Blind Redemption (20 page)

“Have patience—let’s resolve our issue with Frieda first, then I’ll speak with your father.”

She frowned. “Can’t you find a different way to go about it? Marry me first?”

“Are you proposing?”

She flushed, gulping down her drink. “You twist my words.”

He squeezed her hand affectionately. “I’ve made my intention of marriage to you quite known. Amund?”

The captain lounged near the fireplace with three other men. “Milord?”

“Give the lady a full account of what I told you about her.”

Amund smiled, then cleared his throat.

Kara raised her hand. “I believe you, Aaron. Return to your drink, sir,” she addressed the captain now. “Jarl McNally is teasing us.”

Amund nodded, then raised his cup in salute.

“You’re in rare form today, milord.”

Should he remind her why? “Are you ready to go?”

“Only if you promise to go inside Jarl Sigurdsson’s hall with me.”

“Not today.” His face grew stern. “The less Frieda knows about us, the better.”

“I don’t understand.”

“If she finds out we’ve made peace, she’ll no longer confide in you. Although she’s a perceptive woman, her tongue wags as carelessly as the next housemaid’s does. Eventually the truth will come out.”

“I believe you’re one of the most devious men I’ve ever known.”

“Second only to your father?” After seeing the reaction on her face to what he said, he opened his arms to her. “I didn’t mean to open an old wound, come here.”

She rested her head on his chest and he smoothed her long, unbound curls. This is what he wanted. Freedom to hold her anytime he pleased, freedom to love her.

By the time Kara returned the mare to the stable and wandered inside the great hall, thralls were already serving the eventide meal. Jarl Sigurdsson eyed her the moment she crossed the threshold.

“Did you enjoy your ride?” he asked.

She froze, embarrassed to be called out in the small crowd. “I apologize for being late,” she said, slinking to her seat at the high table. “It seems I don’t know my way around as well as I thought I did.” She hated lying to her host.

“Welcome back,” Rachelle said softly, pouring her a measure of wine. She offered Kara the cup.

“The Trondelag is a magical place, milady. Most favored by the gods.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Tyr said with a slight slur. “Some of our women reported seeing you on the north road,
alone
.”

Kara swallowed. More falsehoods would only make it harder to tell the truth later. “Yes, I didn’t want to disturb Wolinda.”

“Do you think it wise to ride alone?” Tyr asked.

She swallowed a healthy dose of wine before answering. “No.” This situation sadly reminded her of similar conversations with her father. She prepared for what usually followed, a terse reprimand. “I’m prone to doing whatever I want, when I want, and usually end up suffering for it, milord.”

Tyr threw his head back and laughed. “You remind me of my wife, Lady Kara.”

Rachelle rolled her eyes and patted Kara’s hand. “My husband has enjoyed a fair portion of mead and wine this evening. Ignore his banter.”

Kara relaxed then, dipping a piece of bread in dark gravy. If only she could live so happily. “Thank you for understanding, Jarl Sigurdsson.”

“I never said I understood, but I appreciate your independence. What man wouldn’t? Too often, men are shackled to women who can’t think or do for themselves.” He leaned sideways, toward her. “I’ve extended an invitation to your father.”

Kara’s jaw clenched in the middle of chewing another mouthful of bread. Erik the Bald,
here
? “Why?” she asked, her voice wavering.

Tyr gaped at her. “You need me to explain?”

“You’re being unconscionably brutal,” Rachelle chastised her husband.

“The girl needs to know,” he pointed out. “But we’ll wait to finish this conversation until after I receive word from Jarl Erik. Agreed?”

Kara didn’t want to appear ungrateful—or stupid. She paused and stared down at her trencher. If she said yes, what was she really agreeing to? “Yes, milord.”

“Good. Now eat,” he commanded. “Things always become clearer on a full stomach.”

Hours later, Kara settled in her bedchamber. Whatever Tyr Sigurdsson wanted with her father, it must be related to her relationship with Aaron. It scared her. Just thinking about seeing her sire again, after everything that had transpired, frightened her. Undressing, she carefully laid her gown over the back of a chair, then walked to the table where a pitcher of water waited. She washed her face, hands, and underarms.

