Page 59 of Her Dark Viking
Her response was quick, and certain. "I think you a man of honour who does not shirk his duty." She paused, then "Where is Ferris now?"
"With Weylin. He will be taken care of, and should be fit to travel to Hafrsfjord in a few days."
"I see. Would you object if I were to attend him? I have ointments which might ease his suffering."
"His suffering is entirely of his own making, but if you wish to offer aid I will not prevent it. You will not be alone with him, though. I do insist on that."
"Of course. I shall accompany Weylin."
"Fine." He settled back to regard her for several moments. "And how are you this day? You look pale. Were you ill again this morning?"
"A little, but it soon passes. It was the same with Tyra, and with Donald. In a couple more months this sickness in the mornings will ease."
"You are not to overtax yourself. Edyth is able to help again now, and if need be I could purchase another servant when I sell Ferris."
"Thank you, but no. That will not be necessary."
He grinned at her. "You will never be comfortable that I buy and sell slaves, will you?"
"I fear not, my husband. In fact, would you take it amiss if I were not to come with you to Hafrsfjord on this occasion?"
"No, I understand your reluctance. You may remain here if you prefer. In fact, that would be better since I intend not to return at once after my business at the market is concluded. I shall visit Skarthveit to find out if there is any further news on my sister.” He fixed her with a level gaze. “People do not simply disappear."
Mairead did not entirely agree. She had lost one husband at sea, and had herself been abducted from her home. People did vanish without trace, especially when Vikings were involved, but she had to agree that Brynhild's mysterious disappearance some months before was out of the ordinary.
"Ulfric would have sent word if there was news, surely."
Gunnar inclined his head in acknowledgement. "You are probably right, but I will not cease to hope. Brynhild was a difficult woman. I know she was rude to you and treated Fionabadly, but even so she is my sister. It pains me that my last words to her were spoken in anger and I would wish things to be right between us.
"I do understand that. She is your family and I hope she will be found soon, safe and well."
He nodded, but his tight expression told another story. Neither of them would voice their fears, but no one really expected the missing woman to return after all these months. "I am minded to seek my brother's leave to take one of his longships moored at Hafrsfjord and mount an excursion to the Shetland Isles."
"You are going raiding again?" Mairead could not keep the shock from her tone, nor, probably, the disappointment. Most of all, though, she was gripped by fear that her husband might one day not return from one of his Viking raids. "Please, must you do this?"
He smiled at her, but his expression was determined. "It is in my blood, sweetheart. I cannot settle to a different life and neither can my men. I will be gone for perhaps a month. Six weeks at the most. You will be safe here, and I will return as soon as I can. I have much to draw me back home again and will not wish to stay away too long."
"But—"
He reached across the table to lay his finger across her lips. "Let us not discuss this further for we will not agree. Instead, I would prefer to take advantage of Edyth and Aigneis' absence in the meadows. Is Tyra asleep?"
"Yes. In our chamber."
"Ah, good. It is rare that we have the longhouse to ourselves, especially not in the middle of the day."
She smiled behind his quieting finger. "Not that you would ever let such inconveniences prevent you doing just as you wish, Gunnar."
"I am chief here, am I not? If I wish to fuck my wife on the table in my own hall I shall do so."
"Indeed. None would dispute your right. Might I suggest you bolt the door first, though?"
"You may lock it if you insist, but first you will stand up and remove your clothing for me. I find I wish to inspect what is mine."
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"Attacked? But, this is not possible. Who would dare...?"
"It is an old enemy, lady. A blood feud. Olaf Bjarkesson..." The messenger from Skarthveit sat at her table, answering her questions around a mouthful of her finest bread and Aigneis' cheese. "When will the Jarl be back? We need his aid."
