by Lisa Plumley
‘What is his name?’ he asked, through the lump in his throat. ‘Did you say Rurik?’
‘Rurik, Rurik Ashson. Once you said you wanted your first-born to be named Rurik.’
Rurik, his mother’s father’s name. The memory came rushing back. He had been standing on a rock above the lake, proclaiming what he’d do after he conquered the world and sired a batch of sons.
How had she remembered that? He didn’t deserve that sort of consideration, but he was grateful for it. More than grateful.
‘You did well. My first choice,’ he said and knew his words were inadequate. Anger surged through him. She’d known. She’d carried the knowledge with her through the morning and afternoon. All through the feast. But she’d kept the most important piece of news from him. It felt good to be angry. Anything was better than the all-consuming regret. ‘Why wait until now to tell me? Why not tell me at the temple?’
‘Ash...’ She held out her hand.
Ash ignored it. With a hurt expression, she slowly lowered it. Ash hardened his heart and forced the guilt back down his throat. Every other man at the feast had known, but not him. Had she wanted to humiliate him?
‘It should have been the first thing you said to me,’ he ground out. ‘Before you spoke of my father’s death. You risked making me the laughing stock of Raumerike. Or maybe that was your intention. A way to get back at me for something not of my making? I thought you better than that.’
‘I was interrupted before I had a chance...’ Kara pressed her hands to her eyes, hating the guilt that swept over her. She’d made a mistake. He was absolutely right. She should have said something. She hated that she’d been a coward about her son whom she loved with every fibre of her being. ‘You’d just learnt your father had died. Losing a father and gaining a son in the next breath is far too much for any man to bear.’
‘You’re sure he is mine?’ Ash gripped her shoulders, his face intent.
Kara’s entire body went cold. He had to believe her. She hardly wanted to confess that Ash was her only lover, not after learning about the parade of women who’d graced his bed before her and more than likely since. He was not the type to endure an empty bed for seven years. She had her pride.
‘Rurik is your son as well as mine.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Once you see him, you will know. He has your eyes, Ash, and your nose. Your father used to proclaim how like his father Rurik was and how I ought to be careful or he’d be steering ships on to the rocks.’
The tension eased in his shoulders. His hands fell to his sides.
‘I wouldn’t wish my nose on anyone,’ he mumbled, hanging his head.
‘I’ve always liked your nose.’
‘When was he born?’ he asked in a gentler tone.
Kara wound a strand of hair about her finger and tried not to think back to that fateful day. Ash needed the bare minimum. Later, maybe, she’d tell him the full tale. ‘He was a Jul-tide baby. The day of his birth was icy.’
Ash expelled a breath. Five months after he’d departed. Two months after he was supposed to have returned.
He’d been in the dungeon then, waiting for help which never would come. Nothing he could have done. The thought failed to ease his sense of guilt. She must have known before he’d left. Had she kept the news from him?
‘I want to see him. Immediately! Take me to him.’
Kara opened the door, her shoulders quivered like a nervous horse, scenting battle. ‘Shall we discuss this inside, rather than on the street for all to hear?’
Ash entered the dimly lit room. He would never have recognised it. Instead of the gloomy tapestries of battles which had frightened him as a little boy, the walls were hung with the most fantastical beasts. The weaving loom was set before the small hearth rather than being banished to the back room. The house which he remembered as a cold and austere place had a definite air of warmth. Things had changed for the better here, but he dreaded to think about Jaarlshiem. The farm had suffered when his mother had looked after it.
‘Is he here?’ he asked as Kara stood quietly just inside the doorway. ‘I want to see him. Now. Wake him up! His father is home!’
‘He is at Jaarlshiem with Gudrun, your old nurse. She is Rurik’s nurse now.’
‘At Jaarlshiem, rather than Sand for your wedding. Interesting.’ Ash tilted his head to one side and tried to quell the prickle of anxiety. Kara had left their son with his old nurse, rather than bringing him to celebrate the wedding. ‘Are you ashamed of him?’
