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Sayrid gave the ground a little kick. She wished she knew the proper procedure for taking leave of one’s husband. Just turning her back on him didn’t seem right. Her foot connected with a metal object and sent it sailing through the air. A finely wrought animal-head brooch landed a few feet from her. ‘Where did this come from?’
Hrolf reached her in a single stride. ‘What have you found?’
‘A brooch, half-buried in the mud.’
‘Deliberately dropped?’
Sayrid turned the brooch over. ‘The clasp is broken. Perhaps it fell off without the owner realizing.’
He nodded. ‘Have you seen it before?’
Sayrid shook her head. ‘It is not a design I recognise. Most of the women wear oval brooches, rather than animal-head ones. In Götaland, it is different. There every second woman seemed to be wearing a pair of animal heads.’
‘What makes you so certain it is a woman’s brooch?’
‘The design and the size.’ Sayrid pressed her lips together. She refused to argue with Hrolf, but this made her feel that somehow a woman was involved. ‘We should show this to Kettil. It proves my brother had nothing to do with it. He has never owned a brooch like this. I don’t recognize the craftsmanship.’ She rubbed the back to see if there were any runes to provide a clue. The faint scratches initially made her heart leap, but then it sank. ‘And the runes make no sense unless they are a sort of code.’
‘And you know everything your brother owns?’
‘He tends to show things to me. A silversmith cheated him once in Birka and I had a quiet conversation with the man in question, and Regin’s money was returned.’
Sayrid kept silent about how precisely the conversation was conducted. Her sword and various hangings in the man’s forge did feature prominently. She doubted that the man would try to disguise poor-quality swords again.
‘You have done a lot for your brother. Would he do as much for you?’
She peered at the scratches on the finely wrought gold of the brooch, trying to puzzle out the code. ‘Find the person this belongs to and you will find the culprit.’
‘Why?’
‘If it had been dropped before last night, someone would have picked it up or it would have been washed away by the tide.’
Hrolf raised her chin so that she stared into his eyes. His mouth dropped down on hers and she tasted his mouth. A warm pulse went through her, turning her legs to jelly. She clung to his tunic and drank in his scent. His arms went around her and hauled her close to his body.
Then abruptly it was over and he had to let her go. She touched her faintly swollen lips. ‘Another of your lessons?’
‘It was either kiss you or shake you. I chose the more pleasurable option for the both of us.’ He pocketed the brooch.
He openly caressed the curve of her flank. Her body quivered and he gave a knowing smile. All behind her, a loud clapping erupted. The warmth inside her shrivelled. His touch had been for public consumption, possibly to hide the discovery of the brooch.
She pulled away as her stomach knotted tighter. ‘You need to oversee the inspection. There isn’t time for this sort of thing.’
His thumb rubbed her swollen bottom lip. ‘See my daughter. I will find you. Know that I will always find you.’
‘Is that a threat or a promise?’
He tilted his head. ‘Both.’
She straightened her back. He was using her naked attraction to him to manipulate her. Her loyalties lay with her family and she would find a way to prove Regin’s innocence and rescue Auda as well as teaching this sea king a lesson in humility and having respect for others. ‘You married me, you didn’t enslave me.’
Chapter Eight
Sayrid discovered Inga and her nurse sat on a bench, heads bent, stitching. The embroidered cloth was far finer than anything she could produce. Inga’s needle positively flew.
A wave of inadequacy washed over Sayrid. She was totally wrong for this delicate creature’s mother. Inga needed a mother who was…well…more womanly. All the cruel jibes her stepmother used to throw at her came racing back, preventing her from breathing properly.
She shook her head. This was nonsense. She who had faced far fiercer foes was tempted to retreat and find something else to do? However, she’d given Hrolf her word that it was where she’d be. She hardly wanted him accusing her of colluding with whoever had done that to the ship.
She set her shoulders and strode towards the pair as if she were going into battle. They stopped mid-laugh. Inga pricked her finger. A drop of blood fell on the snow-white cloth. Sayrid stared at it in horror, remembering how her stepmother used to berate her for spoiling fine linen.
