Sissa hurled the dagger to the ground and stalked back towards the roundhouse, her throat taut with anger as she wrenched the leather curtain aside and flung herself face-down on to the pile of furs that served as a bed. To her horror, there were tears welling in her eyes.
How could he? After everything that she’d done for him, sheltering and feeding and nursing him when he’d been so close to death, was this really how he repaid her? With the kind of talk that made her blood run hot and cold at the same time? There were so many conflicting emotions swirling in her chest that she didn’t know which was dominant. Anger, confusion, want, need... She felt strung tight, vibrating with all of them at once. She didn’t want to think about all the things he’d said he could do to her body either, but when she did... There was an ache in the pit of her stomach and between her thighs that made her insides feel as if they were turning to liquid.
She rolled on to her back, struggling to control the onslaught of emotion. It had been so long since anyone had touched her that just the thought of it was painful. For all her other kindnesses, Coblaith had never held or embraced her, even during the many long nights when she’d cried herself to sleep. The last caress she remembered was the touch of her mother’s hand on her cheek...
The tears spilled over, stinging her eyes, coursing down her cheeks and trickling into the furs. The warrior’s words had felt cruel, evoking a human connection that she would never, could never, have with anyone again. But, worst of all, he’d broken through her defences, provoking her into speech after five years of silence. Combined with her singing earlier, the effort had made her mouth feel stretched and sore, as if her tongue were swollen.
‘I’m sorry!’ She heard his voice outside again, calling to her. She’d thought—hoped—he’d been on the verge of fainting, but apparently she hadn’t hit him hard enough. Did the man never shut up?
‘I shouldn’t have said those things. It was wrong of me,’ he called again, as if he truly thought an apology was enough.
She rolled on to her side to watch the leather curtain, inwardly vowing that if he touched as much as a corner then she’d grab the nearest available object—in this case an iron poker beside the hearth—and bring it down over his head.
‘What can I do to make things right?’
Fortunately for him, the curtain didn’t move. Her itching fingers almost wished it would. The thought of a poker hitting his head was eminently satisfying.
‘I already told you to go!’ she shouted back. ‘I don’t want you to repay me!’
‘That’s not the reason.’ His voice sounded strained. ‘I mean, I want to repay you, but that’s not the only reason I can’t go.’
‘What else can there be?’ She felt almost desperate now. ‘Why can’t you just leave me alone?’
‘Because I’ve nowhere else to go.’
She drew her brows together, rubbing her palms over her cheeks as she considered the words. Nowhere else to go... She knew how that felt, but it was hard to imagine this warrior not belonging somewhere. Judging by the quality of his mail shirt and weapons, not to mention his arm rings, he was a man of reasonable wealth and standing. How could he not belong somewhere? She rolled to a sitting position, took a calming breath, stood up and then stepped back outside. He was sitting on the ground a few feet away, as if he’d staggered so far and then collapsed, ashen-faced and looking as though he were about to vomit. Which might have given her some satisfaction if he hadn’t been so close to her roundhouse.
‘Here.’ She reached for an empty pot and handed it to him. ‘Put your head between your legs.’
‘Thank you.’ He did as she told him, draping his forearms over his knees.
‘Don’t thank me. I might still hit you again.’ She scowled threateningly. ‘What do you mean, nowhere else to go? Aren’t you one of the new settlers?’
‘No. I came from Alba to find someone.’ He gave a bitter-sounding laugh. ‘As you can see, they weren’t very happy to see me.’
‘Because you wouldn’t stop talking?’
‘Something like that.’ He looked up again, his lips twitching in a pained kind of smile. ‘Perhaps I should have kept my mouth shut, but I came here to ask questions, to discover the truth about something that happened three years ago.’
‘What something?’
A shadow passed over his face. ‘It’s a long story.’
‘I have time, Norseman.’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t talk about it, but I also can’t leave until I’m able to do what I came here to get done. It’s important.’
‘Really?’ She pursed her lips. At least she’d found some way to shut him up, but if he wouldn’t give her the details then she saw no reason to let him stay. On the other hand, perhaps the words he’d muttered in his sleep were explanation enough...
‘How do I know you won’t hurt me?’ She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. ‘I’ve no idea who you are.’
‘I won’t hurt you, I swear it. I’m Danr Sigurdsson, bastard son of Jarl Sigurd of Maerr.’
‘Jarl?’
‘I told you, it’s a long story. Here.’ He unfastened his sword belt and pushed it across the ground to her. ‘Take my weapons. If I do anything at all you don’t like, then you can set your wolves on me.’
‘Aren’t you afraid I might anyway?’
‘No. You saved my life. That kind of thing makes me trust a person.’
