Now she wondered. Did Garik not wish to see his Morag? Ach, he was stronger, then, than she.
She felt as if she had spun out her endurance for being without Quarrie as long as she could, without dying. And now,when they’d made love once, when she knew she could have him again, she reached to satisfy the even deeper need of confiding in him.
“Ja. And Garik thinks… He thinks most of them will not be interested in returning, come spring.”
He drew a quick breath, one she felt through her whole body, which told her he comprehended the implications. When she sailed away from here at the end of the season, it would cost both of them dear, but knowing she would not return…
“Garik says he would be willing to come, and as the navigator, he is vital to me. I can try to get another crew. ButFreyais one boat alone. She is not large. I was able to gather this crew because they were young and largely unproven.”
“That is not so, now.”
“Nei, it is not.”
“Surely”—his gaze held hers—“they feel some loyalty to ye.”
“They should, ja.” Hulda frowned over it. “I did give them a chance. And they will sail home with a measure of riches. But they have not liked all that has happened here.”
“Our alliance, ye mean.”
“And,” she concluded bitterly, “there is little glory in sailing for a woman.”
His hands traveled to her waist and cradled her. Grief showed in his eyes.
She reiterated, “I will do my best to hire another crew. But I—I cannot promise. Without a crew, I cannot return.”
Emotions flickered through his eyes like light on water. That grief. Protest. Terror. Love. Hulda understood them all because she also experienced them all.
“I wish,” she said, “I wish I could promise to return.”
“I wish,” he whispered just as softly, “ye could stay.”
“Stay when the rest of them leave, you mean?” Her heart began to pound as she considered it. It would meansurrendering her life. All she had been. Spending the remainder of it among people who feared and despised her.
Not that she would refuse to do so, for him.
“Are you asking me to stay with you?”
“I am. Become my wife.”
All the breath left Hulda’s body in a rush. She fought to regain it, along with her thoughts. “Your folk would never accept it.” A Norsewoman standing at their head? The mother of their future chief?
“I ha’ lived my entire life for this clan and will live for it every day I ha’ to come. May I no’ ha’ this one thing?”
This one thing he needed, he meant. This fundamental thing that they both needed.
But people, as Hulda well knew, were selfish. They wanted what they wanted. Her crew did even though, ja, they owed her for this chance she’d offered them.
Just as, in a way, she owed them.
With regret, she shook her head. “I want to. I want nothing more than to be your wife. But I cannot give you that promise, either. For me not to return home—well, my faðir has already lost his son; my móðir has. Should they lose their dottir also without explanation? Faðir—he is a powerful man. He is capable of sending a force to attack this place out of revenge. Out of spite.”
“He would do that? If your crew, if Garik told him ye chose to stay?”
“So that I might wed with the man who killed his son?”
“My father did that, not me.”
“No better.” A wry smile twisted her lips and she shook her head again. “Nei, I must go home. Talk to him, and to Móðir. See if I can make explanations and get her on my side. Faðir listens to her, sometimes.”
