“That is not true. The man and his friend have come here to arrange marriages. For all we know, they are poor men looking to take our lands.”
“You know that is not true. They are rich Scots who want to marry us and marry their sisters to our men to make peace.”
“They want to take us away from here,” Saga said. “I will not leave. I do not care how the man looks at me. He will lose his bollocks if he tries to take me from my home.”
The more she thought about it, the more furious she became.
Vigdis took her hand and held on tight. “No one is taking anyone anywhere against their will. We have Gunnar’s word on that. I was only jesting with you. Please can we go to the feast now? I am hungry and wish to talk more with your Scot’s friend, MacAlpin. He is a kind man and said he would tell me all about the great city of Edinburgh and the markets there. He says there are fabrics there of all colours.”
Saga had underestimated her sister once again. Instead of looking for someone to love her, she had been looking to learn more about the world and there was surely nothing wrong with that.
“I am sorry for getting upset, sister. Thank you both for helping me prepare for this evening. Come, let us make our way to the hall and hear all about this Edinburgh. Maybe they have new weapons there as well and I can visit you?”
Vigdis laughed. “He does not live there, merely visits. He lives in a castle, though not as large as Giric’s, but he says the weavery where they make the tapestries is quite large and employs many weavers. I am quite fascinated with their commerce.”
Saga wondered if she had not bumped her head harder than she first thought. She now wore a gown, and her sister was talking Scottish commerce. Perhaps she was still dreaming, and the effects of Freydis’ concoction had not yet worn off. Or perhaps she was about to experience an entirely new world.
They thanked Freydis and made their way to the great hall. The smell of roasting wild boar made Saga’s belly rumble its approval. The din emanating from the hall told her it was already full of people. She drew a deep breath as Vigdis squeezed her hand.
“You have nothing to worry about, sister. Tonight shall be wonderful.”
Saga nodded and entered the hall with her sister. Within seconds the room fell silent, and all heads turned their way. Gunnar’s jaw dropped which made Saga want to turn the other way and find some place to hide.
She scanned the tables, and it wasn’t until she had thoroughly viewed both sides that she realized the face she was looking for was two seats away from her brother at the head table all along.
Gunnar stood and pulled out the two chairs on either side of him. Giric MacDomnail stood next to one and Osgar MacAlpin stood next to the other chair.
Saga swallowed hard and locked eyes with Giric. No one could ever accuse her of being a coward. As her sister walked toward MacAlpin, she walked toward Giric. His gaze never left hers as she approached. He was adorned in his crimson velvet fur lined cloak again, but now she could see the crest on the tunic underneath. It was that of a white serpent. She glanced at the shield behind him and back to his chest. When she met his eyes again she saw something else there for the first time. She saw true strength of mind she did not always see in other men.
* * *
Giric watched as she accepted the chair her brother offered. He caught her scent as she moved closer. Wild and untamed, like fresh mountain air, making him want to bury his face in her hair and nuzzle her neck. God’s breath she was a sight to behold either dressed as a warrior, or as she was now. He couldn’t help but stare at her as she took her seat. She glanced at him with wide eyes as though she did not know how to process the situation either.
Giric leaned in close to her. “You are the most enchanting woman I have ever met.”
Her cheeks pinked which only added to her charm. “You like the cut of my gown,” she said.
He wasn’t sure whether the comment was in jest or not. “I like the way you walk into a room caring not for what anyone else thinks, even though you think your gown is cut too low.”
Her eyes widened again. “How do you know that?”
“I didn’t until just then, but I suspected it.”
“You think you know me?”
“I do not know you at all. But you have an expressive face, and I am usually very good at reading people’s impressions at a given moment.”
“I accept your compliment, Giric MacDomnail, and offer my thanks,” she said and turned her head toward the crowd.
If he’d been ensnared by her warrior’s power, he was enchanted by her elegance and grace. His brain appeared to sputter to a stop when she looked at him with all the regal countenance of a queen. Would he survive an evening with her without stammering over his words like some green lad?
“Welcome honoured guests and friends,” Gunnar said, momentarily breaking the spell as she turned to watch her brother address the hall.
“Tonight we celebrate the beginning of the harvest and new friends. You may not know the man sitting next to you, but I encourage you to remedy this tonight. We gather in peace. Skol!”
Servants milled about them filling goblets and horns. The boar that had been roasting on the spit was sliced into large chunks and trenchers of it were brought first to the head followed by the side tables. At his own table at Castle Domnail, he would pick the best pieces of his meat and feed it to his lady.
Was it too soon to consider making an arrangement between him and Saga? If he asked for her, he was fairly certain Gunnar would agree. Though he still knew so little about her, he had to consider that he knew more in these last few hours than he had his first wife before their marriage. That arrangement had been carved in stone by his father years earlier and had helped to secure their claim on their lands.
