Page 66 of The Blue Viking

Rurik had misunderstood. She had meant to tell him, at long last, about his son … before someone else did. But now she realized there were issues that had greater priority.

At first, the meal passed in silence. An awkward silence, to her, because people’s heads kept pivoting from her to Rurik to Jamie, as if expecting some explosion. But Rurik seemed unaware of the looks. He was wolfing down his food to assuage the great hunger he’d alluded to earlier. He paused at one point and commented, “Kenneth must have been a handsome man.”

Maire choked on her ale.

He clapped her heartily on the back.

“Why do you say that?” She tried to make her voice as casual as possible as she picked at an oat cake.

“Well, Jamie shows promise of great size and uncommonly good looks. Since the boy does not resemble you, except for the eyes, I assume he got these traits from his father.”

The others at the table began to make strangled sounds and kept their eyes averted, just waiting to see what Maire would do next.

What she did was nothing, coward that she was. “Kenneth was passable in appearance,” Maire replied. Talk about evasion and half-truths!

Rurik seemed satisfied with that explanation and resumed eating.

If a Viking’s you-know-what falls off, eventually, for telling a lie, I wonder what happens to a Scotswoman who fails to tell the truth for five long years. Maire knew—she just knew—she was going to pay someday for her lack of honesty, and perchance this was her punishment… never knowing precisely when the ax was going to fall.

Even more alarming, there was absolutely no doubt in Maire’s mind that the “ax” would be in Rurik’s hands.

Rurik found it difficult to justify his actions to a woman, but Maire deserved to be kept abreast of the happenings on her clanstead… especially since she was, for all purposes, the clan chieftain, till her son reached his majority. He’d already outlined the essentials for her, involving Toste and Vagn slipping inside the MacNab ranks, but he could tell by the bullish expression on her fair face that she remained unconvinced.

“But it’s a dangerous plan,” Maire said, wringing her hands with dismay as they walked along the parapet of her keep.

Yea, she was unconvinced … even though Rurik had just explained to her the new dangers posed by the MacNabs, why he’d needed to bring her son into the safety of her keep, and the bare bones of the scheme they’d concocted.

What he didn’t explain to her was this new feeling of protectiveness he felt toward her. Originally, he’d agreed to provide his shield and manpower, limited as it was, in return for her removing the blue mark, but now he could not hide the fact that he would stay till she was safe, blue mark or not. And it was not just honor that bound him, either. What it was, exactly, he suspected, but would not name aloud for fear of the power it would wield over him.

“Yea, ’tis dangerous,” he agreed, pausing and reaching out to brush his knuckles across her cheek. “But, really, any plan would be at this point.”

To his amazement, instead of slapping his hand away as would have been her wont just days ago, she leaned into his caress, much like a cat purring out its pleasure at a petting. Of course that prompted him to recall how she had purred for him the night before … on more than one occasion. It would be an understatement to say that he and Maire suited well… in the bed furs, leastways … and in the petting.

Too bad he was otherwise betrothed.

Too bad Maire was a witch and lived in god-awful Scotland.

Too bad he had not recognized her worth five years ago and taken her with him, as she’d requested.

Too bad he still carried the ignominious blue mark.

Too bad he had become such a maudlin Viking, weeping in his mead, so to speak. One should not argue with fate, whether it be dealt by the Christian One-God, or the Norns, the wise old women whom the Norse fables held responsible for the destinies of all men.

Clearing his suddenly tight throat, he persevered in his attempt to convince her to accept his plan. “We are seriously outmanned. Even if all the males here were of prime age and whole of body, we would still be outmanned. We need to outmaneuver them. Many a time a war is won with wit, rather than weaponry.”

“But sending Toste and Vagn inside the MacNab stronghold! Dost really think that is the best course of action?”

He shrugged. “ ’Tis worth a try. It’s only been three days since Jostein left for Northumbria, and we cannot be sure that he will even reach his destination, let alone bring help in time. I sense the MacNabs feel some need to gain a resolution, or an advantage, in your dispute.”

“Hmmm. You may be correct in your thinking,” Maire said. “I wonder if it might be related to King Indulf’s scheduled trip to the Highlands this autumn. Long have I suspected that Duncan has fed Indulf and his advisors a false tale of the situation here. Mayhap he wants the entire business resolved afore then.”

Rurik nodded solemnly. “And that resolution would involve his marriage to you and taking over the Campbell lands in guardianship till Jamie is of age.”

“Aye, it makes sense now that I think on it. I had predicted to Nessa just days ago that Duncan would have me killed within days of the wedding, if I should be so faint-minded as to agree … and Jamie would be killed, as well… eventually. But now I am leaning toward another idea … that he would wait till after the royal entourage has left the area. What he wants is a united front, giving the appearance of peace betwixt our clans. After they leave, however, ’twould be a different story altogether.” She made a slicing motion with a forefinger across her throat.

The fine hairs stood out on Rurik’s nape at her calmly pronounced death sentence. “It will not happen,” Rurik declared.

Maire’s chin shot up with surprise at the forceful-ness of his pledge. “You may not be able to prevent it.”