A Heart of Fire (31 page)

Finna
was not herself today. There was no confusion there. He reached for the reins
of the other horse and turned them about. Fang took flight overhead, and the
trio began the journey home. Halfway there, he realized Finna had fallen asleep
against him. His chest rattled with quiet laughter, but he dared not make a
sound, as he did not wish to disturb her.

When
they entered the walls, the yard flustered with activity. Much shouting reached
his ears, bringing him to acute alertness. Though he could not discern a single
word of the commotion, he was sure something had happened to stir the yard into
such madness. Valdrik narrowed his eyes on the scene before him. Several of his
men rushed toward the longhouse, speaking amongst themselves.

"Finna,"
he said, nudging her with his shoulder. "Wake up, sweeting."

Finna
jerked awake as though she had not known she had fallen asleep.
"What?"

"Something
has happened," he said as he turned his horse in the direction of the
longhouse.

Finna
sat upright, a frantic energy rolling off her. Valdrik had hardly stopped the
horse when she began to struggle to dismount. He handed her down, and Finna
started for the longhouse before he'd gotten down himself. When Valdrik's feet
were on the ground, he handed over the horses to a boy, and Valdrik found his
wife standing behind his men, all staring at a woman on the dais.

Finna
turned to him just slightly with a frown, though she seemed relieved. "I
thought ‘twould be more of Aldar's men," she said.

Valdrik
took her hand and pushed through the throng to discover
what
exactly it was that had stirred such a commotion.

Hadarr
and Surguilde were speaking with the woman, but he could not see her face, as
the stranger's back was turned to them and the hood of her cloak was yet pulled
over her head.

When
his Jarl noticed them, Hadarr went silent. There was a moment of hesitation, a
hopeless plunge in his features, before he motioned Valdrik and Finna forward
with two crooked fingers.

The
woman turned then, pushing her cloak back and revealing her face.

Valdrik
stopped.

Everything
stopped.

He
could no longer hear for the pulsing of his heart.

Finna
continued walking, his hand limply falling from hers. She paused and turned
back to him, but he scarcely noticed his wife's concern.

"Isaguilde,"
he said. Her name seemed to reverberate around in his head and throughout the
hall, to pulse thickly in his veins.

"Who
is she?" Finna whispered.

"Valdrik!"
The young, red-haired woman gave a cry of delight and lifted her dress to run
down the steps of the dais. She threw herself into Valdrik, wrapping her arms
tight about his neck. The force of her body contacting with his jarred him
backward a step.

Finna
moved away from them, and Valdrik was now intensely aware of his wife's
displeasure. Like a stormy sea lashing at the shores, her stare cut into him,
jarring him more so than Isaguilde had.

He
began to peel the other woman from him, setting her back a discreet distance.
He dragged a hand through his hair.

"It
has been so long," the woman said.

He
narrowed his eyes on her. "Too long," he said with some hesitance,
both uncomfortable and suspicious. Valdrik quietly studied the woman for a long
moment. If not for all others having no difficulty seeing Isaguilde, he would
think he was seeing a ghost. "How is it you live?" he asked.

Chapter
Twenty-Five

Finna
stalked across their dwelling, not removing her cloak and traipsing a path of
melting wet snow across the floor, her arms tightly drawn across her breasts.
An unfamiliar heat burned her belly and pulled her insides into knots.

Valdrik
eyed her as he closed the door and removed his cloak.

At
last, she paused in her path. "Why was that woman so familiar with you?
Was she from your village?" She wanted the answers she'd not gotten in the
hall.

And
Odin help him, her suspicions had better not be right.

Valdrik
stepped a little closer. "Aye."

Finna
swiveled on him. "She is not of our people. Where is she from?" She
could tell by looking at the woman that she was not of Viking stock. Isaguilde
was a thin woman, her hair red-gold and her skin pale. She was tiny compared to
herself.

Her
husband cleared his throat, looking to his boots. "Isaguilde was a thrall,
a slave, brought back to our lands after a raid in Normandy. As far as I know,
she was a slave even before she was taken."

"
You
brought her from Normandy?"
Finna accused and narrowed her eyes on him. "She was your leman!" The
heat surging from her tone was notable.

Valdrik
met her stare and sighed. "'Tis not as though I asked her to come here,
Finna! I did not even know she lived."

That
was answer enough for Finna.

She
squeezed her fists tight. "And you are not going to send her away?"
She took a step back, picked up an earthen jug, and hurled it across the room
at him. The piece missed just by a hair and shattered on the floor. "You
would insult me this way?" Finna came forward and thumped him in the chest.
"Why don't you offer Isaguilde a place in our home?" she said
sweetly, mockingly, though anger rattled her words. She tilted her head, her
eyes narrowing into cerulean spears. "In your bed. She may have my
spot," she said and started for the door, but Valdrik turned and grasped
her firmly by the arm.

"I
won't turn a woman out into the cold of winter because you are jealous. And
over nothing," he said. He sighed harshly and loosened his grip, looking
down on her gently. "'Tis not my decision to make, whether she goes or stays.
You
are my wife. It matters not what
Isaguilde once was to me. I thought her dead along with all the other people of
my village."

"You
are too taken with her appearance. Her beauty. I saw it in your eyes."

He
cupped her chin. "Your beauty is the only beauty that takes me,
sweeting."

Finna
pushed him back. "You should be asking where she has been all this time. I
swear I know her face, but I cannot place her. Do you think she could have been
with Aldar for the last three years?"

