Chapter Forty-Two
Quarrie was on the walls with Borald discussing the assignment of the guard when a cry rang out. Both he and the guardsman looked up with instant attention.
A glorious day it was, the sort that Scotland offered up so rarely even in summer.
Great, white billows of cloud sailed in a sky of deep blue, chased by a soft and kindly wind.
The entire world seemed to glitter from the tops of the playful, wee waves that raced to shore, to each trembling stalk of bracken and heather on the slope above them. Colors stood out bright and true.
Och, for a wealth of such days! Upon rising, Quarrie had thought only one thing could make such a day better.
And now here she came walking down the shore.
Borald made a muffled sound in his throat, one that indicated dismay before he spoke. “Och, it is that accursed Norsewoman.”
Aye, so it was. Quarrie narrowed his eyes against the strong light. She came boldly and steadily, as if unafraid even though she moved among enemies, all of whom now focused upon her.
She came alone.
Where were her men? And why would she take the dangerous step of visiting among them when only an admittedly unpopular alliance shielded her?
Why indeed, save to see him?
They had not laid eyes on each other since the feast, at least not to speak. He’d caught glimpses of movement up the shore and they had seen Freya sail past, southward. She had not returned for some time.
But it had been days since, aye, they had been spied returning, and no word from Hulda.
No glimpse of other Norse sails either, though his men kept vigilant watch.
“I will go and see what it is she wants.” Not waiting for a reply from Borald, Quarrie ran down the steps from the walls and out through the gate. He met Hulda just as she turned to begin the climb up from the shore.
Some of the men who had been at work there, along the shingle, had followed her in. Others now gathered as she prepared to enter the settlement proper. The expressions on their faces sent a quiver down Quarrie’s spine.
It would take so little to fell this woman who meant so much to him. A dirk in the back. A blade at the throat. A stone aimed at her head. Only the existence of an alliance upon which he’d insisted protected her.
“Mistress Hulda, good afternoon.” She looked well—beautiful, if that could be said of a woman wearing men’s clothing, her hair tightly braided and with a sword at her side. A warrior she looked, aye. A bonny one.
Her pale eyes met his, wary and calculating as might a warrior’s be. Another emotion lay beneath all that.
Desire? Longing. Aye, the same as he felt. Had felt for days.
“Chief Murtray.”
“Wha’ can I do for ye?” He could not quite hide his surprise at finding her here. And they stood amid a circle of his people. Men watched from the walls and the shore.
“A word only, if that is possible.” In a voice meant for his ears alone, she whispered, “We must speak.”
“Aye, so. Will ye come awa’ in?”
She nodded.
Was there somewhat wrong? His thoughts raced as he led her into the silence of the great hall. A few servants worked there, but they fled at a gesture from him. On such a fine day as this, the hearth fire had been allowed to burn low. The chamber felt cool.
“Will ye tak’ some ale?” A pitcher was always left with some cups on the head table. When Quarrie would have crossed to it, Hulda laid her fingers on his arm.
“Nei. Not that. I need nothing but to see you.”
“Hush.” He barely breathed the word. “There are eyes and ears everywhere.” It may not seem as if anyone watched. That did not mean they went unobserved.
“Some ale then, ja.” A desperate light shone in Hulda’s eyes.
“Then we will sit. Talk. Ye wish to speak o’ the alliance?”
“That, ja.”
Now that she was here with him, now that he stood close to her, he could feel the turbulence beneath her calm and confident surface. Like the currents beneath that bonny ocean outside.
He poured two cups of ale and led her to sit beside the fire. At the center of the room, they had less chance of being overheard.
“I had to see you,” she said again, as if she could not hold the words in. “It has been so long.”
“It has.” Too long. Wanting her had been like a sickness inside him, always on the simmer while he fulfilled the duties of his life. Seeing her now—well, it brought everything to the fore.
They gazed at one another. He wondered if the hunger in her eyes, now unleashed, reflected his own. He hoped not. Because aye, if anyone spied upon them…
“Wha’ is it I can do for ye, Mistress Hulda?
