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Holly’s chest hurt as though blown to pieces by a grenade. Her face burned, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t, honey. Your place is here and mine is there. Leaving you is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I’ll think of you every day for the rest of my life. I’ll tell your brother or sister about you. I’ll pray you find a good husband or have a great adventure if that’s what you want to do.”

She leaned back and took Svanhild’s face in her hands, looking into her hazel eyes. “Whatever you do, stay strong. Stay true to yourself. And don’t let anyone tell you that you’re not good enough. Because you are. You’re amazing. You saved my life, your father’s life, and the life of my baby.”

Svanhild nodded, her expression serious, tears still falling.

“I think my mother sent you to me,” she said.

Holly smiled, a rush of gratitude expanding her lungs. “No, sweetie, it is you who were sent into my life to make it better.”

Holly kissed the girl on the cheek and hugged her for the last time. “Stay well, Svanhild.”

Then she stood up and walked to the ship. It was as if invisible rubber bands were pulling her back to the village, as if a knife were cutting those strings, sending explosions of pain through her with each one it severed. She was leaving a part of her soul on this island. With Svanhild. With Einar. With the villagers.

She boarded the ship, wiping her tears away, ignoring Einar’s pained look, and went to sit in the bow. Soon, they departed. Holly gazed at Mainland, Orkney, etching every green curve and every gray cliff into her memory. She only looked away once the land was no more than a thin line on the horizon.

The whole day, Einar was on one side of the ship and she on the other; although, she swore she could feel his heavy eyes on her. When night fell, he came and sat down next to her.

“You will freeze,” he said. “Let me warm you.”

He was right. She was freezing. She shouldn’t even talk to him. But she craved his touch like a plant craved water and sun. For the baby, she told herself. But deep down, she knew it was because this would probably be the last night she’d ever spend with him.

“Okay,” she said. “Only because I am freezing.”

He lay back against the curve of the ship and opened his arms to her. She went into his embrace, inhaling the dear scent of his skin—the masculine tang of sea, wood, and leather. He covered them both with his bear cloak, his heavy arms around her, his hard body under her cheek, and she immediately relaxed and stopped shaking.

One last moment of joy, she told herself. Pretend that we are okay. Let this night stretch an eternity. Listen to his strong, fast heartbeat. Engrave it into your memory to remember it during the lonely nights to come in Orlando.

She felt his face move to the top of her head, and she thought he inhaled the scent of her hair. Maybe he still wanted her. Maybe he enjoyed their time together. But it didn’t matter. They had no future for so many reasons.

But they had now. They had this night.

In the darkness, under the stars, the sea air fresh and tickling her nose, he was close. He was home. She cupped his jaw and he closed his eyes. His brows drew together, an expression of agony creasing his face.

“What are you doing, Holly?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I just…I can’t believe I will never see you again. That it’s the last time you’re holding me. That—”

A low growl, almost animal-like, escaped his throat. He opened his eyes, and they were full of heat. “Last time,” he said. “I will have you for the last time. The gods owe me that. Yes?”

She shuddered from a thrill of excitement at the idea of having his strong arms around her again, of him being inside her. She was crazy, probably, to make love to a man who didn’t want her in his life. But she was hurting, and the only balm that would ease her pain was him.

Instead of answering, she kissed him, and he responded by devouring her as though he had been hungry for a hundred days and she was a feast. His arms crushed her to him, so hard she thought he might crack her ribs. Heat rushed through her where their bodies melded, where their lips touched, and their tongues played a desperate, needy game with each other.

Einar turned her away from him and lay on his side behind her, cupping her breasts. The touch spurred her desire even more, and she bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. He ran his hands down her waist and laid them gently on her still flat lower belly, over the place where their child grew inside of her. Holly held her breath.

Then Einar pulled her even closer, lowered his head, and began kissing the side of her neck. He brushed the length of her leg until he reached her ankle, then pulled the dress up to her hips. His hand was hot, his skin a little calloused.

Oh God, she was going to miss these touches. She pressed her behind into him and felt him, long, hard, and ready for her.

“Is no one going to hear us?” she asked. The rest of the crew were sleeping a little farther away, scattered along the length of the ship.

“If you do not scream,” he rasped, his voice charged with promise.

He gently cupped her sex, making her entrance hot and wet. Then he moved his fingers to her folds and spread them. Holly gasped, absorbing the intense pleasure. One of Einar’s fingers found the clit, which he knew well by now, and began lightly rubbing it. Holly arched her back and hid her face in the fur cloak, suppressing a moan.

“That is right, my sweet,” he whispered. “Try to keep quiet.”

“Ahhhh,” she moaned softly as pleasure built within her.