Heart's Ease (The Northwomen Sagas Book 2) (26 page)

Olga thought that the plague had taught Frida more than she ever could have about healing the sick—and the limits of human ken to do so.

The front door opened, and Leif filled the space. He looked through the foreroom and the doorway to the back and seemed slack-jawed, staring at Olga. “Don’t bind it. Please,” he said as he closed the door and came close. He meant her hair, she knew.

Dagmar dropped her hands from Olga’s hair and stood. “I will check again on the skause. Frida will be hungry, I expect, when she comes today.”

Leif stepped fully into the room to make space for Dagmar to pass. Then, when they were more or less alone, he came and crouched at her side. “You look well—and beautiful.”

Her cheeks warming with something other than fever, Olga smiled.

Leif brushed his fingers over her shoulder, and her eyes closed at the dance of sensation under his touch. “This is lovely. And unusual. It suits you.”

She blushed more deeply. “Silk,” she whispered. “Traders.”

Leif nodded. Well, of course he would know about traders and silk, even though both had been a marvel to her. She felt silly. But his fingers had continued their exploration of her decadent shift, and Olga was too captivated by his touch to remain abashed. His fingertips brushed down her arm and back up, over the curve of her shoulder—and then left the silk and brushed over her bare skin, tracing her collarbones, as he had so often done before. His brow was furrowed over blue eyes that flashed with heat.

Overwhelmed with feelings, she caught his hand in both of hers. He met her eyes, and she saw guilt there, but not the tormented regret she had seen when he’d last visited Karlsa. This was a needful kind of guilt, which said he wanted more.

“Forgive me,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I don’t mean to press you. I know you are not yet well. I’m only happy to have you happy to have me here. I have missed you, my love. Are you with me?”

Still unsure how she could be so sure, she nodded.

He smiled and leaned close, pulling his hand free of hers so that he could slide all his long fingers into her hair as he held her head. He kissed her, gently, barely brushing his lips over hers. When his tongue slid tenderly between her lips, Olga thought she would swoon.

It didn’t matter. The past didn’t matter. She was alive. Leif was here. She was with child—a chance she’d thought never to have again. The only man she had ever loved was holding her close, kissing her, saying he loved her. They would be bound always by the child inside her. The past didn’t matter. He was with her. She was with him.

But did she trust him? Would she come to regret it if she did?

She didn’t know.

And she thought that would matter. If not now, then someday.

~oOo~

“Should you not return to Geitland? You are jarl.”

Olga’s voice was yet weak and rough, but she could finally make herself heard, as long as she had no need to speak loudly. Another week had passed, and the plague, after two months, had at last released Karlsa from its poisonous clutches. Olga was among the those who remained still weak, but there was no one left who was truly ill.

The full count of the dead was three hundred and ninety-seven. Karlsa had lost nearly one-half of its population.

At her question, Leif, who had been stoking the fire against the cold of a storm outside, turned to her, his eyebrows lifted in surprise. “The jarldom is in Astrid’s capable hands for now. I told you I would not leave you again. Until you are able to travel with me, I go nowhere.”

Her contentment with his presence continued to vex her. She tried and tried to find the limit of her renewed ease with him, but she could not. She even brought forth horrific memories of the last days in her homeland, but her rage at Leif did not come with them. The sorrow and pain were there, but not the blame. It would return, it had to return, and she would be caught unawares when it did, unless she remained vigilant now.

But it was difficult. He was here, taking care of her, loving her—openly, for the first time—and now Brenna and Solveig were back, the hollowed-out town was beginning to move toward recovery, and Leif and Vali seemed to have made their peace. She felt happy, at ease. And she shouldn’t have.

Now that she had her voice, however, she could push the limits harder.

“You assume that I will go with you. But Karlsa is my home now.”

Leif stepped away from the fire and came back to sit beside her at the table. “You carry my child. I love you. You know my wish—I would have us wed.”

“Does my wish not matter? Again?”

Leif frowned and looked away. “Of course it does. It always has. We will have a child. You don’t wish to raise him together?”

She did. Very much. “I don’t wish the child to be the reason we wed.”

He turned back and locked eyes with her. “You know it’s not my reason. Is there no other reason for you?”

There were many reasons, a host of them. But one reason held her back. “I am afraid.”

When she dropped her eyes, he caught her chin on his hand and lifted until she looked at him again. “Of what?”

“That it will be a mistake to trust you again.”

He pulled his hand back so quickly that her head bobbled a little. They sat there, quietly, and Olga wondered if she was wrong to push him. Or would she be wrong to trust him?

Did it matter? No, right now, it didn’t. What she felt in this moment, as he stared at his clenched fists on the table, was contrition. She wanted to slip under his arm, into his embrace, and tell him that she loved him, that of course she would wed him, that they would live in Geitland and raise their child, that they would be happy.

Would the past ever matter again? She wished she could say no. But she wasn’t sure.

