“Off!” He demanded.
His crew looked at him, most getting ready to settle in for the night.
“I said off. All of you. Find somewhere else for the night.”
His crew came to their feet, looking at him with annoyance until he lowered a soaking wet Gressa to her feet. His crew hastened to jump to the sandy shore. Even Brynjar seemed to understand the urgency. Strian turned them so his back was to the shore before he helped Gressa peel off her sodden clothes. He pulled a blanket from a pile near the starboard rail and draped it around her. He peeled off his tunic, but when he began to untie the laces to his pants, Gressa gasped. She looked around him, and there were plenty of people on the beach near the boats. More than a few were watching them but turned away when they realized Gressa caught them staring. She opened her arms and waited for Strian to step within the blanket. He pushed his pants free and stepped out of them. His hands found Gressa’s waist as he kissed her, wrapped within the wool. He lifted her until her legs coiled around him, and he slid into her. His strong legs lowered them to the deck where Strian sat with Gressa straddling him. Their bodies warmed as much by the blanket as the growing heat between them. Strian guided Gressa’s hips as she rocked against them. Their kisses were slow and languid as they took their time, drawing out one another’s pleasure. They remained joined as the camp grew quiet, and only the soft sounds of other couples floated to them over the sound of the waves.
Strian’s hands roamed over Gressa’s body as she clutched his shoulders. He kneaded her breasts before lifting one to his mouth. He suckled as his hands found her backside again. His fingers spread wide as the firm flesh filled his hands. His groan vibrated through his chest as Gressa’s hands glided over the muscles until her nails raked over the ridges of his abdomen. The slight bobbing of the boat added to the rhythm of their love making until their need could no longer coincide with their leisurely pleasure. Strian lowered Gressa’s body to the deck before stretching out over her. She arched her back as his thrusts grew stronger. He drew her arm over her head as their fingers laced together. His other hand gripping her hip, his fingers surely leaving marks. Gressa sank her teeth along his shoulder, leaving her own marks. Neither of them had relinquished their possessiveness while both of them reveled in feeling so loved and desired.
It was late into the night before they grew too tired to continue. They looked up at the stars as they had done many nights while Strian courted her then through their chamber window. Strian’s arms held Gressa against him, but once more, they joined their hands. The boat listed, and it drew their attention to the cloak that still held their newborn son’s body.
“Once we are home, we will give him the burial he deserved.”
“Do you think the gods will still accept him? After so long? After where he has been?” Gressa wondered.
“They are capricious and unpredictable at times, but they do not punish the innocent.”
Gressa turned to look at Strian, and something shifted within her belly. She could not describe the feeling, but she placed her hand over it, sure of what she prayed for over and over.
“I don’t know if it happened this eve or if it was one of our many times over the past weeks, but Strian, I’m almost certain now that I am carrying. Something---” She trailed off, shaking her head. At his gentle kiss upon her forehead, she felt encouraged to continue. “It was like a flutter then like whatever it was landed and can’t be pulled away.”
“Then I shall pray that you are right and give thanks to the gods when we know for sure.”
“It will be weeks before a midwife will know, but I could ask Sigrid.”
“No,” Strian shook his head. “Let the gods tell us when your body is ready. We don’t need to know everything about the future.”
They drifted to sleep in one another’s arms, enjoying the last bit of intimacy before they traveled back to Scotland.
Thirty-One
The armada sailed back to the Mackenzie land where the clans departed ways with old and somewhat flimsy alliances now forged into partnerships that would last for several generations. The Mackays sailed alongside the Norse until they docked below Castle Varrich once more. Alex Mackay convinced his family to spend a few days resting before setting out to once more cross the North Sea. It was during those days that Gressa began to feel unusually sleepy and restless. She lost her appetite and turned away most foods. Strian watched as Gressa withdrew only seeming interested in being with him or sleeping.
Their second day crossing the North Sea led them into choppy water that forced the oarsmen to strain to keep their boats on the right course. Strian sat at the tiller while Gressa took her turn to row. She had seemed to perk up with the sea air and insisted she was well enough to do her share. As the boat listed from one side to another, Strian watched Gressa pull her oar in before leaning her head over the side. He called to his first mate who was already rushing to take the tiller. Strian leaped across the benches until he got to Gressa’s side. She heaved over and over, but the little food in her stomach had already washed away. Strian pulled her into his arms and carried her with his cloak shielding her from the wind and spray. He huddled in the bow, trying to protect Gressa from the elements as she slept in his arms. Strian was beside him with worry and fear as the day progressed into night and the sun rose once more before Gressa’s eyes opened. She blinked several times and looked around, confused at how she ended up in Strian’s lap. Her husband was snoring and most of the crew was just awakening. She looked at the man who held the tiller, but he shrugged before looking away.
Gressa was about to shake Strian awake when the wave of nausea threatened to capsize her. She scrambled from Strian’s lap and managed to wretch over the side rather than on the deck. She heard Strian’s panicked voice call her name. She lifted one hand behind her in some sort of wave. He was beside her in an instant.
“That’s it. No more. Lena needs to examine you.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Nothing wrong?” Strian exploded. He threw his hands into the air, curses flowing from his mouth as he looked to the heavens then to his wife before dropping to his knee and leaning his head against her middle. “How can you say nothing is wrong? You can’t stop sleeping, and your violently ill any time you’re awake. You’ve never been seasick a day in your life.”
Gressa stroked his hair away from his face before cupping his jaw.
“That’s because I’m not seasick, silly man. I didn’t realize what it was either because I didn’t experience this last time. Maybe because I was much younger, or maybe because I had other illnesses to disguise it.”
“Gressa, you’re not making sense. You’ve never been ill except for when you were wounded.”
“Exactly. Strian, I didn’t know I was pregnant then, and I was ill for two moons after the battle. Perhaps some of it was morning sickness, too. Maybe not. But this time I’m certain that it’s morning sickness that is rude enough to stick around all day.”
“Morning sickness?”
“I told you the night before we left Anglesey that I was sure we had made a babe. Now I know.”
“Were you going to tell me?”
“I assumed you would remember our conversation.” Gressa shrugged. “Besides when I was awake, I was vomiting. The rest of the time I’ve been asleep. It hasn’t given us much time to talk.”
