Blind Redemption (19 page)

“Mostly questions about your cousin’s past.”

“And what did my faithful thrall tell her?” Rachelle queried.

“She advised her, milady—nearly forced her to admit she loved the jarl.”

“Nothing more?” Tyr asked.

The guard grinned. “Your probing maid hardly gave the girl time to think.”

“We should consider making Wolinda a freewoman,” Rachelle suggested. “She’s always been a useful servant to me.”

“Aye,” Tyr agreed. “You may go.” Tyr gestured for his warrior to leave.

“Are you convinced now?” Rachelle asked.

“Of what?”

“To invite Erik the Bald to our home?”

Tyr nodded. “Since the day Kara Dalgaard arrived here with my cousin on her heels, I’ve been convinced the gods intended for them to be together. What better match for my kinsman could I suggest? If the Sigurdssons and Dalgaards are united by blood, the chance to expand our trading rights in the south will improve. Until now, I’ve struggled to negotiate successfully with King Olaf.”

“And the McNallys?”

“They, too, will benefit greatly. Scottish wool is still the best in Europe.”

“And we can always use more silk,” Rachelle reminded him.

“Yes,” Tyr chuckled. “McNally ships have helped protect the shipping routes from Miklagard. More silk means more gowns for my beautiful wife.” He caressed her cheek. “When Wolinda returns, summon her to our bedchamber, I’d speak with her privately.” He stood. “Allfather is with us.”

Odin’s supporters were far superior in the north, but after King Magnus died, pagans in the south had suffered. Unsanctioned attacks, murders, kidnappings, and economic sanctions had weakened their defenses. Although she usually kept her political opinions to herself because she was a Christian, Rachelle usually agreed with her husband’s ideas. Peace must be achieved. All craftsmen, regardless of their faiths, should be allowed to trade and sell freely.

“Shall I write the letter?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “I prefer to address my old friend. There will be no surprises—Jarl Erik is a volatile man. It will take every ounce of diplomacy I have left in my body to convince him to give his daughter to Aaron.”

“But Aaron is wealthy—a jarl in his own right.”

“And a pagan. But my cousin hasn’t revealed his true faith to anyone, but us.”

That confused Rachelle more than anything. “Why?”

“He’s not shared the purpose in his masquerading as a Christian still. Although I suspect it has something to do with our young king.”

“I pray Erik the Bald opens his heart. His daughter deserves to be happy.”

Two days later, after the morning meal, Kara headed for the stables. Determined to speak with Aaron alone, she decided not to make the same mistake as she had the other day. Confiding in a servant, who obviously had strong feelings for Jarl McNally, hadn’t helped. She’d experienced this kind of blind allegiance before. With maids in her father’s household who fostered her brothers after their mother died. Those women protected her brothers day and night, refusing to properly discipline them, even after they’d disobeyed their father. The only person capable of giving her advice was in the king’s camp—why hadn’t she brought Amelia along?

Kara waited patiently, while a stable boy saddled her mare. She gazed toward the main house. Thankfully, Wolinda worked in the kitchen and would stay busy until afternoon. And Kara saw no reason to disturb Tyr and Rachelle. She’d been given permission to ride anytime. Why not alone? She’d reach Aaron’s steading in no time.

“Here’s your mount, milady.” The boy offered her the reigns.

“Thank you.” She swung her leg over the saddle as confidently as any warrior. “If anyone asks about me, tell them I’ll return for the eventide meal.”

“Aye,” the servant said.

She galloped over the hill to see the river. Golden sunshine reflected off the water.
Beautiful
. Everything was in bloom—the gardens and fields, forest and hills. Sheep and goats were grazing in the valley. Although Lagenheim possessed natural charms, the Trondelag captivated her. At a distance, snowcapped mountains ringed the lowlands, reminding her of the presence of the ice giants. The gods were never far away.

She reached the main road. A mile north, a group of women and children carrying baskets full of berries waved at her. She smiled. One day, she’d take her children into the woods to pick flowers and berries. After everything she’d been through over the last two months, she welcomed anything mundane. Regret motivated her today. She’d violated Aaron’s trust by abandoning him the moment a stranger accused him of a crime. Her stomach tightened. Would he accept her apology? Give her a chance to explain?

