The Heart's Warrior (22 page)

He shook his head as he lay back on the bed. He

propped his good arm beneath his neck so he could better view her. Kerstin no longer heard the robust voices of the men out in the yard. Enough of her father’s men would remain behind to keep the steading safe against possible attack. The rest must have gone to their ships. Good riddance!

She shot Jonas a sideways glance. “Then, where do we go?”

He smiled slowly. “To my home at Hawkscliffe.”

A shiver of apprehension raced down her spine. She knew she would eventually have to face his people—but not so soon. It was one thing to encounter his warriors every day on her father’s steading. Their looks of hatred 145

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couldn’t hinder her here in her home, where she felt safe.

Once she went to Hawkscliffe, she would be at their mercy. How could she make a life at Hawkscliffe? “I won’t go.” “You have no choice.” He rose from the bed and walked to her, towering over her as he stood before the door. Looking up at him, Kerstin saw his determination, but she had her own.

She rested a hand over her queasy stomach. “Don’t make me go, Jonas. Not yet. I need more time.”

He reached out and threaded his fingers through her hair. “You’ll go to my home if I have to bind you hand and foot.” His harsh and frightening voice belied his gentle movements.

As he walked past her and left the room, Kerstin

sagged against the door.

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Chapter Ten

Kerstin stared at the swaying sails overhead. The gentle rocking of Jonas’s ship made her stomach roll.

Frothy waves lapped at the bow as the men dipped their oars in long, united strokes. A mist of water sprayed Kerstin and she licked her lips. Crouched beside the railing, she glared at Jonas as he stood at the tiller.

“Stupid, fool man. I told him not to take me on his ship.” Her stomach lurched and she swore beneath her breath. Why could he not listen to her? She had begged him not to make her sail to Hawkscliffe. Insisting it would take too long and they would not be safe traveling by land, he loaded her on board. Although they had only been at sea a short time, Kerstin felt so ill she didn’t care if the heavens fell in upon them.

The ship jolted and Kerstin clutched the railing. She watched the low hills along the shore pass by, her vision blurring until she blinked.

With a low moan, she hung her head over the side.

When she heard several men chuckling at her distress, she clenched her teeth, wishing she could make them a tea with the bark of yohimbe. Though rare and difficult to obtain, it would teach them a lesson in impotence.

Casting her weary gaze toward her husband, she saw that he watched her from his position on the raised platform in the stern. His steady hand guided the tiller as he beckoned Halfdan to take control of the ship. Jonas walked toward her.

Curse her bad luck. She closed her eyes, hating to show any weakness. Why couldn’t she retain any pride with him?

Across the deck, she saw Letta cowering on the other side of the ship. When Jonas made it known he planned to take Kerstin to Hawkscliffe, Letta begged to come along.

Dreading the hostility she was sure to meet at Jonas’s home, Kerstin agreed. She didn’t want to be alone.

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Besides, she feared for Letta’s sanity and thought it best to keep the woman with her so she might soothe her until Thorir returned. Now, Kerstin wondered if she could render aid to anyone.

Letta watched her, her eyes dim, her face

expressionless. Wasn’t she aware they traveled to Hawkscliffe? What did Letta think about from one

moment to the next? Kerstin didn’t like that the woman remained unpredictable.

Sighing deeply, Kerstin wrapped her shaking hands across her abdomen. She heard the soft tread of Jonas’s heels striking the planks of the ship as he approached.

“Do you want to lie down?” he asked gruffly.

She closed her eyes and shook her head.

“Can you take a sip of water?”

Again, she responded in the negative. She wanted to be left alone.

“Woman,” he called to Letta. “Can’t you do something to ease your sister’s discomfort?”

Kerstin opened her eyes. Letta didn’t answer and

Kerstin knew she retreated within herself again.

Hunkering down, Jonas inspected her, his callused palm stroking her clammy cheek. “You’re white and trembling. You’ll become parched if you can’t keep some water down.” He spread a pelt across the deck. “Come, lie here for awhile and you’ll feel better. We’ll be to my home soon.”

