She murmured against his neck, “I wish I could make you understand. I have obligations to my men. To my family back home. To…to myself. It does not mean I love you one whit less. I cannot imagine loving anyone the way I love you, Quarrie MacMurtray. And ja, I will return to you—if only in some other life. One we cannot yet see.”
She drew away from him, pulled out of his arms. At the last, he refused to surrender her hands.
She had tears on her cheeks, this strong and determined woman. She had a world to which she must return, one that did not have any place for him. That, that was what she tried to tell him.
“I will never love anyone as ye, Hulda. And I will wait as long as I must. Till the life after this, if need be. Or the one after that. Aye?”
“Aye,” she echoed softly.
He raised her hands to his lips, one after the other. Dropped fervent, burning kisses into the palms. Leaned forward to tenderly kiss either side of her mouth, her cheeks one at a time. Her brow.
Only then did he leave go of her.
“Forgive me,” she said, and turned and ran. This woman who scarce ever ran from anything. She ran now from him.
He stood until she disappeared amid the bracken and the darkness, out of his sight.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Quarrie’s kisses burnedin the palms of Hulda’s hands, on her lips, cheeks, and at her brow. She could still feel them, livid as a brand, whenFreyamoved off northward the next morning out of the narrow slip between the rocks and away.
A beautiful morning for it, and no mistake. The ocean, calm as glass, spread before them in a path lit by morning light. To the west, fair-weather clouds clothed the horizon.
The men were in high spirits. Despite the dubious encounter with their countrymen and the stance they had taken to defend the Scots settlement, one that might very well damage them back home, they were happy to be going. They had gathered their belongings eagerly from the camp where they’d spent most the summer and departed with scarcely a backward look.
To a man, they wanted to reach home before Ivor and his contingent arrived. To brag of their exploits, of which they were justifiably proud, and make their explanations before Ivor could arrive and besmirch them.
As he would no doubt take great pleasure in doing.
Hulda—Hulda was the only member ofFreya’s crew who did not want to leave. The only one who looked back longingly asFreyapulled away under the oar, with no wind at her back.
The others chatted excitedly. Of the wealth they had gained. Of what they would do first when they reached home. No one mentioned what had happened the day before, though Hulda did not for an instant doubt it was on everybody’s mind. They maywell feel, upon reflection, that they had made a dreadful mistake in standing with her.
Which meant she owed them this, a return home on their terms.
But ach, not until they sailed away from that rocky Scottish shore did she realize what a great and terrible part of her she left behind.
The whole of her heart. Could a woman live without her heart?
He had said he would wait for her. Forever, if need be.
Or till their next life together.
And if such an opportunity did not come? If, ja, they were born into new lives after these ended but in the wide, wide world they never more met one another?
Ach, what had shedone?
She felt ill, physically as well as emotionally. She’d not expected that, yet spent the best part of their departure at the rail, fighting back nausea.
She had not been nauseated aboard a boat since the age of three.
To comfort herself—and in order to keep drawing breath—she began to imagine ways and means to return. Because now, once away, it seemed evident how vital to her a return would be.
No one could endure such loss, such mortal pain for long.
She, like her crew, had gained some wealth during this season. Not an enormous amount, but sufficient. Enough to allow her to buy outFreyafrom her companions? Nei, they would never part with the aging boat that represented their first venture, and as such held a measure of sentimental value. Could she commission a boat of her own? Nei, she had not the wealth for that, and anyway, she would still need a crew.
This crew, preferably, who were free to make up their own minds.
