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H er son was sleeping now, his pale features untroubled in a manner she had not seen in months, maybe years.

The boy had endured much in his short life and this day should have numbered among his worst nightmares.

Yet he slept peacefully and for this she had Gunnar Freysson to thank.

Mairead was never one to shirk her duty.

Extricating herself with care from among the furs which covered her and the tiny baby nestling in her arms, Mairead got to her feet.

She hugged the infant to her as she made her way gingerly across the small encampment.

Her body still ached from her recent ordeal, but not as much as she had expected.

Childbirth clearly became easier with each pregnancy and she was fast regaining her strength.

Gunnar stood a few yards away, his back turned to her.

He wore no cloak, and his ebony hair hung loose to his shoulders, lifting slightly in the gentle breeze.

The black leather of his tunic caressed the hard contours of his shoulders, masking the power sheathed within.

His heavy sword hung from his belt and the hilt of a dagger protruded from his boot.

The man was never other than armed to the teeth, yet she could not bring herself to consider him dangerous, Not any more.

He spoke with two of his men, Steinn and another who she believed was called Yngvarr.

Their tones were low, as though they did not wish to disturb those who they believed to be sleeping.

Mairead could pick out one or two words which were becoming familiar to her – thrall, boy, woman .

They were discussing her, and her child, but she did not feel threatened by this knowledge as she would have even a few short hours ago.

"Thank you, for Donald." Mairead spoke softly and laid her hand on the black leather sleeve of the scarred but strangely beautiful Viking.

He turned to face her, his expression one of concerned surprise. His response was to gesture back to her little nest of furs.

Mairead shook her head. "I am fine, really. I just wanted to... talk to you."

He frowned and turned to Steinn, who quickly translated.

"What?" The single word, spoken in Gaelic, did not suggest any great desire on his part to chat, but Mairead was undeterred.

"You saved my son's life. He told me what happened, what you did..."

He shrugged and murmured something which sounded nonchalant and dismissive, which at least suggested he had understood her words.

Mairead was not fully convinced that he grasped the magnitude of today's events, at least to her.

Donald had told her of his misadventure, and that the dark Viking had climbed down the cliff to save him.

Her child would in all likelihood be dead now, but for the courage of this enigmatic man.

He attacked defenceless villages, killed without mercy, enslaved, robbed, yet he would deliver a baby without flinching and risk his own life to save the child of a thrall.

He made no sense to her at all, yet she was drawn to him.

She had been both terrified and fascinated by him from the outset, right from that first meeting when he rescued her from certain rape or possibly worse.

She might not understand him still, but she knew she no longer feared him.

The baby shifted in her arms and started to snuffle, seeking out her nipple once more. Mairead began to arrange the infant within her clothing but paused and again lifted her face to regard her unlikely champion.

"What is your mother's name?"

His puzzled frown was answer enough, but again Steinn intervened.

"The Jarl's mother is dead, " Stein explained after a brief exchange with his chief.

"I see. Then, would you ask him if he might object if I were to name my baby after her?" Mairead enquired.

Gunnar's expression was one of utter incredulity when his karl conveyed the request. He held out his hands and, unhesitating, Mairead placed the infant in them.

Gunnar lifted the tiny form to his face and scowled at her.

The child turned her unfocused gaze on him and pursed her mouth in a toothless parody of a smile.

The corner of the dark Viking's lip curled. He said something to Steinn who grinned and nodded. Then Gunnar fixed his attention on Mairead.

"Tyra. Name is Tyra." He handed the baby back and turned on his heel to march away.

Mairead watched him go, clearly intent on performing some sudden and urgent errand concerning the horses. She smiled at his retreating back and hugged the baby to her, then kissed the soft reddish-gold curls on her head.

"Hello, Tyra," she whispered. "I believe we have both made a friend this day."

Mairead awoke to the quietly efficient activity of the men breaking up their small encampment.

Dust had been kicked into the fire and already the embers were cooling.

All the beds but the one in which she and Tyra nestled had been packed in saddlebags, cooking and eating vessels were stowed away.

