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‘Where are you going?’ Auda asked, quite clearly changing the subject away from her problems with Blodvin. ‘I’d expected you to stay in bed far longer.’
Sayrid winced as the heat in her cheeks increased. ‘You’re unmarried, Auda.’
‘What does that have to do with anything?’ Auda rolled her eyes upwards. ‘You’d have to be blind, deaf or daft not to know what passes between a man and woman. And I’m none of those things. The way you two kissed at the wedding…made me think…that’s all.’
‘The interrogation about my wedding night will wait until I’ve finished at the harbour. Hrolf was called away because of some trouble.’ Sayrid silently vowed that there would never be a good time to discuss it. Some things remained private.
‘Do you think Regin had anything to do with it?’
Sayrid looked over Auda’s shoulder towards the harbour. She could just see the dragon prows bobbing gently in the oncoming tide. Ships were sacred. They ensured the community could survive through trade. Harming one of them would cause the gods to be angry. ‘He gave me his word last night.’
Auda’s shoulders sagged. ‘That is good. If Regin gives his word, he does keep it.’
‘The trouble is making everyone else believe it.’ Sayrid watched the sunlight play on the waves. ‘Particularly if Regin was unwise in his choice of words before he so hastily departed.’
‘I will do what I can to help.’ Auda reached out a quivering hand. Sayrid took it and noticed that it was as cold as ice. ‘I’d feel happier if he had stayed.’
‘I would as well,’ Sayrid admitted. ‘But tell anyone I said that and I will deny it.’
* * *
‘Do you have any idea of who might have done this?’ Kettil asked when Hrolf showed him the damage to the hull.
‘Unfortunately I was in bed with my bride and the culprit did not leave any clues behind.’ Hrolf fixed the jaarl with a stare. ‘But enough people knew I wanted to depart for my new hall as soon as possible.’
He wanted to tear whoever had endangered their lives apart with his bare hands, but until he had solid proof Hrolf contented himself with flexing his fingers.
‘There was the trouble with Regin Avilson at the feast,’ Bragi said. ‘He was drunk and made threats.’
The jaarl bristled. ‘Regin Avilson might be a fool, but he’d never harm his sister. He owes her too much. Ironfist despised the boy, but he was secretly proud of Sayrid.’
Hrolf frowned. Ironfist was probably not an ironic name. It would explain a great deal if he had beaten his children. Silently he promised to learn more about Sayrid’s past. And then he gave a wry smile. How his uncle would have laughed and repeated his oft-quoted phrase—women were for pleasure only. Caring was the start of the end for his father. It had dulled his edge, according to his uncle.
‘Kettil! Kettil!’ Sayrid strode towards them. She was taking too-big steps and the dress was plastered against her legs, revealing rather more curve of her calf than before. A deep primitive urge to murder any man who looked at her filled Hrolf. He struggled to contain his annoyance at himself. Lovesick was certainly something that he refused to become. He did not possess a jealous bone in his body.
‘If your wife had looked like that when she was a shield maiden, I would have been too busy noticing her curves to listen to her counsel,’ Kettil said in a low voice.
Hrolf dragged his eyes away from the way the wind whipped the skirt about Sayrid’s calves. The memory of their silken length tangled with his this morning was seared deep on his soul. And it bothered him that all the other men were now staring at her.
His plan of teaching Sayrid a lesson had rebounded on him. She’d warned that she didn’t possess any other dresses. After this, he’d be magnanimous and allow her to change into her trousers and tunic—at least they would cover up her assets. There would be no reason to explain the true reason behind his change of heart.
‘Here I find you.’ Sayrid hurried towards where Hrolf stood talking to Kettil.
‘Why are you here, Sayrid?’ Hrolf drew his brows together, every inch the terrifying sea king of legend.
Sayrid set her jaw. Looks never cowed her.
‘You were longer than I thought you would be, husband.’ She waved an airy hand, which caused her cloak to open. At his darker look, she clutched it shut. The gown was far worse now than when she had started out. The barest thread kept it up. She was going to need Auda’s needle soon. With Hrolf in this mood, there was no way she could ask about another set of clothes or confess about Blodvin’s bonfire of her old ones. ‘It is our wedding morning after all.’
