Page 69 of Lord of Fire and Ice

Now that she was faced toward him, he almost wished she wasn’t. Her eyes were filled with recrimination.

“What will happen if one of the children comes down with a fever? Suppose Haukon’s arm takes a turn for the worse. Will Finn know what to do?” she demanded. “Did it occur to you that there are people on Tysnes who need me?”

Did it occur to her that he needed her?

“I suspect you’ve taught a few of the women a thing or two about herbs and cures. Inga, for one, is more capable than you credit her.” A tightness about her mouth appeared and disappeared in flash. He wished he’d chosen a different example, but the point was valid. “The people of your household will be fine.”

Which was more than he could promise about their marriage at the moment.

“Brandr, this is not going to work,” she said with a heavy sigh. “You can’t settle all our disagreements by picking me up and carrying me off.”

“Want to bet?”

A man had to run with his strengths, and Katla made him weak in several ways. It was only fair he should use whatever advantages nature had given him.

“Oh, you’re bigger and stronger than me, I’ll grant you,” she admitted.

At least on the outside. If Katla was sized to match her will, she’d be a giantess.

“Our marriage is but a sapling. It’ll never make a tree if we continue like this. We’ll have no peace if you treat me so.” She rose and glared at him. “And that’s a promise.”

The conversation obviously over, she turned around and plopped on the trunk, faced away from him.

Brandr stared at her back. Where was the soft, pliant woman from last night who’d admitted she cared for him?

The rain shower passed as quickly as it had come. They glided deeper into the fjord, the sides of the mountains enfolding the water in a snug green embrace.

Brandr inhaled deeply. The air smelled of pine and dark earth and the brisk tang of the sea.

The smell of home.

He sighed. If only he was bringing a willing bride home with him.

***

Twilight didn’t linger in the North. By the time Brandr maneuvered the coracle close to the steep bank, stars peeped though the scudding clouds. He leaned over the prow to loop a line around a tall boulder, then dropped the anchor stone off the stern.

“There are a few lights in the hills,” Katla said, pointing in the direction of one. “Will we venture out to see if the crofters can give us shelter?”

Brandr was mildly surprised she initiated a conversation, but he wasn’t about to complain.

“No. I want to speak to my brother about relations with the other families in the fjord before we stray far from the water,” he said. “You’ll allow that things may have changed over five years.”

“We’re asking only for a roof for a single night.”

“Last time I abandoned caution in a port, I ended up with an iron collar.”

She grimaced. “About that. I’m…sorry.”

His brows shot up. The woman constantly surprised him. An apology was the last thing he expected from her.

“Your brothers are the ones who clapped it on me.”

“But my stubbornness kept the collar there,” she admitted. “I shouldn’t have.”

He shrugged. “You wanted revenge for your husband. I understand that. It was a little misplaced, but your motives were sound. Besides, it’s a comfort to me now.”

“A comfort?”