“Thank you.” She lay upon the soft fur.

“You’re welcome. It seems I’m the only one here that can care for you at the moment.” He indicated Letta, who wrapped her cloak tighter about her drooping shoulders and stared at the waves with a blank expression. “What is her ailment? She doesn’t seem right in the head.”

Kerstin sighed and explained about Letta. “You

should be careful, Jonas. She blames you for her

children’s deaths.”

His brows drew together in surprise. “Why me?”

Kerstin shrugged. “Your people have killed many of my people. She thinks both the Eirikssons and

Sigurdssons are murderers.”

Jonas frowned, his penetrating eyes crinkled with disapproval and a bit of dismay as he stared at Letta.

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“Why did you bring her?”

Kerstin hesitated. Dare she confide in him? She

didn’t want him to think evil spirits possessed Letta. He might have her killed, or accuse her of witchcraft. “What else could I do? I couldn’t leave her at home alone without Father or Thorir to look after her. Be patient with her, Jonas. She’s suffered greatly. Sometimes, she doesn’t realize what she’s doing. Other than her husband, I am the only person who can calm her.”

“Do you think to warn me?”

“Aye, but only because I fear she might say or do something to incur your wrath. I hope you’ll be kind to her. I know you’re a fair man, when you want to be.”

His features softened and he smiled. “You suppose so?” “I know so. You’re not as cruel as you’d like everyone to believe.”

He chuckled and she gave him a half-hearted smile.

“Do you think Letta plans some treachery?” His

expression turned dour.

“Not that I know of.” She hurried to reassure him.

The ship rolled and her stomach shook with spasms.

A groan rose in her throat and she bit it back. Why could she not die right here and now?

Now he looked worried. “I appreciate the warning, but at present, it’s you who needs care. With all your healing cures, don’t you know of a magic enchantment that might ease your discomfort?”

“I don’t practice magic, Jonas. I use herbs and plants for healing. We left on this trip in haste. There wasn’t time to prepare anything to settle my stomach.”

He clenched his jaw. He didn’t believe her. He still thought her a witch. “We’ll be to my home soon and my mother will tend you.”

“You have a mother?” She hid her surprise but

tensed. Why hadn’t he told her before now?

He gave an abrasive chuckle. “We all have a mother, Kerstin.”

“But I didn’t know your mother still lived.”

“She was hail and hearty the last time I saw her

three months ago.”

Kerstin’s throat tightened. “Is she…is she also

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Bjorn’s mother?”

Jonas nodded. “Of course.”

Heaven help her! What a horrible situation. What

would his mother do when she discovered the woman she believed murdered Bjorn had wed Jonas and would be living in the same household with her? Kerstin’s blood ran cold. “I doubt she’ll be eager to tend any illness of mine.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Jonas rose to his feet. “She has never shirked her duty.”

Duty. Kerstin tried to put herself in his mother’s place. If Bjorn had been her son, how could she stand to have his accused murderer living in her home? This arrangement would never work. She buried her face in the soft fur. The reception she would receive in Jonas’s home wouldn’t be pleasant. His people hated her people.

They hated her.

Cold fear gripped her heart and she reminded herself to breathe. Her temples throbbed as she sat up and looked for her husband, prepared to run to his side and beg him to take her back to Moere.

He had returned to the tiller, his solid back facing her. His muscled shoulders appeared stiff and

unapproachable. Kerstin hesitated, knowing he would refuse her request. He was determined to take her to his home. As her husband, he had the right.

She blinked against the bright glare of the sun,

knowing she was a victim of fate. She could fight it, but Jonas would win in the end. Prepared to meet her destiny with courage, Kerstin slumped back upon the fur.

Chewing her bottom lip, she tried to blot the

apprehension from her mind.

****

By the time they arrived at Hawkscliffe, Kerstin felt limp as a rag doll. As the men jumped onto the dock to secure the rigging, she pulled herself to her feet. The pleasant day showed a bright sun and soft white clouds sat in a sky blue as cornflowers. Kerstin resented it dreadfully. On such a day as this, the weather should at least be dark and chill.

