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.
Chapter Forty-Three
Dark arrived verylate at this time of year, if it came at all. On a clear night, the gloaming might hover in the sky till dawn. Just like at home, where a kind of madness sometimes set in due to the surfeit or lack of light.
It was mad for Hulda to go walking off now, after lying to her men about having another meeting with Quarrie.
We may speak together long,she’d told them.Do not expect me back till late.
Only Garik had looked askance, and he was too tired to object. She’d kept all of them working hard on overhaulingFreya, the whole day long. They would sleep well and hopefully forget about her.
Once she veered from the path that led south to the settlement and climbed into the trees, she appreciated the lingering light, even though this night was not a clear one. Soft clouds gathered and obscured the blade of the moon. It might rain by dawn.
The last time she and Quarrie had been together, it had rained. If it did so again, did it mean the very world wept for them? That their love was doomed?
Anyone but a fool of a woman who had lost her heart would know it was. Apart from stolen moments and those hard come by, how could they ever be together?
She reached the half-ruined hut ahead of him and began to fret. He had changed his mind—he was not coming after all. He did not love her.
Then a shadow moved among the trees that had grown up around the hut. The great bound of her heart told her who it was even before he spoke.
“Hulda, love?”
Love.Ach, ja, well she had told him she loved him. Should he not do the same? Should there be anything the one of them withheld from the other?
She went to him, pressed close into his arms, which closed to embrace her fiercely. The rightness of it, sharp as pain, stole her words and closed her throat.
They did not speak. Did not need to. She inhaled his scent while a confusing series of images tumbled through her mind.
A tall young man standing over a washbasin, but half clad in the bright sunshine. Auburn hair and hazel eyes—not Quarrie’s eyes, but those eyes regarded her the same way Quarrie’s did, with love. He was, and yet he was not Quarrie.
A fair-haired man with gray-green eyes, rowing a tiny boat across the far ocean. Her name on his lips.Bradana.
Another young man with light-brown hair, riding on the back of a pony, racing—racing her with his eyes alight and a smile on his face.
The memories twisted together and convulsed her heart. All of these were the man in her arms who had loved her, and loved her, and loved her again.
How could they do anything except love each other now?
