Shaking his head, he told Gunnar, “I only met her a few days ago.”
“Sometimes a few days is enough.” Gunnar took a stone from him. “We’ll finish up here. Go and help her in the fields. She shouldn’t be alone, anyway.” The Norseman gave him a brief shove. “If she spurns you, we’ll drink a barrel of mead tonight.”
“I tried to kill you, two days ago,” Trahern pointed out. “Why in the name of Belenus, would you want to drink with me?”
“I’d drink with Loki himself, if the drink is good enough.”
A flicker of a smile pulled at Trahern’s mouth, though he couldn’t quite understand why Gunnar was able to forgive him so easily. With a single slice of the blade, he might have killed the man.
“There may come a time when I’m sorry I didn’t kill you,” Trahern remarked. “For now, I’ll say that I’m glad Morren intervened.”
“I’ll agree with you on that.” Gunnar picked up one of the smallest stones and tossed it in the air. “When she turns you down, you’ll want that drink.”
Trahern didn’t respond but helped the other men push the remaining stones aside. They stared at the wall, debating the best way to rebuild it. “We need mortar,” Gunnar pronounced.
“Leave it,” a voice interrupted. It was theLochlannachchief, Dagmar. “I’ve decided that we’ll stay through the night instead of going back.” Dagmar pointed toward the two dwellings that were nearly finished. “We’ll need to finish two shelters; one for the men, and one for the women.”
Trahern glanced toward the fields where Morren and her sister had gone.
“Go with her, Irishman.” Gunnar nodded at him. “Or I’ll go in your place.”
“Not if you want to keep your arms attached,” he retorted.
The Norseman gave a knowing smile and pointed toward a row of iron tools. “You might need those.”
Trahern picked up two of the scythes, heading outside. He didn’t care about the remaining work. The two shelters were nearly completed, and there were enough men to finish them. He didn’t want Morren to be alone at any moment.
Especially not here, when he wasn’t certain who he could trust.
Morrenwalkedthroughtheburned barley field, past the charred grain. Fragile golden stalks struggled against the freezing weather, their heads lowered. Though it was late for harvesting, there might be some way of saving some of the grain. They would have to begin cutting it today, if possible.
After a few minutes of walking around the perimeter, Jilleen mumbled an excuse about speaking to Katla about the thatching. Morren didn’t pay much heed to it, until she looked back and saw her sister returning inside the cashel.
She thought about calling her back but changed her mind. Maybe it was for the best, having Jilleen work alongside the other women. It wasn’t good for her sister to be so isolated from the others.
Morren folded her arms and stared at the barley, trying to determine where to start. The east section seemed to have the least amount of damage, whereas the portion closest to the cashel was burned into ash.
“Do you need any help?” a voice interrupted. She turned and saw Trahern standing before her. In one hand, he held two iron scythes.
She sent him a grateful smile. “I’d be glad of it. It seems my sister is finding other things to do.”
His mouth gave a slight upward curve. “When I was her age, I did whatever I had to, to avoid work.”
“I can’t imagine you as a lazy boy.” She meant the words as teasing, and Trahern returned a slow smile.
“I used to charm the girls into doing my share of the work.”
“You couldn’t have charmed me.”
He seemed to take the words as a challenge, and suddenly, his expression changed. The look in his eyes was the sort that would make young girls blush and older girls flirt. He was looking at her as though nothing else in the world mattered. Like he wanted to drop the scythes and pull her close, kissing her. And she had a feeling, she would like it. A lot.
A flood of embarrassed warmth seized her, as she forced the vision away. To distract herself, Morren took the scythe from him, testing its weight in her hand.
Her gaze moved toward the first row of grain. “We’ll cut the barley that’s ready. But if you see any with a gray rot, leave it. I want nothing to contaminate the good grain.” She walked forward, tracing her fingertips over the golden spears.
“Where do you want me to start?” he asked.
“Take that side of the field, and I’ll work over here,” she directed.