Her fists slammed together. ‘Never! I could never be ashamed of Rurik. How dare you suggest such a thing!’
‘Did your Valdar request it?’ He balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to storm out and challenge Valdar. Silently he thanked the gods he’d arrived back in time to prevent anything from happening to his son. Kara would have to see that she needed to stay with him for Rurik’s sake.
‘Valdar and Rurik are friends. They enjoy spending time together.’ Her lashes slid over her eyes, hiding her expression. ‘It was one of the deciding factors in why I consented to the marriage. Valdar is very good with Rurik. He seems to steady him.’
Disappointment struck Ash’s heart. Of course Valdar would be. ‘But he was the one against it,’ he tried.
‘Valdar would have been happy to have Rurik at the wedding. I decided it was for the best for him to remain at Jaarlshiem.’
Ash clung on to his temper. Barely. Kara was keeping something from him. There was a reason she had kept their son from Sand and the wedding. Did she fear his uncle? Bile rose in his throat.
‘Is he a halfwit?’ he asked, preparing for the worst.
Her shoulders relaxed slightly and the first genuine smile crossed her face, utterly transforming it. If he had thought her beautiful before, now she was dazzling. The pride she had in their son was clear. ‘He has more wits than men twice his age. He notices everything, Ash. Always asking questions. His mischief rivals yours, but Gudrun’s eyes are sharp as ever.’
‘He’ll come to no harm now that I’ve returned,’ Ash declared, making a silent vow. His son wouldn’t be brought up to fear in the way he had been.
The smile faded as quickly as it had come. ‘That puts my mind to rest no end.’
‘I look after my own, Kara.’ A prickle went down his back. How great was his sin? ‘Did you know you were pregnant when I went?’ he asked with a sudden uncomfortable thought. Had Kara kept the pregnancy from him, knowing how much he wanted to go on this adventure? He could remember the way her eyes had lit up when he told her about the ship and the proposed timing of the voyage. There had been no shadows. If anything, she’d encouraged him to go and prove that he was a great warrior.
Ash shifted uncomfortably. The boy he had been would never have questioned her closely. He had accepted her word because it had made it easier to chase his dreams.
‘Would that have stopped you?’
Ash closed his eyes. The boy he once was had been desperate to prove himself a great warrior like his father. He had wanted the adventure. He had assumed he’d be back for Jul-tide. He’d never considered failure. Every new obstacle he faced he’d always conquered.
Now he knew how important children were. Serving at the Viken court, he had seen warriors brought to their knees by the birth of their children. He had seen the grief his best friend Ottar went through when his wife died and then a few weeks later, the baby girl had breathed her last. Ottar had eased his pain in drink and fighting. He’d died in the street after he’d picked an argument with the wrong warrior, a berserker named Bjorn. It was his death that had redoubled Ash’s efforts to get home and make something of his life.
The truth was he had never considered that Kara might be pregnant. Not then. Not later. It had been easier not to think about such things as his past life when he had been in the dungeon or later serving as a me
rcenary for the Vikens. Kara had belonged to a part of his life that he hadn’t dared think about when he’d had nothing. And he knew it was one more failing to add to his list.
The past was impossible to change. He could change the future and he had a son, the very talisman of a future, a son whose face he’d never seen. He wanted to see his boy’s face.
‘What would you have done if you had known?’ she asked softly.
‘I would have come back sooner,’ he said, when he trusted his voice.
Scorn poured into her eyes. ‘And the possibility never occurred to you in the long years you were away?’
‘I tried to focus on the task at hand, rather than speculating about home. Home was closed to me until I could erase the shame.’ He held out his hands and hoped for a softening of her heart. ‘How was I to know?’
Kara gave a queer smile. ‘You did make sure you did your duty before you left, Ash.’
