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Emmel pressed his lips together. For a moment, she thought he might take her up on her offer, but then his gaze faltered, and he looked away.

“I cannae leave,” he said. There was something sad about him in that moment, something pitiful, as though he was shackled by something unseen. Isla wasn’t in the mood to indulge his emotions though or find out what thoughts were lurking behind his eyes. No, he would be fine. He would spend the night dancing with pretty young girls whose hearts weren’t burdened by secrets, despite what he said. In another life, it might well have been her fate, but not in this one.

Before she could say anything else, Andrew ran up to them and called out to Isla, boasting that he had just been given a gift. He carried a basket that was a little too big for him, and he swayed as he walked. Emmel smiled when he saw the lad.

“I hear that ye are gaeing on a trip,” Emmel said.

“Aye!” Andrew smiled happily and nodded enthusiastically.

Emmel crouched down so that he was on the same eye level as Andrew. “I’m sure ye will hae fun, but I want ye tae be big and strong and protect yer ma, aye?”

“I will,” Andrew swore solemnly.

Isla rolled her eyes. “There really isn’t gaeing tae be anything tae worry about. It’s a short journey. Bandits and Vikings know better than tae attack wagons on the road. I’ll be back here before ye know it, and then ye can tell me how many girls ye danced with at the wedding,” Isla said sharply.

“Would ye like help carrying anything back?” Emmel asked. He lifted the basket of food Isla had been filling, but Isla snatched it from him. She had to use two hands where he only used one, and her cheeks flushed red under the effort while he looked completely untroubled by things, but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of helping her.

“I can manage just fine without ye,” she said. “Come on, Andrew.” The boy followed her dutifully as they left the village. Sometimes men could be maddening, and Emmel most of all. Who was he to try and stop her from leaving? It wasn’t as though he was her husband.

She made her way back to a donkey and loaded the supplies on its back, relieved that she wouldn’t have to carry the burden of its weight all the way back to her village.

“If I hae tae defend ye, can I get a sword?” Andrew asked.

“Ye cannae hae a sword.”

“But how will I be able tae defend ye if bandits attack?” Andrew made the motions of attacking with a sword as they walked along the island, as though he was striking at some invisible foe. Fear clutched at Isla’s heart. There were times when the motions came so easily to him it was as though they were second nature, as though there was something in his blood that meant he was naturally adept at wielding weapons.

“There will nae be any bandits,” Isla said sharply, perhaps more sharply than she intended. She pulled his shoulder and scolded him, telling him to stop pretending he was fighting. Andrew looked chastised and sullen. “Emmel was nae being serious. We’re nae gaeing tae get intae any trouble, and ye are nae gaeing tae need a sword. There are more important things than fighting, Andrew. Just walk alongside me. We’re gaeing tae need tae keep our strength tae unload our supplies when we get home. Just put all thoughts of fighting and bandits out of yer mind. That’s the kind of life a warrior needs. It’s not the kind of life for us.”

She hated scolding him in this manner, but she also knew what he might be capable of if he grew up to be like his father. She shuddered inwardly at the thought of him growing up like that. There is too much violence in the world, she thought. Why cannae we just have a nice quiet life on our small island without having tae worry or fear anything bad happening tae us?

The islands were connected by a sandbank that acted as a path when the tides were out. During the night, this path would have been covered by water, but at this time of day, there was nothing to worry about. Their feet sank into the sand as the water stretched out either side of them. Sunlight danced upon it, giving it the appearance of life. To the left were the Highlands. She could just about make them out behind a misty veil. The cliffs were imposing, the land welcoming, for it was the land of her ancestors. In the other direction, the sea led to the rest of the world, to Norway. Sometimes a dreaded fleet could be seen on the horizon, and the hearts of the Highlanders were filled with foreboding, wondering if this was going to be the raid that would seal their doom. Isla often wondered what it had been like for her ancestors. Back then, a Viking raid meant almost certain death. It wasn’t necessarily the case now. With the help of the Vikings, the prowess of Highland warriors had grown, and Vikings from Norway weren’t seen as invulnerable monsters but just men—men who bled as much as any other.

Men who loved as well…

Emotion swelled in her heart as a memory from the past flashed through her mind. It was a memory of heat and passion, a memory that scorched her. Her throat ran dry. There were times she wished that it had never happened, but then she regretted feeling this way because Andrew would never have been born. But if she hadn’t fallen prey to the charms of a Viking, then perhaps her life would be different now. Perhaps she would be more appealing to the likes of Emmel.

She returned home with a dark look upon her face. Her father, Ewan Macrae, was there to greet them, and he helped unload the supplies from the donkey. As soon as they returned, Andrew stormed off to his room, with barely a moment to say hello to his grandfather.

Ewan watched the boy leave and then turned his gaze toward Isla.

“What’s on his mind?” Ewan asked as he carried the basket into the kitchen of their cottage. Ewan’s shoulders had a rounded look to them, and his beard was wispy. He was stronger than most men Isla had ever known, though, and he had never once been ashamed of her despite the fact that she had sacrificed her maidenhood. She had heard horror stories of girls being thrown out of their homes by their fathers after disgracing themselves in such a way, but that had never been a possibility with Ewan. He had only ever loved her. He was the kind of parent that every child should have.

“He’s annoyed because I will nae let him hae a sword,” Isla said.

“Ah,” Ewan said. “Perhaps ye should think about letting him practice with a wooden one at least. There’s no harm in teaching him tae defend himself.”

Isla shot him a black look. “And what comes after a wooden sword? A steel one, and then blood runs down the blade and lives are lost. I hae seen tae many mourning mothers and widows tae let my son gae down that path.”

“And what about when he’s older, when he’s able tae choose for himself?”

“I hope I would hae taught him better than that.” She huffed as she sorted out the supplies. Ewan watched her for a few moments before he spoke again.

“And what is on yer mind?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Isla,” he said in that gentle, coaxing way of his. She didn’t know how he did it, but there was always a way he could get her to pour her emotions out without even trying.