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Ash clenched his fist and stared at the cold hearth, aware of his many shortcomings. He’d simply never thought it possible for his father to die.
‘I know you loved your father,’ Kara said, breaking the silence. ‘Your father certainly loved you. Weep, if you like. I cried when he breathed his last.’
He raised his face to hers. Tears might come later, but not now. He refused to cry in front of anyone. He remembered her finding him in tears once before when he had run away after his father had beaten him for some trivial offence. She’d wiped his eyes with the corner of her apron. The shedding of tears was an occupation for the youth he used to be, not the man he’d become.
‘I sent word,’ he said, turning back to face her when he knew he could trust his voice to remain steady. ‘I did what was necessary for my honour. My father must have understood.’
She put a hand on her hip. ‘Your honour? Since when does honour come before life? Before family?’
‘For my father, always,’ he said very slowly. There was no need to recount the beatings he’d suffered as a boy when he’d fallen short of his father’s ideals or during the horrors he’d endured in his quest to restore his honour. The thought of returning home without that honour had been unthinkable and, not for the first time, he wished his life had taken a different path. ‘I returned with enough wealth to pay all life debts and tributes I owe. I’m aware of what my father required from any son of his. He beat it into me as a boy.’
Kara slammed her fists together and her eyes blazed with fury. She looked like she had truly become one of the Valkyrie, rather than merely named after one.
‘Your father thought you dead! Dead!’ She stamped her foot. ‘Instead of worrying about your precious honour, you should have returned. Your father wanted you here by his side, running the estate when he became too ill.’
‘Hiding behind my father’s shade, Kara? We both know how he used his fists. Be honest—you wanted me here, but you also wanted me to be a hero. You asked me to return one.’
She slammed her fists together again. ‘I asked you to return.’
‘I sent word when I escaped from the dungeon,’ he explained, watching her intently for any signs of softening and understanding. For months he’d hoped for a word of reprieve, but nothing had arrived. ‘The silence was deafening, but I knew what my father required. Return a hero or die. Pay my debts without his help.’
Kara dipped her head so that her loose hair fell over her face, hiding her expression. Ash watched a tiny heartbeat pulse in the hollow of her throat. Silently he prayed she’d understand what he’d gone through and would forgive him.
‘The tribute was paid years ago, from the estate,’ she said in a hollow voice. ‘Shipwrecks happen because the gods wish it. He wanted his son.’
‘My father wanted to preserve the honour of his dead son as he’d no use for the living one,’ Ash corrected her with an impatient wave of his hand. Didn’t she understand—it had to come from him, from what he’d earned, rather than from what he’d been given? ‘My father should not have suffered for my mistakes. None should have suffered but me.’
‘Are you that wealthy?’ she asked lifting her head so her deep blue gaze met his. ‘Four years to pay everyone. Jaarlshiem is one of the most productive farms in Raumerike.’
‘Yes, I am. My last voyage became a raid on a church filled to the brim with gold and silver. My share provided the final amount and more.’ He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face so he could gaze directly into her eyes. ‘I came home, Kara. You will not want for anything. I know my duty now that my father is dead and I will do it. You are my wife.’
He bent his head, preparing to taste her lips and see if they were as sweet as he remembered. To kiss away her anger like he had done in the past.
Kara twisted out of his grip. Her gaze became fixed on the grinning statue of Loki, which dominated the priest’s antechamber, rather than drowning in the deep blue pools of Ash’s eyes. That god-like Ash had a silver tongue to charm people.
It would be so easy to give in and taste Ash’s lips. Her entire being wanted to. But she knew kissing Ash would be a mistake. Her attraction to Ash was the hangover from a girlish fantasy. He couldn’t just smile at her, touch her hand and make seven years disappear as if they were nothing. Her days of unabashed adoration and ready excuses had finished when her father-in-law had showed her the sort of man Ash truly was. He most definitely had not been the golden hero of her dreams who would magically appear to solve her problems.
