Читать книгу Return of the Viking Warrior - Michelle Styles, Michelle Styles - Страница 11

Chapter Four

The cheers and stomping of feet echoed in Ash’s ears as he took his seat. His brief speech and toast in reply to the king’s welcome had gone down well with the assembled crowd. Slightly different from the one he had planned on the ship.

It was the sort of speech they, in particular Kara, would want to hear rather than a precise recounting of events. Ash inwardly cringed at certain parts which made him out to be more of a hero. He’d been lucky. That was all. Nothing heroic. He had made it through alive even if at times he’d wanted to die, rather than continue on. But no one wanted to hear the truth.

‘Your speech was well received.’ Kara gave a polite smile as he sat down. ‘It certainly seemed like you had an exciting time.’

‘You missed two of my jokes. You never missed them before,’ he said. ‘I put them in especially for you. I hoped you liked them.’

Kara raised an eyebrow. ‘For me? I’m honoured that you thought much about me. My mind must have been on something else. I’m sorry.’

Ash tapped his finger against the drinking horn. Watching for someone? Valdar had not yet appeared in the hall, despite his ill-timed interruption in the antechamber.

‘I just wanted you to know.’

‘Impressing me should be the least of your considerations, Ash,’ she said.

Ash took a thoughtful sip of his ale. She was wrong. Seven years ago, he had married her in order to demonstrate to his father that he was ready to shoulder responsibility and ready to be the captain of a ship. Kara had been the girl on the next estate who blushed every time he spoke to her and hung on his every word. She’d believed in his dreams of being a great warrior. He hated disappointing anyone. ‘I wanted you to know.’

‘I’ll try harder the next time I hear the speech.’

Ash shuddered inwardly. The words had stuck in his throat, but people wanted to hear about heroes not failures. ‘It won’t be given again.’

‘I was distracted. I apologise.’

The earlier glance between Kara and Valdar had been telling. She had welcomed the interruption in the antechamber, maybe even requested it beforehand. Valdar certainly was her devoted slave. How far had it gone? Kara was his wife. But did he truly have a right to her any more? All he knew was that he wanted her.

When he had seen her standing in front of the priest next to the blond hulk of a warrior, something had twisted inside his gut.

He remembered the man from his youth. They used to be rivals at games and swordplay. His father had always held Valdar up as the sort of son he’d wanted. Kara was his woman, not anyone else’s, particularly not Valdar Nerison’s. He would reclaim her. He would show her that he was worthy of being her hero. He could do it. He was more than a match for Valdar.

‘You look very serious,’ Kara said, frowning. ‘The king’s speech was more than gracious in the circumstances and your recital of your adventures is sure to have fired skalds’ imaginations. You will get a saga out of this. You always wanted to be in a saga. Stop acting like it is Ragnarok because I didn’t laugh at one of your jokes.’

Ash forced another swallow of the ale. Wasn’t that what she wanted, as well—a hero for a husband? And what would happen when she discovered he was just a man, a flawed man? He pushed the thought away.

‘Thinking. Things have changed since I last attended a feast in Sand. And I hadn’t expected to notice the empty spaces and missing faces as much as I have.’

She toyed with a piece of bread, shredding it into ever smaller pieces. ‘It must be hard to be the only one who returned from that félag.’

Ash gave a reluctant nod. The dead were always with him, but tonight more than ever. They knew he was no hero. They knew his words were an exaggeration at best, but he couldn’t risk losing her by appearing less than a hero. ‘You should know I’d have changed places with any of them if I could. They were good men, better men than me.’

‘You knew them better than I.’

‘That I did.’ Ash gestured towards where the skald sat, tuning his lyre. ‘When am I going to hear the lament my father commissioned about my death? Several have mentioned it. Or weren’t you planning on that song at your wedding feast?’

Her cheeks flushed scarlet. ‘I didn’t think it appropriate for my wedding. He might know it. It was popular for a few years in Raumerike.’

‘Ask him to play it.’

‘Why?’

To know what my father thought about me. A man wants to know how he is remembered. Even if he is not worthy of that remembrance. Ash clamped back the words. If he wanted to regain Kara, she had to think he was a hero, the ideal husband for her. ‘I thought it would be amusing.’

‘Amusing.’ Kara placed her cup down with a thump. ‘That is what you think a lament should be—an amusement? Sometimes I wonder if I ever knew you, Ash Hringson.’

‘What else? Amusement is far better than sorrow, but I will wait.’ Ash clapped his hands. ‘I wish to hear some Raumerike songs. It has been far too long. Please my ears, skald, and you will be well rewarded.’

