Raging Sea (5 page)

Could it be the mere sight of him that was causing this eerie feeling within her? The strange buzzing that filled her ears? The way her vision dimmed and flared?

Before she could do anything foolish, something in the world around her tilted and changed. Ran grabbed for the table in front of her as she lost her balance. Then, in an instant, her vision flickered again and the colors of the world disappeared. Everyone looked like a pale, drab version of themselves.

Except Soren.

He had changed now, not only looking stronger and healthier, but also an eerie silver-gray glow outlined his body. As she watched this happening to him, her arm began to burn. Clapping her hand over it, she lifted her gaze and met his in that moment.

In that second, everything and everyone around them disappeared, leaving only the two of them. Time slowed and she gazed at the man to whom she'd given her heart, body and soul. Their life together had been laid ahead of them, shining like jewels and holding the promise of happiness. Those hopes had crumbled in an instant when he betrayed her faith in him.

Now, though, all that passed by in the blink of an eye, and she found herself staring at Soren as her arm burned fiercely. And, realizing that his action mirrored her own, she waited for his acknowledgment. Instead, he did again as he'd done before—he turned and walked away.

The bright, shimmering color of molten silver continued to swirl around him as he made his way along the street and away from her. Her heart, the one she'd sworn would never be hurt again, pounded in her chest, reminding her of the weakness of her will when it came to Soren Thorson.

Her arm felt as though it was on fire, so she tugged her sleeve up to look. As on the boat when she'd been rescued from the water, her skin burned and reddened with heat, changing as she watched. A shape formed and smoothed, only to form again. Two wavy lines etched into her then, undulating and moving as the waves or current did through water. For a moment, she believed them real. Then the burning began anew and the markings grew deeper and longer across her forearm.

What was going on? First the strange change to her vision and hearing. Then the alterations to the world's coloring—and Soren's. And lastly, this marking on her skin and, from his reaction, on his, too.

With more questions than answers, she wished there was someone she could ask. Someone who could counsel her and help her discover the truth of this.

And she wished with all her heart that it was someone other than the man who had betrayed his every vow and his own words.

As Soren turned and walked off toward the edge of town, Ran knew one thing—she had lied to herself about her feelings for Soren. And the only way she would save her soul and her sanity was to keep away from him.

So, that was what she would do.

Stay away from Soren Thorson.

'Twas only as she reached her father's house in the city after finishing some of her errands that she realized there was another from whom she could seek advice. A man wiser than her father who had more patience with her willfulness and questions, whom Svein Ragnarson would never allow her to consult.

Einar Brandrson, Soren's grandfather.

It would not take long for her to ride to his cottage near the northern edge of the island and seek his counsel over these strange occurrences. Surely he would know about these things.

R
an realized her error as she left her father's small house in Kirkwall and took the north road out of the city. Old Einar's interest and time was being spent, not at his cottage, but at the stone tower that sat near the beach at Gurness. His letters, sent over the past two years, carefully avoided any mention of what had happened between her and Soren but were filled with stories of the tower and the discoveries he'd made there.

Although the broch had been deserted and unused, the old man had been digging around the base of it and found bits of old pottery and other evidence that people had lived in it long ago. Those bits encouraged him to continue exploring it and so he had, until the last letter some months ago, which had spoken of fearful events. Since she knew she would be returning to Orkney, she had not replied and had expected to see him in person and ask about the strange claims he made.

Once out of the city, Ran felt the tension leave her. On the sea, she was never alone. In her father's houses or in the storage barns and buildings, she was always surrounded by others. But, here, now, she reveled in the solitude as she followed the path along the sea.

Unfortunately, thoughts of her peculiar encounter with Soren and the changes she now noticed in the world around her filled her thoughts during the ride. Even now, the colors that should fill the sky and land around her were muted and understated. Everything appeared as though it was the gloaming when the light of the sun dimmed and everything was seen through a gauzy overlay.

Except Soren. He had appeared bright and vibrant, so much so that he almost sparkled. And the steel-gray color that outlined his shape did glimmer. How could that be? How could any of it be?

She reached the part of the road that followed along the edge of the sea for a short distance before turning inland slightly. And the voices began.

Ran. Daughter of the sea.

Come to us.

Join us.

Waterblood, use us!

Ran tugged on the reins, making the horse stop, and she looked around to see who had called to her. The voices sounded like the whisperings she'd heard before, but these were bolder, more humanlike. And yet, no one was there. No one on the road. No one in a boat on the sea. No one.

She looked out over the sea and noticed that the waves seemed to form slowly and remain in shape, almost as though they were watching her as she rode by.

