Page 103 of The Blue Viking

She’d elbowed Rurik in the ribs, hard, at that insult, but it had barely fazed him. Not only was he thickheaded, but he was apparently thick-skinned as well.

Rurik’s friends had seemed to find her actions vastly amusing.

She would like to wring Rurik’s neck … not just for forcing her out of seclusion but for sitting at the high table with her now as if everything between them was just fine and jolly, when he knew as well as she did that everything was a shambles. Oh, she’d managed to seduce him in the loch, but look how that had turned out. And, truly, she didn’t think she had many more seductions under her belt… so to speak.

Under ordinary circumstances, she would have enjoyed herself. A person couldn’t help but like Rurik’s friends. They were attractive and charming and full of teasing mirth.

Even the older couple, Selik and Rain, who had to have seen close to fifty winters, were surprisingly fit and pleasing to the eye. Rain, who was allegedly a famous healer in Britain, equaled her husband in great height, and their blond hair matched as well, even to the sprinkling of gray strands. They’d brought four of their eight natural children with them, between the ages of ten and seventeen. They’d left behind the other four, plus many foster children, in an orphanage they operated outside the trading city of Jorvik in Northumbria, under the care of a young woman named Adela and an elderly man named Ubbi.

Already Rain had taken Maire aside and asked whether there might be a place here at Beinne Breagha for some of the young people searching for trades. Maire had readily agreed, especially since so many men and boys had lost their lives the past few years to wars or feuds with the MacNabs. They had a need for new blood in the Campbell clan.

Then there was the darkly handsome Eirik, Lord of Ravenshire in Northumbria, who must have seen close to forty winters. Not as handsome as Rurik, of course, but then no one was that handsome. The half-Viking, half-Saxon man brought with him his wife Eadyth, who had to be the most beautiful woman Maire had ever seen, with silver blond hair and violet eyes. Over a silk headrail, she wore the Norse kransen, a gilt circlet with embossed lilies on it. Though in her mid-thirties, Eadyth’s creamy skin showed no sign of aging. This couple had brought with them Eadyth’s illegitimate son, John, a sixteen-year-old boy who was already causing Scottish lasses from miles around to swoon. He had been adopted by Eirik, of course, as had Eirik’s two illegitimate daughters, seventeen-year-old Larise and fifteen-year-old Emma. John and Jostein had apparently become great friends, and both of them had eyes on two of Selik and Rain’s daughters. In addition to those three children, Eirik and Eadyth had also brought four they had had together, all boys, and all full of rambunctiousness.

Jamie was having the time of his life with all this young company. Beast and Rose were enjoying themselves, too, if all the yipping and meowing were any indication.

Maire was amazed that this noble couple openly acknowledged the illegitimacy of some of their children, but she was equally amazed when she was told that Eadyth was an accomplished businesswoman who sold the products of her beehives in the markets of Jorvik—mead, honeycombs, and timekeeping candles.

Finally, there was Tykir, Eirik’s half brother and Rurik’s best friend in all the world. Oh, what a wicked-eyed, mischievous fellow was Tykir, despite being of middle years … about thirty-five or so. As vain as Rurik, he had his hair plaited on one side only, where a thunderbolt earring dangled from his ear.

He was constantly fondling his red-haired, freckle-faced wife, who was less than thirty, or gazing at her with open adoration … when he wasn’t pinching her buttocks, that is … or she wasn’t pinching his. Ahnor had their squirming two-year-old son, Thork, sitting on her lap right now, and she was breeding again … due to drop that winter.

Rurik’s three friends had taken to wearing red bows of a largish size on their middle fingers. When Alinor had inquired about their purpose, Tykir had told her, in blunt terms. She’d swatted him on the shoulders, and chided, “What lies have you been telling, fool?”

“Just a precaution, wife,” he’d chortled.

Eadyth had grinned at her husband’s bow and remarked, “A bit of an embellishment, wouldn’t you say?”

“Not big enough,” Eirik had disagreed.

Alinor addressed Rurik now. “Will you be leaving with us two days hence? Tykir and I plan to spend several sennights at Greycote and then Ravenshire, afore returning to the Northlands for the winter. We would love your company.”

“More like you would love having me to tease, Alinor. I swear, ’tis your greatest pasttime,” Rurik countered dryly.

Alinor stuck her tongue out at Rurik, which Maire thought was a most scandalous thing for a fine lady to do. Rurik and Tykir laughed at her antics, though, and her son, Thork, thought it was a great trick, and did it repeatedly himself.

“But, nay,” Rurik replied, “I will not be leaving Scotland … not that soon, leastways.”

Maire’s heart skipped a beat. What did he mean? Was he staying longer because of Jamie? Or had her seduction managed to melt the wall of unforgiveness that had surrounded him? Did they have a future? Or was this a temporary reprieve?

Leaning forward, she tried to get a better look at Rurik’s face. That was when the amber pendant slipped forward, out of the confines of her gown.

Alinor’s eyes immediately latched on to the necklet. “Oh, my goodness! The bride gift!” With a chuckle, she turned on Rurik and berated him with a wagging forefinger, “Why, you rogue, you! You did not tell us that this precious piece you selected for a bride gift was intended for your Scottish witch.”

Rurik made a choked, gurgling sound deep in his throat, and his skin paled. “Alinor, lock thy tongue!”

It was Tykir who spoke next. “But I thought the necklet was intended for Theta … as a bride gift … once you have the blue mark removed and she has wed with you … in the Hebrides … where you purchased land and…” Tykir’s words came out slow and halting, then stopped suddenly as he realized their import.

Maire came to the same realization, just moments later. Her skin went instantly clammy, and her throat closed as she speared Rurik with a wounded expression.

The knave looked guilty as sin. “Maire, I can explain …”

Explain? What is there to explain? Rurik is betrothed to another woman. He gave me a necklet intended for his bride. I am the most foolish, pathetic woman in all Scotland… nay, in the entire world.

“Oh, my God!” Alinor said. “You didn’t, Rurik? Tell me that you didn’t do such a lackwitted thing.”

But shock yielded to fury and Maire was already standing, unclasping the necklet. Throwing it to the table in front of Rurik, she declared in an icy voice, “I expect you to be gone afore morn.”

“Now, just wait a minute,” Rurik protested.