Gemma sighed. “Then I think the number of people who want him dead or want to use him to gain power themselves will only increase.”
“So, you will do what? Walk away from everything you are?”
“I have no choice. To keep Caelin safe, I think we must leave.”
“And go where?”
“Perhaps north. I have heard many people are leaving from Dal Riata to live on the new island where only the monks have lived before.”
“They are, but…”
“What?”
“It is a cold, dark, desolate place and you would have no status.”
“Better that than being dead.”
“Perhaps. But what if it was like this?”
He moved towards her and for a moment she thought he was going to… she wasn’t sure what she thought he was going to do, but he didn’t do it. “Has Marcant always been this dangerous?”
“No,” Gemma said. “He was loyal to my father at one time. Then there was a disagreement. And since Alt Clut… Perhaps he simply saw an opportunity. Aoife told me what he planned to do. Kill Tormod and his child and marry her himself.”
“You would be a far greater prize. Marrying Aoife would only have added Cadell’s lands to Marcant’s own, while you…”
“He already had control of my husband’s lands and my son. Aoife would have added more land to his own while he already controlled my husband’s.”
“Surely your royal blood was more valuable to him. His own son could have been king.”
Gemma frowned, realising Arne was right. Why had Marcant not tried to marry her? He had never even suggested it. It was one reason she had almost trusted him as Caelin’s steward. However, she had not known about his attacks on the settlement, nor his plan to murder Lord Cadell. “When you put it like that, it seems odd that he didn’t. Caelin would still have been in the way of any child of his inheriting, but—” She shuddered. If Marcant had been Caelin’s stepfather, no one would have dared to question an unfortunate accident befalling the boy.
How would she ever know what was the right decision to make? The Norsemen didn’t care about the Britons’ internal politics as long as it didn’t affect them. As soon as it did, they might as easily turn on her.
“If I go back it’ll be a constant worry that Rhun or Eochaid might choose to eliminate the threat of Caelin becoming the people’s choice for king.”
“And they may wish to eliminate you as well.”
“Perhaps.” She shrugged. “Eochaid’s future would be more secure with both of us gone, certainly.”
Arne stared at the fire for a long moment. “I will not let them harm Caelin… or you.”
Her breath caught and she turned her head sharply towards him, but he kept his gaze on the fire. Had she heard him correctly? Surely he wasn’t offering to… “I know you said you would protect Caelin, but… but you said I was a danger… you thought I was going to betray Kirkjaster.”
Finally he turned, and she struggled to read his expression. “And if you do, then I will deal with you. But I won’t let anyone else harm you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, almost dizzy at his words. Much as she wanted to be independent, it was not likely to ever be possible. Then, not knowing what more to say, she got to her feet and went to the fire. “I’m sorry, you must be cold and hungry. I will see if the food is ready.”
“I need to finish washing first,” he said. “I was able to clean my leathers and gloves in the stream, but I would like to wash properly before eating. Give me the bucket to fill in the stream and you can heat the water for me.”
“Is it safe?”
“I let them believe I was here alone. They could have harmed me earlier and did not,” he said. “And it is not likely they will wait around in this weather.”
She swallowed and glanced nervously at the door. “You think they didn’t believe you?”
“There is one among them who is definitely not to be trusted.”
“Why is that?”
