He stared down at her, stunned and disbelieving. He said slowly, “It wasn’t a man.”
“A woman struck you?”
“Aye.”
“At least that was all she did. You’re alive and you’re here with me.”
“Not for very long. Once you begin your monthly flow, we must return to Rouen.”
She was silent then, still held in his arms. The sun was bright and warm overhead. Oystercatchers flew over the fallow barley field. Just behind them flew a glittering trio of dunlin. Sea gulls squawked loudly. Curlews spun wildly through the pine and fir trees behind them.
“You sound as if perhaps you don’t want me to wed with William. You are holding me. Perhaps you want to wed me yourself.”
“No,” he said, “I don’t.” He leaned down and this time she raised her face and he kissed her mouth. By the gods, she was soft, giving. He wanted to devour her, but he held himself back. He shouldn’t be touching her, much less kissing her as if she belonged to him. “No,” he said, and broke away from her. “No, I don’t want you. I will never want another woman for the rest of my life, that is, I would want a woman to ease me, but not a wife, not a mate. I have Kiri and I will see that she grows strong. I will see that she has no guile, no cunning, to bring a man low.”
>
She stood there panting slightly, her breasts heaving, and his eyes were drawn there, and he could but stare at her breasts, and he wanted desperately to feel her breasts in his hands, to taste her with his mouth. “Go away, Chessa. No, you won’t, will you? Very well, I’ll go. I don’t know what game you’re playing. All women play games to make men flounder about like the sea bass I caught yesterday. It doesn’t matter. You will begin your monthly flow and I will be safe from you. You will be safe from yourself. You will see me as I really am. You will recognize my ugliness. You will wed William.”
Without another word, he turned on his heel and nearly ran back toward the longhouse.
“He does want me,” she said to a pinwheel performing intricate turns above her head. “Aye, he does want me.”
Mirana said to Chessa, “Kiri has asked me how you can be a princess since you don’t have beautiful golden hair and bright blue eyes like she does. She doesn’t think you look like a real princess at all. Nor,” Mirana added, “does she like you looking at her papa the way you do.”
“Did you tell her I can’t seem to help myself? Cleve is a stubborn man. He cares for me, I know it, he knows it, but he won’t let me close. Some of his reasons are murky, others quite stupid, even others utterly false. Why can’t you simply tell him that I’m as little a real princess as Sira is a queen, bred for the position?”
“I cannot do that. Surely you see why, Chessa. As for Cleve’s reasons, murky or not, stupid or not, nothing will sway him. As for Kiri, I only told her that you admired her father. I told her that if a princess looked at her father in an admiring way, why then, her father was of unquestioned nobility.”
“Is that true?”
“I don’t yet know the full truth, at least those truths from Cleve’s dreams. He remembers that his father was the Lord of Kinloch, on the western side of Loch Ness, in Scotland, near the trading town of Inverness. He remembers his stepfather, the man’s coldness and cruelty toward his mother. Does he remember correctly? Are they truly as things were? When you are, well, settled, Merrik and Laren are going with him to Scotland, back to Cleve’s home, to set things aright if there is anyone left to set things aright with.”
“Hasn’t it been a very long time?”
“Aye, twenty years. I truly don’t know what Cleve expects, but he must go home, he must see what there is left. He had a mother, an older brother, and two sisters. Life is very uncertain. They could be dead. It is likely.”
“When I am settled,” Chessa repeated slowly. Then she smiled at Mirana, this woman who looked so much like her. She knew how she wanted to be settled. And she knew now how she would gain it. It would not be well done of her. She didn’t care. She was fighting for her future.
Chessa took another bite of Utta’s porridge, swallowed, drank a bit of goat’s milk, and said, “What did Kiri’s mother look like?”
“Sarla? Ah, that is a tale. Sarla always seemed so gentle, so very sensitive and kind, her voice always low and soft. Even her hair was a soft brown, as soft as she was, her eyes a lighter brown. She was quite pretty, really. It’s just that one usually didn’t notice because she was so very quiet. After her husband, Erik, died, she and Cleve became lovers. She became pregnant with Kiri. But then Laren’s father, Hallad, came to Malverne and wanted her. Hallad is Duke Rollo’s brother. He was very rich and could offer her more than she’d ever had in her life. She decided to marry him. Cleve told her she could do as she wished, but he wanted his child from her first. She tried to kill him and thankfully all was discovered. Sarla stayed at Malverne until Kiri was born, then she, well, she died.”
“Did Cleve love her?”
“Perhaps at first. If someone tried to kill you would you still love him?”
Chessa smiled, took another bite of porridge and said, “I don’t blame Ragnor for wanting to take Utta. She is a wonderful cook.”
“Aye, when I first came to Hawkfell Island, she was but eleven years old. Her cooking kept me alive.”
“Alive? What do you mean?”
But Mirana only patted her hand. “Ah, there’s a tale for a long winter’s evening. I have much to do since we have so many hungry men here. You must decide what you wish to do, Chessa. Oh, have you begun your monthly flow yet?”
Chessa rolled her eyes and said nothing.
That evening, Chessa moved closer to Cleve when Laren, not only the mistress of Malverne but also its skald, stood before all the people to tell them a story.