And yet . . .

  “Are you awake, Jeanne?”

  An audible sigh wafted from the blanket where she huddled. “I am.”

  “I ken you’ve no stomach for talk of this, but it preys mightily upon my thoughts. If you dinna love Eymer, why did you take him for yer husband?”

  Hadn’t she told him that she’d rather spend her days in an empty house than live the lie of a loveless marriage as her mother and father had? And now she’d admitted to marrying a man she hadn’t loved. Could it be that he was somehow responsible for what she’d done?

  He had to know.

  “I need sleep, Eric. I canna speak of this now. I canna even bear to think upon it.”

  “For a year and a half we’ve avoided speaking of it. I’d have your answers now, Jeanne.” Eric moved to sit beside her. “The day you wed Eymer Horvesson was the worst of my life. After what we shared, you owe me honesty. At the very least, you owe me an explanation as to why you did it.”

  “Owe you?” Jeanne sat up, tossing her blanket aside, her eyes flashing with anger. “I owe you nothing! You claim that as the worst day of yer life? I’m so sorry I forced you into finding another foolish maid to take to yer bed. Worst day? Ha! I could tell you a thing or two about what a worst day truly looks like.”

  Her anger sparked his, as their emotions had always built upon each other’s.

  “Truly? I’d imagine a worst day for you might have something to do with falsely proclaiming yer love for one man while planning to wed another. One you now claim you held no love for, even after all yer protestations about how you would never marry for less than love. I can hardly wait to hear what yer idea of a worst day could possibly be.”

  “You want the truth? Then you’ll have it.” She clenched her fists in her lap and took a deep breath. “It’s holding the tiny lifeless body of yer son in yer arms and then watching as the midwife takes him away, leaving you alone with nothing but yer shattered dreams. That’s my worst day, Eric MacNicol. A day such as I would not wish on my worst enemy.”

  Eric’s stomach lurched as tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks. He reached out for her as her body shook with silent sobs, pulling her into his embrace to comfort her.

  What a beast he was to push her like that. Only a selfish, heartless fool would treat the woman he loved in such a thoughtless manner.

  And love her he must, because only a fool in love would have such a driving need to know what he had done to lose her.

  He held her tightly, stroking a hand through her hair and down her back, wishing he could take away the pain by the strength of his embrace.

  It was as if, once her reserve had broken down, she’d lost all control. He had done that to her. He had pierced the armor of her strength and all he felt for having done so was an overwhelming sense of shame.

  “Shhh,” he consoled as he continued to stroke her hair. “I had no idea you’d been through such heartbreak, Sweet Jeanne. It’s my own selfish pride what lies behind my pushing you for an answer. Just as it was selfish pride that kept me from coming to you after Eymer’s death.”

  “I am all too familiar with the burdens of pride,” she managed between hiccupping sobs.

  “But mine was beyond the pale. Selfish and foolish. I loved you, and when you chose another over me, I couldna make my peace with what you did. Not until yesterday, when I saw you topple from the mountain crest and I thought I’d lost you all over again. In that moment I realized, pride be damned.”

  She tipped her head back to look up at him, her breath still catching with her emotion.

  “I dinna choose another over you, Eric. You rejected me, leaving me no choice at all.”

  “How can you say you had no choice?” He kissed her forehead and her eyes fluttered shut. “I loved you then, Jeanne, and I love you still. There’s nothing I can do to change the heartbreak you’
ve suffered—the loss of Eymer and his son before him.”

  “But—”

  He silenced her with a kiss, taking her soft lips with his own, turning her words into a quiet moan. Her head dropped back as he inched the kiss from her mouth to her neck, stopping to nibble on her shoulder before he continued to bare his soul.

  “I was the one left with no choice. I refused to marry you to save you from this exact sorrow. With war on the horizon, I’d no way to know what would happen. I loved you too much to leave you a grieving widow.”