She made a sceptical sound, hardening her heart despite the words. ‘Did you come to Skíð alone?’
‘Yes. My boat’s hidden, but I can’t row myself back to the mainland with an injured arm and if I go near a village then the person who did this will find me and finish what they started. They’re probably already out looking for me. I need somewhere to shelter until I’m able to defend myself again.’ He winced and sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Moon’s eye, but you have a strong arm, woman.’
‘I barely touched you.’ She threw a contemptuous glance at the linen binding the poultice. There was a red stain behind it, but not much. The blood looked as if it were already clotting, which meant that whatever damage she’d done was only minor. If what he was saying was true, however, then she could hurt him far more by sending him away. If he couldn’t go to one of the villages—and they were still few and far between—then he’d have a hard time surviving on his own and she’d be condemning him to more suffering. Frankly, she might as well not have bothered saving him in the first place. But she was still angry and she still didn’t want him there! Of all the people she might have found and helped, why did it have to be a warrior?
‘I’m telling the truth, I swear it.’ He seemed to sense her hesitation.
She rolled her eyes to the sky and then sniffed the air, her mouth watering suddenly at the scent of his stew. It smelt delicious. Perhaps he hadn’t lied about being a good cook, after all. In which case, even if healing him was going to be a longer task than she’d anticipated, perhaps there might be one consolation...
‘We should eat,’ she said decisively, scooping some of the stew into a bowl and sitting down on the opposite side of the fire pit.
‘Does that mean you’ll let me stay?’ He gave her a searching glance.
‘For tonight. Since you cooked.’
‘Thank you. And tomorrow, if you let me stay longer, I’ll make myself useful. I’ll keep out of your way and there’ll be no more talk like before, I promise.’
‘Good, or I’ll cut your arm off next time.’ She took a mouthful of stew and then looked up at him in surprise. It tasted even better than it smelled, dissolving in succulent chunks on her tongue. She couldn’t imagine what he’d done to it, especially considering the paucity of the ingredients, but she hadn’t tasted anything so good since...she couldn’t remember when.
‘What do you think?’ He was watching her eagerly, she realised, as if he were actually keen to hear her opinion.
‘Not bad.’ She refused to compliment him. ‘But I still don’t want you here, Norseman.’
‘I know.’
‘I don’t like people, especially warriors. That’s why I live alone.’
‘I understand, but...’ he spread his hands out in appeal ‘...please?’
‘I’ll think about it.’ She ladled out another spoonful, picked up his sword belt and started towards her roundhouse. ‘You can sleep beside the fire tonight. It’s not going to rain.’
‘Thank you. I appreciate it.’
‘Hmm.’ She ignored his words of gratitude, whistling for Tove and Halvar to follow her instead. Tove got up obediently, but Halvar only lifted his head briefly before lowering it back on to his paws.
‘Is he going to sleep out here, too?’ The warrior sounded faintly concerned.
‘It looks that way.’ She stopped in her doorway and shrugged. ‘If you don’t like it, you know what you can do.’
‘I need logs.’ Sissa dropped an axe on to the ground beside the warrior Danr’s head. It landed with a satisfyingly loud thump, startling him awake.
‘What? What’s happening?’ He shot upright, reaching for his absent sword, and then groaned at the manoeuvre.
‘Logs,’ she repeated, refusing to show any sign of sympathy. If he really wanted to stay then she had no intention of making life easy for him. Quite the opposite, in fact, no matter how handsome he looked, with his blond hair sticking out at wild angles around his ridiculously sculpted cheekbones. And how was it possible to have eyes quite so blue and piercing? ‘See that pile of branches over there? They need chopping into logs. Do you think you can manage that?’
‘If that’s what you want.’ He blinked a few times, as if he were still trying to wake up. ‘It might take me a little longer than usual, but I’ll get it done.’
‘Good, but first you can wash. You smell terrible.’
‘And good morning to you, too...’ he lifted his left shoulder and sniffed ‘...although you might have a point.’
‘I’m surprised Halvar could bear to sleep so close to you.’ She glared at the wolf who only stood up, yawned and stretched.
‘Is that what you call him, Halvar?’
‘Yes. It means guardian of the rock. He came down from the mountain a year ago, so it seemed fitting.’
‘Well, I might smell, but he’s loud.’ Danr chuckled. ‘I never knew that wolves snored.’
‘Aren’t you afraid of him?’ She looked between the pair of them curiously. ‘Most people are terrified by his size.’
‘So was I to begin with, but I decided that if he was going to eat me then he would probably have done it by now.’
‘Maybe he’s not hungry yet.’
‘Ah, well, time will tell, I suppose.’
She lifted an eyebrow, irritated by his cheeriness. ‘You know, he’s only using you to make a point.’
