Chapter Three #2
It had been years since I battled, but I would again, if need be, and well at that.
Once upon a time, my father, Bj?rn, would have wanted it with my prized shield in hand, but those days were behind me, at least for now.
Fortunately, I didn’t cross paths with anyone along the way and slipped through the door of my little cottage unseen shortly thereafter.
I couldn’t help but smile when I found Florie sleeping in my bed and everything warm and toasty, thanks to a fire which was down to embers now. Florie came from a poor farming family and had to share sleeping quarters with many, so I’d urged her to stay here while I was gone, glad to see she had.
“You are back,” she murmured sleepily.
Though I tended to the fire quietly, I wasn’t surprised when she stirred awake. With good reason, she slept as lightly as I. Whether from Norway or Scotland, times were dangerous. It could mean the difference between life and death if one did not remain watchful, especially for women.
“Aye, my friend, but I fear not for long,” I said softly, urging her to get more rest, but she shook her head and crawled out of bed.
“Nay.” She tied back her thick, dark brown hair and wrapped a plaid blanket around her slender shoulders.
“I would rather spend this time with you if ‘tis to be brief.” She looked at me with concern while pouring two cups of mead.
“Given the recent battle, your absence has worried me.” One finely arched eyebrow swept up as she joined me in front of the fire and handed me a cup.
“Then I didnae know what to think when I heard you werenae only remaining in the castle but marrying the laird himself.”
Trusting Florie above all others, I filled her in on everything that had happened over the past few weeks, from seeing after my new brother by marriage, Soren, to saying goodbye to my sister for what I feared was the last time.
I even told her about Lachlann falling ill and his request that I marry Declan when he passed.
“’Tis just as your fate said ‘twould be,” she marveled, rubbing the side of her neck absently and sighing sadly. “I just wish ‘twas not at the expense of Laird Mackay’s life. He’s a fine man.”
“He is,” I agreed, knowing she reflected on how courageous he had been years ago.
Her family's cottage had caught on fire, and he'd helped save them all.
Although it had left the side of her neck scarred, it did nothing to diminish her quiet beauty.
With lightly freckled ivory skin, large cobalt blue eyes, and fetching features, she was sought after by many but had yet to marry.
“And how is Declan taking all of this?” she worried. “I know how much he loves his da. How close they are.”
Where some people might be more upset that they hadn't heard about any of this sooner, given she was one of the few, if only, women who counted Declan as a good friend, Florie tended to take things in stride.
Their friendship was unusual, given that he was higher born and a warrior, while she tended the sick and the land, but they had grown up together and had faced many of the same hardships, which bonded them.
Honestly, given their easy camaraderie, I was surprised they hadn’t married, but then I had a feeling that might have more to do with their mutual friend, Stewart.
Florie may claim he was nothing more than a good friend, like Declan, but I saw the way they eyed one another with desire when they didn’t think the other was looking.
“I would say Declan is in denial of Lachlann possibly passing,” I said softly, answering Florie’s question.
“When he does, I fear ‘twill only increase Declan's inner rage at my people. So ‘tis hard to imagine him seeing through Lachlann’s request or ever growing warmer toward me.” Wishing she had shared with me, I gave her a pointed look. “Especially given the circumstances behind his mother’s death.”
“Lachlann desired that I not share it, so I didnae,” she said, confirming what Lachlann had told me.
Florie gave me a heartfelt look in return to my pointed one.
“I wanted to tell you…help you understand why Declan is how he is. Wanted to share the lad he once was.” She shook her head.
“Because he wasnae against your kind. He loved the Norse here. Spent time with them, just as I did, growing up. He smiled. Laughed.” Her gaze grew shadowed.
Mournful even. “So ‘twas sad to watch his smiles vanish, and his anger grow over the years.”
“I can imagine,” I said gently.
What else could I say? My destiny was to end up with someone who hated my kind, and yet I couldn’t find it in my heart to blame him.
Not really, given what had happened to his mother and what he’d without doubt faced in battle over the years, making me wonder if I should be here at all.
What headway could I truly make not only with Declan but on behalf of those still here? It already felt like a losing battle.
“Yet ‘tis not,” Florie said just as gently, surprising me, as I didn’t realize I had spoken my thoughts aloud.
“No matter the actions of their ancestors, half our villagers are Norse and have been here for generations. They have tilled the land alongside us. Battled with us against the Sassenach. Become family.”
The corners of her mouth tugged up, and her gaze grew whimsical if not certain when she looked at me and went on. “As to you and Declan, he’s long lost the battle of protecting his heart from you. ‘Tis only a matter of time until he has no choice but to surrender.”
“Just as Lachlann says.” I shook my head.
“But ‘tis hard to fathom. I might be able to heal and battle, but he is…” What was he exactly?
What were we? It felt beyond logical understanding.
Beyond even my seer abilities. “Only capable of fighting me with words right now. Only capable of loathing me when I have done him no harm.”
And capable of desiring me.
Of that, I had no doubt any more than I craved him. But what good did desire do if one didn't like the other? We couldn’t find love without finding that first. So what kind of destiny would I have without finding such with Declan? I could hardly imagine.
“Yet you must,” Florie whispered, yet her lips never moved. Not an inch.
Instead, her voice somehow seemed caught on the wind gusting against the turf roof overhead, before seeming to sizzle in the flames upon the hearth.
When my talisman warmed, I realized it had been the Norns speaking of my Wyrd, or God speaking of my destiny, as these Christian Scots might say.
The Norns who spoke of fate and all to follow.
“’Tis just a matter of,” Florie began, her lips moving this time, when a light rap came at the back door.
Understanding she was not to say I was here, we exchanged a look and a brief nod. Lo and behold, I had just ducked out of view when she answered, only for the subject of our conversation to enter.
“Och, lass,” Declan growled, frustration and perhaps even relief in his piercing emerald gaze when it locked on me. “Do you know how dangerous it was for you to wander here alone without my protection?”
“Astrid didnae wander like a meek, helpless lass, Declan,” Florie defended. “She has a blade and knows how to wield it, just as she knows how to be discreet.”
“Discreet would mean remaining safely in my castle where she belongs,” he bit out.
“Am I not allowed a moment alone since all this began?” I cut back, no more afraid of his thunderous look now than I had been the first time he’d aimed it at me.
And as always, I struggled to hide how much he affected me, no matter his expression.
Gesturing toward Florie, I reminded him that not everyone disliked me as much as he did.
“Am I not allowed a moment alone to collect myself with a dear friend?” Narrowing my eyes at him, I shook my head. “Have I not earned that?”
“Earned?” His eyebrows shot up, and his expression darkened even more. “You dinnae know the extent of what you earned in these parts and ‘tis not attention you need right now.” He shook his head once sharply. “Nae at all, yet it seems ‘tis too late now.”
What he said next was not what I wanted to hear.
Instead, it might very well cause a great deal of strife that I never could have seen coming when I’d met a certain dashing highlander last winter.