Now that they had eaten, Ylva decided to roll up the cuffs of her dress. It was getting warm in the sun, and the sleeves were too long for her anyway. It had bothered her from the moment she had put the dress on in the morning. She didn’t think Ulf would mind, as he had removed his tunic after their ride.
Satisfied, she took a long drink from the flask.
Ulf watched the delicate arm Ylva had just exposed—then frowned.
“What happened here?” When she let go of the flask, he lifted her wrist to examine it more closely.
It was obvious she was embarrassed by the scrutiny so he let go of her hand. He could tell she wanted to cover her injured wrist with the sleeve again but she resisted the impulse, merely covering it with her right hand.
“I broke my wrist when I was about twelve,” she said in a breath. “It was icy outside and I was carrying a heavy bucket full of milk. I slipped and landed on my wrist when I tried to break my fall. I didn’t dare say anything for fear of being scolded but the next day I could not move my hand. The wrist was swollen and the pain was excruciating. Mildred just…”
She shook her head, indicating that the woman had not cared and not allowed her to take any rest or see a healer. He berated himself for asking a question that brought back bad memories. Of course, he should have guessed this would have something to do with Mildred. What was he thinking?
“I’m sorry. Does it still pain you? Or restrict your movements?” It had not appeared to be the case, but he needed to be certain.
“No. Not anymore. It was painful for a long time, though. And it looks… Well, you’ve seen how it looks.”
He had, but in truth, it was not as bad as she seemed to think. What bothered him was not how it looked, but that she had suffered. Her slipping on the ice might not have been Mildred’s fault—even if she had probably given Ylva a bucket far too heavy for her to manage in treacherous conditions—but the woman should have seen to the injury afterward.
Because he wasn’t sure what to say, he lifted the cuff of his own shirt to expose his right wrist.
“I, too, oddly enough, was injured when I was twelve.”
Ylva took his arm in her small hands, intrigued. Her touch caused his groin to stir, which in turn caused him to tense. The last thing he wanted was for her to see the effect her simple gesture was having on him.
“Yes. But yours healed much better. There is nothing left to see.”
His chest tightened. Yes, his injury had healed properly, because it had been tended. His father had seen to it that Helgadid everything needed to set the bone and minimize the pain. Still, it had been one of the most painful experiences of his life. He could not imagine what Ylva would have gone through, left to deal with the break on her own, while carrying on doing the work of a slave. His hatred for Mildred flared anew. He hoped the man who had bought her, Lars Gormsson, would make her regret the horrors she had inflicted on so many people.
Silence stretched between them, only broken by the rolling sound of the waves. Overhead, a seagull squawked. Ylva raised her head, eyebrows arched. Perhaps the jarring noise was new to her. It sounded as if she had not experienced much, and no wonder.
The seagull flew away and she turned to him. “Now that I’m here, I would like to go into the water…”
She sounded hesitant.
“What’s stopping you?” The cold? The fact that he would see her in a state of undress?
“I don’t want to drown.”
Of course, having never been to the sea, she couldn’t swim. Unable to ever leave the house, she had never learned to ride a horse, she had never been to the beach or seen a seagull. She had done nothing of what a normal child would do, and therefore felt out of her depth now that she was able to do what she wanted to do. Because, well, shewasn’table to do what she wanted, not really. She couldn’t ride, which meant that she was not free to go where she wanted to go, she couldn’t swim, which meant that she couldn’t enjoy the sea as it should be enjoyed.
And he was an idiot for having forced her, yet again, to voice her inadequacies out loud. He had to make amends, make her see that all was not lost, just like earlier with the horse.
“I can take you into the water if you want. With me by your side, you will be safe. You will not drown.”
Hope lit up in her eyes, then dimmed. “But… You can’t go into the sea with your wound.”
Damn it, his wound. He’d already forgotten about it, but she was right. The cut was still relatively fresh, and the salt in the water would be excruciating. Still, he could not let it stop him, because if he didn’t go in with her, she would not go at all.
“It will be fine,” he said, hoping he would be able to withstand the sting.
The light in her eyes came back, and he knew he had made the right decision. He took a swig from the flask while Ylva stood up and threw a swift glance around.
“There is no one around, which is good because I will have to go in naked. I am not ruining your aunt’s lovely clothes.”
It was a good thing Ulf had finished drinking because he might well have spluttered. She intended to go into the sea naked. Forget the pain in his flank, how would he be able to handlethis?
“I can lend you my shirt if it makes you more comfortable,” he forced himself to say. Part of him wanted to do the right thing but another, bigger part, wanted to throw caution to the wind and rip her clothes off. “It might not be as comfortable but?—”
