Page 19 of Come the Morning

Beneath the encompassing wool of his cloak, she thought that his great shoulders shrugged. “Whimsy, I suppose. I’m curious, quite intrigued. And I do well enough, you see. I am not in great need of your money.”

She sighed. “Then let this be inspiration for helping me quietly now to reach my destination. I could, truthfully, have you arrested and possibly hanged or otherwise executed for accosting me as you did on the riverbank.”

“How strange. It seems to me you want nothing to do with the law of the land.”

She exhaled with a great deal of exasperation. He was demanding a story. She’d give him the truth. “Fine, if you wanta story, entertainment, then you shall have it. I am Scottish. Well, perhaps my father wasn’t exactly a native, but my mother’s people have been here so long that they are part and parcel of the land. I am, as you’ve suggested, a ward of the king. My father died recently and unexpectedly and King David has determined that he must give me and my land to a horrid, wretched, despicable, pockmarked, miserable Norman-bastard of a friend and supporter. I have determined that I will not be so given.”

“Ah …” he murmured. Had she received sympathy from him at last? “I see.”

“So you do understand, and you’ll help me, and I’ll make you richer than you are, even if money isn’t a tremendous concern to you.”

“I’m still confused.”

“Why?”

“Just where is it that you’re trying to go?”

“Downriver.”

“Why?”

“I’ve kin there.”

“There’s nothing but a Viking encampment downriver.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You’re kin to Daro the Viking?”

“He’s my uncle.”

“Are you also kin to Bjorn Hallsteader?” he asked sharply.

“No,” she said, surprised at his tone, but nonetheless pleased that, for once, he didn’t know what he was talking about at all. “Hallsteaders hail from Denmark; my father was the son of a Norwegian jarl.”

“Danes, Swedes, and Norse have been known to fight together.”

“Aye, and Vikings have fought for the king.”

“Still, you intend to pit the Vikings against the king?”

“No! And how dare you assume that my Viking kin would take arms against the king? I simply intend to remove myself so that I may be in a better position to explain my feelings and situation to the king.”

“If you intend to cause bloodshed and insurrection, you had best be able to explain yourself.”

“I do not intend bloodshed, or insurrection! My father was a Viking who loved Scotland, and the concept of a united Scotland, more than you can imagine. And good God, but you are presumptuous! What is any of this to you?”

“Oh … nothing,” he murmured. His attention was suddenly directed to the right oar. He seemed to be struggling with it, twisting it around in the oarlock.

“What are you doing?” Mellyora demanded. “Don’t play with it so, you must be careful—you’re ripping the oar out of the lock—”

Even as she spoke, the oar slipped from the lock, and into the water.

“Och!” he gasped. “M’lady, would you look at that!”

“What have you done?” she asked with incredulous dismay. Was the man dangerous—or simply an impossible clod?

“The oar,” he said sadly.