“I cannot stand in judgment until I hear both sides of this story.” Tyr cradled her hand in his. “Aaron bedded her for months. The child belongs to someone—what if he is Aaron’s son? Will you have me reject our own blood?”
A fair question
. But Frieda’s past behavior cast more than doubt on her. Regardless of the truth, the innocent child could stay. Relieved most of the guests had departed, Rachelle considered what to do next. Welcoming Frieda into her household would take every ounce of patience and tolerance she possessed. Rachelle had forgiven Aaron because he was a kinsman. The woman, however, remained nothing but her husband’s former lover.
Tyr kissed her cheek. “The truth will come out.”
She nodded. The truth was what she feared most.
Kara stroked the curly hair of the little boy sprawled across her bed. His blue eyes were heavy with sleep. Frieda sat in a chair beside them, sniffling and dabbing her eyes dry on a borrowed kerchief.
“I never considered it,” she wheezed. “After all the time we spent together, how cruelly he’d reject me.” She looked pitifully at her child. “And our beautiful son.”
Kara couldn’t believe how callously Aaron had responded, either. Admittedly, any man would have been shocked, but his latest action had nearly succeeded in plucking Aaron right out of her heart. That could be
her
sitting in that chair a few months from now. “What’s his name?”
“Wray.”
Kara grinned. “Be at peace. As soon as I’m free to leave, if you have nowhere else to go, accompany me to my father’s house. We are always in need of experienced maids.”
“You’d do that for a stranger?”
“I would.” She scooted off the bed. “Now sleep. Tomorrow is another day.”
“But this is your chamber, milady,” Frieda said. “Where are you going? Where will you sleep?”
“I couldn’t possibly rest.” In fact, Kara’s heartbeat thundered inside her chest still. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Alone?”
“Aye.”
“Wait,” the woman pleaded. “Don’t you want to know more about my history with Aaron?”
“I’ve heard enough for one night.” Aaron deserved a chance to defend himself, and if Kara listened to another heart-wrenching story, it would only cloud her judgment.
“Nothing at all?” Frieda persisted.
Perhaps she needed someone to talk to, the way Rachelle had listened to her. Sighing with resignation, she leaned against the wall.
“Aaron seduced me four years ago, after his cousin ended our relationship.”
Expressionless, Kara stared at her palms as if they held answers, then looked into the woman’s eyes. Men slept with women. This came as no shock
.
Frieda seemed overly eager to inflict as much damage on Aaron’s reputation as she could. But who could blame her—caring for a child on her own mustn’t be easy. But the woman wasn’t entirely the poor dejected creature she pretended to be. Well dressed and obviously not underfed, someone had supported her all these years. Kara took a deep breath.
Long walks offered solitude—especially at night. “I must go,” she announced suddenly, then left the chamber.
Only a few guards were on duty in the great hall. The lamps were dimmed, the fire burned low, and what guests remained were sleeping on the floor. Quiet. No one questioned her as she stepped outside.
She walked to the dock, intent on swimming. With no one around, she felt safe climbing down the ladder that granted access to the beach below. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the dark. Another cloudless night welcomed her—the moon and stars shimmering above. She kicked her slippers off. The sand felt good between her toes. Next, she tested the water, dipping her feet. Cold, but not altogether uninviting. She stripped her clothes off, folding her gown carefully before she laid it on the ground.
At first, she considered swimming naked, but instead, she knotted her silky shift above the knees, allowing for free movement of her legs. Someone had taken great care grooming the small beach. She envisioned Lady Rachelle playing with her sons here. The rest of the riverfront was dominated by steep, muddy shoreline. The shallows where Kara waded was safe. The water tickled her calves, then her knees. Someone stopped her from taking another step. The firm hand on the back of her arm yanked her backward.
“What are you doing?” Aaron growled.
She owed him no explanation. Her eyes widened as she turned to face him. “Let go of me.” He reeked of ale.
His lips flattened. “I’ll let go after you answer me, girl.”
“I’m going for a swim.”
“No.” His hold tightened.
“After tonight,” she said. “There’s nothing left for us to say to each other. You’ve shown yourself to me, Jarl McNally. For that, I am grateful.”
He laughed. “How quickly you turn.”
