“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 shewore. 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?”
