Was that what she wanted? Sure, he made her heart pound and her stomach flutter. He held her thoughts captive for much of the day, and she could hardly wait to steal away with him for a moment when the opportunity presented itself. But was that enough? Was a physical desire for a man reason enough to leave her home and risk a life of isolation from her people?
The officialflytinghad ended, though onlookers happily took up the challenge of continuing the game amongst themselves—Sitric’s men foremost among them. Astrid rose, overwhelmed and exhausted and in need of somewhere quiet to think. She stepped away from the table and took several steps before someone touched her elbow, seeking her attention.
Her first thought was that it was Cormac. Her second was to berate herself over the first. Upon turning around, she discovered it was Finn.
Tall—as were all the Fianna—and blonde with a pleasing face, Astrid couldn’t have been happier that this was the man who’d married her cousin. He had a gentle heart and a gentler soul, and he would make a good partner for Eva.
“I don’t know what happened.” He pitched his voice low.
“He needed training,” Astrid replied, matching his tone. “It’s my fault.”
Finn smiled. “I don’t mean tonight. I mean between the two of you. He doesn’t tell us anything, but he’s grown even quieter of late, his manner more brooding.”
“Oh.” Astrid didn’t know what to say to that. What did he think was going on? Did he believe them to be lovers? Or was he speaking of their bargain?
“I don’t know what happened, but I do know he cares for you. He doesn’t speak his heart, but his actions say enough.”
It was an odd thing to say, even given the circumstances. “His actions?”
“He’s been learningNorr?na.”
Astrid blinked several times, feeling her cheeks warm.
“He came to me and asked me to teach him. He wouldn’t say why, but I’d have to be a fool not to guess.”
Indeed. “Thank you,” she managed. “I had no idea.”
“If I know Cormac, he won’t tell you until he learns enough to speak it. And don’t tell him I said anything—he’d be furious.”
“I won’t,” she promised.
They parted ways, Finn returning to the Fianna and Astrid wandering to her room and collapsing on her bed in a pile of doubt and confusion. That man was learning her language. He was competing in a tournament for her.
And he was coming dangerously close to winning more than just the games.
Chapter Twenty-One
Uncertainty tore atAstrid as she watched the men walk toward the frothing sea of Dyflin’s harbor. Ships with tall masts and colorful cloth sails bobbed like children’s toys at the whims of the water. She dreaded today’s contest, though it would be a good metric for measuring the men’s suitability, at least in any way that mattered to an Ostman. Sailing and swimming were a way of life, necessary skills to seek new lands and goviking. The ability to defend oneself in the water held as much import as on land.
The contest appeared simple. The men would dive into the water and swim out toward the first rocks that jutted from the water’s surface. The distance was about seven furlongs and not too strenuous, even for someone who hadn’t trained at swimming. The trick lay in reaching the stone and returning to the shore safely, for the men were told that it was expected and encouraged to thwart one another along the route. Sitric’s men had demonstrated the contest for them this morning and now, as clouds threatened over the harbor, the men stripped off their shirts and prepared to dive into the angry sea. The currents alone would prove a challenge, and that was to say nothing of the other men.
Astrid’s gut insisted that she cheer on Cormac, in spite of that kiss. Oh, aye, she’d thought about little else besides that night. The passion she’d found within herself had scared her, bringing to the surface fears she hadn’t realized she even held. So whileher first instinct was to cheer on her champion and stick to their agreement, her heart warned that she played a dangerous game. Though it may be fun while it lasted, it held the potential to end in disaster. Her mind rode the midline, telling her that either way, she’d need to make a decision and sacrifice one thing or another. Perhaps she could simply jump into the water herself, swim away from here, and avoid a marriage entirely, she mused as the men prepared to start the race.
She identified Cormac in the lineup of swimmers by his broad shoulders, towering height, and the sheer volume of rippling muscle across his back. The men dove fearlessly into the choppy waters and, after but a few strokes, the true contest began.
Sláine sat alongside Sitric and Astrid in a place of honor with the family. Catrin held forth a row behind them, chatting with one of Sitric’s guardsmen.
“How are you enjoying your time in Dyflin?” Astrid asked Sláine.
Sitric didn’t turn toward them, but the tilt of his head shifted as though he were listening to the conversation.
“It’s lovely here,” Sláine replied politely, never taking her eyes off the water. “My father’s told me so much about it, and about all of you, that I’m so pleased to finally be here and experience it myself.”
Astrid followed Sláine’s gaze. She couldn’t tell which of the swimmers held her attention, but she made a guess nonetheless. “I suppose that you must know Cormac fairly well, and you’d be concerned for his welfare in these games.”
Sláine turned to her fully and nodded. “He lived with us as long as I can remember. He’s like a son to my father and a brother to me, as are Diarmid and Conan.”
“How many children did your father foster?”
