Page 54 of Merciful Salvation
Tyr gave her a half smile. “It seems my beloved wife grows more and more like me every day. I will consider your proposal.”
Chapter Sixteen
Words
Aaron inspected thenorth wall of his longhouse. The outside walls were solid and the curved shape of the timbers and internal tie beams that spanned the great hall provided adequate support for the structure. However, the thatched roof was in need of repairs.
“I’ve decided to replace the thatched roof with tiles.”
“Shingles, milord?” Amund sounded suspicious.
The soldier not only served as captain of Aaron’s small guard at his steading, but also managed his modest household. “Aye, wood shingles are superior to thatched roofs. They last longer and keep the rain and cold out better.”
“Several of these walls are in need of repairs, too.” Overall, the house, barn, and sheds were in good shape. But Aaron envisioned something different. Paddocks with fences, larger gardens, a new smokehouse, and larger storage sheds for grain. “At first light, we’ll ride east and inspect the timber. I’d rather sacrifice trees inland, instead of cutting down the ancient ones that protect the riverfront.”
“Aye, milord,” the captain said, following Aaron.
They walked toward the main entrance.
“Are you expecting company?” Amund pointed.
Aaron noticed two horses in the distance, almost hidden amongst the thick pines. One of the riders was draped in dark green wool.A woman. He squinted. Blond hair—riding astride—hiding in theshadows. Of course. Somehow, Kara had found her way home. His home, for now. He smiled, liking the idea she was watching him.
“No,” he said, grinning at his captain. “But the lady is welcome here anytime. Only, I ask you don’t acknowledge her presence until she comes to my door.”
“Milord?”
Nearly strangers, Aaron couldn’t blame his servant for doubting his leadership. Scotsmen in Norway were rare enough, but a Scottish jarl presented another set of issues altogether. “Trust in me,” he said. “The lass is familiar—the woman I intend to make mistress of this house.”
At those words, Amund relaxed. “You’ve had a disagreement?”
Aaron had spent half the night awake, admittedly in a drunken stupor, yet alert enough to think about nothing but Kara. The lass had somehow invaded his dreams, too. Night and day she occupied his thoughts. Another reason not to waste any time presenting himself to Erik the Bald as a formal suitor for his daughter’s hand in marriage. In Scotland, handfasting offered a young couple an opportunity to contemplate their future together. But in this foreign land, where he’d found a new life—redemption—he felt obligated to honor tradition.
“I’d call it more than a disagreement,” he sighed. “For now, I’m resolved to let the lady come to me.”
Both men glanced in her general direction before disappearing inside the house.
“He looked this way, didn’t he?” Kara wheeled her mare around so she could face the thrall Tyr had assigned as her riding companion. “Even at this distance, I can see quite clearly.”
Wolinda shrugged. “My aged eyes aren’t as sharp as yours.”
“Nevertheless,” she retorted, having expected the elder to agree for diplomacy’s sake. “You are well-acquainted with Jarl McNally. Are you not?”
“I’ve known him since his childhood.”
“Areallthe stories I’ve heard about him true?”
“Depends on who’s telling them.”
Wordlessly, Kara turned away. Tyr had purposely paired them. “Is he the cruel beast I’ve heard about—a whoremonger—thief—betrayer?” Her heart raced with apprehension. “I must know.”
She heard the slave shift in her saddle. “Perhaps Jarl McNally is better suited to answer your questions.”
“No,” Kara said, eyeing her again. “Youtell me.”
The old woman heaved a sigh. “Never believe everything you hear, milady. Frieda is a crafty bitch. Hot in any man’s bed and cold as a fish the morning after. Her actions earned her the same punishment as Jarl McNally four years ago. Banishment.”
“Tell me how you feel about Aaron.”
