Undercurrent (30 page)

Intermittent sniffles wracked Cassie’s small frame. He debated the wisdom of simply carrying her down the steep path. But after a sleepless night and the draining ordeal of Alarik’s execution, he could not trust his own muscles. “Follow close. If you slip, I will break your fall.”

She simply nodded.

Twice on the descent she braced both hands against his back to stop her sliding. A much smoother trek, he wagered, than her bottom-dragging method of yesterday. Sorrow flanked him as they passed the place he and Alarik had shared a smile over that. It was as if he could see his ghost, Alarik’s head tilted back, his hair catching the sun as he laughed. Sweet Jesu. Was that only yesterday? He drew in a ragged breath and pressed on.

The camp showed little signs of life as they wound between banked fires. Women kept to themselves in huddled groups. Most men yet attended the council, except for the sporadic few who lay snoring open-mouthed from too much ale. He made sure to give wide berth around Torolf’s tent. Their inevitable clash would come, and when that battle must be fought, better he do so without Cassie in tow.

As they drew near the small area he’d claimed as their own, two figures rose. Must he face a challenge so soon, grief-torn, unarmed, and with Cassie beside him?
Jesu, please, show your strength in my weakness
. Though weary beyond measure, he stood taller and lengthened his stride.

“
Hail, Jarl Ragnar,” Bryn and Oláf said in unison as each struck a fist to their chests.

Interesting.

He cocked his head and crossed his arms. “You will have me as Jarl?”

“
Living under Torolf’s rule the past four moons, we bear no great love for his ruthless ways. We will serve the lawgiver’s chosen leader.” Bryn spoke, and Oláf nodded his agreement.

Ragnar relaxed his stance and rubbed a kink at the back of his neck. “Your allegiance to me guarantees you will come to blows with Torolf. You are willing?”

They stood silent, but neither did they retreat. It would do.

“
Get your packs. We leave now.”

Dipping their heads in fealty, the men filed away without argument. Ragnar sighed. Both of them together could not equal half the warrior Alarik had been, yet it was a start.
Thank you, Jesu
.

“
Ragnar?”

He turned. Now, besides the hurt, fear rose in Cassie’s eyes.

Brushing back the hair strewn over her brow, he willed courage in his touch and an assurance to his voice that he did not feel. “Fret not, little one.”

“
But Torolf…I’m afraid. I already lost Alarik.” Her breathing increased and her eyes, swollen from so much weeping, filled once again. “I can’t…lose…you.”

She was in his arms before he could think. Holding her, hearing her admission of trust—or dare he believe, admiration—should have brought great joy. Instead, he held her all the closer as an ominous suspicion turned his bowels to water.

He would face Torolf, and in so doing, she may very well lose him.

TWENTY-NINE

Though Ragnar sat next to her as the faering sailed along a narrowing river, Cassie knew he was miles away. Since they’d left the assembly three days ago, he often lapsed into long, quiet stretches.

Not that she minded at first. Her own grief over Alarik’s death choked her up so much that conversation was the last thing on her mind. The lulling rock of the boat served to hypnotize as well, putting a damper on discussion.

But as her need for silence eased, Ragnar’s seemed to increase.

Leaning sideways, she nudged him with her shoulder. “You okay?”

“
Okay?” He glanced at her, one blue eye searching hers.

She bit her lip, then smiled. How easy it was to still let English confuse her Old Norse. “Sorry. Are you well? You are so quiet.”

Small creases gathered above his cheekbone as he returned her smile. “Do Oláf and Bryn not speak enough for the both of us?”

She grinned and peeked in their direction. True. Even now they jabbered like old ladies in the stern, where one manned the rudder and the other the sail. “Yes, but I’m not talking about them. I’m asking about you.”

His smile faded, and he looked forward, past the bow. “There is much on my mind, Cassie.”

“
Such as?”

Something more than sorrow weighted his brow. If only she could reach out and smooth away those lines. “I can’t solve your problems, Ragnar, but I am a good listener.”