“You betrayed yourself.”
“I didn’t sire that child.”
“Whether you did or didn’t isn’t the issue, milord. It’s how quickly you rejected him. Without a thought for what the boy felt.”
“He’s hardly old enough to remember how to wipe his arse, much less what I did.”
“I disagree.” Kara remembered many things from early childhood. Too many.
He let go.
“You denied any chance of being his father, without considering anything first.”
“I remember what women I’ve slept with and if I left one pregnant.”
“Impressive,” she retorted. “And what a vast memory you must have.” He didn’t react to her accusatory tone.
“I’m innocent.”
“Of being a father,
maybe
,” she admitted. “But not of a being a cold hearted bastard.”
“When does your condemnation end?”
“After you tell me the truth.”
“I asked you at the feast whether you’d be able to forgive my past. Remember, Kara? You didn’t say no. You’re quick to judge and slow to forgive. Not the kind of woman I thought you to be.”
“Some things are unforgivable.”
“Aye,” he said. “I’ve grown used to condemnation, but expected so much more from you.”
Aaron stayed close to her side, but scanned the beach as if he were expecting someone.
“Four years ago, I sold Lady Rachelle to King Hardrada’s bastard son. My cousin recovered her—executed several men and exiled Frieda and me for our part in the crime.” He tried to sound repentant, but when she acted so stoic, it angered him.
Her eyes narrowed. “This is your great secret?”
“The one that matters most . . .”
Once again, Aaron found himself unprepared. Frieda’s surprise visit had forced his hand. Instead of sharing bits and pieces of his past over time, he was forced to confess his most grievous sin.
“Does my father know, Jarl McNally?”
He nodded.
Surprised, she let out her breath. “He’s always been an excellent judge of character.”
He didn’t want to listen anymore. But she wasn’t going to stay silent and neither should he. But the more information he volunteered, the more distant she’d grow.
“Shame on you for not speaking to me of these things before we consummated our relationship. Shame on me for not knowing better.”
His mouth dropped open. “Shame?” That’s not what she’d exhibited the night they made love, or the morning after.
“Aye,” she said. “Did I not speak clearly enough? All these things I could possibly forgive. But what kind of man refuses his own blood? Looks on his firstborn and turns away? Doesn’t your White Christ emphasize mercy?”
“He’s not my child.” He swaggered, regretful he’d overindulged in spirits. “And you know nothing of what gods I worship, so hold your tongue.”
“I’ve seen the tattoos that cover your body—did you think me so enthralled I wouldn’t notice? You claim one god and pray to another. Further proof of your deficient character.”
Aaron leapt at her, dragging her into his arms. She stayed perfectly still, almost limp. “Don’t touch me,” she warned. “You’ve given me a glimpse into my own future—what if I were in Frieda’s place? Would you deny our child, too?” She’d spurn his affection forever if he let her. Maybe return home, pay whatever price her father demanded to make restitution for her disobedience, then marry Marteinn. A man whose integrity could never be questioned.
He pulled back, still clutching her arms. “You think I’d reject you if you were pregnant? Drive the blade straight and true.” He ripped the front of his tunic open. “So deep I bleed to death in front of you, Kara.” His face twisted. “Are you with child?” He wanted to make her weak with kisses—give her cause to recant her doubt in him. His guts were churning.
“If I were,” she said, breaking free of his grasp. “You’d be the last person I’d tell.”
One minute she was full of passion, the next, bitter with regret. It pained him to hear her speak that way. He desperately wanted a family—a dozen children—but only with her. “Go.” He gave her a gentle push toward the house. Something dark and ignoble hit him then, feelings he hadn’t experienced since that night in the barn with Frieda years ago, the first night they’d coupled.
“You want me to leave?” She appeared astounded.
“I
choose
to honor your request.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re beautiful and I have little control over my desire at the moment.” And if she stayed there much longer, he’d be reduced to begging. “Go inside where it’s safe, Kara.”
She frowned. What did the poor little fool think he meant? Her lips parted as if she was going to speak.
“Go,” he repeated brusquely.
She hugged herself, turned, then trudged away.