Finally, Leif broke the silence. He stared at his fists as he spoke. “I will always be sorry for your pain in Estland. Knowing what happened after I left—it will haunt me all my days. But the time of my atonement is over, Olga. I have said that I did not break faith—not with you, or Vali, or any of my friends in Estland. I broke my oath to Åke, and for that I’m not sorry. It was right. I did what I did trying to do what was right. I made mistakes, yes. I didn’t see far enough. Others would have made different choices.”

He turned his head and looked her straight in the eye. “But I did not break faith. Not with you. I have explained myself many times and will not do so again. You will have to believe me—or not. That choice is yours. But you are right: we should not be wed because of the babe. We should be wed because we love and trust each other, and we want to live the rest of our lives side by side. That is what I want. If it is not what you want, then so be it. So if you wish me to return to Geitland without you, I shall.”

He lifted her hand from her lap and brought it to his lips. “For now, I need a moment to clear my head. I won’t be far.”

Taking his heavy fur from a peg in the wall, he opened the door and walked into the storm.

For the first time since she had woken from her sick slumber, Olga was alone.

Leif walked through the storm to the great hall, which had finally been returned to its primary use as a meeting place for the town. The last of the ill, all recovering, had been sent to their own homes a few days before. The plague had run its course.

Leif and Ulv had been in Karlsa nigh on a month, and neither had taken ill. He’d spent nearly two weeks at Olga’s bedside before she had ever woken enough to know he was with her, and he’d spent two weeks helping her come back to her life. They’d been close in these two weeks, as they had been before. He knew it was true. He could feel her pleasure in his company, her reliance on his steady strength. He could see it. She loved him as ever she had.

And on the day that her voice had returned to her enough for conversation, she’d tried to drag them back to the dark place they’d been when he’d last come north.

No. Although he’d just told her that he would leave Karlsa without her if she so chose, he had no intention of doing so. He loved her, and she loved him—he was certain of it. She carried his child.
His child
. They were a family, whether she wished it to be true or not, and he would not be separated from either of them. No.

As he stalked through the buffeting wind and deepening snow, his thoughts as angry and churning as the storm around him, Leif told himself that he would bind her and carry her south as his prisoner if she would come no other way.

Entering the hall, he pulled the door closed with the force of his mood, and the wind pushed as well. The ensuing slam shook the walls and rattled the swords and shields hung there. Everyone in the building stopped and stared, and Leif simply glared back.

Vali sat at the head table with Bjarke, Orm, Jaan, and Ulv, and Leif knew he should go there and see if they discussed anything of import. But he didn’t want to speak yet again about the western raid that, considering the devastation Karlsa had just experienced, would no longer be happening in a few months. He was not in the mood, and he’d left Olga alone. She was nearly well, but he didn’t think she’d been left alone until now, so he would go back as soon as he was calm. Talking with the men would not calm him.

Instead, he scanned the room. Brenna and another woman Leif didn’t know were sitting on the floor playing with Solveig and another child of about the same age. He went there. Brenna and her daughter had only been back in town for two days.

He crouched at the edge of the fur the children played on, and Solveig crawled to him at once. She put her pudgy hands on his knee and worked her way to her feet, smiling brightly and showing her first few teeth. She was a friendly, trusting little girl.

“Hello, pretty,” Leif said and caught a pale curl between his fingers. Solveig worked her way closer, between his legs, until she could reach up and take hold of his hair. She pulled, and he made a silly sound, as if her pull had made it. She giggled and pulled again, and he repeated the noise. When she let go to clap in glee, she sat back on her bottom and giggled at that, too.

No, he would not be leaving Karlsa without his woman and child. Whatever he had to do to make it happen, Olga was going south with him.

“You’re upset. Is Olga well?”

At Brenna’s observation and question, Leif realized that he had wandered off into his thoughts. He focused and smiled at her. “She grows stronger each day. I’m not upset.”

His friend made a face and a noise that quite clearly conveyed her utter disbelief. She had a talent for that—saying what she thought with her face rather than words.

So he relented a little, though he was unwilling to be detailed while the woman he didn’t know was near. “She and I have things to talk about.”

“She loves you.”

“Would that were enough.”

“It will be. I know it will be. She is going to be a mother.”

“You think that makes her love me more?”

“I know it makes different things important. It changes everything. And you know that, too. Only give her time. She is still healing and adjusting.”

Motherhood had certainly changed Brenna. They had known each other many years, and until the last few, she’d been a taciturn, solitary, suspicious young woman, both ostracized and revered for her difference. Leif didn’t think she would have called him her friend until these latest years, despite all the time they’d known each other and fought together. He’d even trained her in the ways of war. But she had been close to no one.

Until Vali. Now, she had love and family and friends, and she had changed much.

When he’d met Olga, she’d been warm and quick to forgive, despite the many hardships and pains of her life. Though her body was slight, her spirit had been indomitable, bending with the storms life threw into her path but never breaking. It was her love for him that had changed her, made her suspicious and unforgiving, made her spirit brittle. He wanted to repair that damage.

Trussing her up like a boar and dragging her back to Geitland was probably not the answer, then.

