Every instinct screamed at him to refuse. He knew she was safest within those walls, where he could see her, protect her, keep her from whatever schemes his enemies might devise.
But he’d also seen firsthand what good trying to cage her would do.
“The village,” he tested the word, keeping his voice level.
“Aye. With Liv.” She rushed on before he could respond. “I’m nae askin’ tae wander about the island alone. Just… tae be useful. Tae dae somethin’ besides sit around waitin fer…” shetrailed off. “I need tae feel like I have a purpose here, Ragnar. Some reason tae exist beyond bein’ yer political obligation.”
“Ye still think that’s all ye are tae me?”
“I dinnae ken what I am tae ye.” Her eyes met his honestly. “But I ken what Iwanttae be.” She paused, searching for words. “I need tae be part of this place if I’m goin’ tae live here. I should ken the people, help them, prove tae them that I’m nae just?—”
“Their enemy?”
She flinched. “I didnae say that.”
He stepped closer, watching her fight the instinct to retreat. “Aye. Ye’re right. If ye’re goin’ tae be the lady of this keep, ye should ken yer people. But ye’re wrong about one thing, Isolda.”
“What?”
His hand moved before his mind could catch up, fingers curling around her wrist—not restraining, just holding, and he could feel her pulse jump beneath his thumb. “Ye already matter here. Whether ye believe it or nae.”
Surprise flashed through her eyes and he had to force himself to release her before the warmth of her could undo him entirely.
“The village is dangerous,” he continued. “Douglas kens we’ve married, and that makes ye a valuable target. If he gets his hands on ye?—”
“I can fight!”
“Och, with what, yer wee collection of butter knives?”
Heat crept up her neck but her chin stayed up. “Aye.”
“Ye’ll nae be goin’ anywhere without guards.” He declared.
Her eyes widened. “Ye’re… agreein’?”
“Did ye want me tae refuse just so ye’d have somethin’ tae fight about?”
“Nay, I just…thank ye.”
He crossed his arms. “Ye’ll have yer freedom—some of it, anyway.”
The smile that broke across her face was faint, but genuine—unguarded in a way he’d rarely seen from her. It transformed her features, softening the wariness that had become her armor.
She’s got a bonnie smile.
“Thank ye,” she said again, softer this time.
“Dinnae make me regret this.”
“I willnae.” She hesitated. Then, “I ken ye’re takin’ a risk, lettin’ me leave the keep. I’ll nae abuse yer trust.”
The moment she disappeared, Ragnar turned toward the armory. Freyr would be expecting him for the patrol debrief, and there were the watchtower inspections he had been meaning to get to.
But he couldn’t focus on any of it, his mind circling back to Isolda. She would be surrounded by his people in the village, but vulnerable despite the guards. The thought made something primal and possessive roar in his chest.
“Move tomorrow’s council meetin’, would ye?” he said as he stepped into the armory.
“Move it where?”