Reaching the edge of the forest that overlooked her lover’s home, she paused momentarily. She imagined what it would be like living there with Aaron. Making love every night, assisting the women in the kitchen, planning feasts, welcoming family and friends. She coaxed her mare into a trot. No reason to appear overly anxious. As she approached the open gates, three men chopping wood stopped and glanced her way.

“I’m here to see Jarl McNally,” she announced.

One of the men stepped forward, wiping his hands on his shirt. “You’re welcome here, Lady Kara,” he said. “My name is Amund.”

This stranger knew her name? Surprised, she pursed her lips. “Were you expecting me?”

“Jarl McNally gave specific instructions for your arrival.”

That made her feel edgy and unsure. She shook her head. Aaron had expected her all this time? Further proof of his conceit. “Is your master here?”

“No,” he answered. “He’s in the woods.”

Perfect
, she thought,
I wanted time alone with him.
“Is he close?”

“You can wait for him inside.”

“I prefer to visit him
now
.”

Amund removed the scarf from around his neck, then wiped his forehead. “Shall I escort you?”

“I don’t wish to interfere with your work. Point in which direction I should ride and I’ll go.”

“I cannot believe you arrived here without a guard.” Amund stared over her shoulder.

“Jarl Sigurdsson had other matters to attend to this morning.”

The man didn’t appear convinced. Nor did he seem comfortable with her demand. If Aaron or his cousin knew she left the safety of Steingard without a companion, they’d suspend her riding privileges. Not that she’d blame them. Asking for sanctuary meant more than providing her a place to sleep. By accepting her request, Jarl Sigurdsson became responsible for her very life. She’d yet again demonstrated her selfishness by leaving another place unescorted.

“Please.”

Amund sighed. “He’s likely a mile west. If you see black flags tied to the trunks of trees along the trail, you’re headed in the right direction.”

“Flags?”

“Aye,” he answered. “The jarl is hand-selecting which trees to use for roof shingles.”

Aaron never ceased to amaze her. A military captain undertaking such domestic work. She smiled inwardly. “I’ll be quick, Amund, thank you.” She turned her mount westward.

Minutes later, just as Aaron’s servant suggested, she found black linen secured to several branches as she passed. A narrow trail cut through the thick woods. Little sunshine penetrated the dense canopy. Although she encountered a few patches of wildflowers, this was mostly a wet, swampy tract of land.

“Jarl McNally.” She slowed down, searching carefully for him.

“Are you looking for me, Kara Dalgaard?”

Her heart leapt upon hearing his voice again. What should she do? Stay on her horse or jump down? Hide her emotions or run into his arms? “Who else would I seek in this dark place?” She chose to stay astride.

Aaron peered from around a tree. “Dark place?” he asked, sounding insulted. “This is one of the most valuable stands of trees on my land.”

“I have no doubt, but that doesn’t mean I want to come here every day searching for you.”

He laughed, then walked beside her horse. “Do you wish to dismount?”

“Do you think it wise, milord?” He looked barbaric dressed in dingy leather braies with no tunic. His broad chest and muscular arms were covered with a sheen of sweat. Her gaze followed the intricate lines of his tattoos, up his arm, and over his left shoulder. “Should I flee while I still have a chance?”

He gripped the reins. “I’d say your chance to escape is gone. Climb down.”

She swallowed her initial response. Climb down? Into his trap—into his arms? “I prefer to stay where I am.”

He growled, his hand burrowing underneath her skirt. When his hot palm met her flesh, she nearly melted. “Come down or I’ll climb up.”

Kara swallowed. Conversation first, hot kisses later. That’s what
she
had planned. “As you wish, milord.” She slid out of the saddle, more aware of his maleness than she’d ever been.

He tied the reins to a nearby tree, then faced her. His eyes flashed. “Why are you here?”

His frigid tone caught her off guard. Of course he’d be angry. “I’ve come to make peace with you.”

“Why? What has changed after a few days? From what I hear, Frieda is still under foot and the boy has charmed his way onto your lap every night.”

“Delay will only make things worse between us.”

“I didn’t consider there to be anything left, Kara, not after you condemned me so quickly.”

She shifted on her feet. By Odin, this isn’t what she wanted. “You’ve been forgiven, milord. Can you not give me the same consideration?”

He remained silent, looking her over carefully.

“I rushed to judgment because I feared the worst.”

