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She risked a glance at Hrolf, who had sat silent and tense during their progress through the blockade. Her shoulder ached from keeping the boat on the right course, but she had done it.
‘The welcome party has gathered,’ she said carefully, gesturing to where a group of farmworkers stood.
It was far too late for regrets, but she found it impossible to keep the faint hope down that he might actually fall in love with the hall and the surrounding farmland and give her time to prove her worth. She wanted… Sayrid forced her mind from it.
He was a sea king and they were always overly proud. The thought rang false to her. Hrolf might be proud, but he had reason to be. His seamanship was second to none.
‘They appear hostile.’ Hrolf’s face darkened. ‘What is going on, Sayrid? Have your people forgotten the basic laws of hospitality?’
‘Watch and learn.’
Sayrid raised her right arm and made the boat give a hard wriggle to the right, to the left and to the right again before continuing straight. To her relief, the large ship obeyed her touch on the oar and did not overbalance.
‘Is that strictly necessary?’ Hrolf’s face darkened.
‘Yes.’ Sayrid repeated the manoeuvre twice more, each time raising her right arm.
A ragged cry of welcome floated out over the water. Her pair of elkhounds started barking joyfully. The two dogs jumped into the water and started to guide the boat towards a good beaching spot.
‘They know we are friendly before they can see my face.’
‘Impressive. Just like the blockade. You have your people well trained…as long as someone doesn’t betray you.’
She glanced at him. To explain about Regin and Auda would mean explaining about the scars on her back and she wasn’t ready to see the revulsion on his face. She could still remember her stepmother’s malicious pleasure as she rubbed the last of the sand in and how she crowed that even if a man married Sayrid, he would be revolted by what he found when he saw her naked and would never stay with her.
‘And my dogs less so,’ she said instead, pointing towards the pair of elkhounds that she had raised from puppies.
The elkhounds kept up a steady chorus of barks, waking Inga and Magda.
‘They are pleased their mistress is home.’
Hrolf gave the order and the rowers did one more mighty heave before lifting the oars out of the water. Without stopping to think, Sayrid reacted as she always did and jumped into the water, getting ready to guide the boat to the best spot. She stopped just in time and contented herself with ducking her head under the water.
‘I’m glad to be home,’ she cried out to the sky and ducked her head a second time. As she did so, her borrowed tunic slid off her right shoulder.
When she surfaced, Hrolf was beside her. He put his arms about her waist. His eyes reflected the sun-sparkled water. On impulse she leant forward. His mouth tasted of salt, sea air and something indefinably him.
He lifted his mouth and gave her a searching look. There was a question in his eyes as his hand hovered by her neck. She tensed, waiting to see if he noticed her scarring.
He pulled her tunic up and retied the lace. ‘Thank you.’
She blinked rapidly. Had he spotted her scars and pulled back? Silently she cursed that the tunic had slipped off one shoulder. ‘Why?’
‘For being you,’ he murmured. ‘You learn your lessons well. We are being watched.’
Sayrid bit her lip and held back the words explaining that the kiss had been impulsive. ‘Why else would I have kissed you?’
‘I can think of a few reasons.’ His breath fanned her ear. ‘I will tell you them later. Right now, we are on show.’
A tiny fluttering started in her stomach. He couldn’t have seen her scars. She was fine. The trouble was that she wanted him to keep desiring her.
He cleared his throat and raised her arm above her head. ‘Sayrid Avildottar is my bride. I won her.’
Stunned silence greeted the pronouncement. One of the women allowed her cup of ale to spill on the ground. Even the elkhounds sat on the shore with their heads tilted to one side as if waiting for Sayrid’s confirmation.
‘We want to hear it from Sayrid!’ a voice shouted. ‘Why isn’t Regin or Auda with you?’
She started forward. ‘Hrolf Eymundsson defeated me in a sword fight! Auda remains with Kettil and Regin and Blodvin have gone to see my stepmother. Who is going to greet their new lord?’
Various women hurried forward with cups of ale, offering the men a sip before they had advanced more than three paces from the boat.
‘We should have wine, not ale,’ Hrolf thundered.
Sayrid motioned to two of the women who hurried away.