  She gasped as he pushed the shift from her shoulders to trail his tongue over her heated skin. The old, familiar need washed over him, hardening his body and driving his actions.

  He wanted her. As if the past year and half had never happened, his need for her was as all-consuming as it had ever been.

  He kissed her again, lowering her to her back and taking his place on top of her.

  She made no effort to refuse him, but he felt reluctance in her response.

  “Did you no understand that I would have grieved yer loss whether we were married or no? Though yer intentions were honorable, by yer refusal to take me to wife, you left me in a far worse position than if I had been widowed.”

  “I canna see how that’s possible,” he murmured, his mind too occupied with the woman in his arms to concentrate on her words.

  “Since you want my honesty, I’ll tell you how.” Her fingers tightened on his arms, gripping him as a drowning woman might. “It was no Eymer’s son who died in my arms, Eric. It was yers.”

  • • •

  Eric’s muscles stiffened under her grasp, and the hands that had lovingly stroked her deserted her as he pulled away.

  “My son?” He shook his head as if to deny her statement. “This is true? Was I never to know? Did you give no thought to telling me of my own child?”

  She sat up and reached for her blanket, then pulled it around her shoulders like an armor against the memories.

  “There was no reason to tell you.”

  “No reason? It was my son!” His voice echoed off the rock of the small cave. “And if he’d lived, you would have kept that from me as well?”

  She didn’t answer. She’d made her decision over a year ago, and now there was nothing left but to live with it. At least she didn’t need to live with the secret any longer. She’d told him, so the worst was over. She could survive Eric’s rejection of her again. She’d already survived it once before.

  His back to her, he stood at the entrance of the cave for several minutes. When he returned to the fire to lay out his bedding, he placed it as far away from her as he could.

  Jeanne lay down again, willing a sleep that wouldn’t come. She should have known better than to have allowed herself to believe even for a moment he would be hers again. Happiness was not her destiny.

  After a long time, Eric spoke once more. “There is no chance the babe belonged to Eymer?” His voice sounded hollow in the dark.

  “None at all,” she answered truthfully.

  “And he was aware of that as well?”

  “He was.”

  Eric asked no more questions and she offered no more information. All that had happened, like Eric’s love for her, was in the past. She needed to let go of the past and focus on her future.

  Chapter Eight

  Forgetting the past was easier said than done when you were forced to spend your day with your arms fastened around the broad chest that had been the best part of that past.

  Jeanne straightened her back, trying to put even an inch of distance between herself and Eric, a difficult task when sharing the back of a horse.

  The one thing she could be thankful for was that they had left the snow behind them hours ago as they’d come down from the mountains.

  “Do you see that haze on the horizon?” Eric lifted an arm to point ahead of them. “Unless I miss my guess, that’s where we’re headed.”

  Jeanne stretched to see over his shoulder. “Will we make it there before nightfall?”

  “We will,” he confirmed, as tight-lipped as he had been all day.

  After what had passed between them last night, he’d shut himself off completely as if they were hundreds of miles apart.

  Thank the saints they were so near to their destination. She could imagine no better way to end this awful day than by fulfilling her pledge. With her goal so close, Eric’s refusal to talk to her couldn’t matter. Nothing mattered now except the small bundle she carried in her pack.

  Another half hour of riding and the sea stretched out before them, a ribbon of bright blue, separated from them only by a strip of sandy beach at the edge of the rugged rocks they traversed.

  Once they’d crossed onto the sand, Eric dismounted and lifted Jeanne down.

  She gathered stones to build a small fire pit close to the water, while Eric gathered bits of driftwood and brought them to the pit.

  Once the tinder caught and a few small flames licked up around the wood, Jeanne kneeled by the fire and pulled the small boat from her pack. With shaking hands, she removed all the bandages and set the little sail in place. Then she adjusted the pillow in the hollow on the deck before dipping into the pack again for the little bag containing Eymer’s tooth. Gently, she placed the tooth on the herb-laced pillow and started toward the water’s edge.

