When they finally reached the bottom, Ylva spotted the fleet ofdrakkarwarships in the distance, docked at the harbor where the river emptied into the Narrow Sea. And here on the rocky shoreline, the towering white chalk cliff curved around a secluded inlet. To her delight and astonishment, a waterfall cascaded from the top of the cliff into a pool not far from where they now stood.
“There it is,” he said, pointing to the open mouth of a hidden cave nestled in the curve of the cliff. “The other half of yourmorgen-gifu.” With a wolfish grin, he took her hand and led Ylva across the pebbled beach toward the entrance to the cave.
The interior of the white limestone grotto reflected the morning sunlight, bathing the entire cavern in an opalescent glow. As Ylva stood inside the cave and peered out, she glimpsed the waterfall tumbling from the top of the cliff, splashing into a deep pool contained in smoothly polished rock. Sunlight glittered through the thunderous cascade, the brilliant colors reflecting off the ebullient pool like glistening gems.
“I found this when I was searching the beach.” Skårde raised his deep voice above the roar of the waterfall. “I remembered that my grandmother had told me you worshipped Divona, the Celtic Goddess of Sacred Springs. And that you had created a shrine for her in a cave with a waterfall in Saint-Suliac.” He flashed her a dazzling grin that sparkled like the sunlight splashing in the waterfall pool. “When I discovered this grotto, I thought it would be the perfect spot for you to create a new shrine. So, I sculpted the statue of Divona from yew wood and carved this shelf into the limestone.” Skårde gestured to the back of the cave, where he had chiseled a ledge into the rock, much like the grotto itself was carved into the protective curve of the white chalk cliff. “I made it high enough to avoid flooding, yet still be within your reach.” He handed her the statue of the goddess. “You can place her where you like.”
Ylva accepted the wooden sculpture in stunned silence, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness and generosity. Tears brimming in her eyes, she recovered her voice and whispered in reverent adoration. “I cannot thank you enough. You have no idea how much this means to me.” She placed the statue on the ledge above her head and turned to smile gratefully at Skårde, who had retrieved something from the pouch at his waist.
In his outstretched palm, he displayed several small faceted gemstones that were the same brilliant blue as her silk wedding gown and the Narrow Sea just beyond the cave.
The pear shaped gems glittered like droplets of water in his calloused hand. “These nine turquoise jewels are from the Far East,” he explained as he placed the sparkling gems into her cupped palms. “Nine is a sacred number in Nordic culture. And blue represents your heritage as a Celtic priestess with the gift of water.”
From the black silk pouch at his waist, he removed three silver coins which were etched with intricate, elaborate engravings. He gave her the ornate silver pieces. “Three coins—another number sacred to the Vikings—inscribed withyour Nordic runeLaguz,for the element of water.” The intensity of his azure eyes—as breathtaking as the rare gems in her hand—bore into Ylva’s very soul. “They symbolize the sacred springs of the Celtic Goddess Divona, whom you worship, and Rán, the Norse Goddess of the Sea.” Skårde gestured to the deafening cascade outside the grotto and the brackish estuary where the Arques River emptied into the briny ocean inlet. “Just like this waterfall cave, where the freshwater of a sacred spring flows into the river and blends with the Narrow Sea.”
Skårde wrapped his arms behind Ylva’s back and pulled her close. He bent down to gently brush his bris lips against hers. “Like you, Ylva. Daughter of a Druid priestess and a Viking jarl. A blend of Celtic and Nordic blood. Divona and Rán combined.” A proud grin stretching across his bearded face, Skårde stepped back and indicated the statue on the limestone ledge. “Place the gems and coins where you like. Then, if you want, we can collect a few scallop shells along the shore and add them to the shrine.”
A thrill shivered up Ylva’s spine.His morgen-gifu is perfect. He brought me turquoise jewels from a distant land. Precious silver etched with Nordic runes. Both symbolizing my gift of water. Skårde understood the sacrifice I had to make when I was forced to leave my shrine in Saint-Suliac. So he helped me make a new one. Despite his savage appearance, he is not the brutal Viking beast I feared.
“Will you help me place the gems and silver? It can be your shrine, too.” Ylva poured some of the beads and coins into his rough palms.
“I’d like that.” He accepted her offer with a gentle smile. Delight danced in his eyes.
Together, they placed a silver coin and a trio of turquoise gems at the foot and on either side of the statue on the carved shelf of the cave wall.
“Let’s find two scallop shells to represent Divona and Rán. The sacred spring and the salty sea. Celtic and Nordic goddesses blended together in this shrine.” Ylva smiled up at Skårde, enormously pleased and pleasantly surprised at the thoughtfulness of hismorgen-gifubridal gift.
