Page 50 of Viking in Love

“He was ashamed. And I suspect you started yelling afore he could begin to explain.”

“I will set things aright,” he said. Then, grudgingly, he added, “I appreciate your telling me.”

She nodded acceptance of his apology.

He resumed walking then, taking her with him.

“I like to come up each evening, just before dusk,” he said, leaning on the ledge. He still held her hand in his, which he could tell rankled her, but was all the more reason not to let her go. His mind still dwelled on the horrific news she had laid on him.

“It is pretty, especially with all that larkspur.”

“Pretty is fine,” he said, “but it is land itself which is important to me.” For me, and for my children. For Hugh.

She tilted her head at him.

“I was landless, like Geoff and Wulf, with no prospects, being a third son, but then my Uncle Richard died ten years ago and bequeathed Larkspur to me. An unexpected gift.”

“But one you cherish.”

“Yea, I do. You have to be homeless to appreciate what having a home means.”

“Homeless? Really?”

He smiled at her and squeezed her hand. “Not really homeless, but I moved about from place to place, wherever my military skills were needed.” And my son Hugh, little bigger than Piers at the time, still with his reluctant, negligent mother, a chambermaid in my father’s home, who put the babe in peril more than once. What a fool I was! A careless fool.

“And that is why you went a-wooing this past sennight…to gain more lands. Why then did you bow out to Geoff?”

“’Tis enough that I have a comrade-in-arms in place at an adjoining property. And Geoff needed a home.”

“You are a good friend.”

“A compliment? Forsooth! I must mark this date in stone.”

It was she who squeezed his hand then as she leaned slightly against him. She probably did not realize that her body pressed against his side, from upper arms to thighs. The faint rose scent wafted up to him from her hair. He had never been over-fond of red-haired women, but hers was amazing, taking on different lights through the day, from darkish blonde to deep crimson. Tonight, in the dimming light, even in its long single braid, it was more like burnished silk. Forgetting himself, he reached out a hand to touch it, but caught himself just in time.

“And that is why you and your sisters must leave on the morrow.”

She stiffened and put a small distance between, as much as she could with her hand still restrained. “What has one to do with the other?”

“Everything. I walk a tight line betwixt ownership of Larkspur and duty to my king. Edgar’s court is like a vipers’ pit, awash with greedy land-hungry men. If I offend my king, he could take my lands away.”

“Surely the law would not allow that.”

He shrugged. “The Witan would make the final decision, but many of the noble members are the king’s puppets.”

“Chances are he would never find out, either that Lord Havenshire was killed, or that we are responsible.”

“Suspicion is enough. Mayhap if you had all stayed at Havenshire to answer questions—”

“Nay. ’Twas impossible. Other than our two Norse guardsmen, we had no one to support us there. My father and my family-by-marriage have friends in high places, but until they were at our backs, the best plan was to leave.”

“No one accused you?”

“Nay, but everyone knew how Oswald was treating his wife. It was a natural conclusion that she would have just cause to get rid of him. Women have been executed for less.”

He nodded. “Guilt by accusation.”

“All we are asking is that you let us stay a few sennights more until…” She let her words trail off.