“No.”
“Then I will do as you say. And return with you.”
He hoped she wasn’t lying. But he didn’t know whether she was more dangerous to him if she was, or if she wasn’t.
Chapter Twelve
Gemma turned away fromhim then. Every moment she had waited alone, not knowing where Caelin was, had been agony. She’d alternated pacing around the shieling with stabbing the fire with the poker more often and more violently than necessary as too many thoughts ran through her head. But Arne had been right. There was far more danger if she was seen here than if he was. He was armed and a trained warrior.
Still, it had been hard to let him go and be locked in the shieling. Every instinct she possessed had been screaming at her to ensure her son’s safety, but her chances of saving him by following him out into the storm had been far lower than Arne’s. And she was more grateful than she could express that Arne had once again saved her son’s life. Or at least she should be grateful. Instead, she was angry and ashamed. It was her fault Caelin had gone out alone in the first place. She had allowed herself to be distracted by Arne when her priority should have been Caelin.
She did not know what to do to repay him, and anything she did to thank him, every way she tried to reach out to him, was misconstrued. He didn’t trust her, saw her as a danger, and there was nothing she could do to change his mind. And now she had the added concern of him knowing about Caelin’s affinity with animals. It had never shown itself so clearly before today, but now there was no denying it. If he had known the cubs were there, had ‘heard’ them calling to him, then it wasn’t with his ears. Here in the shieling, she could barely hear their quiet little noises, never mind hearing them all the way across the snowy moor and then in the depths of the woods. Gemma wondered what this ability might mean for her son. Aoife had told her the Norsemen were more accepting of her visions than the Britons had ever been – she hoped Arne was the same with Caelin. Otherwise she now had something else to worry about.
The wind gusted, whistling around the uneven outer walls. She was thankful the shieling had been built solidly even though it was only used in the summer, but it needed to stand all winter ready for the summer.
Now the cubs were settled, Arne had removed his leathers and kirtle but still wore his shirt. She lifted the blanket from her bed and handed it to him. “Here, wrap yourself in this while I wash your clothes.”
He looked at her, surprised. “There is no need for you to do that. Not after me saying—”
“I am happy to. To thank you…”
He nodded at her, and she turned away while he undressed.
“Here,” he said, handing her his kirtle and shirt. “I will clean the rest.”
For a while they worked in a silence broken only occasionally by Caelin murmuring to the cubs and the splash of water in the basin. His leathers were easy to clean, only needing to be wiped, and soon he had hung them by the fire and was sitting in the chair, watching Caelin with the cubs. Gemma made a point of keeping her eyes on what she was doing. She had scrubbed his shirt and kirtle, but she needed clean water to rinse them.
She shivered and looked over at Arne. He had the blanket around him, so she relaxed a little. Him sitting there bare-chested would have been too intimate.
“Can you pour out the water and bring me more to heat?” she asked him.
He nodded, lifted the basin of dirty water and moved to the door to pour the dirty water outside. Then he came back in and switched the basin for the bucket. For the next few minutes he went in and out, returning each time with it overflowing with snow.
“Will this be enough?” he asked, brushing snowflakes from his head.
“For now.” She added more wood and some peat to the fire. The familiar earthy smell mixed with that of the wood comforted her. If she closed her eyes and breathed in, she was able to pretend she was somewhere else. Somewhere that might even be home. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her.
“Is everything all right?”
“As much as it can be while we are stranded here,” she answered. When the water was warm enough, she poured it into the basin and set to work rinsing his clothes, then wrung them out and hung them close to the fire.
“We need to talk about—” Arne began, gesturing towards the table.
“Are you hungry?” she interrupted, not ready to talk to him yet.
“Starving!” Caelin’s voice came from under the table. She bent down to look and saw him lying on his stomach, his head propped on his hands, watching the cubs with undisguised love on his face. “And we need to find milk.”
Now her shock at the cubs’ presence was dwindling, she understood her son’s feelings towards them. They were so tiny, and Caelin had always sought to look out for those more defenceless than himself. She was surprised Arne had bothered to bring them back. How much easier to just leave them to die. But she was concerned. She knew the pain of loss and worried that ifthe cubs died, Caelin would be inconsolable, but Arne had been right—abandoning them would have been worse.
“We will need to decide what to feed them — they look too young to be weaned,” she said.
“They must make do with broth or perhaps oat milk if you have enough oats,” Arne replied.
“I brought plenty of oats.” She grimaced. “They seemed like the lightest thing to carry.”
She measured oats into the pan and added water before hanging it over the fire to boil. Then she set to work chopping the remaining tubers and cutting some more of the venison, ready to add to the pan once she had strained off the oat milk. She searched for a loosely woven piece of cloth to enable her to do this, and once she had found one, stared determinedly at the fire while she waited for the contents of the cauldron to boil.
“Gemma.”