As she continued on toward the broch, the words also continued. The same words repeated over and over, sometimes louder and sometimes softer. And Ran found she was not unaffected by the pleas. Something deep within her wanted to answer their call. Wanted to feel the warm caresses and welcome she'd felt when she'd fallen in the sea on her journey here.

Would it be the same?

Would they keep her safe again? Would they touch and whisper to her? Would they allow her to leave?

Ran shook her head, pulling herself out of the reverie in which she'd sunk. Voices in the water? Daft! Safe in the sea? What folly! She shook the reins and the horse began moving again. With each step away those voices cried out louder to her. Her horse began to sidestep and falter, whether because it could hear the voices too or because she was tightening her hold on the reins.

“Stop!” she cried out as the voices threatened to overwhelm her. “Be quiet!”

And there was silence around her in the next moment. The waves went back to their normal ebb and flow from sea to shore. Ran glanced around and everything looked as it should.

Was the upheaval of seeing Soren without warning causing her to be overset with emotions? 'Twas often claimed that women could not handle strong emotions and became hysterical. She did not feel out of control. She did not feel daft. She just could not explain these strange occurrences around her. Ran prayed that Einar was at the tower and could help her. The old man knew so much. Surely he could help her.

The rest of the journey passed quickly and soon the tower came into view. She hastened to get there, anxious to see Einar. Spying another horse tied outside, she smiled. He
was
here. As she walked up the path, she glanced around to see if he was outside or on the beach. Not finding him, she climbed the wooden steps, pulled open the door and entered the tower.

He'd spoken of a lower chamber in his letters, but she saw none. The wooden slats beneath her feet seemed solid. Across the chamber were the stairs to the top. Leaning over and looking up, she could see no one moving about. And only silence met her when she listened.

“Einar? Are you here?” she asked aloud as she climbed to the first landing. “Einar?” Footsteps scuffed along the floor above her, so she clutched the length of her gowns to hasten her pace and reached the next landing and the second story chamber there. “Einar.”

“Nay.”

Her body recognized that voice before she even saw the one who spoke. He stepped out of the shadows and into the square of light from the open window carved into the stone wall.

“Soren,” she said on a breath. It took a huge effort to focus on her mission and to ignore the whirlwind of questions and accusations and reactions that filled her. And to force the next words out. “Where is Einar?” She lifted her head and glanced toward the top of the tower. “Is he above?”

“Ran,” he said quietly, almost intimately.

Fearing a traitorous act, she avoided looking at him. Looking at him would remind her of everything she'd wanted, everything they'd had and done . . . and lost.

“Ran,” he said. This time his voice forced her to meet his gaze. A terrible sadness lay there within his blue eyes. “He is gone.”

Tears filled her eyes and burned in her throat at his words. She did not need to ask what he meant, for she knew. Einar Brandrson was dead. Grief for the loss of her friend shattered her heart. Soren had not looked away and, even though she wished she did not think of him kindly, she realized his loss was so much greater.

“I am so sorry for your loss,” she whispered. Wiping her sleeve across her eyes, she cleared her throat. “When did he pass?”

“A week ago.” Soren began to approach her. Ran wrapped her arms around herself and he stopped. “He was old. He went quietly in his sleep,” Soren explained.

“I cannot imagine Einar doing anything quietly,” she said. “I'd always imagined him as a fierce Viking of old, being taken in battle and carried to Valhalla by a Valkyrie.” When she looked at Soren, she saw that he'd glanced away. And she saw the sorrow, and something that resembled guilt, in his gaze. “How does Ingeborg fare?”

“She has accepted his passing well enough. 'Twas not unexpected to her. His age and his growing infirmity . . .”

He walked away then, over to the window, and stared out at the sea. The silvery outline that surrounded his body reminded her of her reasons for coming to find Einar. Fruitless, hopeless reasons now.

“You thought him here?” he asked quietly. “Why not go to his cottage?”

“He spoke often of this broch in his letters,” she answered. Soren turned and faced her, his face and expression now unreadable.

“He wrote to you?”

“Aye. He is, was, my friend.”

“What did he say of this place?” Soren asked, his eyes blazed now. “What know you of this tower?” He stepped closer.

The memory of what had torn them apart flooded into her thoughts, reminding her that she could not trust him. He'd never answered her questions. He'd never defended himself. He'd simply turned and walked out of her life. Which was exactly what she wanted to do now. If Einar had not told him of his discoveries here, then mayhap it spoke of his lack of trust in his grandson and he did not wish Soren to know. She shrugged.

“Only that he liked to visit here and watch the sea.”

His gaze narrowed and never moved from her face, as though waiting for more. She had nothing more to say to someone she could not risk trusting ever again. She needed to get away. Away now.

“My father is expecting me,” she said, walking to the steps.

“Your father has not returned to the islands from Caithness,” he said.