* * *

Kara bore the feast for as long she could. She listened to the toasts and the songs. She made meaningless small talk with various people, but her sense of unease grew with every passing breath. She had to force her voice to be loud and firm, whereas Ash appeared not to be suffering any sort of fear or trepidation. He’d actually wanted to hear the lament his father had commissioned.

Silently she thanked the gods that the skald was one Valdar had hired so he hadn’t committed the verses to memory. The last verses were about Ash’s ghost imploring his infant son to grow up to be a brave warrior like him. There was never a dry eye at Jaarlshiem when the piece was sung. Instead the skald had sung drinking songs and songs of past Raumerike battles. Everyone had joined in and the ale had flowed.

The entire situation reminded her of the feasts before Ash had left when she’d faded into the background as he held everyone in the palm of his hand with his ready wit. He kept up a steady stream of banter and was willing to drink every toast.

Ash’s shoulder nudged her after the third drinking song. When the fifth started, his hand brushed over hers as he reached for the trencher that they shared. A deliberate caress. She made a stabbing motion with her eating knife. He gave an unrepentant smile and reached for her hand again. This time, he brought it to his lips.

Kara straightened her back and stared directly ahead, ignoring the pulse of warmth. She was not a plum, ripe for the plucking and bedding, simply because Ash had deigned to return after seven years and desired a warm body.

She turned and saw Valdar staring at her and Ash. Heat stained her cheeks. Ash’s gesture had been one of possession, rather than casual regard or desire.

She stood up.

Ash immediately stopped his conversation in mid-quip and caught her hand. ‘A problem?’

‘Time for me to retire,’ she said, her throat tightening.

‘Here, Valdar has finally arrived. He failed to follow directly. Odd, that.’ He nodded towards where her former betrothed stood, gently swaying. His bridal finery was now rumpled and his jaw slack.

Kara turned her face away, trying to remember if she had ever seen Valdar drunk.

Ash put an arm about her shoulders. ‘But if you are ready to go, who am I to deny you?’

She pulled away. ‘That has nothing to do with anything. I have had a long day. Exhaustion hits the best of us.’

‘And we are anticipating an even longer night!’ one of Ash’s former drinking companions called out from further down the table.

‘You speak to my wife. Keep a civil tongue in your head.’ Ash glowered at the man. ‘Apologise.’

The man gulped. ‘I apologise, my lady. The beer has made my tongue loose.’

Ash stood and put a possessive hand in the middle of her back. ‘You’re right, lady wife. The hour grows late. I accept your plea. Time we both retired.’

‘Please don’t feel you must,’ Kara said in a hurried undertone. ‘I can see myself home. Your many admirers are here, wanting to speak with you and hear about your adventures. The celebrations are poised to continue until the cock crows in the morning.’

His eyes became hooded. ‘Why should I want to be parted from you, my loyal wife?’

She moved and his hand fell away. The tiny touch burned its way up her arm. Ash was up to his old tricks—saying things and allowing her to interpret them in a specific fashion when he meant entirely the opposite thing. ‘Teasing fails to become you. I’m not in the mood and I am serious. People expect the full story. You only gave the briefest hint of your adventures. Do you wish for people to feel cheated?’

He reached down and rubbed the side of his leg. ‘The feast grows wearisome for me as well as you. The telling of tales means reliving my experiences. The words are stuck in my throat. Tomorrow when I have found better words, I will tell them. Today has unfolded in a different fashion than I had thought it would.’

Kara noticed the tired circles under his eyes and the faint pinching around his mouth. It reminded her of when Rurik protested at having a nap, but was about to fall asleep on his feet. She was being hard on Ash. She had been so caught up in her own discomfort that she hadn’t seen the toll the day’s events had taken on him. ‘Today was a different day than either of us planned. In the morning...’

‘The morning will look after itself. Right now, let me look after you.’

Her breath caught in her throat. Once she had longed to hear those words from Ash, but now she knew they were meaningless phrases. The only person Ash looked after was himself. ‘No need. I am capable.’

‘Every need. You are my wife.’ He cleared his throat and stared straight at Valdar. Valdar glowered back. ‘I must leave you all. My lady wife begs for bed.’

His voice echoed about the hall.

There was a great stamping of feet and a fresh round of laughter. ‘A kiss! A kiss! A kiss! We want a kiss!’

Kara froze. Not here. Ash was just proving a point to Valdar.

His eyes turned speculative, then he shook his head.

‘I do my wooing in private. Haven’t you seen enough for one day? Find your own women.’ He glared directly at Valdar. ‘This one is taken.’

He ushered her out of the hall into the cool night air, putting his hand firmly on the small of her back. The shouts and ribald jests followed them into the dark night. A large yellow moon hung in the sky, giving a real glow to the street. The sounds of the feast filtered out.