He watched the heartbeat in the hollow of her throat. His duty? Maybe he hadn’t been ready to wed and his father had pushed him into it, but he clearly remembered the sweetness of Kara’s body and the way she had willingly given herself to him. He had liked her and looked forward to returning to her. He’d never met another woman whom he would have married. ‘I remember our time together with great fondness.’
‘Fondness? I always have found that a very weak word.’
Ash winced. ‘My tongue has never been eloquent, Kara, You know that.’
She crossed her arms, which only served to highlight the curve in her breasts. ‘You do yourself few favours trying to claim that. What I want to know is will you recognise Rurik as your son? Will you be a father to him?’
‘He is my son. Has he been accepted into the family?’
Her eyes slid away from him. ‘Yes...yes, he has.’
It came to him like a clap of Thor’s thunder—how he could win her back. He could protect her and their son.
He’d no rights to her, no matter what the law said, after what she had gone through. But it didn’t stop him from desiring the woman she’d become and wanting to protect her and their son.
He needed to do something for her, something to atone for his neglect. His mind raced. He had to hope that she had only chosen Valdar because of the threat his uncle posed. He could protect her and show her that he was in truth the hero she longed him to be all those years ago.
Maybe, he would become a better man for doing it, the sort of man Kara deserved—steady, dependable and there in a crisis. And if she saw through his act, saw who he truly was and hated him for it, he’d go once she was safe. And she wouldn’t have to marry simply to save his son’s life. She would have freedom, something she had not had before. He felt better now that he had a plan.
‘Who accepted him into the family?’ he asked in a voice he barely recognised. ‘Who played my part in front of the tuntreet?’
Chapter Five
‘Your father accepted him.’ Kara hated the way the words stuck in her throat.
It wasn’t a lie, but not precisely the truth either. Hring the Bold had eventually accepted Rurik. And she was not going to explain about Hring’s threat to expose Rurik when he was born too soon and was as weak as a kitten. Some day. After Ash had met Rurik. Or maybe after Rurik had grown to honourable manhood. She glanced up at Ash’s fire-lit face, trying to see the gentle youth she’d once worshipped.
‘He made the appropriate sacrifices in front of the tuntreet, pouring the water on the tree’s roots in the correct manner,’ she said into the silence. ‘You would have been proud.’
He bowed his head. ‘I’m pleased my father played the part well.’
There was no need to tell Ash how long after Rurik’s birth the sacrifice had happened. Or how Hring had tried to starve her into submission. All he needed to know was that Rurik was accepted into the family. It was the best way.
Kara picked up a disused spinning whorl, tightening her fist around it until her knuckles shone white. She hated how guilt welled up in her throat, as if she were doing something wrong.
Saving Rurik’s life had become paramount ever since he’d been born in the ice storm, ever since she’d woken on the floor of the stable with the stallion standing over her, pawing the ground and the blood staining the straw. She should never have gone there. It had been her fault and she could never undo the sense of guilt, but she had ensured that Rurik lived despite her mistake.
‘You know what your father was like for ceremony,’ she said when she trusted her voice. ‘He liked things to be done precisely and with all due reverence.’
He nodded. ‘My father had exacting standards. He always said that unless a baby was strong, it was kinder to everyone that there be a quick death, rather than a lingering one.’
Barbaric standards. Kara bit back the retort. She truly had no idea how Ash felt about exposure. For Hring, it had been all about ensuring that only the strong survived, that weaklings didn’t take up food and resources. For her, Rurik was part of her flesh and blood. Fighting with her last breath for his survival was natural. She had done everything to ensure his survival, arguing that when Ash returned, Ash should have the final say over whether or not his child was strong enough to survive. After trying to starve her into submission and demonstrating to her the truth of the marriage, Hring had reluctantly agreed.
The morning after they had learnt of Ash’s death, Hring had finally formally accepted her son as his heir—her price for nursing him.
