Sue-Ellen Welfonder - MacKenzie 07 (30 page)

Arabella's face flamed hotter. But she managed to return the Norsewoman's smile, recognizing her as Jutta Manslayer, Olaf Big Nose's favorite concubine.

Darroc had pointed her out when they'd first passed through the busy settlement on their way to Olaf's longhouse.

"I think you're mistaken." Arabella watched the woman dip a cloth into her bowl and begin dabbing Captain Arneborg's brow. She couldn't admit to a stranger that charming Darroc was her heart's greatest desire.

Or that, after the voyage to Olaf's isle, she believed she'd actually done so.

"Darroc will be returning me to Kintail after we leave your isle." Her stomach fluttered against the possibility. "He knows my father will be beside himself worrying about me."

Jutta Manslayer's lips curved in another smile. "Your father will joy to see a man as fine as Darroc at your side. There are few men so worthy."

"I know, but" - Arabella glanced back at the half-open woolen curtain. The main room of the longhouse loomed dark beyond, but the smell of wood smoke drifted into the sickroom and she heard the low murmur of men's voices as they sat gathered around the central fire. Darroc's voice was one of them, and just hearing him speak made her heart flip.

"He's already made firm plans to escort me home." She turned back to the other woman, wishing it wasn't so. She also wished she wasn't worried about what her father would do when he learned Darroc's name. "One of the reasons he brought me here was to help me prepare for the long voyage."

"Ahhh, but everything's changed now, hasn't it?" Jutta Manslayer plunged her cloth into the bowl, wringing out the excess water. "There will be much to do when you leave here. Men's business. He will scarce have time to think of journeying north to your distant Kintail."

Arabella felt her heart skip again. "I know he hopes that he and Olaf Big Nose can find the Black Vikings."

"Hah! They will find them." Captain Arneborg pushed himself up against the bed bolsters, his eyes lighting with a trace of his old spirit. "I've told them where the blackguards make their camp. Their leader, Svend Skull-Splitter, is a snake but his greed is greater than his wits. Olaf and MacConacher mean to - " He broke off in a wheeze, followed by another burst of coughing.

Jutta hurried to fill an ale cup and tipped it to his lips. "You must rest now." She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as she helped him drink. "I will tell the lady of the men's plans to banish Svend Skull-Splitter."

"He should be sent to hell and nowhere else." Captain Arneborg coughed after she set aside the cup and wiped his chin with a cloth.

Jutta waited until he slumped back against the pillows. When his chest heaves subsided and his eyes drifted shut again, she smoothed the bed coverings and then took Arabella's arm, drawing her aside.

"When Arnora Ship-Breast and the other women took you away to see to your clothes, I heard the men speaking as I served them meat and broth." She spoke softly, the words meant not to carry beyond the wool partition. "Olaf has ever desired a charter for this isle but the Scottish crown has always refused to acknowledge Olaf's rights. His wishes are well known in these isles. Now" - she cast a glance at the bed and the sleeping shipmaster - "we shall put word out that the crown has accepted Olaf's offer, but only in exchange for much silver.

"Olaf means to send out a galley that he hopes Svend Skull-Splitter will mistake for the ship carrying Olaf's payment to the crown. Then - "

"He hopes the Black Vikings will attack so Olaf and Darroc can ambush them at sea," Arabella finished for her, all too familiar with her father's warring strategies.

"It could work. If they plan well and - "

"It will work." Jutta's eyes sparkled. "Olaf is a peace-loving man but his blood runs hot with the fire of his grandfathers. And Darroc" - her smile widened - "has good reason to see justice served. He wishes to avenge you!"

Arabella looked down at her hands, now clenched into her new brightly colored skirts. "I would not wish either of them or their men to suffer injuries. I have seen the Black Vikings' dragon-ship and what they can do."

The other woman laughed. "Then you know what Olaf and his men are capable of when they desire it. They, too, are Viking! But first" - she stepped back and turned a critical eye on Arabella - "we must find you some adornments for tonight's feasting."

"Feasting?" It was the first Arabella heard the like.

"So I say!" Jutta shoved back the woolen hanging and led Arabella back into the smoky darkness of the long-house's main room. They moved slowly, slipping past the empty sleeping benches lining the walls and taking care to avoid the men still huddled around the fire, talking.

