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Hrolf carefully steered the boat around the rocks of the headland, keeping the boat close enough to the shore to follow the contours, but far enough away not to run the risk of ending up on the rocks. The departure had gone smoothly. Kettil had made a good show of it and anyone who was watching would not suspect his real intentions of securing the headland so it could not be used against them.
The wind was strong, but not overly so. They would make Ironfist’s hall before the sun fell.
His new life had begun, the one he’d sworn he’d have on his first battlefield, when he was covered with mud and gore, and one that he swore anew to have at the end of each voyage and battle. He had regained all that his father had lost and more. And he was not about to make the same mistakes his father had. Not with ships and certainly not with women.
He adjusted the line of the boat. The pull he felt towards Sayrid would go once he had properly bedded her. It always did. He knew where the boundaries lay. He had followed his uncle’s advice and made something of his life. Falling prey to the same folly as his father was not going to happen. Except Sayrid kept making him wish the boundaries were not as clear-cut.
He glanced towards where Inga and Sayrid sat. Inga had fallen asleep with her golden curls splayed out on Sayrid’s lap. Sayrid’s face wore a slightly panicked expression as she struggled to keep the little girl comfortable. When she thought no one was looking, she stroked Inga’s head in a maternal way.
His groin tightened just looking at her and the way the sea breeze blew her hair from her face revealing the curve of her neck.
‘Soon,’ he whispered. ‘Soon.’
‘Hrolf!’ Sayrid called out, shifting Inga on to Magda’s lap and standing up. ‘There is something on the starboard. Fast approaching.’
Hrolf quickly glanced towards where Sayrid pointed. A small movement against the blue sea, but all of his muscles tightened. He silently cursed his own inattention. He should have noticed it before Sayrid.
‘Could be nothing. The wind playing on the waves.’ Silently he prayed he was correct. Even Lavrans would not take the risk this far from a friendly harbour.
‘It is moving far too purposefully.’
Hrolf shielded his eyes. Every sinew of his body strained. They were too far from the harbour to make it back and outrunning a fully armed boat would be difficult, but not impossible. Perhaps he should have heeded Kettil’s advice and waited for Lavrans to make his move. But it was far too late for regrets. He would protect everyone on board ship.
A white spout of water caused his neck muscles to ease. His daughter was not going to be in the heat of battle. ‘We have nothing to fear from a pod of whales. They are busy about their business.’
A tiny frown developed between Sayrid’s brows. ‘Whales? Really? At this time of year?’
He watched the magnificent creatures move before steering the boat closer towards the group. ‘Whales can appear at any time.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ Sayrid grabbed his arm.
‘To show you what they look like. Surely you don’t consider them to be sea monsters like Magda?’ He gave a half smile. ‘I know how close I can go. I consider them to be part of my luck, a good omen. I have fought some of my best battles after seeing whales.’
‘I know what whales look like. Occasionally a body washes up after a storm.’ Her face took on a wistful expression, banishing the hardened-warrior face she often wore and giving him a glimpse of the woman she should have been. ‘Once there was even one who was alive. My father said we shouldn’t try to save it, but I had to.’
‘What happened?’ he asked softly, willing her to say more.
‘I kept it wet and waited for the high tide, praying to any god who might be listening. It seemed such a shame to allow a magnificent creature to die without a fight.’ Her eyes blazed defiance. ‘It did go. My father said it was a waste as we could have used the whale for many things. And that the whale would just die out at sea and be good for no one.’
‘But you did it anyway.’
The story told him a great deal about Sayrid’s relationship with her father. He wished that he could have known the brave girl who dared defy one of the most fearsome warriors in Svear before she had developed her armour of indifference to femininity. He would unleash her from that armour, he silently promised. This morning her guard had been down and she had nearly yielded.
‘I like to think it is out there swimming free,’ she admitted with a shrug. ‘I was younger then. I would probably be more inclined to my father’s way of thinking these days.’
‘Perhaps this pod has your whale.’