Pulling his gaze from the horizon, he lowered it to the floor strakes. “I did not wish to be jarl.”

A lightning bolt of empathy charged through her. Her hand itched to pat him on the back or knee or something. What would he think of that? She tucked her hands under her thighs instead. “I know how that feels, Ragnar. I did not wish to be cast into history, yet I have learned to live with it. And you are far more capable than me. Besides, Jesu will help you.”

Jerking up his head, he studied her. Did he think she mocked him?

He finally nodded. “Indeed. Thank you for speaking so.”

“
Well…” Since she held his attention, she might as well go for it. “There is something I’d like to talk about that you might not thank me for.”

He nodded once more, saying nothing.

“
It’s about Alarik. Did he…I mean, do you…” Her tongue knotted up. How did you ask someone if his best friend was a murderer?

“
Speak plain.” He nudged her shoulder as she’d done. “I can listen as well as you.”

“
Why did Alarik go to the assembly if he knew he’d be executed?” She blurted the question that’d haunted her for days.

Ragnar rubbed his temples with two fingers. Hopefully she wasn’t giving him a headache.

“
Alarik went to maintain honor and to prove his innocence.”

“
But he said he was guilty—”

“
Nay!” His rebuff came out harsh, and he immediately softened his tone. “Forgive me. Alarik said he would atone, not that he was guilty. There is a difference. I yet believe my cousin was innocent of his brother’s blood.”

Surely her Old Norse was going kaputz. His words made no sense. “If he was innocent, why would he do such a thing?”

“
The same question troubles me.” He gave her half a smile. “Would that we both knew the answer, ja?”

Looking past the bow once more, he widened his grin. “Mayhap one day Jesu will reveal the whys, but for now, we are home, Cassie.”

He scrambled from her, probably to assist Bryn and Oláf, but she couldn’t be sure. Those four small words rocked her to the core of her world. We are home, Cassie. Maybe he’d not meant anything by them, but they slapped her in the face with a sudden revelation.

In spending her life pursuing a career, she’d missed out on one of the basic essentials…a home. Always on the move from one position to the next, she’d climbed her professional ladder but never stayed in one place long enough to belong. Not even with Drew. As the faering pulled alongside one of several docks, a desperate desire to change gripped her heart—strong and real as Ragnar’s grasp on her hand while he helped her over the gunwale. But what kind of home would a primitive village make compared to what she was used to? If the choice was tangible, would she choose to stay here? With a glance at Ragnar, her heart lurched with an answer—an answer that took away her breath.

“
Welcome to Rogaland.” He kept firm hold of her fingers as his boyish steps tugged her along the wooden planks. When their feet hit the wide gravel path winding up to a collection of thatched roof buildings, he called over his shoulder. “Oláf, Bryn, pass the word I will address the village this eve.”

He smiled back at her. “You are ready to see your new home? I will show you… Cassie? What is wrong?”

The lump in her throat kept her from explaining the renegade tear that slipped down one cheek. Good thing. How could she possibly tell him how much she wanted a home—wanted him to be part of that home? No way. She rubbed her eyes with her free hand and pasted on a life-is-just-great expression. “Oh, I had something in my eye, that’s all.”

His brow raised and lips parted, but she cut off any further probing with a provocative grin. “Come on. Show me.”

The village stretched into an oval compound along the bank of the river, walled in on the back side with a tall, wooden fence. Curious stares assailed her as she walked next to Ragnar. Children were bold enough to gawk open-mouthed, but the women they passed slid covert glances her way. Most dipped their heads at Ragnar. The men they passed, the majority of whom sported gray hair, offered him a hail and her a sweeping assessment from head to toe. None spoke to her.

She paid attention for a while as Ragnar led her from the blacksmith to a byre, past the well, and on to a row of longhouses. But somewhere along the way, the buildings, though quaint and picturesque in a rugged sort of way, lost their charm. More and more she became aware of the man beside her, the way Ragnar bent to greet a child or returned an old man’s hail with a smile. The late-afternoon sun glinted bronze streaks throughout his shoulder-length hair, and his broad shoulders cast long shadows. The strength in his arms and the warmth of his embrace when he’d held her after—

“
Cassie? Are you listening?”