His
heavy sigh filled the room. "Nay, I do not. The fjord is frozen over, and
she could not possibly have made the journey from the north passage on her
own." Valdrik crossed his arms over his chest. "She says she has
traveled to several places seeking a home, some as far away as Viken. I believe
her. She was never a liar as long as I knew her."

Finna
raised a brow. "And how long was that?"

He
chuckled at her attempt to rile him and reached to toy with a strand of her
hair, which Finna promptly yanked back. "I never thought you to be so
possessive. Why are you so angry over this?"

"Why
didn't you tell me about her?" she asked. Though she tried to stop it, her
chin quivered.

Valdrik
sighed. His shoulders dropped and he looked irritated. "Why would I tell
you of a woman I thought long dead, slaughtered by the man you called father
for so long?"

Finna
gasped at the severity of his tone. "You would lay blame at my feet for
that now, too!"
 
She pulled back
from Valdrik with a snarl, searching his gaze for any sign of falsity.
"How could you not know she was alive? Did you not search for her when you
returned to your people? She was your
woman
,"
Finna spat. "Would you not look for me?"

Valdrik
swallowed. His pallor faded just a shade lighter, and his lip curled with fury.
"I did. But they were all burned so badly one could not tell a body from
the other. Except my parents. They were purposefully left out for the
scavengers." Valdrik crossed the room with heavy strides, not sparing her
another glance. He stopped at the fire and threw a log into the hearth, sending
embers sparking outward. Valdrik dropped into a chair.

Finna
turned and watched him a moment. Part of her wanted to take him in her arms and
give him comfort, and the other part wanted to throttle him. She turned on her
heel and started for the door. She needed to be away from her husband right
now. She needed to gather her feelings.

"Where
do you go?" Valdrik asked from the fire, sitting upright.

Finna
did not answer. She gave him a glare from the door and then slammed it behind her.

Finna
shook herself, a tear slipping down her cheek as she hurried into the night
toward the longhouse. She walked blindly until she found herself outside
Geera's door, and she took a shaky breath and lifted her knuckles. She rapped
twice, quietly.

A
moment later Geera opened the door, just a crack, until she saw Finna.

"What
are you doing?" she cried. "Is everything all right?" She
searched Finna's face. "You’ve been crying. Come, tell me why," she
said, pulling her sister into the room and setting her dagger on the table by
the door.

"May
I stay the night with you?" Finna asked.

Geera
studied her with some confusion, the single candle she held casting shadows
across her face. "Of course."

Chapter
Twenty-Six

It
was many hours later when he found her, but when he did, Valdrik stopped in the
middle of Geera's room and watched his unsuspecting wife as she slept on
peacefully. He watched her until he no longer wanted to throttle her. His
clenched fists loosened at his sides, but the stern glare he focused on Finna
did not abate.

She'd
caused him a rather restless night.

He
crossed the room and curled his fingers around Finna's shoulders and then
pulled her off the bed from where she curled beside her sister. Geera jerked up
with a fright, too, pulling the covers to her chin. Her eyes rounded on
Valdrik, but he did not give her much notice. His focus was on his wife.

Finna
blinked at him in a stupor as she half dangled from his hands.

Valdrik
bared his teeth at her. "
Do
you
have any idea how long I have searched for you?"

Finna
looked him over once and balked. "Methinks you might have looked for me,
but found a barrel of ale instead." She gave him a sniff that set his
anger with her even more on edge.

 
He growled, and she let out a sharp gasp as he
tossed her over his shoulder and started from the room.

"Wait,"
Geera called, but he did not heed her.

Finna
struggled atop his shoulder, but by the time they reached the hall, she gave up
the fight and ceased her pounding on his back.

"Valdrik,
set me down," she said sharply, trying to turn over on his shoulder.

He
didn’t say a word. Luckily, there were few present in the hall so early as it
was. Stieg chuckled at them from a table where he broke his fast with Ragnarr
and Útryggr. Finna pressed herself upward from her husband's shoulder and stuck
her tongue out at the man, to which Stieg only laughed all the more.

Valdrik
threw the door open without a care, and Finna shivered in the cold.
"Ooh!" she cried. "Do you intend to freeze me?"

Snow
fell hard around them and stuck in her hair and on her back. The drifts he
trudged through were tall, and the early morn was dark along the path to their
dwelling.

By
the time they got there, they were both stiff from the elements.

Valdrik
deposited his wife on the stoop, and she hurried indoors without complaint and
went directly to the fire to warm herself. Valdrik came in behind her and hung
up his cloak before he went to the fire with her.

He
took her chin in his hand and brought her to face him. "You shall never do
that again," he said.

Finna
pinched her lips together and jerked her chin from his fingers with an icy
glare. She held out her tingling fingers to the flames, but Valdrik only
reached for her and turned her entire body to him.

"
Never
," he repeated. "Do you
know the worry you caused me? I only let you go because I thought you would
return in a few moments. And then, when I went out to look for you, the snows
had begun to fall, erasing your tracks. I was out half the night before Ragnarr
told me you had gone to your sister's room."

Finna
visibly softened toward him, just slightly. "You looked all night?"

"You
drive me to insanity, woman," he growled.

Despite
his care for her, she did not appear to have forgotten why she was angry with
him. "I want you to send Isaguilde away," she said.

"Are
you truly that frightened by her presence? You?" he scoffed.

That
seemed to only anger her anew. "I am afeared of no one, Viking." She
jabbed a finger in his chest for emphasis, but Valdrik brushed her hand from
him.

"I'll
not have her sent away. She came here seeking shelter and naught else. How was
she to know I was here? As soon as spring comes, I am sure she shall be on her
way."