“Nay,” Kerek said, and drew her against him. “Ah, you’re wet and you’re tired. This night has been something I don’t wish to repeat, ever. Whilst we wait for Cayman, we must gather up our men again and soothe their terrors. We must see to repairs on the warship.”
“She makes excellent mead,” Turella said, and giggled against Kerek’s shoulder.
She’d giggled? Kerek had never heard a more wonderful sound in his life.
Captain Torric limped to them, stared at them a moment, then cleared his throat. He said matter-of-factly, “Ragnor slept through the storm, all the lightning, the thunder. He slept through the warship’s crash against the dock. He’s awake now and calling for mead.”
30
CHESSA SAT ONCleve’s lap in the longboat. All the men were huddled around them waiting for Varrick. She saw him first, tall and slim, his head thrown back, that damned cloak of his billowing out and yet there was no wind, not even a small breeze, and she knew that he’d saved her, just as she knew that she must act and she must act now, else they would never have peace. Varrick would always be there, waiting for her. It had to stop.
When he was nearly on them, she turned on Cleve’s lap and burst into tears. She cried and sobbed and shivered violently, huddling against him, burrowing against him, as if she wanted to crawl inside him to protect herself.
Cleve, completely taken by surprise, nonetheless gathered her against him, kissed her hair and rocked her, whispering meaningless words to soothe her, but they didn’t seem to. She cried harder and harder.
Varrick stared at her. He said, “What is wrong? Has something happened to her? Is she in pain?”
Chessa whispered through her sobs, “I’m so afraid. I thought I would have to go to York. I believed I would have to be his wife. You saved me. All of you saved me.”
“Chessa,” Cleve began, “it’s all right, sweeting. I’ll protect you always. No, love, don’t cry more, you’ll make yourself ill.”
As he spoke he looked up. Varrick was staring at her as if he’d never seen her before. His expression was cold. He looked more dangerous than his son in that moment. “What she said is nonsense. What is wrong with her?”
Igmal shrugged and said, “She’s a woman, lord Varrick. She was frightened. The storm you called up terrified her.”
Varrick continued to frown down at her, a wealth of distaste on his face, but he said nothing more.
The mist lifted and the air was cold and clear. The waters of the loch were smooth and dark. Chessa looked up to see Varrick coming, a good dozen men trailing behind him. His cloak billowed behind him. She was used to that now. She wondered idly how Argana managed to make the wool so very lightweight.
They hadn’t seen Varrick in seven days. Argana had come to tell them that Varrick had taken Cayman to Turella in Inverness to return with her to York. “She sang and she smiled,” Argana had said. “She will enjoy herself and she will enjoy this fool, Ragnor, you’ve told me so much about, Chessa. There are depths to Cayman, aye, and she will suit herself.”
After his return Varrick still hadn’t come to Karelia. Chessa knew that he would come. She wondered how he would look at her now.
But here he was, on the seventh day. Chessa welcomed Varrick, Argana, Athol, who looked as sullen as a goat deprived of a tough boot, and Igmal, who waved to Kiri, and when the child shrieked his name and ran to him, he threw her into the air and brought her tight against his chest. The other men flowed into the crowd of Karelia people, conversation lively, laughter free, the four Karelia dogs barking in a frenzy, jumping and leaping about all the people.
Varrick stood off to one side, staring at the people. He wasn’t frowning, nor was he smiling. He heard Kiri say to Igmal, “I just sniffed you and you smell clean. Did you bathe like I told you to, Igmal?”
“Aye, little one, I bathed not three days ago.”
“Your bearskin isn’t too bad either,” Kiri said, and smelled it again.
“Nay, I kept it on and bathed it with me.”
Kiri laughed and laughed. “I will ask my papas if I can do that as well.”
It was nearing the winter solstice and yet there was no snow yet, no frigid nights to make everyone’s teeth chatter. Chessa gently patted her swelling belly. It seemed that more and more often the people from Kinloch were here at their farmstead, and why not? she wondered. There was laughter here and fights. There was no magic here, nothing to frighten anyone. There were no billowing gowns or cloaks when there was no wind.
Chessa smiled toward Varrick, squeezing Cleve’s hand. What would he do? Had he finally given over? Was he finally ready to leave her alone?
“Welcome, Father,” Cleve said. “Chessa believed you would come. The women are preparing a feast. If you would like to send one of your men back to Kinloch to fetch the others, you should do it soon.”
Varrick gave his son a superior smile. “There is no need for that.” He pulled theburrafrom its sheath at his belt. “I will call them with this.” He lovingly stroked theburraand stood back. Then he looked at Chessa, his eyes on her belly, and there was uncertainty in his eyes, and determination as well. She sighed to herself. Her bout of hysteria after her rescue had done no good. She crossed her hands over her chest and yawned. Varrick still stared at her, and now there was anger in those strange eyes of his. She’d wondered several times when she’d angered Cleve if his golden eye grew more enraged than his blue one. When she’d told him that, both of them forgot their argument in their laughter.
Varrick walked to the edge of Falcon Ridge, the only high strip of land at Karelia. He performed nicely, bringing thunder and cold white streaks of lightning. He didn’t bring rain, for which all the people were profoundly grateful.
When he finished, he turned. He froze. No one was even looking at him. Igmal was showing Kiri how to toss the knife he’d carved for her. Other children were looking on, begging him to teach them as well. Three of his men—hismen—were drinking and poking each other. Several other of his men were speaking to Karelia men, formerly his men, none of them even looking toward him. His two younger sons were throwing stones into the loch, seeing who could throw the farthest. Argana, silent, obedient Argana, was speaking to Chessa and several other women. They began to laugh at something Argana said. Argana saying something funny?
None were looking at him except for one dog, who sat on his haunches, his head to one side, staring up at Varrick.
