Page 16 of Surrender to the Highlander (The MacLerie Clan #2)

T he sun burst through the clouds, and the wind behind pushed them forward on their journey north. For once, the conditions for traveling were favorable and the ship floated smoothly over the waves of the sea. The journey would take them past the island of Há?y, or Hoy as the Scots called it, and on to the mainland and her father’s house. They would land near Orphir and travel the last leg on horseback. She knew he’d sent word ahead of their arrival.

Rurik had made arrangements for their travel on a private ship, so ’twas only their men onboard, along with the sailors who guided it across the waves. Even so, she felt as though in the middle of strangers.

A bundle of clothing and terse instructions about readying herself was all that she received this morning, and this from a very sullen Donald, who would not meet her gaze. No words were exchanged on the ride into Thurso, nor on their approach to the harbor. Even her reunion with Elspeth was muted by the events of the night before.

Elspeth explained that she and Sven had ridden straight for the nearest town that had a priest, and one willing to perform the marriage. They were convinced that his parents would not fight a thing already done and Sven was certain of their welcome of her. At that moment, Margriet felt no need to explain how this would not be so, for Elspeth glowed with the aura of a woman in love.

Knowing how she would not have listened to any truth just a few months ago when she thought she was in love, she did not waste what strength she had on a hopeless argument. She did appreciate Elspeth’s presence now, and it was thoughtful of Rurik to bring them along, but the desire to talk with someone so very happy fled as she watched him come aboard.

He’d arrived after everyone else was readied for the voyage and, other than a brief word to the captain of the ship and another to Sven, he spoke to no one. Once they’d left the harbor, he’d walked to the front of the ship and stood alone, facing north. Now, about three hours later, he was still there. As she was at the back of the ship, letting the winds swirl around her and soothe her frayed disposition.

If she lived one hundred years more, she would never forget the look of betrayal in his eyes when he discovered that she was breeding. And worse yet, Margriet would always know that that sin now lay on her shoulders along with so many others. It mattered not why she did it, good intentions lay intertwined with sins along the path to Hell as Mother Ingrid would say, it only mattered that she’d brought him to a time when he offered her all that he had, and she rejected it.

No man’s pride could suffer that blow and allow him to forgive her. Not even Rurik’s intrinsic honor, as she’d come to know him, would allow that. The pain that tore her own heart apart told her she needed to tell him her truth and to release him of any responsibility in what had happened between them, but the distance between them now, greater and deeper than the ocean they traveled on, prevented her from doing that.

As they passed the red sandstone cliffs of Hoy, she knew her time was limited. Soon, they would head east between the islands and towards Orphir. Turning to face the front of the ship, she looked past the censuring expressions of the men to where Rurik was. The wind tore her hair free of Elspeth’s attempts to braid it for the voyage, so she gathered it and wrapped it around her fist as she took the first step toward him.

Their disapproval became vocal as she passed and she heard bits and pieces of the explanation given out about why she now dressed not as a nun, but as a noblewoman. It could be worse.

Instead of thinking of them as two silly women, who did not know better than to believe they needed disguises to protect themselves, they could know of her dishonor. Rurik could have told the whole truth and her shame would now be spreading among them and like a fire amidst the tinderbox when they set foot on land.

He protected her even now.

She’d gone only a few paces, balancing against the rise and pitch of the ship and the winds now at her back, when Sven discerned her target and blocked her path.

“Lady, I would caution against approaching him.” He kept his voice lowered so no others would hear his warning. “He wishes not to speak to anyone.”

“I am certain of that, Sven, but it will not stop me.”

“Sister…lady,” Sven said as he shook his head at her. “I cannot vouch for…” His words drifted off, but the fierce frown gave his meaning.

“Sven,” she said, laying her hand on his arm, “he will not hurt me.”

“I worry not for you, lady,” he answered, concern for his friend clear now.

“What do you know of this?” she asked. “What has he said?”

“You know him well enough to know that he would never say anything,” Sven whispered furiously. “But even you, with your short-lived acquaintance of him, would only need to look at him to see the damage wrought by your lies.”

His furor surprised her, for his demeanor had always been pleasant during the journey, even playing the role of jester among the men. That he should hold deep emotions should not be a surprise to her after his chivalric carrying off and marrying Elspeth, but this was.

“’Tis that damage I wish to ease, Sven. Let me pass.”

He paused and in that moment, she knew not if he would let her go or not. Then, with a sharp bob of his head, he stepped aside. Margriet’s stomach churned now as she walked the short distance to the bow of the ship. Finally, she stood a few paces from him and she tried to think of how to start.

“Sven!” his voice rang out.

Sven pushed around her and leaned in to hear what Rurik said. Some fierce whispering between the two men went on for some minutes before Sven turned and walked away. “I am not your servant, Rurik,” he said over his shoulder. “If you want her gone, then make it so.”

And still he did not turn to her or say anything. Knowing he would not, she took a step closer and then another until she could have reached out and touched his back…if she dared.