“The two shells will represent us as well,” he murmured, drawing her close and kissing the hair on top of her head. “A Breton priestess and a Viking jarl. Daughter of a Norman duke and son of a Danish king. A merging of Celtic and Nordic cultures through our marriage. And… if we have a child…a blend of Celtic and Nordic blood in his or her Viking veins.” Skårde’s alluring scent beckoned, like the tang of the briny sea and the smell of the sacred spring. He hesitantly lowered his smooth, soft lips to hers.
At their touch, a sizzling current surged through Ylva like a bolt of lightning. Her limbs quivered as Skårde pulled her against his hardened body. He angled his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue probing and penetrating, sending pulses of liquid flame to her inner core. Waves of longing crashed over her, like the tumultuous sea pounding against the white chalk cliffs. Just as her legs were about to give out, Skårde withdrew from the embrace and stepped back, tossing his blond braided hair like a stallion shaking his mane.
“Let’s search for the scallop shells,” he gasped, his voice ragged and hoarse. Adjusting his clothing, he exhaled sharply, as if struggling to regain his composure. “I must take you back to the castle soon. I’m working with the carpenters again—we’re finishing a few houses and shops in the village.” He flashed her a disarming grin. “They appreciate my skills as a woodcarver.”
Ylva smiled, smoothing her dress as she inhaled deeply, her nerves still frazzled from Skårde’s scorching kiss and enticing scent. “I’m sure the boatbuilders do, too, with the fearsome dragon prows carved on thedrakkarwarships.” Taking a step toward the cave exit, she turned to look back at him. “It’s low tide. We can walk out onto the soft sand.”
With a hearty grin, he grasped her hand, leading her from the cave out into the blinding summer sun. Sea gulls and gannets soared in the sky, their squawks floating on the salty morning breeze.
Up ahead on the mud flat exposed by the receding waters of low tide, Ylva spotted the distinctive dark rose color and shield-like shape of an enormous scallop shell. “I see one!” she cried, hoisting up the hem of her gown to run across the packed sand. When she picked it up and held it in her hand, it covered her entire palm.
Skårde, who had been searching along the shore’s edge, came trotting across the sand with a shell clutched between his fingers. Ylva watched the powerful stride of his muscular legs, admiring his sculpted torso, the bold dragon tattoo on his right arm, and the blond beard braided like his long, thick hair. She remembered her vision of him in the Breton cave where she had first glimpsed the jagged scar across his chest. She wished he would remove his sleeveless tunic sothat she could see it now and trace her fingers along the lightning bolt which marked him with Thor’s thunder.
If his kisses scorch me with such a sizzling current, what would it be like to lie with him?Her pulse raced at the exhilarating thought.
“I found another one,” Skårde announced triumphantly as he reached her side, displaying his delightful treasure. “Let’s go back into the cave and put them at the base of the shrine.”
They centered the scallop shells together on the ledge in front of the statue’s feet, adjusting the silver coins and turquoise gems to accommodate them. Satisfied with the altar to worship Divona and Rán, Ylva rose up on booted tiptoes to kiss Skårde’s bristled cheek and whisper in his ear. “Thank you for the perfect gift. I will always remember this day.”
His azure eyes shone like sunlight reflecting off the Narrow Sea. “I am glad it pleases you.” He admired the glittering offerings, nodding his head in approval. “A truly beautiful shrine.” Eyebrows raised, he turned toward Ylva. “Ready to go back?”
She sighed in reluctant resignation. She didn’t want to leave this enchanted realm and had no desire to resume learning about her new responsibilities. “I know we need to. But I plan to come here often—it will be my refuge from the endless duties as chatelaineof the castle and Countess of thePays de Caux.”
****
“As Lady ofChâteaufort, your duties now include managing the castle, supervising the servants, planning meals, feasts, and celebrations.” Gunnor smiled as a dutiful servant set steaming cups of chamomile tisane upon the oak table in the private solar of the castle where she sat with Ylva, Gyda, and Úlvhild. “You must keep accounts and manage the finances, buying and selling provisions at the glorious trade center of Rouen. This year, of course, since you’ve only just established the settlement here at Dieppe, you’ll still have much to learn. But it will be exciting to travel with your husband, as Count and Countess of thePays de Caux.”
While the sweet, fruity, floral scent of the herbal tea mingled with the salty brine of thesea wafting in through the open window, Ylva tried to concentrate on Gunnor’s instructions, but her mind kept returning to the waterfall cave and Skårde’s scorching kiss.
“Gunnor, as your father’s Viking wife, is very familiar with our Nordic customs. And as Duchess of Normandy, she is also well acquainted with running a royal castle. While she and Richard are here for the rest of the week to celebrate your wedding, she can provide you with valuable advice and help you establish yourself as chatelaine ofChâteaufort.” Although Gyda’s smile was meant to reassure Ylva, she nevertheless felt overwhelmed by the enormity of expectations placed upon her by Skårde’s grandmother and Richard’s new wife.
