“Let her go, Ohthere, before she perishes of hunger,” someone yelled.
He did, but not before he had whacked her backside too. Kristen made a face at him, then went on her way to the long table where her family was seated. She had never been able to figure out what it was about her rump that invited such ill use, but it seemed she ended up with bruises for a week after every feast. She never minded, though, for it was done in the spirit of fun.
She rounded the table, but got no farther than her father’s chair, for his arm shot out and drew her onto his lap. “Are you angry with me, Kris?”
He was frowning at her, but it was a concerned frown. Her mother had already talked to him, and he had once again said no to her sailing without him. Aqua eyes met those of the same color and she smiled, putting her arms around his neck.
“When have I ever been angry at you?”
“Many’s the time I can remember, and all when you did not get your way.”
Kristen giggled. “Those times do not count.”
“You do understand why you cannot go with Selig?” he asked gently.
“Yea, I know why you do not want me to.” She sighed. “Sometimes I wish I were your son.” At that he threw back his head with a hearty laugh. She scowled at him. “I do not see what is so funny in that.”
“You are more like your mother than you know, Kris,” he told her. “For half her life, she tried very hard to be a son. I am just thankful I have a daughter, and one as lovely as you.”
“Then you would forgive me if I…if I did something you might not approve of?”
He grinned at her. “What kind of question is that? Have you done something?”
“Nay.” She could answer truthfully for the moment.
“Ah, this is a ‘suppose,’ then? Then I suppose I could forgive you for just about anything—within reason,” he added with a look that was half stern, half amused.
She leaned forward and kissed him. “I love you,” she said softly, and for that she got a tight squeeze that forced the breath from her and prompted her to cry, “Father!”
He pushed her off his lap with a pat and the order, “Get yourself something to eat before there is nothing left.” His voice was rough, but his expression was full of love.
Kristen took her place at the bench between her mother and Selig, who promptly filled a tankard of foaming mead for her. “You are not going to sulk, are you, Kris?” he asked her. “I do not need sulking to remember through the whole voyage.”
Kristen smiled at the way he set out to then fill a plate for her, for he rarely served her at table. “Feeling sorry for me, are you, Selig?”
Selig grunted at that. “As if you would let anyone feel sorry for you.”
“Nay, I would not, so do not do so. And the most I will sulk is to say good-bye to you tonight, so I will not have to watch you sail away without me in the morning.”
“Shame on you, Kristen,” Brenna chided her. “If you wanted him to feel guilty about leaving you behind, you just succeeded.”
“Nonsense.” Kristen smiled impishly at Selig, but said to her mother, “I will not even miss him.”
Selig gave her a sour look for that unsisterly sentiment and turned to say something to Athol, who sat on his other side. Kristen sighed, for Selig didn’t know yet how true her words would be, although he might remember when he found her sailing with him.
Brenna mistook her sigh. “Are you really this unhappy with your father’s decision?”
“It would have been an exciting adventure before I marry, Mother,” Kristen replied truthfully. “You had adventures before you married, did you not?”
“Aye, and dangerous ones, too.”
“But a trading voyage is not dangerous. And Father did say I am very like you.”
“Yea, I heard him.” Brenna grinned. “And he was right, you know. I did try very hard to be the son my father never had. But your father has three fine sons and delights in his only daughter. Do not wish to be anything but what you are, love.”
“It was only the adventure I wished for,” Kristen admitted.
“Then wish for it no more, for it does come to you when you want it not at all.”