“Rurik,” she said, “I…”

“Go away, Lady Margriet,” he said without looking back.

“No.”

“If you have any sense…” he began.

“Apparently I do not have the sense God gave an ox, according to Donald, that is. Donald has been very clear in his opinion of where women stood in that regard.”

“Please, Margriet. Go away,” he repeated.

So she said the only thing she could. “No.” She did touch him then, placing her hand on the back of his cloak. “I need to tell you the truth, Rurik.”

He shrugged her hand off as he would some irritating insect. “I felt the truth last evening, lady. What more is there to say about it?” Now he gripped the edge of the ship.

“If you would listen, I would tell you that I was a foolish girl who believed the first words of love and affection spoken to her in so many years,” she said to his back, for he would not face her. “I would tell you that I sinned grievously and knew no way out of it but to lie.” Margriet felt the tears flow as she tried to put the words together. “And I would tell you that if I had met a man such as you first, I would have known the difference between love and lust when the challenge came.”

The winds whipped around her now as the ship changed directions, but the tears came not from that. The tears came when she realized how stupid she had been to fall for pretty words and attractive promises. She’d given up her body and honor to a man who said the right things, and now she’d bear the price of that failure. And she’d hurt someone deeply who should never have been involved.

“I beg your forgiveness for not trusting you, Rurik, for if I had…” Margriet thought of how this journey could have been, all the consequences of her mistrust and dishonesty and how she had lured Rurik into something beyond their control. “I beg you…”

The sobs welled from deep within and made it impossible to say anything more. She pressed her fist against her mouth, trying to control her despair, and grasped the side of the ship to keep from falling. When she felt she could speak again, she asked, “What will you do now?”

He faced her then, turning toward her but never meeting her gaze as he answered. Instead he stared over her head at the sea. “Complete my duty to Gunnar and then go to my father.”

Margriet had forgotten that they were both called back by their fathers. “The prodigal son,” he’d called himself.

“What will you do now, Margriet?”

What would she do? She’d thought of nothing else since everything had fallen apart and even more so since she’d fallen in love with him. There was only one thing to do.

“I will tell my father the truth and throw myself on his mercy,” she said. “Mayhap he will find Finn to be a suitable husband for me.”

Rurik tilted his head and frowned at her. “Finn?” Then his glance dropped toward her belly and he nodded in understanding. “The man…”

But still the frown did not leave his face. They stood looking at each other and she knew this might be the last time she could tell him anything private.

“I pray that you can find it in your heart to forgive me, Rurik. If not now when the thoughts of what I did and how I deceived you are fresh, then mayhap when they fade a bit in your memory.”

When he said nothing in reply, she turned and walked to the back of the ship, where Elspeth stood watching her. She could face no one now, so she pulled the hood of her cloak up on her head and bowed her head. Any joy that she should feel upon returning home after so long was dimmed by the pain that tore her apart.

’Twas her penance for all of her sins and she prayed she could accept it as that.

Rurik tried to turn from her and not watch her progress along the deck of the ship, but he failed again, as he did anytime self-control and Margriet were in the same situation. Telling himself it was still his duty to oversee her comfort and safety, he made certain she reached Elspeth’s side before turning back to let the sea winds pummel into him. Her words had affected him more than he wanted to admit, but it was the name that bothered him more.

Finn.

Although a common name in Norway and the Orkneys, he knew only one man called that and not by the shortened version of it, but by the whole name.

Thorfinn. His half brother refused to answer to Finn, saying it sounded like a fish’s name.

His half brother, who was his father’s legitimate son and heir.

His half brother by Erengisl’s first wife, who caused his mother’s downfall and his own exile to Scotland.

There could be no connection, Rurik knew, because Thorfinn remained at his father’s side, secure in the standing and honor that legitimacy gave him. There could be no connection, he told himself again in spite of the warning signs he felt.

Looking to the north and east, he watched as the land of his birth passed them by. The sharp cliffs and mountainous terrain of Hoy, the gentler rolling hills of the mainland, the smaller islands off in the distance.

Their destination was Orphir, the residence of the Earls of Orkney in days long past where his father kept a smaller residence, as did Gunnar. They’d decided that a private reunion would be best considering the many years that separated father and daughter, and it would give Margriet a chance to acclimate herself before being thrown into the life of a courtier’s daughter once more. Now, Gunnar had no idea of how wise that decision was, nor did Margriet know.

The winds were with them and the sea was fair, making their voyage a fast one and bringing them to Orphir just before sunset. When they put to port, he sent the men onto his father’s house with word of his own arrival. From missives received in Thurso, he knew his father stayed in Kirkvaw while on this visit to the Orkneys from his lands in Sweden. He, too, would take a few days to rest before presenting himself there and entering the mire of arrangements, introductions and preparations that would be his life from this day forward.

He guided Margriet to her father’s house alone and with nary a word between them. Rurik could not help but notice that she grew more nervous with each passing minute and realized that she may not remember her father from her childhood.