‘Thank you.’

‘For what? For not kissing you?’ He rubbed the back of his thumb along her mouth, making it ache. ‘I told the truth, Kara. I’ve no need to kiss you in public. I’m willing to wait, knowing what the prize is.’

Easy words. She had made the mistake before of believing such things. It was deeds which counted, not words. Deeds lasted. Words faded as soon as they were uttered.

‘For leaving with me. My father...’ Kara’s throat closed as she thought of the humiliations her father had piled on her mother when he’d returned from his voyages and how her mother had retreated into her own private world.

‘Your father was a difficult man, plagued with his own demons,’ Ash said.

‘Anyway, I’m grateful.’

‘Feasts are a chore at the best of times. This one was far harder than most, but it is over...for both of us.’

‘You used to love them. You spent days practising your jokes and quips on me.’

‘I’d forgotten that. Hopefully I didn’t bore you.’

Her mouth went dry. ‘I enjoyed hearing them. Sometimes...sometimes I think about them even now.’

His eyes became huge pools of midnight blue in the moonlight. ‘Other things became more important. And my long-ago words were the babblings of an unwise youth.’

She forced her face to turn away from him. In another heartbeat she’d melt into his arms and that was wrong. ‘I can find my own way home.’

‘You’re my wife. Allow me this. Allow me to keep you safe.’

The stones in the road swam in front of her eyes. She blinked rapidly. The only person who could keep her safe was her. ‘I’ve no objection.’

They walked in silence to the door of the small house she used when she was in Sand. The night held the chilly promise of winter. In the sky, a large harvest moon hung, illuminating the silent town in silver.

It seemed such a short time ago that she’d left the house to marry Valdar and now she was returning with a different husband, one she had once mistakenly thought knew her intimately, but now was a total stranger.

Kara gave him a quick glance. Would he want to stay? Would he expect it? The house was his by right. She could hardly refuse him entrance, but she could refuse him her bed. It was too much to tell him about Rurik tonight. No one had said anything at the feast despite her worries.

His set face gave nothing away.

‘Here we say goodnight.’ She held out her hand as they stopped beside the door.

‘Kara...’ He reached for her, tilting her chin upwards. ‘Is that how you say goodnight? When did an ice giant touch your heart?’

In the pale moonlight, his face had become like Loki’s—beguiling, but treacherous. It would be easy to melt into his arms and give her mouth up to his touch, but also it would be the worst thing she could do. She had finished believing he was what she wanted. She no longer had need of heroes. She needed a steady man. To bring up Rurik properly.

Rurik.

Her mouth went dry. She needed to tell him. Before anyone else did. She had kept trying to find the correct way on the journey home, but her mind had been devoid of ideas. It had to be done right.

‘That would be unwise, Ash.’

His hand fell to his side. ‘Why?’

‘Much remains unsettled. We need to finish our discussion. I won’t be forced or seduced. Ash, I know your tricks. You say things you think people want to hear. I remember enough about your old stories to know things were far more difficult and less pleasurable than you made out in tonight’s speech. Some day, when you’re ready to tell me what truly happened, then maybe we can begin again.’

She watched him silently and willed him to tell her the truth of why he’d been gone so long. After that, she’d confess about their son. It was hard knowing the right time and way to say it. How did you tell a man that he had a six-year-old son?

‘I wasn’t planning on asking to stay unless you requested it. We go at your pace, Kara. I’ve never forced a woman. I’ve no plans to change that habit, particularly not with my wife.’ His hand caught a strand of her hair and wound it about his finger. ‘Are you afraid of admitting that truth? You desired me as much as I desired you. And I still desire you. We could have beautiful children, Kara. You always wanted children.’

A cold prickle ran down her spine. It was the opening she’d waited for. She had to tell him the truth before she gave into cowardice. Ash had to hear about Rurik from her, rather than learning from someone else. She silently prayed that she would not have to tell him the full story. Not tonight.

‘Ash, listen to me.’ The words came out in a rush as she tore her hair from his grasp. ‘Everything between us changed six years ago when I gave birth to your son.’

His mouth dropped open. In the pale moonlight, the laughter drained from his face. He looked as if someone had hit him over the head with a sword. He shook his head as if to clear it and all the while watching her with a stunned, uncomprehending face.

Her stomach roiled. She had said the words far too bluntly. She should have eased her way in.

‘I have a child?’ The words were barely above a whisper. Shocked and utterly unlike his usual voice. ‘A son from you?’

‘Yes, we have a son—Rurik.’

A son. He had a son. His son. The words pounded into Ash’s brain.

