Emotions fought their way up inside him and through him. He had watched what happened out upon the ocean. All the men had watched.
Now, face to face with Hulda, he did not know what to say to her. He wanted to reach for her hands but knew eyes could still be on them, critical eyes even though all the settlement celebrated.
She spoke first. “I told you I would be your hundr and would defend you as best I might.”
“We owe much to ye and to your men. How did ye manage it? How did ye turn them awa’?”
“We knew them. The man in the lead boat was Ivor, with whom I sailed here before.”
“Was it?” Quarrie grunted. He remembered Ivor all too well.
“Ja. He had come back to avenge Jute, or perhaps he but used that as an excuse to kill and plunder.”
“Then I maun thank ye once and thank ye over again.”
“I am glad it did not come to a fight. Even with our help, I am not sure you could have defended against so many.”
“Ye would ha’ stood wi’ us?”
“I told Ivor so.”
Quarrie lifted his brows. “And your men, would they have gone along wi’ that?”
“They are an honorable lot.” She smiled wryly. “For Norsemen.”
“We will feast them. No’ tonight, for we are still holding a strong guard and keeping watch, bringing the women and bairns who fled back into the settlement. But tomorrow. Bring your men and we shall feast them in gratitude all day long.”
Dare he hope this might begin a new age between them? A chance, mayhap, for them to be together at some time in the future. Man and woman rather than Scot and Norse.
But Hulda shook her head. “We cannot.”
“To be sure, ye will be welcome. We all, there on the shore, saw—”
“And I would be grateful if your people are made aware that it was my men speaking up that convinced the others to turn away.”
“So I will—”
“But now”—she raised her voice slightly to speak over him—“my men have decided to go home.”
“What?”
“They wish to return home, and after the way they stood behind me, I cannot refuse them.”
“Nay, the season is no’ over. Hulda, we ha’ time yet.”
“The season is old. My crew discussed it while we patrolled the waters. They want to reach Avoldsborg before Ivor’s ship does so we might ward off some of the harm he intends.”
“Harm?”
“He will label us traitors. For seeking to defend those who killed Jute. My faðir will not want to hear it of us. None of their families”—she jerked her head back toward the camp—“will.”
“Oh.”
It felt like a knife to the gut. But even here in the soft dark—as dark as ever it got at this time of year—he could see the determination in her eyes.
Among other emotions.
He did not know what to say. He could try to persuade her to talk her men round. To keep raiding yet a while and increase the wealth they’d already gained. But what sort of man would he be to unleash a longboat on his fellow countrymen just so he might be with this woman a wee while longer?