A single candle illuminated the spacious room. Since spring evenings were warmer, she didn’t need a fire. She preferred sleeping in a cool chamber. With thoughts of Aaron lingering in her sleepy mind, she blew out the candle, then crawled into bed. She hugged herself. He’d taken her from behind like a stallion, a thought she’d never entertained. Little separated men from beasts, but mimicking their sexual behavior—well—it excited her. Too much to fall asleep.

She tried resting on her side, then flipped onto her back. Restless as a child, she punched the mattress with both hands, then flipped onto her right side. Her door creaked open. Kara didn’t know what to do. The knife Amelia gave her was on the table. Who dared enter her room without her consent? She sat, barely able to make out the shape of the person standing beyond the doorway.

“Who is it?”

No answer.

“Tell me or I’ll scream.”

Before she could, a large hand slid over her mouth. “Quiet
vakker kriger,
or you’ll get us into trouble.”

Aaron?

He removed his hand and she blew out a breath—relieved. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Aye,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I, too, couldn’t concentrate on anything but you.”

“Are you staying the night with me?” She’d risk discovery to keep him in her bed all night.

He cradled her hand in his. “Not yet.” He chuckled. “Call it an extended visit.”

“How did you avoid the guards?”

“Drunkards, all of them.” He pulled her covers back, then stood. “Come with me.”

Kara didn’t question him, she scurried out of bed. Hand-in-hand, they went downstairs and exited through the back door. A light breeze cooled her legs.

“Wait,” she said. “I’m only wearing my shift.”

He gazed overhead. “Only the gods can see us.”

She smiled, warmth creeping slowly up her body. “Where are we going?”

“To the barn.”

She cocked her head, surprised. The same place he’d seduced Frieda. “I’m not sure.”

“Let’s make new memories—together.”

Once inside, he closed and secured the doors. Two lanterns were lit on the lower level and she pulled one off its hook. Hadn’t she compared him to a stallion earlier? She giggled.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing, milord.”

He slapped her arse. “Hiding something from me? That earns you another swat.”

“Tis nothing.”

He whacked her again and she squealed with delight. “Did you bring me out here to spank me?”

His eyes sparkled. “I couldn’t very well give you a proper spanking in the middle of the night inside my cousin’s house. The echo of my passionate hits would wake everyone. Now,” he said. “Climb the ladder.”

The loft. She hurried to the ladder, put the lantern down, then peered above. Before she placed her foot on the first rung, he hugged her from behind. She shivered—gooseflesh covering her legs and arms.
Foolish girl.
She couldn’t resist his touch. He swept her hair aside, instantly nipping the back of her neck. She reached behind, grasping his hips.

“I don’t think I can wait . . .” he growled.

Eight steps and they’d be above—eight meager steps. His teeth bit into her flesh, she quivered violently. By Odin . . .

Then he cupped her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples. She exhaled noisily. Everything she’d ever dreamed about in a man—a warrior—embraced her now. She couldn’t stop loving him if she wanted to. She surrendered to her feelings, allowing her body to melt into his.

“You’re breasts are incredible—”

The doors slammed open.

“See,” Frieda screeched. “The pig has returned to his sty.”

Kara gasped, but Aaron swiftly pulled her behind him. “What’s the meaning of this intrusion?” he demanded.

Kara couldn’t believe it. Tyr Sigurdsson and several other armed men were standing in the entry with torches.

“If you don’t protect her, milord,” Frieda continued hysterically. “Your cousin will sire another bastard.”

Chapter 18

Judgment

“Do I need to invite you inside your own barn?” Aaron glared at Tyr.

“I’d prefer to be asleep next to my wife.” His cousin stalked inside. “The rest of you come in and close the doors.”

With all the added light, Aaron could make out the hatred on Frieda’s face. What did he ever see in her? “Shall we hold the formal inquiry now?”

Tyr looked around. “You pick the most peculiar places to make love to women,” he commented, staring at Aaron. “But a man shouldn’t be falsely accused or wrongly judged for doing what comes naturally. Didn’t your own god command mankind to be fruitful, multiply, and replenish the earth?”

“Aye.” Aaron nodded. Although he didn’t see any humor in quoting the words of his former god. “Tonight has nothing to do with multiplying—not in the Biblical sense.”

Tyr snorted. “Frieda.”

“Milord?” She stepped forward.

“Two days ago, while you were taking a walk, I asked my
spaewife
to examine your son.”

