Page 77 of The Blue Viking

Although Rurik was reasonably confidant that they would succeed, one never knew when going into battle. Therefore, his men were completing last-minute personal tasks, in case they did not return on the morrow. For instance, Stigand was off somewhere with Nessa, swiving her silly, he suspected. Bolthor was banished to the outer, outer courtyard for a last—it would be the last—bagpipe lesson from Murdoc. He had been playing the instrument in the great hall till a short time ago, when everyone protested, lest their hearing be impaired forever.

Rurik should talk with Maire one last time. This might be his only opportunity. He did not want to leave this world without telling her… he knew not what. On the other hand, mayhap it was best that no words were spoken, after all.

As if reading his mind, Jamie asked him in his small-boy voice, “Are ye gonna die tonight?”

“I hope not, son,” Rurik said, starting to walk away. Son? He had no idea where that endearment had come from. It had just slipped out.

But the boy surprised him by saying, “I hope you don’t die, either …”

Rurik’s step faltered but he did not stop.

Then Jamie added the clincher, “… ’cause I have somethin’ important to tell ye.”

Chapter Fourteen

Dusk would be settling soon over the Highlands, and it was time for Rurik and his men, as well as a handful of Campbell clansmen, to make their way to the MacNab lands. They were gathering in the courtyard, preparing to depart… everyone except Rurik, that is. He was still inside, making some final preparations.

Maire found him in her bedchamber, where he was tying the laces on a fine-mesh metal shirt that he would wear under his tunic. All of his weaponry was laid out on the bed. His war braids were in place. His blue zigzag mark stood out like the tattoos of Celtic warriors of old. In effect, he resembled a grim-faced soldier about to go into battle … which, in a way, she supposed he was.

She entered, without knocking, and closed the door after herself.

He glanced up but briefly, then said coolly, repeating her own words, “Begone, Maire.” He turned his back to her as he stood and drew his tunic over his head, then belted it at the waist.

Maire winced at his terse words and stiff demeanor, but she was determined to talk with him. In truth, there were some important things he needed to know before he put his life on the line for her clan.

“I apologize.”

He was attaching a brooch to his shoulder mantle and would not meet her gaze. After a long pause, he asked, “For what?”

“For speaking to you so harshly, especially in front of others. But you have to understand that Jamie has been my sole responsibility for a long time, and it is hard for me to give up any of that control.” She was babbling … saying too much. But she was beyond nervous. She was petrified.

He shrugged. Now he was fiddling with his belt buckle. “How about your husband? He has only been gone three months. Did he not ever reprimand the boy?”

Now would be a good time for Maire to tell him the truth about Jamie, but somehow she could not do so when he stood rigid with anger and not even facing her. “Kenneth had no interest in Jamie.”

She could tell by the reflexive tilt of his head that he was surprised that a father could have no feelings for his only son. Fortunately, he did not pursue the subject.

“Rurik, why won’t you look at me?”

He released a long breath. “Because I’m so bloody furious with you, I would be tempted to raise my hand to you.” Then, he laughed softly, and revealed, “Or take you in hand.”

“That latter has a certain appeal,” she said softly.

He did turn then. “Is that why you’re here, m’lady? For a good-bye swiving?”

Maire gasped at his crudity. She did not protest, though, because the cold, lifeless expression on his face held her transfixed. Was this how he appeared before battle? Or had her actions caused him to lose all feeling for her?

She raised her chin haughtily and, blushing furiously, declared, “Aye, a good-bye swiving is what I want… if it is the only way to break through that ice wall you have erected around yourself.”

He shook his head. “Go away, Maire. You apologized. I accept. ’Tis over.” Then he turned away again and began to gather his weapons.

’Tis over. ’Tis over. Oh, surely, he did not mean that everything was over. Maire’s heart hammered against her ribs as panic settled in. She had to do something, quickly … but how could she get his attention … really get his attention?

Unbidden, an idea came to her.

But, oh, do I dare do such?

Do I have a choice?