Strian and Gressa both pulled their lips in to keep from smiling as Bjorn blamed Lena’s concern for their breakneck ride to find them.
“You worried my wife, but what Bjorn is too proud to admit is you gave us all a scare.” Strian and Gressa had not seen Ivar riding in the group.
“We’re sorry,” Gressa bowed her head to her jarl. “It wasn’t our intention.”
“We assumed as much, and Sigrid confirmed it when she had a vision. She was the one who alerted us that you were gone,” Freya grinned. “We assumed you’d just gone home and were, um, otherwise occupied.”
Gressa and Strian exchanged a glance, both of their cheeks reddening as they remembered what they had done earlier that night and why their friends’ assumption was reasonable.
“Not quite.” Strian smirked at Freya but turned a serious face to Ivar. “We had intended to see what we could discover. We were already in the woods when we stopped to talk, so we scouted. A group of bowmen sitting in the trees caught us. We spent the night as guests in Grímr’s camp.”
“Must have been lovely,” Tyra added wryly.
“Very,” Gressa once more joined the conversation after assessing each of their friends’ reaction to finding them, to finding her. “We learned a few things.”
Ivar dismounted and stepped forward.
“You can share all of that in a moment.” He stared at the dried blood on Gressa’s tunic. She had forgotten about it. Ivar did not hesitate to pull her into a tight embrace. He whispered near her ear, “You terrified not only Lena but me. We feared we had lost two more of our children.”
Gressa squeezed Ivar before pulling back far enough to whisper, “I’m sorry, truly.”
Ivar kissed her forehead and nodded before turning to Strian. His eyes swept over the bruises and still swollen shut eye.
“You’re a mess,” Ivar barked then pulled Strian into a manly embrace. “Don’t scare years off my life like that again. You’re not too old or too big for a good arse paddling.”
Once Ivar released Strian, the younger man slung his arm around Gressa’s waist and pulled her against his side as they exchanged a glance, both relishing Ivar’s admission of love and affection to both orphans.
“Now that we have that straightened out, can we discuss things that are important?” Bjorn groused.
Tyra leaned over and pinched her husband’s ribs none too gently.
“Stop being an ogre. Or sleep alone.” Tyra’s voice might have been a whisper if she had not intended for everyone to hear.
“It’s a good thing I love you. You mistreat me so,” Bjorn’s eyes twinkled despite sounding beleaguered.
“I saw you fighting with a man who wasn’t Grímr, Gressa. He had black hair and a slim build, but he was very strong. He spoke of a dead babe and you being his wife.” Sigrid spoke up as she rubbed her belly at the mention of a babe. Leif’s arms tightened around his wife.
Gressa’s eyes widened as she looked at Strian in panic. She had not planned for anyone to find out about the child they lost, and she had not wanted to explain why a man assumed he would marry her when Strian’s friends knew he had not moved on from her.
Strian tucked her head against his chest and answered for them.
“Gressa was carrying my child before we left for that raid. It was too early for us to know, and by the time she healed from her injuries, she couldn’t travel. Never mind that no one would take her. Her injuries and illness left little for the babe, and he died upon birth. The Welsh wouldn’t allow Gressa to bury our son, so she stayed rather than abandon him to a Christian grave.” Strian realized he had been stroking Gressa’s hair while he spoke. He dropped a kiss on her crown before carrying on. “Rhys was the prince’s younger brother and pursued Gressa, demanding marriage. She refused him for years, and finally he went too far. He threatened my life and insulted our child’s death. Gressa had no choice but to avenge us both.”
“That makes what I saw more understandable. But I sensed people running from somewhere. It wasn’t you. I could only see the shapes of men but no one clearly,” Sigrid rubbed her temple as if that would make her vision clearer or strengthen her memory. “I felt like Grímr was escaping once again.”
Gressa looked up from Strian’s side and nodded.
“He is. They tore down the camp, so no one could see it from a distance, but they retreated to the coast. Strian and I believe they’re sailing back to Wales. Grímr will seek safe harbor there until he can lick his wounds. He knows he’s fighting a losing battle, over and over, but he refuses to give in. With Rhys dead and Rowan captured, there is little reason for Dafydd to allow him to stay. There’s little chance Strian and I will be able to go there either.” She finished in a whisper.
Sigrid opened her mouth but snapped it shut. Gressa stared at Sigrid wondering what the seer had just been about to say, but Sigrid gave a tiny shake of her head. Gressa was sure Sigrid knew of Strian’s and her conundrum of where to live and what to do about their son’s grave. She appreciated that Sigrid kept her thoughts to herself. By the looks on everyone’s faces, the news that they had had a child was more than enough for the moment.
“How much of a head start do they have?” Leif asked.
“Two hours.”
“It’ll take us more than that to get back to the homestead and ready the ships. The best we can hope for is to sail with the morning tide,” Erik looked behind them as if he could see all the way back to the village.
“Bjorn, ride with Tyra and let me ride with Gressa.”