Although it had been many years for him as well, he did carry the memories of a man who’d been a good friend to him during the difficult times when Rurik’s mother fell from his father’s grace. One of very few who stood by his side during the ugly mess that ended with him in Scotland and Erengisl married to the old earl’s daughter as a favor to his king. The softer personal feelings involved between a man and woman meant nothing where the king was concerned.

“He is a good man, Margriet. You can rely on his judgment,” he said as a servant ran out to take hold of their horses and he helped her dismount for the last time.

Her hands shook and she paled with each step forward. Almost to the doorway, she stopped and gazed up at him, a look of complete panic filling her eyes and he feared she would faint dead away.

“I cannot do this, Rurik. I cannot,” she said, taking a step back and looking as though she was about to run off.

He took her hands in his and held her steady. When she met his eyes, he repeated to her the first words she’d spoken to him when she acknowledged her identity.

“You are Margriet Gunnarsdottir. Do not forget that.”

She took in a deep breath now and nodded at him. When the door opened and an older man stepped from it, she let her hood fall to her shoulders. Then she walked at Rurik’s side to meet the man she did not remember as father. Gunnar shouted at the sight of her, causing tears to stream down Margriet’s face.

“I did not expect you to resemble your mother so much, Margriet! You have grown to be a beauty like her. So much like her, my eyes could not believe it,” Gunnar said, opening his arms to her. After a brief hesitation, Margriet allowed him to pull her close and hug her.

It was a good start, he thought, as they all entered the house and he watched as Gunnar called out orders for her comfort and told her of his arrangements for her stay there until they visited Kirkvaw. Overwhelmed and surprised, he thought by the warmness of the welcome after such a separation, Rurik knew she would be cared for and knew Gunnar would handle the news of her condition with much wisdom and care.

He stood aside as Gunnar introduced her to his household and she handled things remarkably well for someone about to bolt just a few minutes before. She did glance over at him several times, but less and less as Gunnar brought her back into the place and family she’d been gone from for these last ten years. Gunnar noticed him standing there and came to him.

“I have not yet said how good it is to see you, Rurik.”

“And you, Gunnar.”

“She has grown so much that I would not know her, but you, you have grown into a handsome man. And so big!” Gunnar was no small man himself, but Rurik did tower over him now, grown at least a foot more since their last meeting thirteen years before. When Gunnar held out his hand, Rurik took it in greeting. “My thanks for delivering her safely into my arms.”

“I was honored that you asked me to carry out that duty for you, Gunnar. You were ever a true friend to my mother and me.”

Gunnar looked across the room to where his daughter talked with the woman who had served as her nurse. Content that she was getting on well, he smiled. “Does your father know of your arrival yet?”

“I will send word in the morn, Gunnar. I was not certain we would make it here before sunset. How is he?”

“Impatient as ever,” Gunnar said, slapping him on the shoulder…the shoulder Margriet had sewn together not long ago. “The many delays have made him on edge, for he’d hoped you would arrive before summer.” His father’s counselor leaned over and spoke quietly to him. “You know the situation between the king and his sons. Your father agreed to assist in the negotiations before year’s end.”

“So his letters said.”

“He wants you in place before he leaves for Norway.” That would explain his father’s impatience.

“The delays were not intentional,” he said.

“Come now, Rurik. I knew you as a young man. Were you not waiting to be wooed home?” Gunnar laughed now. “That was why I suggested he send the armbands and the sword. Did they not entice you to consider his offer?”

Now it was Rurik’s turn to laugh. He should have recognized Gunnar’s mark on this, from first invitation to last. “They did, Gunnar. I knew he was serious when the sword arrived for I have never seen it outside his hall in Hultaby.”

“As I assured him would be your reaction.”

“So, ’tis your hand behind this whole reconciliation then?”

Margriet walked over to them then, ending their discussion, one which would need be finished before he met with his father.

“You know my father well, Rurik?” she asked.

“I knew him as a boy when I lived with my father,” he replied. An uneasy feeling moved along his spine as he realized her probable reaction to his parentage.

“And we will be working together on many issues and concerns for your father now that you have returned.”

It took about the same length of time for her to recognize his omission as it did for him to understand her sin. But she asked the question anyway.

“You know his father?” she asked, all the while staring at him.

“I have the honor of working for his father, Margriet. You know that I serve Lord Erengisl. And now I will serve Rurik as well.”

He remembered wondering if a man’s head could explode and now Rurik wondered it about Margriet, for her face grew dark and red and her lips sputtered as she realized the deception played upon her. He’d done it in part to protect her from thinking she was not good enough for him, but ’twas also for his protection, too. Though from her expression, she would not understand that part of it.

Sometimes in battle, the prudent thing was to retreat and fight another day. Thinking that the best course of action, now he bowed to Gunnar and excused himself. Margriet could do nothing now, but he knew she would have her say at some point. Rurik only knew he had some explaining of his own to do to her when that day came.