“
Yes.” She spit her answer out so fast she had to swipe her hand across her lips.

Ragnar stopped his tour, crossing his arms and cocking his head in challenge.

She swallowed. “You said, uh…”

He smirked. “I have made up for my quietness, ja?” He lifted one hand, indicating a bench beside a longhouse door five paces from where they stood. “You would like a rest before we continue?”

“
Sure.” She sat, but when he lowered next to her, his shoulder brushing hers, she wondered at the wisdom of her choice. It wouldn’t be any easier to pay attention with him so close.

Two longhouses away, a woman emerged, her cloak wrapped tight around a shapely body. Catching sight of them, she squinted, then waved. “Hail, Ragnar!”

“
Hail, Grunnhild,” Ragnar answered.

The woman grinned, then hurried on her way, her swaying hips swirling the cloak’s fabric around her legs.

Cassie frowned at Grunnhild’s shapely figure. “She one of your, umm, friends?” The question came out before she thought, its implication heating her cheeks.

“
Truth be told, I am hoping she will soon be one of yours.”

“
Me?” A brickload of suspicion dropped on her heart. When a man asked a woman to become friends with a certain other woman, that usually meant said certain other woman held a special place in his life. Cassie shifted, scootching away several inches. What an idiot! She’d been so self-centered, she’d never thought Ragnar might already have a girl picked out here in his homeland. “Is she, uh…do you… Look, I know you said before you didn’t have a bride, but is there someone that—”

He shot her a sideways glance, eye wider than an owl’s. “Nay!”

“
Oh.” The relief swooping through her made her glad the bench held her up. “How come you never married?”

Lifting his chin, he stared her down. “I might ask the same of you.”

“
I guess I, well…” Even without speaking in Old Norse, this would be a doozy to explain. “I was too busy.”

“
Too busy?”

“
Long story for another time. Really. What about you?”

He blew out a slow breath. “There was a woman, once, a long time ago. I thought I loved her.” He paused, shaking his head slightly, then pierced her with an intense gaze. “But that was nothing compared to how I feel about…what I mean to say, Cassie, is that you…”

If her heart beat any harder, she’d crack some ribs. She leaned closer, sorry now that she’d made a gap in the first place. “Yes?”

His breaths came out fast and hard as his gaze fastened on her lips. He leaned closer as well. “Cassie, I—”

“
The women want to know if they should prepare a feast for the new jarl this eve,” Oláf interrupted.

If Cassie knew how to wield a battleaxe, she would’ve severed the stupid man in half.

Ragnar stood at once, wiping his palms on his tunic. “Nay. We will save the feasting for another night.”

“
As you wish.” Oláf slid his glance from Ragnar to Cassie, watching her every movement as she rose to stand beside Ragnar. He beamed at her, then poked Ragnar with his elbow, all the while wagging unkempt eyebrows. “No time for feasting tonight, eh? I will set them to readying the jarl’s quarters, then, ja?”

A slow burn ignited from Ragnar’s toes, spreading upward to consume him in flaming humiliation. Oláf’s insinuation, combined with what he’d almost confessed to Cassie, sent a jolt of reality through him. Jarl or not, what would she want with a man ruined in face and scarred overmuch in body? He’d allowed himself too much rein, let the headiness of her companionship mean more than it should.

He stood taller, taking captive and binding his errant emotions. “Nay, Oláf. I would rather you pursue Grunnhild and ask that she share her hospitality with Cassie. The jarl’s quarters will suit me as is.”

Oláf’s eyebrows stopped their waggling and stuck in an upright position. “But—”

“
Do not question me.” Ragnar moved his hand to cover the hilt of his sword. Becoming jarl truly had not been his wish, though now bestowed, he must establish his command.