He was torn between wanting to reassure her, and wondering whether this was all a bid to engage his sympathy and lure him into trusting her. “I would not have thought you cared.” As soon as he said it, he regretted it. The hurt on her face as she picked up the bowls and turned away to set about washing them made him feel like the lowest of men. He didn’t want to trust her. Too many lives depended on it, but somehow… he was starting to.
Ulf had told him that Gemma could not help who she was, and yet Arne was treating her as if she had a choice. As she stood up after placing the bowls in the basin of water she had filled next to the fire, he had no idea why, but he reached out and touched her arm. “The broth was good.”
But the damage had been done. Although she paused, she did not look back at him.
Arne looked around, realising he had not seen Caelin since he came back inside. “Where is the boy?”
“Sleeping.” Gemma nodded towards the bed. “I’m sorry, but he climbed in without me noticing and is already asleep. I can wake him if you want the bed.”
“No, you two sleep there. I will sleep next to the fire.”
“If you are sure.” She still refused to look at him, and he regretted his words more than ever. At least if he let her sleep in comfort, he would feel a little better.
“I am.” He watched as she cleaned the bowls, then he lifted the basin and emptied it outside. When he closed the door, he barred it from the inside.
“Will we be safe here?” she asked. “I could stay awake.”
“Sleep. The weather is so bad that we should be safe enough for tonight.”
“Will we be able to leave in the morning?”
“Perhaps.” He doubted it very much, but there was no point arguing over something that was not yet a certainty. “Rest.”
He settled down by the fire as she slowly made her way to the bed and sat. Realising she was not going to undress while he was still awake, he closed his eyes.
Chapter Eight
She waited until Arne’seyes were shut and he’d pulled the blankets over him before she removed her apron, hanging it carefully over the back of a chair and placing her two brooches on the table. It was too cold to sleep just in her sark as she usually did, so she climbed into the bed still wearing her dress. She had sewn herself a new set of garments in the Norse style as soon as she had arrived at Kirkjaster, grateful for the material provided by Aoife and Rhiannon. Ylva had been pleased to have the garments she had lent Gemma as they travelled returned, especially as Gemma had added some fine embroidery to them to thank her.
The Norse clothes helped her to blend in to the settlement, but she missed the fine materials she was used to wearing and the warmer cloaks and furs that had been hers in her previous life. Where were all her fine clothes now? She had brought so little when she had escaped from Alt Clut— only two sets of clothes, both of which were in her pack. It had seemed a good idea to be able to dress as either a Briton or in Norse clothing—whichever identity would keep her and Caelin safer.
Caelin didn’t seem to feel the cold and had already thrown off his covers, but she covered him back up, tucked the blankets tightly around his sleeping form and gently stroked his hair. If only she could sleep so deeply and peacefully. Worries plagued most of her nights and she woke frequently, feeling almost as exhaustedeach morning as she had done when she went to sleep the night before.
What would she do now? The weight of responsibility lay heavy on her shoulders again. How should she decide on the right course of action for herself and Caelin? And even if she chose her next steps, would Arne allow her to do as she wished? Would Tormod? Which option should she insist on? Not that it would matter. Arne was the one with the weapons and superior strength. For now, they would have to do whatever he decided was the right thing, and there was little she could do about it. Would he help her? Or would he return her to Kirkjaster?
It seemed far longer ago than just yesterday afternoon she had been walking with Aoife and seen the coracle on the firth. Her mind raced through a series of if onlys. If only those fishermen had not headed out to sea. If only the wind had been less fierce. If only they had been closer to a different part of the shoreline. She drew in a shallow breath, shocked when it came out as a whimper.
“What’s wrong?” Arne’s voice was quiet, as if not to wake her if she were already asleep.
Gemma waited, unsure how to respond. It was still unclear to her whether he was a help or a hindrance to her future, but at least thanks to him, she had a future beyond freezing to death tonight.
“I don’t know what to do,” she finally whispered. “I don’t know what the right thing for us is.” She despised the way her voice broke and refused to let the tears pricking her eyes fall.
Arne didn’t answer right away. The silence was so long she wondered if he was going to reply, or if he had fallen asleep. Was her future of so little concern to him? A tear slid down her cheek when she realised that if she was gone from Kirkjaster, then maybe he would not care whether she lived or died.
“Sleep. We will talk in the morning. There are not so many options.”
“I don’t want my son to die.”
This time there was no silence. “As long as I am protecting him, I promise he will not.”
She swallowed against the lump in her throat. Why did she believe this man? A man who saw her as his enemy, someone who would betray him and his people for her own benefit. And yet he was the one promising to keep Caelin safe, although she noticed he made no such promise to her.
Gemma wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. She needed to speak to him, but wouldn’t do so without being able to see his face. What she had to ask was too important.
Carefully, so as not to wake Caelin, she moved from the bed towards the fire. Arne rolled onto his side, leaning up on his elbow, watching her as she approached and sat on a chair, looking down at him. He had arranged his blankets close enough to the fire to stay warm, but close enough to the door to ensure he would be awoken if anyone tried to enter.
She spoke quietly. “If anything happens to me… Will you take him, bring him up with Elisedd and Einar? Give him a chance to live?”
