He strode across the open space, and Katarina filled a wooden cup with water, bringing it to him.
“Here,” she offered. He took it and drained the cup, hardly meeting her gaze. She didn’t quite know what to say to him. “Is there anything else you need?”
“I need strength I don’t have. And more time.” His dark eyes held annoyance, but she reached out to touch his shoulder.
“It will come.”
He stared at her, capturing her gaze. She suddenly grew aware of how her touch affected him, and she drew her fingertips down his bare skin. He inhaled sharply and said, “Do not touch me here, Katarina. It is too much of a distraction.”
She felt her breathing grow unsteady, and she murmured, “Later, then.”
It was as if she’d struck a spark onto tinder. His eyes turned heated, and she sensed the desire within them. Although she should have been afraid, she had made her decision. Tonight, she would touch her husband and try to coax him into consummating the marriage. She did not believe thevolva’swords, that he would leave her once they conceived a child. No, a child would only bring them closer together.
“I will wait for you,” she said.
But when she turned to walk away, she was well aware of him watching her.
Every muscle in Eric’s body was screaming. He’d spent most of the day training with Hrafn, both with swords and later with a weapon he’d used only once before—the battle-ax. And all the while, Valdr had been watching. The man was a vivid reminder of his own father. And it felt as if he were leading a parallel life, one where Fate was demanding that he become the leader of these men.
Years ago, he had led a life of ledgers and Parliament, before he’d left it all behind to travel the Continent. He’d been seeking his freedom, knowing he wasn’t suited to become a duke. That life had suffocated him, and he’d turned his back on his father to escape it.
And now, he was faced with the prospect of becoming theirjarl,essentially the same rank. His instinct was to deny the responsibility, but if he did so, it was repeating his previous choices. Was that why he was sent here? For another chance to alter his fate?
He could not deny the resemblance between Gregory and Valdr, nor the duties ahead of him. But if he did agree to be theirjarl,what then? He lacked any knowledge necessary to lead a band of Vikings.
No, there had to be another reason. He was only too aware that he was living another man’s life. Pride kept him from admitting any weakness, though he knew his meager strength paled before these men.
But strangely, he’d felt more alive in these past two nights than he had in twenty-three years. The aching and pain would lead back to strength, he knew. Even the mild slice across his chest felt like a mark of honor.
Whatever lay in the path before him, fighting was inevitable. He suspected that the task for which he was destined would either lead him back to his former life in England…or it would lead to his death.
More likely the latter.
Katarina’s brother had not denigrated him for his lack of fighting strength. In fact, it seemed that all of the men had readily accepted his explanation that his return from death had resulted in a physical transformation. They regarded him with wariness, as if he possessed supernatural powers.
He had no answers to the thousands of questions haunting him. It seemed best to concentrate on gaining as much strength as possible in order to face what lay ahead. But would he be trapped in this place for the remainder of his years? It unsettled him to imagine it.
Eric trudged back toward the settlement, and Valdr met him along the way. “You cannot let the others see your weakness. They will lose all respect for you.”
“I know this. But they did not cross back from death, as I did.”
Valdr studied him, and his expression was troubled. “There is more that you have not told me.”
Indeed. And if he did, he suspected Valdr would have him burned alive out of fear. He gave no answer, except to say, “There are many things I do not understand. I should have died in that storm, like all the others. But I was sent back for a purpose.”
The older man’s face was haggard and worn. “You have changed, Arik. But if you do not regain your strength, you will lose your place among our people.You must train each day, and become the fighter you once were. Or you will die. Leifwillchallenge you again, and you must be ready.”
“I know this already.” For he had no choice. He would never allow Leif to attack Katarina a second time.
Valdr regarded him closely, a weariness lining his face. “I am glad you returned to us, Arik. And the last thing I want is to watch you die.” With that, he touched Eric’s shoulder and walked away, accompanied by several of their kinsmen. His bearing was stiff, but within it, Eric recognized the unspoken message. Valdr had accepted him as his son. Hecaredand did not want him to fail. It meant a great deal to him, knowing that he had the man’s support.
He was well aware of how the other men perceived him. He would have to be on his guard at all times, for any physical weakness made him a target. It was an impossible task to gain a Viking’s strength with so little time, but he would work among them and hope for the best.
As he walked toward the small shelter he shared with Katarina, he realized one of the dogs was following him. He paused a moment to look back, and the animal’s tail began wagging.
Without warning, the dog launched herself forward, whimpering with joy. Her tail wagged fiercely, and she jumped up to lick his face. He couldn’t help but smile as the animal pranced in a circle, beside herself with happiness.
He remembered now that he had trained here, as a boy. The dog had been his constant companion while he’d been fostered with his uncle. And it was obvious that the animal had adored him. She sat back on her haunches, as if expecting something.
