Saga held her belly and tried to catch her breath, noticing that Giric now lay on his side with his hand propping his head up, watching her. She enjoyed the smile playing on the lips she had just tasted. Freya help her!
* * *
Lying on the ground and watching her, in a heartbeat everything in Giric’s world clicked into place. Aye, he’d been with other women, but not many, and none like her. Had they not been interrupted, he was not certain either would have wanted to stop. And whatever the issue with where they would live, they would have to figure that out because the option of him leaving without her as his betrothed was now gone. He would run any man through who ever dared lay a finger on her.
Between her passion, her intelligence, and her strength, he was unable to consider any other alternative but ask or even beg for her.
A light rain fell on them as her laughter died down. Giric’s pulse took a while to slow but by the time it did the rain was falling harder. He jumped up and held out a hand to her. Taking it and standing, she did not let go as they walked away from the pasture and toward the village. Giric linked their fingers together and squeezed her hand as the hall came into view.
“Oh I did not show you the shipping shed,” she said, and released his hand and pulled him toward the other side of the hall, through some trees, and to another large structure.
Inside was the largest ship Giric had ever seen. The prow extended far above the height of the shed and there was little room left between the width of the ship and the doorway. Gunnar was inside yelling instructions at a man hammering pegs into the ship’s side.
When he noticed them, his gaze darted between them, and he grinned. “I take it your tour was pleasing?”
“Aye,” Giric said, glancing at a rosy-cheeked Saga. “Very pleasing.”
Gunnar approached them. “I am done here if you would like to have our discussion now.”
“I would like that very much,” Giric said. He could not read Saga, but hoped she would at least hear him out. His mind buzzed with the possibility of making her his.
“Will you join us, sister?” he asked.
She nodded and walked ahead of them.
They walked back to the hall in silence. When they entered, Giric noticed a large iron pot hanging from the ceiling posts by thick iron chains and Osgar drinking from a bowl. Whatever was in the pot smelled delicious. An older woman smiled at him and handed him a wooden bowl full of the broth and a piece of crusty bread. He sat at a nearby table and sipped the liquid. His stomach rumbled in approval as Gunnar and Saga followed suit and the older woman refilled his bowl twice more.
Without asking, they were brought a trencher of meat and horns of ale. This time when Giric drank, the liquid seemed more palatable and was not at all like the brew from the night before. Gunnar laughed as Giric looked at the liquid in the horn.
“You are not losing your mind. I gave you and your men an older, more bitter brew the first time. A kind of jest I suppose,” he said.
Giric admired that and the man. While he had been convinced there was more to these people than met the eye, nothing could have prepared him for his experience so far.
“Shall we get down to business then?” Gunnar asked.
“Aye.”
“What do you propose?”
“I wish to ally your family with mine so that we may set about a new era of peace between our people. I am a wealthy landowner and the chief of my clan. I offer dowries for any woman in my clan who wishes to marry someone in yours and will carve out property and farming land for any men who wish to resettle on our lands.”
Gunnar stroked his beard. “And my threat in the west?”
“Between MacAlpin and me, we can amass enough men, coupled with the king’s army to secure these lands for you. Any alliance with the king further solidifies your connection to Olaf of Dublin. I also do not believe Einar when he says Olaf plots against you.”
“You are saying the king will not try to run us off this land even though we took it long ago from his own kind?”
“I am saying the king wants peace. I believe he will not take issue with you staying here as long as you bring no harm to any Scot.”
“I can agree to those terms,” Gunnar said. “Sister, do you have anything to add?”
“I do. No woman or man shall be forced into these arranged marriages. I would like your word from all three of you on that.”
They all nodded in agreement. “And now to more specifics,” he said looking directly at Saga. “I wish to ask for your sister’s hand.”
Gunnar sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “You spoke of dowries. We call it a bride price. What do you offer?”
“I believe you should ask me if I agree first, brother,” Saga said.