When they stepped outside, the Norsewoman released Arabella's arm. She smiled at a group of children playing noisily in front of one of the fishermen's huts.

"There will be a celebratory feasting with much merrymaking." She indicated a clearing where men were setting up great sailcloth awnings and preparing two whole bullocks to be roasted over open fires. "It is not often that we can entertain visitors."

Arabella's pulse jumped. Already there was an air of excitement in the camp. A sense of anticipation that made her belly all fluttery again, this time in a good way. Merrymaking meant music and dance. And that meant...

She felt herself color again. She knew well enough from her father's hall the kinds of things that could happen when ale flowed freely and spirits were high. Her sister wasn't the only one who'd crept out of bed and hidden in the stair tower to watch the raucous revelry.

"Yes, there will be dancing." Jutta Manslayer spoke as if she'd read Arabella's mind. "Later, it could be that Darroc will take you to admire the moon from our boat strand." She leaned close and winked. "It shines there most invitingly."

"We shall see." Arabella wondered if she could be so bold.

Deep inside she knew she had to be.

Her happiness depended on it.

"I'm worried about Captain Arneborg."

Arabella raised her voice above the sound of music and laughter coming from the center of the clearing. She and Darroc sat at a well-laden trestle table beneath one of the sailcloth awnings, a good distance away from the whirling, stamping dancers. But even here the wild skirl of the pipes was earsplitting. Bonfires and flaming resin torches turned night to day, casting all in a weaving, ruddy glow.

Including the dark forms of couples who, tired of jigs and reels, hastened away to disappear into the quiet behind the fishermen's huts and bunkhouses.

Arabella knew why they were leaving.

Seeing the excitement on their faces as they rushed past did funny things to her stomach and made her mouth dry. So far Darroc had given no indication of wishing to take her to see the moonlight as Jutta Manslayer had predicted.

Quite the opposite, he applied his enthusiasm to digging in to the roasted beef rib the huge-bosomed Arnora Ship-Breast had plunked down on his trencher. He ate with gusto and showed no sign of sharing her concern for the shipmaster. Indeed, Arabella doubted he'd even heard her.

But guilt pinched her, so she curled her fingers around his arm, stilling his hand just as he reached again for the beef rib. "Do you not think the noise is keeping him awake? Or" - she hated this possibility - "that he hears the music and is sad he can't join us?"

"Who?" He jerked around to face her, a speck of rib juice glistening on his chin.

"Captain Arneborg." Arabella reached to dab away the grease, then gasped when he seized her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers.

"Arneborg?" He turned her hand over and dropped a kiss on her palm, his gaze not leaving hers. "He will no' be sad to hear the din. He - "

"It has to be ruining his sleep."

"To be sure!" Darroc grinned. "And he will be glad for each burst of laughter and song. He knows we're celebrating the banishment of his foes and that" - he leaned forward and gave her a swift kiss on the mouth - "is sweeter than any dreams he might have in his sleep."

"He wants worse than banishment for the Black Vikings." Arabella fingered the carnelian and rock crystal beaded necklace Jutta had given her. "He said this afternoon that he wished to see them in hell."

"And so they will be - as Arneborg knows."

"But you just said they are to be banished."

Humor sparked in Darroc's eyes. "That is the way of it, aye. See you" - he sat back, his lips twitching - "there are places one such as Svend Skull-Splitter will find more terrible than hell. After we capture him, we shall give him a choice.

Either we consign him to Valhalla then and there or Olaf will see him escorted to Greenland."

"Greenland?" Arabella blinked.

"There are few places more distant." Darroc lifted the silver-gilt goblet they were sharing and took a long drink of spiced wine. "Or more forbidding. The land is rocky and frozen and the seas are so shrouded with impenetrable mist that many give them the name Ocean Called Dark."

"He would never stay there." Arabella couldn't believe the men had overlooked something so simple. "As soon as Olaf's men sailed away, he'd leave."

Darroc shook his head. "Many of Olaf's men have family in Brattahlid. Men as fierce and unforgiving as the icebound world they call their home. They will be glad for extra labor to help work their farms. And" - he grinned again - "they will ensure that not a single Black Viking escapes."

"You have thought of everything." Arabella's heart swelled with pride.

