“He might kill you.”
“I am well armed.” She met his gaze. “Do you doubt I can take care of myself?”
He shook his head but exchanged looks with his brother, Garik, who also began to speak.
Hulda forestalled him. “I will go.”
Faðir Odin himself could not keep her from that boat.
Quarrie brought the small craft alongside her larger one and watched as she swung down to join him. There was barely room for two after all, and she sat with her legs gathered under her, facing him.
He glanced at the faces hanging over Freya’s side. “They worry for ye. There is no need.”
“I know.”
He would not harm her. He would as soon harm himself.
A buzzing set up in her blood as he rowed away. A feeling of pure rightness.
“Where are we bound?”
“I wish, as I say, to show ye somewhat.”
She contented herself with watching him as he rowed. He wore a kilt and a simple tunic open at the throat to reveal a hint of tanned skin and reddish hair. Dampened hide boots. His hair streamed loose over his shoulders and down his back, and his eyes gleamed hazel green.
The best thing ever she had seen.
She wanted to talk to him. Demand words in return. An account of his life. She longed for every detail, but at the same time she wanted to remain silent lest she break the spell of hispresence, the sun upon them, the drops of water from his oars and the expression in his eyes.
What did it mean, that expression?
He rowed strongly around the shoulder of the island and toward the rocky shore, not back to his settlement, nei, but headed for a point farther north. No buildings there, just great outcroppings of rock and the sea running fast up onto them.
Not until they neared the place did she see there was a very narrow inlet that led between the rocks to a shallowvik, or bay. She could not hide her astonishment.
“I did not know this was here.”
“It is difficult to spy from the sea. Do ye think your boat could sail in through here?”
Hulda shot a sharp look at him. “Well, she has a very shallow draught. But it is narrow,” she observed as he took them in. A rough, wild place it was, all stone grown over to gorse.
“This is your land?”
“It is. I thought…” He paused, and their eyes met.
“You would give this over to me? To us.”
“I must tell ye, my people are against any sort o’ alliance.”
But he was not. Else why bring her here?
He shipped the oars and they glided up onto the shingle. Hulda leaped out without waiting for an invitation and stood facing the sea, trying to think despite the emotions streaming through her.
He wanted her here. To be sure, he did. Was it not meant that she should stand here beside him? That she should exist in his company at liberty to touch him. Be with him.
“It is a fine place of concealment,” she said, even though she no longer thought about the small bay or her intentions. Only of the chance to stand beside him this way, to exist in his company.
An impulse stronger than any she had ever known.