But he was not leaving without her. Absolutely not.

“I need to speak with your husband.” He kissed Solveig’s flaxen head and squeezed her mother’s shoulder, then stood and sought out Vali.

~oOo~

Vali led Leif back to the private quarters he shared with his wife and child. Now that the plague was over, the hall had been cleaned and was back to its rightful purpose—and people who had been ill, or simply consumed with fear and worry and grief, congregated together in their smaller number. The hall was crowded and loud, and privacy was at a particular premium.

Two servant girls who’d been working looms at the side of the room left at a wave of Vali’s hand.

“If you wanted to speak politics or planning, we could have done so with the others. This is personal, then?” Vali asked as he indicated a stool for Leif and took one of his own.

Leif faced his friend straight on. “Are we friends enough again that I might seek counsel?”

“The tables have turned indeed if you seek counsel from me.” Vali smirked and leaned back against a table, the picture of affectionate smugness.

Leif could only return a rueful grin. They had made their peace in these weeks Leif had been in Karlsa. One night shortly after he’d arrived, while Olga was still insensible and near death, Vali had come to her house. He’d sat with her for a while, and then he’d sat with Leif in the foreroom at the fire. They’d said very little, but Vali had put his hand on Leif’s shoulder, and he’d kept it there, squeezing fiercely, as Leif had sagged forward, dropped his face into his hands, and wept.

And they were friends again. But they had not yet spoken in depth about the trouble between them or why it had been settled.

Vali continued, “As for our friendship, yes, we are true friends again. The time of this pestilence has made me think long about what I value and what I judge. Since I found Brenna in Geitland, I’ve believed that you meant to help. Now I’ve found understanding as well, and I’ve realized trust is not trust if it hasn’t been tested. I was wrong to hold you at odds.”

Leif took a deep breath of weary relief. “I would that Olga could see that.”

“She does not? I thought you were well together. She seems at ease with you again.”

“She doesn’t trust me. She won’t come to Geitland with me. She carries my child, Vali. I will not leave her behind. Never again. She must go with me. This is the counsel I seek.”

Vali stood and went to a table where a pitcher and several cups were arrayed. He poured mead for them both and came back. After they drank, he said, “She suffered badly in Estland.”

“I know,” Leif sighed. “And I cannot unmake what happened. All I have are words, and I have no words left to say.”

“Perhaps she simply needs time.”

“This is what your wife says as well. I will give her the time she needs, but you know that my lingering in Karlsa has a cost. I trust Astrid with my life, but the longer I am away, the weaker my hold on Geitland grows. I would not have her face a challenge in my stead, and I would prefer not to face one on my return. It is bad enough that I will return with news that we won’t be making our great raid in the summer.”

“Would that we could,” Vali muttered. “Karlsa is crippled, Leif. We’ve lost half our people and could not man a raid of such scale even if we had finished the ships. But we need the plunder. Two summers without any good raid will weaken us even more.”

They had talked often and long about Vali’s concerns for his people. Leif had come up with a plan. Since it seemed Vali would not be able to focus on Olga until they spoke again about Karlsa, Leif shared his idea with him now, rather than in the hall with the others.

“Send the men you can to me in the summer. We will raid again to the south and test the skeids we’ve made in Geitland, and we will split the spoils. We will have our great raid the next year.”

Vali sat forward, interested. “That would be good help. Thank you. And you will raid? With Olga’s time upon her?”

“No. I have been too much away this year as it is. Astrid will lead the raid, and I will stay and lead Geitland and see my child born. But first, I need Olga to be my wife and come home with me—which is why I am seeking your counsel. You have changed your feeling. What can I do to make Olga do the same? To see that I am and have always been in good faith?”

“You know the answer. You cannot
make
her see, Leif. You can only wait until she sees. I also know Olga well. Perhaps I now know her better than you do.” Leif bristled at that but did not interrupt; it hurt but was true. “She has been changed by events, and perhaps hardened, but she is Olga. She loves you. You and she are bound forever by the child she carries. She will see.”

Leif shook his head, dissatisfied. She had turned him away once, despite the love she felt. If she turned him away again, with his child growing inside her…

No. He would give up Geitland before he gave up his family. He would wait until she could see.

~oOo~

When he returned to Olga’s house that afternoon, she was no longer sitting at the table. He found her lying curled on her bed, facing the wall. Worried that she had taken a bad turn, he hurried to her and crouched at the bedside. He hadn’t been away long, but if she’d needed him during that time, if he had abandoned her after all…he sighed.

“Olga? Do you feel ill?” He put his hand on her head. She turned, moving her head and then her body, and he saw that she had been crying—or on the verge of it. “What is it, my love?”

She picked up his hand and pressed her cheek into it. In the husky tone of her still-weak voice, she murmured, “I…I’m afraid.”

Resisting the need to react in frustration, Leif answered only, “I know.”

“I don’t wish you to go.”

He brushed back from her face the strands of hair she’d loosened from her simple braid. “What do you wish, Olga?”