‘Really?’ He looked interested. ‘What point?’
‘That he’s only here under protest. Tove is his mate. If he had his way, they’d go off into the forest together.’
Hearing her name, the female wolf emerged from the roundhouse, looked around suspiciously for a few moments, then trotted across the clearing to nuzzle Halvar’s nose.
‘I see what you mean.’ Danr grinned. ‘Why won’t she go with him?’
‘Because I raised her from a cub and she’s loyal to me. She knows I’d be all alone if she left.’ Sissa bit her lip on the last words. They were more revealing than she’d intended.
‘So he’s jealous of you?’
‘Perhaps.’ She tossed her head. ‘But mostly he’s sulking. That’s the only reason he stayed with you last night. It’s probably why he didn’t eat you either.’
Danr reached out and placed a hand tentatively on Halvar’s neck, tickling him behind his ears. ‘Well, never mind that, we can still be friends, can’t we, boy?’
Sissa clenched her jaw, annoyed that the wolf wasn’t ripping his arm off. Halvar didn’t often let her touch him, let alone anyone else, but now his eyes were half-closed as if he were actually enjoying the attention.
‘Why is your hair wet?’ Danr asked suddenly, as if he’d only just noticed her appearance.
‘Because I’ve been bathing. There’s a gorge through those trees where several streams run together.’
‘Isn’t the water cold?’
‘It’s come down from the mountain. Of course it’s cold.’ She threw him a withering look along with a blanket. ‘Use this to dry yourself afterwards and hang it up when you’re finished.’ She pointed towards a length of cord tied between two trees. ‘You’ll need to wash your clothes, too.’
‘I would.’ He glanced up at the sky dubiously. ‘Only I doubt they’ll dry in this weather and I don’t have anything else to wear. I dropped my pack somewhere in the forest.’ He made a face. ‘I’m afraid it’s either a bad smell or the sight of me chopping wood naked, which I’m disinclined to do with an injured arm. Mistakes could be made.’
‘Oh, by the stars...’
Sissa rolled her eyes and went back inside the roundhouse, rummaging in one of her coffers until she found an old pair of trousers and tunic. They hadn’t been worn in so long that the wool smelt faintly musty, but it was still a better alternative than smelling him. As for seeing him naked... She shook her head before her imagination ran riot.
‘Here.’ She carried the clothes back outside and dropped them in front of him. ‘You can wear these. They belonged to someone I once knew,’ she added when he looked at her enquiringly.
‘I see.’ He looked as if he were stopping himself from asking more. ‘In that case, I appreciate your letting me borrow them.’
‘Hmm. Try not to get your shoulder wet.’
‘Whatever you say. Wash, change, hang clothes, chop wood.’ He gave her a hopeful look. ‘Does this mean I can stay for a while?’
‘It means you can stay for today. And when you’re finished with all that, you can collect some more branches, but not from around here. Go deeper into the forest.’ She picked up a basket and reached for her spear. ‘I’ll be back later with food. You can cook again.’
‘With pleasure.’ He threw his fur blanket aside and stood up. ‘What about the wolves?’
‘They go wherever they want.’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘But that won’t bother you, will it? Since you’re such good friends now...’
‘So we are.’ He tipped his head, acknowledging the hit.
‘But you can have your sword back.’ She gestured to where she’d left his sword belt outside the roundhouse. ‘Since there are other dangers in the forest. Just know that if you use a weapon on one of my wolves, I’ll kill you myself.’
‘Understood.’ He nodded. ‘Although you still haven’t told me your name...?’
She hesitated, her gaze latching on to his for a few seconds. He was smiling the same lopsided smile he’d worn yesterday. It made her chest feel oddly tight and tremulous, as if just the sight of it had some power to constrict her breathing, although something about it struck her as a little too practised. She had the feeling that he knew exactly what effect it caused. The sight of his bare chest where his tunic hung open wasn’t exactly helping either. It would have been easier if either his face or physique had been a little less eye-catching, but they were both equally impressive. Even with an arm’s length between them she was altogether too aware of him, of his broad shoulders, his musky scent, his powerful abdominal muscles, the sprinkling of pale hair over his chest... But he’d asked her a question, hadn’t he? Something about her name?
No, she hadn’t told him her name. She hadn’t heard it spoken aloud for so long that it seemed to belong to another lifetime. The last person who’d called her by her name had been her mother, her beautiful, grey-eyed mother who’d held her close and then told her to run just minutes before a warrior had cut her down in cold blood... A warrior! The tremulous feeling faded, replaced by a block of cold stone.
‘No, I didn’t.’ She turned towards the forest. ‘Pick one. I don’t care.’