” A foolish question, for he knew. He could take her somewhere that they might be quite alone.
Free her from that restrictive clothing she wore.
Remove every braid from her glorious hair.
Run his hand up her leg all the way to the thigh. Plant his mouth at her breast.
She drew a long, quivering breath, one he felt. “I wish to discuss the details of our agreement.”
“Aye, so. The alliance still stands between us, does it no’?”
“It does. Everything still stands between us.”
Her feelings had not changed. The desire, the longing.
“I have been contemplating the end of the season.”
“The season?”
“The season for raiding, when my men will wish to go home.”
Oh.
“And”—he said it very softly so that, indeed, any straining ears would not hear—“ye mean to go wi’ them?”
She did not answer at once. She toyed with her cup of ale. She frowned at it.
Even when she did speak, her words skirted his question. “I have discussed it with Garik, who has heard from the crew that they do not wish to overwinter here.”
“Ah. Was there a possibility of that?” He should have thought.
He should have realized that to be sure, the season would come to an end.
She would go away with her men. They would not have forever together.
He should have insisted on making the most of every moment, of being often in her company even if they did not lie together.
“Not truly, nei. These voyages we go upon, well, the men see them as adventures.”
Murdering and destroying were adventures. Could they be more different?
“With their adventures complete, they want to go home. To…to boast and flaunt their gains, to visit with their families and perhaps—be with women.”
“I see.”
“I wished to discuss with you—”
“When?” He could not prevent the question. “How soon will ye go?”
“It will be a while yet. The end of summer or longer, if the raiding holds good.”
So if she kept on slaughtering his fellow countrymen, he might have the chance to see her. It was insupportable. Unbearable.
She resumed what she’d begun to say. “I wished to discuss with you the duration of our alliance. Did you intend it for but this season? Or will it last into the next?”
Might she return, she meant. Could she sail back to him after the long, unendurable winter and once more take up residence upon that patch of land he’d allotted her?
He gazed into her eyes. “Hulda, so far as I am concerned, our alliance—what lies between us—is forever. Forever, do ye understand? No end, between us.”
He saw it then, the emotion blazing suddenly in her eyes as if the sun had burst through rain clouds. Did tears follow that light? Hard to tell, for she ducked her head over her ale cup.
“That is how I feel also. You will be waiting, if I return?”
If. She could not promise. Naught was certain.
“I will be waiting, Hulda. It feels as if I have always been waiting. Now that I ha’ found ye—touched ye—I will continue to wait as long as need be.” Constancy, he offered her, the constancy of love eternal.
“I wanted you to know, no matter how long the winter, I will not forget. And I wanted to say—” She broke off.
“We canna waste any more time,” he finished for her. “’Tis far too precious.” Now it was he who drew a breath. “I maun be wi’ ye.”
“And I with you. That, above all, is what I came to say.”
“The same place?”
“Ja. When?”
“’Twill prove difficult. There are eyes everywhere. Men constantly on watch.”
“Ja.”
He did not see how he might slip away. If he had, he would have striven to arrange it already, so fiercely did he ache for her. Yet, rashly, he said, “Soon. Soon.”
“I will assign my men to some repairs on Freya. Keep them occupied. I will say I must meet with you here. You do the same, saying you meet me at my camp. We will meet instead at the ruined hut.”
Like two children, Quarrie thought ruefully, weaving stories to deceive their parents. But he nodded. “Ye remember how to find the place?”
“I have walked there a score of times, in my mind. Tonight?”
“Nay. Tomorrow night.”
“If I can wait so long.”
“Hulda.” He wanted to touch her but still did not know whether anyone watched them.
“I will tell my crew we meet to discuss terms for next year.”
“Aye.”
She rose to leave, setting her ale cup aside. Not looking at him, she turned for the doorway.
“ást min,” she whispered, barely above a breath.
He remained her love.
It would have to hold him till they met again.