The rest of the journey passed quickly and soon the tower came into view. She hastened to get there, anxious to see Einar. Spying another horse tied outside, she smiled. Hewashere. As she walked up the path, she glanced around to see if he was outside or on the beach. Not finding him, she climbed the wooden steps, pulled open the door and entered the tower.
He’d spoken of a lower chamber in his letters, but she saw none. The wooden slats beneath her feet seemed solid. Across the chamber were the stairs to the top. Leaning over and looking up, she could see no one moving about. And only silence met her when she listened.
“Einar? Are you here?” she asked aloud as she climbed to the first landing. “Einar?” Footsteps scuffed along the floor above her, so she clutched the length of her gowns to hasten her pace and reached the next landing and the second story chamber there. “Einar.”
“Nay.”
Her body recognized that voice before she even saw the one who spoke. He stepped out of the shadows and into the square of light from the open window carved into the stone wall.
“Soren,” she said on a breath. It took a huge effort to focus on her mission and to ignore the whirlwind of questions and accusations and reactions that filled her. And to force the next words out. “Where is Einar?” She lifted her head and glanced toward the top of the tower. “Is he above?”
“Ran,” he said quietly, almost intimately.
Fearing a traitorous act, she avoided looking at him. Looking at him would remind her of everything she’d wanted, everything they’d had and done . . . and lost.
“Ran,” he said. This time his voice forced her to meet his gaze. A terrible sadness lay there within his blue eyes. “He is gone.”
Tears filled her eyes and burned in her throat at his words. She did not need to ask what he meant for she knew. Einar Brandrson was dead. Grief for the loss of her friend shattered her heart. Soren had not looked away and, even though she wished she did not think of him kindly, she realized his loss was so much greater.
“I am so sorry for your loss,” she whispered. Wiping her sleeve across her eyes, she cleared her throat. “When did he pass?”
“A week ago.” Soren began to approach her. Ran wrapped her arms around herself and he stopped.
“He was old. He went quietly in his sleep,” Soren explained.
“I cannot imagine Einar doing anything quietly,” she said. “I’d always imagined him as a fierce Viking of old, being taken in battle and carried to Valhalla by a Valkyrie.” When she looked at Soren, she saw that he’d glanced away. And she saw the sorrow, and something that resembled guilt, in his gaze. “How does Ingeborg fare?”
“She has accepted his passing well enough. ’Twas not unexpected to her. His age and his growing infirmity.” He walked away then, over to the window and stared out at the sea. The silvery outline that surrounded his body reminded her of her reasons for coming to find Einar. Fruitless, hopeless reasons now. “You thought him here?” he asked quietly. “Why not go to his cottage?”
“He spoke often of this broch in his letters,” she answered. Soren turned and faced her, his expression now unreadable.
“He wrote to you?”
“Aye. He is, was, my friend.”
“What did he say of this place?” Soren asked. His eyes blazed now. “What know you of this tower?” He stepped closer.
The memory of what had torn them apart flooded into her thoughts, reminding her that she could not trust him. He’d never answered her questions. He’d never defended himself. He’d simply turned and walked out of her life. Which was exactly what she wanted to do now. If Einar had not told him of his discoveries here, then mayhap it spoke of his lack of trust in his grandson and he did not wish Soren to know. She shrugged.
“Only that he liked to visit here and watch the sea.” His gaze narrowed and never moved from her face, as though waiting for more. She had nothing more to say to someone she could not risk trusting ever again. She needed to get away. Away now.
“My father is expecting me,” she said, walking to the steps.
“Your father has not returned to the islands from Caithness,” he said.
“How do you know that?” she asked. Why did he know her father’s movements?
“I heard from the merchants in town.” Now it was his turn to lie. Again. His lower lip twitched from the corner to the middle when he spoke an untruth.
If she was looking at his mouth, it truly was past time to leave. It mattered not how he knew about her father’s travels. It mattered not, she repeated to herself several times. She owed him no explanation of any kind on any matter at all. None.
“Again, I am sorry for your loss,” Ran said, walking past him to the steps.
He let her pass in silence and she made her way down and out of the tower. She would return to it when Soren was not there, to honor Einar’s passing in her own way. She would also visit his daughter-by-marriage, Ingeborg, to offer her sympathies. The woman must be heartbroken in spite of what Soren might believe.
Sorenmust be heartbroken.
Ran almost stumbled at the thought of how deep his grief must be. Einar was more father than grandfather to Soren, his only kin left alive as far as she knew. Part of her wanted to run back inside and console him and tell him of the letters and Einar’s discoveries.
