Page 39 of The Handfasting
And yet, he thought as she clamped her jaw to keep her chin from trembling, what harm would it do? He’d tried everything else. Why not try this? As long as no one caught him at the well, no one would be the wiser.
But how would he get a lock of her hair?
“And who will ye be leavin’ with?” she choked out. “My sister? Or me?”
She was on the verge of tears. He knew she didn’t want to cry in front of her clan. So he took her hand and guided her toward the stairs.
When they reached the shadows of the stairwell, he swept her into his arms. He kissed her deeply, passionately. It was a bittersweet embrace of loss and longing, of fond farewell and ill-fated desire.
It was also an opportunity for No?l to sneak out his dagger and steal a wisp of her hair. Feeling foolish, he nonetheless managed to collect it without her knowledge. He closed it in his palm and then broke off the embrace to hold her at arm’s length.
“I need to be alone for a wee bit…to think.”
She nodded.
He looked into her eyes again, imparting his love for her with a glance. And then he left.
Chapter 9
After he’d gone, Ysenda’s eyes filled and spilled over. Sobs lodged in her throat, too painful to swallow away.
She never wept—at least not where anyone could see her. Weeping was a sign of weakness. Or so her mother had always believed. So she sat on the step, indulging her sorrow in secret.
Was there no way to undo what had been done? Was there no choice that would satisfy everyone? Was there nothing she could do to change their destiny?
As she continued sniffling into her hands, she felt an itching between her breasts. With tear-damp fingers, she reached into her bodice.
The lock of his hair. She’d forgotten it was there.
She withdrew it by the red ribbon and stared at it. Suddenly a strange tingling started at the back of her neck. A wee hope blew through her soul like a stray wind.
Locks from each lover’s hair, tied together with a ribbon.
Was it possible? Could she call upon the magic of the Viking well?
She didn’t even know if she believed in the magic. Some of the clan swore by it. But she didn’t put much faith in old legends and ancient enchantments.
On the other hand, something had compelled her to snip the lock of his hair last night. Why else would she have done that? She must have known, deep in her heart of hearts, that she would end up visiting the well.
She ran her thumb over the silky strands of black hair. She was being childish. It was only a Yuletide story, after all. Nobody even knew if the story was true. Going there was probably a reckless waste of time.
Still…what was the harm? She had to try.
Wiping away her tears, she went upstairs and donned her cloak. She didn’t want No?l to see her going. He would guess what she was up to. And he would think she was a fool. So she left the keep quietly and took a roundabout path to the well.
Halfway there, she stopped to rest. Drawing her dagger, she cut off a small piece of her own hair and tied it together with his. Her auburn and his black made an interesting contrast. She couldn’t help but think about what their children’s hair might look like.
She gulped. What if a child was already growing in her belly? The thought was at once thrilling and horrifying.
Closing the precious strands in her hand, she continued on her journey, hoping no one would catch sight of her.
In fact, she was so busy making sure she wasn’t followed that when she arrived, she didn’t notice at first that she wasn’t the only visitor to the well. A mere ten paces from the stream, she finally saw she wasn’t alone.
She gasped in surprise.
No?l glanced up with a frown. “Ysenda?”
“What areyedoin’ here?”
