Chapter Fifteen #2
“You didn’t choose me, Gemma. I am just the one suspicious enough to watch you constantly and to follow you here.”
“You could have let us go, knowing we would most likely perish.”
Arne sighed and pulled his hands away, then placed them on her shoulders. “I could, but that was not what worried me. What worried me was that you were going to meet with your kinsmen, bring soldiers to Kirkjaster. Tell them how to attack us most effectively.”
She laughed, but broke off sharply when she realised he was serious. “And how would I know about that?”
“I have seen you watching, often when we do guard duty. You’ve been nearby when Tormod and my brothers talked.”
“And… and you thought I was spying on you? For… military knowledge?”
“Can you honestly say you were not?”
“Yes. Mostly when I was watching you… it was because you were watching me, watching Caelin. At first I was worried you meant him harm—”
He gasped, and she frowned at him.
“And all the other times you were watching me?”
She blushed and turned away. “I was not watching to spy.”
“No? Then… why?”
“I don’t know. I… When I first saw you and Ulf on the shore at Car Cadell, when Ylva told you about Bjorn… your love for your brother was clear. You thought he would die. And you blamed us. But you fulfilled your duty to Lord Cenydd and took us to Kirkjaster.”
Arne nodded. Every word she said was true.
“When Cenydd bowed to me, I could see you were wondering about who I was, but you didn’t ask.
Simply took us to Kirkjaster as you’d been ordered.
Then when we arrived in Kirkjaster and you took us into the hall, Tormod and Aoife met us there.
Caelin and I sat at a table and I saw the moment Aoife told you who I was, how your expression changed, hardened.
I heard your mother cry out in anguish when she heard her oldest son was most likely dead.
And it seemed like it was my fault, although the battle had little to do with us. ”
“For what it is worth, my feelings changed.”
She looked at him in disbelief. “Did they?”
“Bjorn had no regrets about saving you. And he does not hold you responsible for the battle on the beach. He says it would have happened whether you had been with them or not. It was not about you.”
“Marcant and Wyn had no idea we were on the byrthing. None of the Britons did. Not even Merfyn who fought alongside your brother.”
“So, the Britons do not know yet that it was Bjorn and Ylva who rescued you from Alt Clut?”
“They only rescued us after I got myself and Caelin out of Alt Clut itself.” She frowned and pouted.
He grinned at her. “No, so I am told. You confound my expectations at all turns. Yet my own past haunts me and I find I cannot put it aside.”
“Not even for the time we have left here?”
“Perhaps I can do that,” he said.
She stood on her tiptoes and leaned in to kiss him. His arm tightened around her and he drew her close.
“Mama?”
They parted abruptly at Caelin’s voice, and she crouched down beside her son.
“Look, Mama, their eyes are open. Properly open.”
“Let me see.”
Arne knelt beside them and watched as she stroked each of the cubs. Their little noses sniffed the air, and they twisted around, trying to reach her, smelling the food on her fingers.
“You are doing a good job, Caelin. Let us try them with some broth from a spoon. I will bring you one.”
Arne stood and reached for a clean spoon, then handed it to her to prevent her from having to stand up.
Their fingers brushed as she took it and a small smile curved her lips.
He noticed Caelin staring at them, too, but the boy turned away when one of the cubs yipped, once again more interested in them than in whatever the adults were doing.
Arne hoped Caelin would not understand what had happened between himself and Gemma while they were here.
He would need to ensure the boy knew never to speak of it.
The last thing he wanted was for her to suffer because of what they had done together.
As it was, many would suspect, but few would dare to ask either of them directly.
For a moment, he wondered if he should ask her to go to the Norselands with him.
They could live well there, maybe even in his former home, and in relative peace and safety.
But there was one more option to consider although he kept coming back to the fact she was a princess.
Her son was due to inherit substantial lands.
Surely they would not want to give those up forever?
Especially for a damaged man like him. She had said she didn’t care about his scars and had been patient with him, taken great care with him.
Bolstered his fragile confidence and let him know he was not as broken as he’d thought.
The memory of her mouth on him had an instant response in his groin. He smiled.
“What?” She was watching him and he wondered what she saw when she looked at him now.
“I was just thinking about last night.”
“Oh.” She lowered her gaze, but he reached for her and helped her up.
Her face had become so familiar to him over the past few months, but now there was something different in her expression.
The wariness had gone, replaced by something else.
Some other worry. There was so much he wanted to say, but he was unsure how to form those thoughts into words.
Perhaps some time alone would help him understand his feelings.
“I am going to get more wood,” he said. “We should make sure we have enough to last us throughout the night.” The cold air and physical exercise would hopefully help with the newly awakened feelings within him.
Feelings he had pushed down for too long, thinking that he might fail.
What sort of warrior was he who didn’t even try in case he failed?
Of course, as a warrior if you tried and failed, then you died and did not have to live with it.
With sex, if you tried and failed, there was always a partner to—
He shuddered as his mind flashed back once more to Ingrid’s laughter as she cut him in the cabin. He turned abruptly, but Gemma grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Her concerned face appeared in front of him, no matter which way he turned.
“Whatever you thought of just now, let it go. It is the past. It does not matter here and now. You are alive. You are whole.”
“I am damaged.”
“We are all damaged.”
He hugged her before he grabbed his cloak and headed outside, her words following him despite the closed door. No woman, let alone a princess, would choose a man such as him if there was any other choice – no matter what she said.
He hefted his axe and marched to the woods.
It was too much of a temptation to remain in the shieling with her.
She was too much of a temptation. Physical activity would help to distract him from thoughts of things he could never have, so he set to work, cutting down a number of large branches and dragging them back to the woodshed next to the shieling.
There were still dry logs ready for splitting, but he’d need to replace the larger logs he’d split with fresh ones, and leave them to dry out.
Large flakes of snow began to fall from the heavy, white sky.
It would not be long before another blizzard set in.
Soon, the sound of the axe hitting the wood echoed dully from the snow-covered mountains surrounding him and for now the air was fresh.
The familiar feel of the axe in his hands reassured him, and the regular motions of placing the wood on the block then chopping it relaxed him, made him feel like he was accomplishing something.
He heard a creak and turned to see Gemma’s cloaked figure at the door of the shieling, watching him.
He swung the axe. It thudded into the log in front of him, then he lifted it and knocked it until the log split.
As he bent to pick up the log to split it further, he wiped the sweat from his brow.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gemma still leaning against the doorway, her gaze never leaving him, and although his skin was mostly covered, he gloried in the feeling of a woman looking at him the way she was at that moment.
He prayed for more snow.