The men were milling about, fussing with their horses and clearly ready to depart.

Her eyes instinctively sought out her son, and she found Donald scurrying about among the Viking warriors.

He was fetching and carrying as directed and clearly enjoying his involvement.

The men gave him lighter loads to bear, and joked about his puny limbs though the ribbing was good-natured and not unkind.

Throughout it all Donald beamed from ear to ear.

Seeing she was awake Steinn approached her. "We must leave this morning. Our journey is a long one..."

"Of course. Yes, I understand. I shall make haste. Someone should have woken me..."

"The Jarl forbade it. You should eat first." He offered her a hunk of bread not yet stale. Mairead took it and realised she was ravenous. She chewed quickly.

"There is more if you wish. Or if you need a few moments to... to, er...."

"Thank you." She put the youth out of his misery. "I do not require any more food right now but I would like a minute or two of privacy. I wonder, could you hold Tyra for me?"

The young warrior accepted his charge with all the enthusiasm of one ordered to comfort a wounded boar. He held the child as though she might spontaneously burst into flames. Mairead grinned to herself as she tripped away into the undergrowth to do what was necessary.

When she returned a few minutes later it was to see that her bed had been removed and packed away.

Steinn was busily engaged in saddling his mount, assisted by a chattering Donald.

She glanced about and found Gunnar now holding the baby, and he appeared somewhat more at ease with the burden than had his karl.

The Viking chief had seated himself on a fallen log, the infant laid out on his thighs.

Gunnar appeared fascinated by the minute fingers and toes which had escaped the confines of the sheepskin wrap provided by him the previous evening to keep the child warm.

He prodded the tiny hands and feet with his fingertips.

The baby seemed equally entranced, gazing up into the stern, dark features of the man who smiled down at her.

"Shall I take her?" Mairead stepped forward to stand beside him and held out her arms.

Gunnar nodded and passed the baby to her, then rose to tower over his latest acquisition.

He again wore his huge cloak of dark grey wolf skin, and his mount pawed the solid earth behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder, then gestured to Mairead to follow him.

Beside the stallion he again took the baby, then offered her his free hand to use as a mounting step.

In moments Mairead was in the saddle, her baby once more tucked within her clothing.

Gunnar leapt up behind her, raised his arm to signal their departure, and they were off.

How long would this journey take? Mairead vaguely recalled that Steinn had told her their destination, Gunnarsholm, lay two days riding away to the north.

Two days would not be overly arduous she told herself.

She was not expected to make the trip on foot, she was comfortable after a fashion, and she had eaten.

Her son was beside her, and they were safe.

She leaned back, taking comfort from the solid presence behind her. Gunnar said nothing, but drew his heavy cloak around her and Tyra to encompass them all in his warmth. Soon, Mairead drifted off to sleep.

When she awoke Tyra was no longer in her arms. She knew a moment's panic, then relaxed as she caught sight of the tiny red-gold head poking out from within the black leather of the Viking's tunic. The baby was sleeping, Mairead saw no cause to disturb her and soon fell asleep again.

They made slow progress, and Mairead was convinced the Vikings were setting a much steadier pace than they otherwise would in deference to herself and the children.

Again, she was surprised, had not expected to be treated with such consideration.

They stopped twice each day to eat and the fare was good, usually game that the men hunted on the way – rabbits, wild duck, a small doe.

There were berries too, and nuts. Meals were taken together around a small fire, and Mairead was cheered to see Donald clearly at ease among these huge warriors who treated him with gruff kindness.

It became her habit to tuck Tyra within her own clothing to feed the baby, and at a curt command from Gunnar the men discreetly pretended nothing was happening.

All in all, despite the length of the journey, Mairead was content.

She listened all the time to the Norse language as the men chatted around her.

Steinn continued to translate when asked, but Mairead could pick out a handful of words for herself now.

Donald, too, was rapidly learning the unfamiliar tongue, occasionally replying to one or other of the warriors in their own language.