"It was Arneborg who gave us the idea." Darroc glanced back toward the darkened longhouse where the shipmaster rested. "Olaf told me Arneborg had mentioned settling in Brattahlid upon his recovery. He - "

"Why would he want to go there if it's such a cold wilderness?" Arabella rubbed the rock crystal pendant of her necklace. Shaped like a large disc and polished smooth, it was carved with an image of Thor's hammer. "It seems the last place he'd find welcoming."

"Nae. He'd find it ideal because" - he looked around the trestle table, then lowered his voice - "he was deeply in debt. Arneborg lost everything with the Merry Dancer. He was a broken man. In such straits even a desolation like the Ocean Called Dark sounds good to a man."

"But he's an Orkneyman." A frown creased Arabella's brow. "Surely he has family there."

"He has no one." Darroc paused when a group of dancers returned to a nearby table, their laughter and chattering voices loud on the night air. "Yet" - he shook his head again - "in the end his very loneliness is what saved him. Apparently he'd spent a lifetime boasting about a non-existent family, claiming royal Norse blood.

"He told Olaf that's why the Merry Dancer was attacked. Svend Skull-Splitter believed Arneborg's tales of illustrious connections in Norway and meant to ransom him."

"And when they discovered the truth, they set him out on the skerry." Arabella repeated what she'd heard earlier. "How heartbreaking. But" - she blinked, confused - "you said Captain Arneborg was a broken man. It seems to me that he still is, considering."

To her surprise, Darroc grinned. "He isn't now." He cut a look toward the clearing where couples whirled in a blur of flying heels and arms. "Do you see Arnora Ship-Breast?"

Arabella followed his stare, her own falling at once on the dancing Norsewoman.

Her gown's bodice was cut precariously low and her huge breasts bounced wildly as she jigged, their generous swells glowing white in the moonlight.

Arabella's gaze snapped back to Darroc. "Don't tell me there's something between her and the shipmaster?"

Darroc's grin said there was. "So it is claimed. And apparently it's serious. They were sweethearts once, in their youth in Orkney. When Arneborg went to sea, they never saw each other again until Olaf found the captain on the skerry. Word is Arnora never loved another." Darroc glanced at her, still dancing. "Olaf offered them one of the fishermen's huts. The pair plans to wed as soon as Arneborg recovers."

"You mean Captain Arneborg will be staying here?" Arabella's throat began to thicken. "Olaf Big Nose has welcomed him into his settlement?"

"Now you see why I said Arneborg was a broken man." Darroc reached for the wine goblet and took another healthy sip. "He is no more. Some" - he set down the goblet and wiped his mouth with his sleeve - "might even say he's damned lucky."

"But his debts..."

Darroc cocked a brow. "Are unfortunate, but do you really think anyone will bother him here?"

"Nae, but - "

"You needn't fash yourself o'er him." Darroc slid an arm around her and drew her close. "He plans to save and eventually buy another cog. He'll go merchanting again someday and then he'll be able to repay his moneylenders."

Arabella nodded, horrified to feel a tear slide down her cheek. She dashed it aside before anyone could notice.

Or so she hoped.

"I am so glad everything has worked out so well for him." She helped herself to the spiced wine, needing something to wash down the lump in her throat. "It would seem things are tying up nicely for everyone."

Darroc's arm tightened around her. "Aye, so it does. It lifts my heart to know Arneborg has a good future ahead of him." He looked at her, his eyes darkening with an expression that made her breath catch. "Had he not thought quickly when the Black Vikings attacked his ship, I would never have found you."

"Yet you are going to return me to Kintail when we leave here." The words escaped before she could stop them. "You have made your plans. You said - "

"Aye, I have plans." He touched quieting fingers to her lips. "You have just no'

heard them yet. We shall both journey to Kintail. I intend to ask your father for your hand when we get there."

"Oh!" Arabella's heart stopped. The tears that had been misting her eyes now filled them, the stinging heat blurring her vision. "What are you saying?"

Darroc smoothed her hair back and leaned close to kiss her brow. "Things I'd rather discuss with you without so many prying ears."

He sat back and slid a telling look down the table. Arabella blinked, seeing at once that everyone present was watching them, their faces split in grins. Even those at neighboring tables were craning necks and jabbing each other with elbows.