Somewhere high above in the hills bordering the

steading, the low, melodic thrum of a bull’s horn could be heard. It summoned all who lived there, calling them to 150

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welcome the travelers home.

Wild-eyed, Letta scurried over to Kerstin. Her blonde hair had come free of its braid and stuck up in places. Her face contorted in a lunatic grin and she twisted her hands together. She looked quite mad.

“It’s all right, Letta. We’re safe here.” At least, she hoped they were.

Letta patted Kerstin’s shoulder and gave a shrill laugh, then bolted over the side of the ship and raced off into the bushes.

“Letta, come back!” Kerstin would have run after her but her legs trembled beneath her.

Jonas clicked his fingers to get the attention of one of the younger men. “Bring her back—and be gentle.”

The man took off at a run.

“He won’t hurt her?” Kerstin asked.

Jonas shook his head. “He’ll return her safely to the hall.” Bending, he tried to pick her up but she evaded him and stepped back. “Let me walk on my own. I’d rather meet your people standing on my own two feet.” She could barely walk but she’d rather die than have him carry her.

Jonas hesitated.

Smoothing strands of her hair in place, Kerstin’s gaze darted toward the path leading to the steading. Did he notice how nervous she was about meeting his people?

His mother?

He offered her his arm and she placed her hand on his forearm, then walked with him to the edge of the ship.

With his aid, she stepped over the side and they started up the rocky slope with his men.

Children and women poured over the hill, racing

toward them, squealing with laughter. The warriors’

boisterous voices soon joined with the women’s’ titters as families welcomed their men home.

The people threw inquisitive glances Kerstin’s way.

She heard whispered gasps as news spread and they became aware of whom she was. They must know Jonas had gone to make an alliance with Alrik. No doubt, they were curious to meet the Witch of Moere.

“Jonas!” A woman raced down the hillside after this shrill call of delight. Her long blond braids flew out 151

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behind her.

An older woman, yet still slim and lovely, she looked no larger than Kerstin. Wisdom lines showed on her otherwise unblemished face and her stride portrayed self-confidence, her bones slender but strong.

Jonas flinched when she jarred his injured shoulder, but clasped her tight in his arms. “Mother.”

“Oh, son! You’re safe. What news is there of your father?”

Jonas chuckled and squeezed his mother with

affection. “Father is well. I bade him farewell yesterday, when he left to join King Hakon.”

The woman’s brow furrowed with concern and her

eyes lost some of their sparkle. The other people quieted by slow degrees and listened to catch news of the battle.

“And what of you? Why aren’t you with him?” Her

sharp gaze slid over Kerstin, then moved back to Jonas. “I see you aren’t standing as straight or moving as easily.

Where are you injured?”

How shrewd, thought Kerstin, a mother’s knowing

eyes missed very little.

Jonas indicated his shoulder.

“Oh,” she crooned. “Come up to the hall. I’ll tend it for you.”

Tugging on Jonas’s hand, his mother tried to lead him away, but Jonas pulled her back.

“There’s no need to fret, Mother. The wound is

healing and I’ll join the battle soon. Our army is large and we’ll drive the Eirikssons from our shores.”

“No doubt.” The woman paused and turned to study

Kerstin.

With her heart like a lump of lead, Kerstin met her unwavering stare. For some reason, Kerstin wanted her approval, but accusation filled the woman’s eyes.

Kerstin looked away, seeing nothing but dark glares and sneers as Jonas’s people skirted around her. Their whispered insults filled the air.

Witch! Murderess! Evil!

She almost cringed, feeling their anger rushing at her. How she longed to run back to Moere. Back home, she would be welcomed, pulled along as the women

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laugh and joke with them and, inside the hall, she’d offer her advice on herbs to sweeten the feast they would share late into the night. In the morning, she would help direct their labors as they cooked, cleaned and sewed. At Moere, her people loved and respected her. Not here. These people would never accept her. How could she stand to live here the rest of her life?

Standing straight and tall, Kerstin raised her head as she prepared for the worst. She was her father’s daughter and still had her pride, after all.