“Is he in good health?” she inquired.

“Perfect,” Tyr answered. “Only one thing confused her.”

Aaron’s gut groaned, upset by the blasted woman he knew as nothing more than a liar. She’d latch onto any man she could find.

“What is it?” Finally, she appeared uncertain.

“Tell me again how old your son is?” Tyr asked.

“Nearly five.”

Tyr looked at Kara. “Have you any knowledge about children?”

“Yes,” she answered, stepping from behind Aaron.

“Please explain about teething.”

“I’ve counted twenty teeth in a child’s mouth by the time they are three or four years old. And of course they start to lose them once they reach a certain age—five or six seasons, milord.” Kara said.

Tyr faced Frieda again. “It seems your child is younger than you think. Although he’s tall and heavy for a boy of his suspected age, the
spaewife
swears he’s not a day over three and a half seasons.”

Frieda’s eyes widened. “Dare I ask why you have any reason to doubt me?”

“Birthrights are at stake. A man’s honor questioned,” Tyr replied.

Her gaze flitted around the barn, stopping on Kara. “He’s arrogant, excessively so.”

“Yet he’s honest,” Kara added.

“Believe nothing he says,” Frieda spit. “He’s as cunning as Loki.”

Tyr pinched Frieda’s chin—forcing her to look up. “You’re not looking as sly and satisfied as you were the first night you arrived here. Do you know how many lives you could have ruined with your lies?”

“The way you and Aaron destroyed mine?”

“Did I pry your legs apart?” Aaron jumped, wanting to grab more than the bitch’s chin.

Tyr raised his hand. “Wait cousin, give her every opportunity to explain.”

Reluctant to let her speak another word, Aaron fisted his hands at his sides.

“Cast from the lord’s chamber is one thing,” Frieda continued, “but when your cousin abandoned me after months of sharing my bed, I swore an oath.” She stopped.

“Finish,” Aaron demanded.

She glared at him. “You fathered my son. And if I have to plead my case in the highest court, I will.”

“Tell the truth and I’ll see you generously compensated,” Tyr offered.

She rolled her eyes. “And you’re known for justice, milord. Sometimes gold and silver aren’t enough.”

“Have you any proof?” Tyr asked. “A kinsman who will vouch for you. A woman who nursed you through your pregnancy? Anyone who can confirm when you conceived, when you gave birth?”

“I love him,” she fired back. “Why would I intentionally hurt the sire of my only child? All I want,” she sniffed, “is a chance to have my own family.”

“And my wealth,” Aaron snarled. “I’ll ask the same question you left unanswered the night you arrived—why did you wait so long to contact me?”

“I didn’t know where you were.”

“More falsehoods,” Aaron said. “Half the country knows where I am at any given time. We were banished together. I told you on more than one occasion I had ideas about joining the king’s military. Once we separated, why didn’t you send word to Nidaros?”

“You kept company with the king,” Frieda said. “As unattainable as you are now—imagine how humiliating it would have been trying to pry you from Magnus’ side.”

The guards standing behind Tyr grumbled.

“So you did know where he was . . . It’s late,” Tyr commented. “And I’ll be damned if I allow this to go on under my roof. My wife is with child again, she deserves peace. If you cannot substantiate your claim on Jarl McNally, by law, I’m forced to rule in his favor. If at a later date you can present witnesses who help support your claim, I will gladly hear their testimony. Until then . . .” He signaled his guards. “These two will escort you and your son wherever you wish to go.” Tyr reached inside his tunic, pulling out a leather pouch. “Silver—enough to buy a cottage and food to last a lifetime. Take it.”

She refused. “You cannot buy my silence.”

Tyr dropped it at her feet. “No, but I can remove you from my land.”

Kara breathed a sigh of relief after everyone left the barn. If anyone doubted what she and Aaron meant to each other before, they’d know now. She paced anxiously, waiting for her lover to say something. He stared at the far wall, expressionless.

“She’s gone, Aaron.”

“But not out of mind.” He faced her. “And look what shame I’ve exposed you to. Word of our intimacy will reach your father now, I’m sure of it. Rumors travel faster than fire in Norway.”

“Do I look afraid?”

He grasped her arms. “You don’t need to convince me of your bravery, Kara. I know what you are. I’ve seen you handle a sword—demand to fight your own battles.”