  “Wait.” Eric stood next to her, a bundle of dried weeds clutched in his hand. “I need the truth from you once more, Jeanne. You say that Eymer knew the babe was mine. Did he know before you wed or after?”

  The past was past, she reminded herself, doing her best to steel her heart. She no longer had any need for secrets.

  “Before,” she answered, meeting Eric’s gaze. “It was the reason he offered himself in marriage. To give our son a name. To give our son a father who wanted him.”

  “And the two of you kept this from me.”

  Jeanne shrugged, sighing deeply. “Eymer counseled for yer being told the truth, but I would not agree to it.”

  “Why?” A suspicious shine filled Eric’s eyes and he dipped his head, blinking rapidly. “Why would you withhold knowledge of my own son from me?”

  “If you had wanted me and a family, you would have said so when I asked ye that we wed. You said no. I’d never hold a child over yer head to force you into what you did not want. My mother did that, and my father resented her till his dying day. He resented me, too. I’d no have a child of mine spend his days believing himself to be the cause of his parents’ misery.”

  Again he met her gaze. “And you feared I would turn into yer father.”

  Jeanne nodded her agreement.

  He scrubbed his free hand over his face and stared out over the water. “So this is the debt you feel you owe Eymer. To repay him for his being willing to raise our son as his own.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, turning toward the water with the little craft clutched to her breast. “Because he willingly offered up his freedom to raise my child. Because he was unendingly kind and courteous toward me. Because this was the only thing he ever asked of me in return.”

  “Here.” Eric handed over the bundle of weeds, taking the boat with his other hand. “Use that to set fire to the ship’s sail. I’ll place him into the water for his journey.”

  She lowered the weeds to the flames. They crackled as they caught fire and she touched them to the sail. Flames licked up the fabric while Eric bent to set the little craft on its way.

  In a loud, clear voice, Jeanne said, “May the mighty Thor grant you strength and courage. May he guide you on yer way. And may he open the doors to Valhalla to welcome you inside.”

  “Godspeed, Eymer Horvesson,” Eric called from her side as the little craft wobbled away from the shore.

  In the distance, thunder echoed, sending a shiver down Jeanne’s neck. The last thing they needed on this cold night
would be rain.

  Dusk surrounded them as the sun seemed to float in the water on the distant horizon, casting a path of gold across the breaking waves. Together they waited, watching the fiery little vessel pitching bravely away from the shoreline, straight down the golden path as if it were being steered in that direction.

  “Do you suppose his Viking gods listened to our pleas?” Eric asked.

  “Eymer claimed that Thor would always come to yer aid if yer prayer was sincere.” She hoped he was right. No one deserved to be where they wanted in the afterlife more than Eymer.

  They continued to watch as the sun sank below the horizon, watched until the tiny, fiery dot disappeared into the dark.

  “Yer repair certainly did the job. I never thought that wee boat would sail on so long.” Even before the accident, she’d feared it would sink right away.

  “Nor did I. Come on.” Eric captured her hand and pulled her from the water’s edge. “We’ll camp just beyond the rocks, where the grasses have taken root. We should be safe enough there.”

  Safe from the tide, perhaps, but the barren landscape gave no protection at all from the icy winds sweeping in from the sea.

  Again they worked through building a small fire, aided only by the light of the rising moon.

  When their task was finished, Jeanne sat beside the fire and wrapped her blanket around her shoulders. Eric dropped down close beside her, spreading his blanket and fur around both of them.

  She snuggled gratefully under his arm, feeling as if she could easily believe herself to have been transported back to a time and place before her life had taken such a drastic turn. Back to a time and place where she still believed she would spend her life with the man seated next to her.

  Staring up at the star-speckled sky, she felt a sense of peace settle over her. She’d carried out the promise she’d made and now she could get on with her life. She felt free.

  And cold and hungry.

  Eric’s stomach rumbled, and hers echoed its response.