The overwhelming tiredness fell away. He was a father. He scarcely knew what to think or say. He was utterly unprepared for it.

He had never even thought of the possibility. Never allowed his mind to consider such a thing as a child of his own. Kara had had his child. All sorts of conflicting emotions coursed through him—elation at having a child and the horror at knowing how unworthy he was, as well as a sense of responsibility and the bitterness of regret.

His son had grown up without him—cut his first tooth, taken his first step and ridden his first horse without Ash being there to see it. He had always sworn that he’d never do that to a child, behave like his father had done. But he had. He’d been even worse. His father had at least welcomed him into the world before departing for four years of adventuring. Ash had never seen his boy. Never even considered his existence.

Was ignorance an excuse? Not for the first time, Ash wanted to turn back the sands of time.

He ran a hand through his hair and tried to keep his emotions under control. He glanced up at twinkling stars in the night sky and blinked the tears away. He was a father. It changed everything and nothing. One more mistake for his shade to carry. He should have known deep within his soul and he hadn’t. What sort of man did that make him?

‘What is his name?’ he asked, through the lump in his throat. ‘Did you say Rurik?’

‘Rurik, Rurik Ashson. Once you said you wanted your first-born to be named Rurik.’

Rurik, his mother’s father’s name. The memory came rushing back. He had been standing on a rock above the lake, proclaiming what he’d do after he conquered the world and sired a batch of sons.

How had she remembered that? He didn’t deserve that sort of consideration, but he was grateful for it. More than grateful.

‘You did well. My first choice,’ he said and knew his words were inadequate. Anger surged through him. She’d known. She’d carried the knowledge with her through the morning and afternoon. All through the feast. But she’d kept the most important piece of news from him. It felt good to be angry. Anything was better than the all-consuming regret. ‘Why wait until now to tell me? Why not tell me at the temple?’

‘Ash...’ She held out her hand.

Ash ignored it. With a hurt expression, she slowly lowered it. Ash hardened his heart and forced the guilt back down his throat. Every other man at the feast had known, but not him. Had she wanted to humiliate him?

‘It should have been the first thing you said to me,’ he ground out. ‘Before you spoke of my father’s death. You risked making me the laughing stock of Raumerike. Or maybe that was your intention. A way to get back at me for something not of my making? I thought you better than that.’

‘I was interrupted before I had a chance...’ Kara pressed her hands to her eyes, hating the guilt that swept over her. She’d made a mistake. He was absolutely right. She should have said something. She hated that she’d been a coward about her son whom she loved with every fibre of her being. ‘You’d just learnt your father had died. Losing a father and gaining a son in the next breath is far too much for any man to bear.’

‘You’re sure he is mine?’ Ash gripped her shoulders, his face intent.

Kara’s entire body went cold. He had to believe her. She hardly wanted to confess that Ash was her only lover, not after learning about the parade of women who’d graced his bed before her and more than likely since. He was not the type to endure an empty bed for seven years. She had her pride.

‘Rurik is your son as well as mine.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Once you see him, you will know. He has your eyes, Ash, and your nose. Your father used to proclaim how like his father Rurik was and how I ought to be careful or he’d be steering ships on to the rocks.’

The tension eased in his shoulders. His hands fell to his sides.

‘I wouldn’t wish my nose on anyone,’ he mumbled, hanging his head.

‘I’ve always liked your nose.’

‘When was he born?’ he asked in a gentler tone.

Kara wound a strand of hair about her finger and tried not to think back to that fateful day. Ash needed the bare minimum. Later, maybe, she’d tell him the full tale. ‘He was a Jul-tide baby. The day of his birth was icy.’

Ash expelled a breath. Five months after he’d departed. Two months after he was supposed to have returned.

He’d been in the dungeon then, waiting for help which never would come. Nothing he could have done. The thought failed to ease his sense of guilt. She must have known before he’d left. Had she kept the news from him?

‘I want to see him. Immediately! Take me to him.’

Kara opened the door, her shoulders quivered like a nervous horse, scenting battle. ‘Shall we discuss this inside, rather than on the street for all to hear?’

Ash entered the dimly lit room. He would never have recognised it. Instead of the gloomy tapestries of battles which had frightened him as a little boy, the walls were hung with the most fantastical beasts. The weaving loom was set before the small hearth rather than being banished to the back room. The house which he remembered as a cold and austere place had a definite air of warmth. Things had changed for the better here, but he dreaded to think about Jaarlshiem. The farm had suffered when his mother had looked after it.

‘Is he here?’ he asked as Kara stood quietly just inside the doorway. ‘I want to see him. Now. Wake him up! His father is home!’