Page 136 of The Outlaw Viking

Then days went by. And weeks.

Rain walked the lonely fields of the farmstead. She tried desperately to forget the precious love she’d held in her hands for a brief moment in time. And lost.

Then Adam disappeared, and Adela lay listless and moaning in her pallet with a stomach pain. Rain suspected the malady was psychosomatic, that Adela missed her brother so much that her emotional pain had become a physical one.

The late winter snows and blustery winds came, rattling the timbers of the ancient barn, exaggerating Rain’s growing feelings of loneliness and inadequacy and despair. She wanted to return to Jorvik and the Coppergate site so that she could travel back to the future. At least there, in the familiarity of her old life, she might be able to put back together the shattered pieces of her heart. She wanted to cry on her mother’s shoulder, knowing Ruby would understand.

But she could not leave until Adela was better. And Adam returned. Where had the foolish imp gone? Adela said he had an errand to do in Jorvik. That had been almost a week ago.

The cold weather aggravated Ubbi’s arthritis, and he remained in his pallet, apologizing profusely for his weakness. Rain tended lovingly to the dear man who had become like a father to her. She would miss him terribly.

Ella, who came to visit her occasionally, but more likely to cozy up to Ubbi, offered Rain more advice than she cared to hear. “Best ye git yer chin off the ground and look about. There be other fish in the sea besides that Selik. Find yerself another man, I say.”

“Easier said than done,” Rain retorted.

The next week, Rain received a letter from Elgiva. The chatty note gave her news of the court and Elgiva’s growing relationship with the king, then mentioned casually that Selik was still at Winchester. Apparently, he and Athelstan had come to a truce of sorts.

Rain gasped and tears smarted her eyes. Despite all her protestations to the contrary, deep inside, she’d been hoping that Selik would come to his senses. If he still loved her, even if he believed she’d been with Steven willingly, he would have come back to her. He must not love her anymore.

And, if he no longer loved her, she had no future here in the past. Stoically, Rain began to make plans. No matter what Ubbi said, or Gyda, or Ella, Rain would not be dissuaded. She was going home. To the future.

Two days later, on Good Friday, Rain kissed all the children and Ubbi good-bye, hugging them tearfully. She gathered together the dragon brooch she had brought with her, the amber beads Selik had bought for her, and his precious wood carving of a wolf. When he’d given it to her, his words had been, “for remembrance.” She hadn’t realized then how appropriate the sentiment would be.

She walked alone to Jorvik and the Coppergate site where her whole time-travel experience had started.

Almost seven months had passed since the day she’d stood under the scaffolding in the Viking museum in York. She wondered if any time would have passed in the future. Maybe not. Maybe her mother would still be asleep back at the hotel. Maybe she would emerge from the plaster on the floor, dust herself off, and resume her old life as if nothing had ever happened.

Then again, maybe not.

Selik walked toward the Southampton harbor, having finally escaped the Easter revelry in the crowded Winchester castle the day before. He could now make his way back to Northumbria and Rain, at last. After weeks of negotiating, Athelstan had agreed to allow him to stay in Britain on the condition that he pledge his loyalty to the king—not against his fellow Norsemen, but in any other military endeavors. And, of course, the Saxon treasury was now significantly larger. His ship should be ready to sail in a day or two, having sustained some winter damage.

He hoped Rain had received his missive telling her of the king’s insistence that he stay at court until they arrived at this tentative truce, but he was uneasy about the crafty Saxon merchant who had accepted his coin with oily promises of a quick delivery.

As he neared the harbor landing, Selik noticed the longship of Hastein, a Jorvik merchant. Mayhap, if Hastein was returning to Northumbria before Selik’s ship was ready, he would travel with him.

“Selik, just the man I have been looking for,” Hastein called out in a blustery voice. “I have a gift for you.”

His interest jarred, Selik helped Hastein onto the wharf, no easy task since the ship owner was carrying a roll of heavy tapestry which seemed to be moving oddly. And emitting grunting noises.

Noises Selik regretfully recognized.

He stood stone-still. Nay, it could not be so, he told himself with a shake of the head, even as Hastein unrolled the tapestry with a grin and a flourish.

And a cursing Adam came jumping to his feet.

“You bloody cod-sucking cur!” Adam snarled, going for Hastein’s thick belly with hands clawed.

Selik grabbed him by the back of his filthy tunic, which stank of fish, and lifted him off the ground. Cursing and flailing, Adam called Selik and Hastein names even Selik had never heard before.

Hastein explained briefly that the scurvy whelp had stowed away on his ship in a barrel of salted fish. He gladly turned him over to Selik, claiming the boy had nigh turned his sailors to murder with his filthy mouth and arrogant manners. Finally, Selik carried Adam over his shoulder to a nearby clearing, where he dumped him on the ground.

“What are you doing here, Adam?”

Selik sat down and propped his back against a tree, waiting for Adam’s response. True to form, Adam refused to sit and stood over him, hands on hips, glaring furiously.

“I came to see you, you bloody bugger.”

“Watch your language.”