‘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 company.’
Endure their company.
Ragn’s heart sank. Eylir had kept quiet about his friend’s views on women and their usefulness. ‘Eylir failed to mention that you disliked women.’
A dimple shone in his cheek. ‘I love women at the right time and in the right place. Other than in my bed, most women flutter about like birds, chirp up all the time about nonsense until my back teeth ache and leave messes to be cleaned up.’
Ragn took three deep breaths of air. ‘The reasons why your friend despaired of you ever marrying become ever clearer.’
‘A few more days and I would have departed for Colbhasa and the start of the Jul celebrations,’ he said, pointedly changing the subject. ‘Not the comfort you must be used to, but it will serve until for the short time you will be here. You depart and my solitude can return. Have I mentioned that I enjoy the quiet?’
Ragn ignored the words about going. Her head pounded enough as it was. She had to concentrate on the positives, starting with not being in the boat.
‘When did you plan to go to the north? To find a bride?’ She deliberately paused, racking her brain for what Eylir had said about his story. The truth was that she hadn’t paid much attention. She’d been that grateful for a way out of the shadows and hiding, half-expecting every knock on the door to bring Vargr and his berserker assassins. ‘Or would you have found a reason why you need to be somewhere else rather than bride-hunting?’
‘Eylir has been telling his usual far-fetched tales.’ The planes on his face hardened to chiselled stone. ‘I have lands to tame. What good is having a bride if she shivers without a proper house to keep her? What good children if they starve because you failed to have enough stores because you lack the proper buildings? Once I know for certain they can survive, I will find my bride.’
‘And the King’s decree that owners of gifted lands must be married?’
‘There is a great deal of water between me and the King’s shining new hall, the one which shimmers like gold on a summer evening and many other unmarried jaarls who are closer.’
Her heart felt a little easier. It wasn’t her, it was the entire concept of marriage he objected to. Maybe in time... She rejected the thought before it started. She was not going to start weaving wishes again. If she had looked like Trana with spun gold for hair, pouting lips and a bosom for a man to bury his face in, they would be married. Instead she knew what she looked like—all teeth and no figure with her one beauty, her long hair, burnt away in the fire, along with her dowry.
‘Returning to Viken is not an option. Let me—’
‘I choose my own bride, not Eylir. I will travel to the north to find her, like I vowed on my mother’s grave.’ His blue-eyed gaze raked her form. ‘The sort of bride I have in mind will be entirely different from what you keep offering.’
The words cut far deeper than they should. She should be used to it after Hamthur’s barbs, but that small part of her which hoped her late husband had been wrong had never been entirely extinguished. Somewhere in this world there had to be a man who would appreciate what she brought to a marriage and treat her with respect. Right now, she’d settle for safety for Svana and that meant finding somewhere far from Vargr’s influence.
‘Thank you for the clarity,’ she said in a tight voice.
All the amusement fled from his face. ‘Pardon for any offence. I merely meant my bride will not have to travel on her own. Those men would have killed you or your sister if you’d travelled with them further.’
‘I see.’ Ragn inclined her head and allowed the untruth.
He ran a hand through his unruly hair, making it stand upright. ‘I’m more used to the company of warriors than ladies. It is something I must work on before I travel north to woo.’
‘Ladies do expect a certain amount of honey-coated words when they are wooed.’
He gave a rich laugh which warmed her to her toes. ‘You possess a tart tongue and are unafraid to mince words. Perhaps you should learn honey-coating as well.’
‘Curbing my tongue has always been a problem. Allow me to try again.’ She made a curtsy. ‘I’m pleased you have taken pity on me and my sister and have allowed us to stay. I will trust your assessment of the captain who brought me. No good would have come of our returning to the north.’
‘Your family would not welcome your return.’
She examined the dirty rushes. His words were far too close to the truth. She need to seize control of the conversation and steer it away from tricky subjects like why her family would not assist her. ‘Perhaps one day I will thank you for choosing not to marry me. I know I certainly have no wish for an unwilling husband. However, I believe in looking forward, not harping on past mistakes.’
‘I’m sure you will.’ His laugh rang out. ‘My temper is far too short. I’ve a certain disregard for the niceties of polite conversation and little care for life’s luxuries. Past women have detailed my defects.’
‘Then we should be friends as we’ve both avoided something that was destined to make us unhappy.’
He examined her from hooded eyes. ‘Can men and women ever be friends?’
‘I like to think they can be.’ Ragn hoped she was telling the truth. Her parents had had a deep friendship until her mother’s death. She’d listened to her father’s despairing sobs after every feast until his death. ‘I consider you one for giving me and my sister a place to stay instead of forcing us back on that ship. You saved our lives.’
He bowed his head. ‘I’ll take you to Ile in the morning. The commander, Sigurd Sigmundson, is a friend. He can find you passage on a ship northwards when the ships begin to move in the spring.’
Ragn firmed her mouth. She had heard of Ile. Vargr had had something to do with it a few years before, but she believed the commander of the fort had changed. ‘The captain and his crew feared Svana’s eyes. I sacrificed a gold necklace to calm the sea. If such a thing happened on the return journey, I doubt I could prevent it.’
‘Fools.’ Gunnar shook his head. ‘As if how a passenger looks matters more than the skill of the navigator or the pilot. They should remember Odin only has one eye, but still manages to navigate his ship. Your sister has two good eyes, even if one turns inward.’
A dog’s howl made him stop and cock his head to one side.
‘Is there something amiss?’