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She could not stand the tension any longer. “Why are you here, Sidroc?” And she glanced meaningfully at Runa as if to say, Is it not enough that I left you the child of my heart?
Runa whispered loud enough for even the seamen down at the fjord to hear, “Now, Father? Now?”
“Yea, sweetling. Now,” he said.
Runa turned her attention to Drifa. “We have come to pro ... pro ...” Runa looked to her father for help.
“Propose.” He held Drifa’s eyes as he spoke.
Drifa whimpered.
“We want you to marry us,” Runa explained, as if Drifa hadn’t understood.
Drifa tilted her head in question at Sidroc. Something was not making sense here. “Where is your mistress? Or should I say mistresses?”
“Women? More than one? At one time? Tsk, tsk, tsk! You flatter me.” He shook his head at her. “If you refer to Ianthe and Isobel, they were on their way to Britain. As they always intended. But when they heard about the wedding—the potential wedding—they delayed, in case you wanted them there.”
“Why would I marry you, Sidroc?” Foolish question! But then I am feeling foolish.
“I know, I know the answer to that, Mother.” Runa was jumping up and down. She glanced up at her father, as if looking for a cue.
“Go ahead, rosebud,” he said.
Runa preened. “Because we love you.”
Drifa let out a sob and turned tearful eyes to Sidroc.
He smiled again, one of those I-can-make-you-do-anything smiles, and said, “Because I love you.”
She was so mad at him for so many things.
He was so mad at her for so many things.
But what did it matter if he loved her?
“Well, Drifa, are you suddenly without words? Pray Odin the sky does not fall down.”
She launched herself at him, and he caught both her and Runa in an embrace. Against his neck, she whispered, “I love you, too.”
And the lout said, “I know.”