“How do you know that?” she asked. Why did he know her father's movements?

“I heard from the merchants in town.” Now it was his turn to lie. Again. His lower lip twitched from the corner to the middle when he spoke an untruth.

If she was looking at his mouth, it truly was past time to leave. It mattered not how he knew about her father's travels. It mattered not, she repeated to herself several times. She owed him no explanation of any kind on any matter at all. None.

“Again, I am sorry for your loss,” Ran said, walking past him to the steps.

He let her pass in silence and she made her way down and out of the tower. She would return to it when Soren was not there, to honor Einar's passing in her own way. She would also visit his daughter-by-marriage, Ingeborg, to offer her sympathies. The woman must be heartbroken, in spite of what Soren might believe.

Soren
must be heartbroken.

Ran almost stumbled at the thought of how deep his grief must be. Einar was more father than grandfather to Soren, his only kin left alive as far as she knew. Part of her wanted to run back inside and console him and tell him of the letters and Einar's discoveries.

But two years of her own grief and anguish served her well in that moment of weakness. Ran righted herself and walked to where she'd tied the horse. Loosening the reins and gathering them in her hand, she prepared to mount.

And instead sank to her knees as the loss of her dear friend became real to her.

Einar had been kind to her so many times and in so many ways. She'd always known him in the way that kith and kin do—her brother had been Soren's closest friend and their families spent much time together. He was well respected amongst those living here on Orkney, and even her father sought his counsel on matters of business and farming.

When she and Soren had fallen apart, Einar kept in contact with her. Before she left and even while she lived elsewhere these last two years, he informed her about life on Orkney without her having to seek out the information. He told her of the important changes in Kirkwall and amongst her friends. And other than one line—
a great wrong has been done to you
—he never mentioned Soren or referred to the humiliating occurrence between them.

And now he was gone. Tears poured down her cheeks as she sobbed at the thought of never seeing the old man again. Of never hearing his wisdom or humor. Of losing another piece of her life. She released the reins and cried out her sorrow.

Hands clutched her shoulders. Strong hands guided her to her feet and then arms enclosed her and held her close. She knew the feel of them and the scent of the man who held her to his chest and whispered soft words. For a moment she allowed the embrace. Then, a shock stunned her. Stunned him, from the expression in his eyes.

The glow around him grew brighter and, from the way he stared at her, he saw something as well. The way her blood heated was familiar to her—he'd always affected her that way. Their passion had never been soft and gentle. Their joinings had always been hot and deep and shattering.

But this heat was different somehow.

Those watery voices returned and grew louder and louder as the very sea shouted her name from its depths. She turned and watched the waves grow violent as they seemed to throw themselves into the sky and dissolve only to rise again. Above them, the clouds swirled, dark and light, in small circles then larger ones, ebbing and flowing like the waves in turbulent eddies.

Her arm began to burn and it brought her to her senses. Ran pulled herself free of his embrace and the sea returned to its usual color and the sky cleared.

“I did not mean to . . .” Soren reached out to touch her again and then dropped his hands at his sides. “Your pardon, Ran. I should not have touched you.”

Ran shook her head and nodded and shrugged, completely overwhelmed now by the emotions seething within her. And from seeing him. And touching him. And smelling his scent. Had he not witnessed or heard what she had? Did he not see the changes in the world that she did? Earlier, he'd touched his arm as she did. And now?

If he did see or feel anything as she did, he spoke not of it nor acknowledged it at all. Backing away, she grabbed for the reins of her horse and managed to pull herself up onto its back. Soren watched her without saying a word, until she was ready to move around him. Why she'd ever thought she could manage seeing him, she knew not.

“I have no right to ask and you have no reason to agree, but it would mean much to me to see the letters he wrote to you, Ran. These last months . . . he has, he had been confused. I but wish to understand what he was going through. Think on it, I pray you.”

Ran felt the truth and the pain in his words and nodded. “I will do that,” she agreed. He stepped out of her path and she touched her heels to the horse's sides, urging it to go.

She pushed all thoughts and questions out of her mind and rode as fast as she could back to Kirkwall. Allowing him to see the letters meant contacting and seeing him again. She'd lost control this time and she'd blame it on being surprised by his presence and the news about Einar. There was simply no explanation for the rest of what she'd seen though.

Seeing him in Kirkwall across the marketplace had shaken her; this encounter scared her, for it demonstrated that not only would she always be in his thrall but that other strange things were happening to and around her. Things she could neither explain nor understand.

If only Einar yet lived . . .

Ran decided to worry on that later. For now, she must carry out the responsibilities and prove to her father that she was worthy of his faith in her. Soren Thorson and whatever was happening here on Orkney was a complication she did not need.