Chapter 15
Repelled
The lingering memory of Kara’s hot kisses turned into pounding pain inside Aaron’s head. He sought comfort the only way he knew how. In something that could numb his senses—mead. Not the ordinary kind. His cousin’s brewer used more honey and special yeast to make the drink doubly potent. He tapped his fingers on the table, considering his options.
Oh, there was the fact they’d made love. That unsavory piece of information would either convince Erik the Bald to let him marry his only daughter or get him stabbed in the gut. Or, he could leave his future to fate.
Cupping his head in both hands, he didn’t see who came up behind him. He didn’t really care. One wrong word and he’d likely throw a punch.
“Are you waiting for someone?” Tyr asked.
Aaron gazed up at his kinsman. “I thought you were asleep.”
Tyr chuckled, although he seemed to be evaluating his condition. “Is there anything left in the bottle?”
Aaron lifted the flagon. It felt empty. “You’re too late, all the bloody mead is gone.” His mind was a whirl, as susceptible as flame in wind. Yet he had the grace to pull out the chair next to him. “Please, sit with me.”
Tyr accepted. “I cannot count the times you’ve frequented my table in this condition.”
Words that forced Aaron to remember his own selfishness in the past. “Another reason to distance yourself from me.”
“Actually,” Tyr commented. “I prefer you this way.”
Frowning, Aaron tilted his head. “Why?”
His cousin slapped him on the back. “You finally care about someone other than yourself.”
Surprised, he let out a breath. “You’re not paying me any compliments.”
“Aye,” Tyr said. “But I’m not insulting you, either.”
Aaron visually searched the tabletops below. He found what he was looking for, a bottle of wine. He stood, then stumbled off the dais, grabbing the open bottle. Instead of measuring out a serving in a cup, he drank greedily. He welcomed oblivion. When he was finished, he dropped the empty vessel on the floor. “Goddamnit.”
Tyr burst out laughing. “By the gods, Aaron. What could that tiny girl have possibly done to crush your manhood?” he asked. “Shall I impart to you a piece of wisdom from the Sayings of the High One?
Only a fool lies awake all night and broods over his problems. When morning comes, he is worn out and his troubles the same as before
.”
That earned Tyr a scowl. His cousin’s love life hadn’t always been so tranquil. “Speaking from experience?”
“Aye.” Tyr’s eyes glinted. “If I weren’t, I’d have no right to counsel you. Fermented drink isn’t the answer.”
“No, but it will dull the ache.”
“Until morning,” his cousin reminded. “Then you’ll beg me to split your skull in half with my axe to ease the pressure between your ears.”
Aaron wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Perhaps I should follow in your footsteps and find myself a Saxon wench to bed.”
Tyr’s shoulders stiffened. “Don’t blacken this moment by recalling our past, you’ll find yourself on my wrong side again.”
Another reason Aaron had given up overindulging in drink. Whenever he did, his mind wandered to times better forgotten. “I apologize.”
“Come back to the table.”
Aaron returned in a huff. “Don’t worry about me. Go back to your beautiful wife.”
“Listen.” Tyr reclined, resting his feet on the tabletop. “How long has it been since you’ve visited your steading? Inventoried your livestock and crops? Relaxed before your own hearth?”
Never.
Since the day King Magnus deeded his lands, he hadn’t spent more than a week at a time there. Occasionally, he sent a man from Oslo to oversee the harvest. But he relied on his tenants to manage his household and keep records. “I’ve had no time to do so.” What he wanted to do at the moment was stalk upstairs and ravage Kara’s mouth with hungry bites and kisses. Not discuss his assets in the middle of the night with his kinsman.
“The longer you stay here and wallow in misery, the more likely the girl will continue to resist you. Go home. Kara is safe. You’ve done your duty. I’m happy to report, at the risk of reprisal for breaking my oath of secrecy to my wife, that the girl is as enamored with you as you are with her. My wife guarantees it.” He grinned.
Aaron shifted. Enamored? Maybe yesterday, not tonight. And likely not tomorrow. She’d chosen Frieda. And the idea of
going home
unsettled him. He’d been without for one half of his life, travelling back and forth between Scotland and Norway, even visiting distant relations in France as a child. Further testament of his failure as a son. The idea of establishing a household of his own set him on edge. Unless he could share it with Kara. “I’ll go.”