As soon as he could stand, Hring had made the signs and mumbled the words as Kara poured the wine over the tuntreet’s roots. The ceremony had been far from the ringing endorsement she’d hoped for, but it hadn’t mattered. Her son had a name and a future.
Before he’d died last winter, Rurik and his grandfather had become good friends. In his last days, Hring had even apologised to Kara with tears in his eyes. He’d named Rurik as his heir once again. But Harald Haraldson had mentioned the oddity of the ceremony at the funeral and she had known what he intended.
Kara wrapped her arms about her waist, trying to keep from shivering. Nothing was going to happen to Rurik. She’d won the fight for his life. He would be a good lord who looked after his people and his family; he wouldn’t abandon them in pursuit of glory.
‘Rurik is a healthy six-year-old,’ Kara said carefully. Rurik was healthy, even if he did have a weak chest and an inclination to get colds which lasted all winter.
‘When can I see him?’
‘When we go back to Jaarlshiem.’ Kara forced her voice to be steady. ‘I’ve no wish to expose him to court life until he is ready.’
‘Why not? I can remember coming to Sand with my father when I was about Rurik’s age. It opened a whole new world for me.’
‘Sand seems to be constantly suffering from one illness or another.’
‘Yet you risk it.’
‘He is safest in Jaarlshiem. He remains there.’
‘Safest?’ Ash’s face showed his incredulity. ‘Accidents and illness can happen anywhere.’
‘If you wish to see him, go to Jaarlshiem.’
‘I intend to. If you wish to join me on the journey, you may or if you wish to stay with your lover, you may do so.’
‘I have no lover.’ Kara bit out every word, shocked that he could even think that!
A wide triumphant smile crossed his face. ‘Good to know.’
She gripped the spinning whorl tighter so she wouldn’t give in to the temptation to throw it at him. ‘I was about to become Valdar’s bride. You must know the difference between a bride and a mistress.’
‘What a pity I spoilt the party,’ he commented drily. ‘I apologise, but I do have a prior claim. What is mine stays mine. Let this Valdar find his own bride...and his own son.’
‘Rurik is my son, as well.’
‘Rurik will become the sort of man any man would be proud to call a son, rather than clinging to your skirts.’
Kara concentrated on the spinning whorl, weighing it in her hand. She’d battled Hring about Rurik’s training. She’d battle Ash, as well. She needed a man she could count on to train Rurik properly, rather than abandon him to the fates or push him too far too soon. ‘We’ve an agreement, Ash. You are going to give me time.’
He slammed his fists together. ‘Made under false pretences. You should have told me of my son before you asked. Why didn’t you, Kara? What did you fear I’d do?’
Kara kept her head up and concentrated on a spot behind his shoulder. The man standing before her was a stranger, a warrior with no gentleness in him. The caring boy-hero who had once rescued her from a fall into the freezing waters while skating was no longer...if he’d ever existed anywhere but her imagination. ‘I’ve told you now.’
His jaw hardened. ‘What did you think I’d do to you?’
‘Does the agreement stand?’ she whispered when she trusted her voice. ‘Please, Ash. You owe me a life debt.’
The silence stretched between them. Kara pressed her hands together and concentrated on the dying embers in the hearth. He had to agree.
‘Made under false pretences and a bad bargain, but I gave my word,’ Ash said. Each word seemed to drive another nail into their relationship. ‘You have your time to decide about our marriage. But my son is my blood. I won’t give away my blood, not even to you.’
‘You know nothing about him.’
‘I want to learn. I will learn everything.’ He slammed his fists together. ‘I leave in the morning for Jaarlshiem. Everything else will wait. I will claim my blood.’
Kara stared at him, not bothering to hide her astonishment. He wanted to meet Rurik and learn about him. What would he think of their son? Her child with his skinny long legs and lopsided smile? His inability to throw a stick? Or run very fast? She bit her lip. She wanted Ash to love him and be proud of him, not see him as a weakling who should have been exposed at birth as Harald Haraldson had proclaimed at the funeral.
