him from under her lashes with those silver-flecked eyes. ‘What are we to do about this non-authorised promise? Forget that it ever happened?’
Gunnar ran a hand through his hair. Better she went now before he started to hope for the curse’s end. Before he was responsible for another woman’s death.
‘Eylir overstepped. That much is clear. When I spoke of acquiring a bride last Jul, I expected to travel northwards once the hall and the farm were prosperous. Ketil would have understood the necessity of waiting.’ He pronounced the name of the overlord of the Western Isles and Manx with enough lack of reverence for Ragnhild to understand his status.
Ragnhild held out a rune stick. ‘King Harald has issued new decree about men needing to be married in order to hang on to the gifted lands. Eylir acted in your best interests.’
Her tone implied he would be an idiot for acting otherwise. Gunnar clenched his jaw. Harald Fine-Hair had once been a close comrade-in-arms when they’d served in the Byzantine Emperor’s personal guard. He doubted if the King intended to enforce the decree on everyone. The King would use it as he used other decrees, to chivvy those he disagreed with and reward his cronies.
‘Exceptions can be made. They have been in the past. Harald uses such decrees to further his own ends, enforcing where he chooses. Kolbeinn will keep his own counsel about this. I never considered Eylir for being an old woman worrier.’
‘As your friend is in Kaupang, he is better placed than you to judge the mood of the King and his court.’
‘How did your husband die?’
‘A boring story which has little relevance to me standing here in front of you.’
‘We differ on that view. Had he lived, you would not be here. Had he left you with lands, you would have remained on them.’
‘Neither of us can rewrite history.’
Gunnar frowned. ‘You must think me naïve to take everything on trust. How do I even know Eylir sent you?’
She shoved the rune stick towards him again with an overly bright smile. ‘Read the runes. I can tell you what any of the unfamiliar marks means, if you like.’
Gunnar gritted his teeth. What secrets had Eylir confided? The last thing he wanted was to be laughed at by this woman because of his trouble with reading runes, because he was more skilled at the sword and axe than at learning and frippery. ‘They are clear enough.’
‘Your eyes remain sceptical. Do you require more proof? Captain, come here and inform this man who paid my passage and why.’ She gestured towards the captain who hurried up and confirmed the woman’s story. Eylir the Black had paid for the passage for this woman. One way for the bride of Gunnar Olafson, extra because of the time of year. The woman had paid for her sister, but it had been barely enough because everyone knew women with eyes like that offended the sea gods.
Gunnar caught his top lip between his teeth. The fool should trust his skill, rather than seeking to sacrifice the innocent when the first squall blew up.
The boatman gave a shout about the shifting tide and the need to be away from the rocks sharpish. He wanted to know where he should put the trunk. Ragnhild shouted to hold on, that the tide would wait a while longer.
‘Your friend said that you were a fair man. I have travelled far and staked a great deal on this marriage which now turns out to be a false promise.’ She took a step forward and her eyes blazed a deep silver, making her pale face come alive.
He screwed his eyes tightly shut. A fair man. He pictured Eylir saying that with one of his careless laughs, the sort that made the unwary relax.
‘Where will you go? Will you return to your family in Viken?’
‘For a price, I am sure the captain will take me somewhere.’ She glared at him with her silver-blue eyes and he fancied fear underneath the bravado.
‘For a great price.’ The captain smacked his lips. Behind him, the crew sniggered. In his gut, Gunnar knew neither woman would reach another shore.
‘Wait.’ Gunnar put a hand on her trembling arm. Something stirred deep inside of him. He was aware of her, the way her chest rose and fell and how the ends of her flyaway tendrils curled about her forehead. All Ragnhild Thorendottar had done was behave like his mother might have done after his father’s death, if the option had been open to her.
‘Why wait? The tide shifts.’ She gave his hand a pointed look and he slowly released her. ‘You’ve already decided. I regret troubling you or in any way causing you embarrassment. I must accept my fate.’
‘Eylir sent you to me. I have an obligation to ensure your safety, but I will choose my own bride. You remain here.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Why are you willing to do this?’ she whispered. ‘My sister and I are strangers.’
‘I would hate for your shades to haunt me. That boat appears barely seaworthy,’ he said, opting for a half-truth.
Her bitter laugh rang out. ‘My shade would be haunting others first.’
‘The least I can do after you have travelled all this way.’ Gunnar took a deep breath. He was providing shelter, not allowing this woman and girl into his life.
She held out her hand. ‘I accept as a guest, not a bride.’
A hard, soaking rain lashed down and the pale light from the sky made the looming mountain turn a deep brooding purple, but Ragn knew her feet were on firm ground. Being here with a reluctant host was a thousand times better than being on that ship where, when this storm hit, she and Svana would have been tossed overboard. Best of they’d escaped Vargr’s reach. Small gifts from the gods. She had the most precious of commodities—time.
‘Where are the women of the household?’ Ragn asked as it became increasingly clear Gunnar’s men had deserted his cold hall for their own homes rather than bedding down there.
‘I manage well enough on my own. I can even brew ale and boil meat. My men’s wives turn their hand to the spindle and loom as well as any and I enjoy the silence.’
He gave a superior sort of smile, but one which made his features become breath-taking. One smile and the women in his life must melt and do his bidding. She silently resolved that she would not join the legion of panting followers.
‘Indeed.’
‘Years of warring. In time, when I marry, there will be women, but for now it is just me and my dogs.’
‘Surely you have servants or...’ Ragn hesitated. How to explain that Svana was terrified of the dogs? Any explanation would have to include Vargr. Then there would be awkward questions about the estate, why no man would fight for her rights and why they were on their own. Later, she promised that little voice in her head, once they were warm and dry, once she had formulated a new plan now that there would be no marriage.
His brow lowered. ‘I see no point in acquiring women as then I’d have to endure their prattling and twittering