“You should have trusted me enough to know I’d never turn away a child. If he were mine—”

“I know.”

“Your disbelief pained me more than anything I’ve ever suffered.”

“I can’t imagine what it felt like, Aaron. Try to understand my perspective.”

“I think the only thing you’ll ever understand is this.” He grabbed her by the hips and yanked her close. His hungry kiss silenced her, devouring her fears. He pulled back slightly. “I’m a condemned man in many people’s eyes. My crimes are a matter of public record. From the king to your father, some forgive, the rest ostracize me. You must choose. Now.”

She deeply admired his spirit. And his body. She gawked at him, desperate to feel his hands all over her. “I choose you,” she whispered.

Aaron’s eyes closed. “Say it again.”

“I choose you.”

His eyes popped open. “Do you know what you’re saying, lass?”

“I didn’t hesitate, Jarl McNally. I came here with every intention—”

“Shut up, Kara.”

His arms encircled her waist. His mouth slanted possessively over hers, his tongue seeking the depths of her mouth. The lingering effect of his violent kiss left her in a stupor. When he spun her around, lifting her skirt, she didn’t realize what he intended at first. “Rest your palms on the tree trunk.”

Tingling heat spread from her breasts down to her core. She obeyed, placing her hands where he directed.

“Spread your legs for me,
vakker kriger
.”

The same thing he called her in the woods all those weeks ago—his beautiful warrior. He pressed his knee between her legs. Then his large hand cupped her mound from behind. His fingers slid inside her.

“Aaron.”

He nuzzled closer, flicking his tongue along the outer rim of her ear. She shivered. Smiling at her body’s reaction to his slightest touch, he jammed his crotch against her backside. By everything holy, he loved Kara. His fingers delved deeper. He groaned. Soft and so wet. As smooth as the finest silk from Miklagard. The harder he pressed, the more her hips bucked.

Nothing could keep them apart. Not Erik the Bald, Frieda’s lies, or the bloody gods. He swept her hair aside, purposely placing his lips on her earlobe. He nipped and kissed her again. She swayed. “Listen to me.” Did she know what power she held over him? How much he cared? “I love you.” His fingers circled inside her and she nearly lost her balance, but managed to brace herself by holding onto the tree. “And now I’m going to show you how much.”

He unlaced his braies with his free hand, then slowly withdrew his fingers from her sheath. He licked his fingers, relishing the honeyed taste of her womanhood. God, he’d missed her. Why did she ever let Frieda come between them?

“Aaron.”

He kissed the back of her head as he stared down at her exposed flesh. Her tiny arse as perfect as he’d remembered. “Tell me.”

“I love you.”

His heart liquefied. Unable to contain himself, he hooked his right arm around her waist, then pierced her in one frantic stroke. She cried out, her fingernails digging into the bark. Afraid she’d cut herself, he whispered, “Easy, my love, I’ve waited too long for you. Please don’t hurt yourself.”

If he could, he’d stay inside her forever. But he couldn’t concentrate, his body needed release. Days of pent up frustration, anger, fear, and love threatened his endurance. Without thought, he slammed into her again and again. “I love you, Kara. Please, never doubt me again . . .”

Chapter 17

Surprise

“You’ll finish the ale, then I’ll escort you home.” Aaron shook his head. The girl never seemed to understand why she needed a bodyguard with her at all times. “Norway is under siege.”

Her eyebrows arched. “We’ve been invaded?”

Her flirtatious choice of words brought a wicked grin to his face. Plundered seemed a better expression for what he’d done to her less than an hour ago. “I’m referring to marauders, the ones who populate the forests and mountains between your father’s lands and here.”

“Erling is dead.”

“I’ve been unable to verify it, lass.” The very thought of that bastard surviving made his blood boil. “Until then, we’ll assume the worst. He’s alive and his men are waiting for the perfect time to strike. I believe they’ll come here.”

“With so much happening, with so much at stake, wouldn’t I be safer here?”

His gaze swept the clean, but sparsely decorated hall. Only three tapestries hung on the walls and a fire crackled in the hearth, but Aaron needed to invest some money in furniture and new tapestries. Perhaps a few hunting trips with his cousin to get some furs. The master’s bedchamber was comfortable, with a freshly stuffed mattress large enough to accommodate four people. But not ready for his future bride.