The flash of pain in her eyes nearly stopped him, for he knew his dismissal was a curt one. He fought not to back down from his stance, for there was much danger in doing so. Still, he'd felt the pain of exile and could not stop himself from trying to soften the blow.
"We have many days yet ahead of us on the rest of the journey for your questions," he added, sounding much less concerned than he was.
The shadow of her pain still reflected within her eyes, but she nodded in agreement and went inside without further argument or comment. Rurik's heart pounded, for hurting her was never his intention and he wanted to see her smile at him instead of wincing from the pain of rejection.
Had she any notion of how much alike their stories were? Both in exile from family and friends. Both recalled for honor and duty's sake. Both resisting that call.
Rurik stepped back and let the canvas flap drop to close the women inside. No matter how much he wanted to hold her and comfort her, their differences were what mattered now.
For he was a man and she a woman.
For he was Erengisl's son and she was Gunnar's daughter.
For he was a bastard warrior about to masquerade as a honorable man and she was … What?
Rurik knew it to deep in his bones that she was not a nun. He could not prove it, but the feeling was too strong to be wrong. Margriet did not wear the habit and veil as a sign of holy vows. He just did not know why she did, but he would discover her secret before the journey's end. The problem and dangers lay in that he both carried secrets and protected them. As he was certain she did.
While he walked once more around the perimeter of their camp, he wondered about hers. Things had changed much in the last ten years, the situation made more tenuous by the death of Lord Maolise and the assumption of his own father to the position of the Earl of the Orkneys, a title not inherited, but more taken through marriage. Now, trouble between the king and his sons forced Erengisl's hand and brought his own return to the Orkneys.
Rurik nodded to the guards as he circled once more. He did his best thinking while pacing or walking, so he continued trying to decide how Margriet fit in to all this. Was it just coincidental that they returned at the same time? Was his task to escort her home simply an efficient means of getting her from the convent?
And what bond would her father cement with her hand in marriage? For marriage agreements were the basis of everything-the underlying connections between families, between friends, between enemies. Did Gunnar plan that Margriet would be a gift to a friend or would seal a bargain to end enmity between two rival families?
No matter which scenario, Gunnar would not stand by as his daughter entered the convent. And neither was this woman for him, nor he for her. Their destinies were entwined during this journey, but would part and go in entirely different directions when they arrived. 'Twas even likely they would not see each other again after this journey was completed.
So for now, he would learn about her and the secrets she carried, all the while trying to protect his own. The pain he witnessed in her gaze when he shunned her only brought back his own memories of the same and he had no wish to feel that once more. Rurik would wait until he heard the offer from his father's own lips before believing it and accepting it.
For now, he was still his own man.
Later? Only the Almighty knew.
Chapter Nine
The sun had barely peeked over the horizon when the call came to wake and be about the day. Thinking this was worse than the convent's schedule, Margriet carried out her morning routine, chewing her herbs and sipping water, and then roused Elspeth from sleep. The girl slept from the time she lay her head down until the time her name was called, but there had been no sleep for Margriet this night.
Trying to stretch out the soreness in her back that must have been the cause of her sleeplessness, Margriet tucked her braid inside her tunic and placed the veil and wimple back over her hair. She hated it more with each passing day-the rough fabric that surrounded her face and neck and the prickly, long veil that added weight and caught her hair with every movement.
Complaining about something she'd brought on herself made no sense, so Margriet crawled from the tent and stood up in the cool morning air. Upon seeing Donald was their guard, she greeted him in Gaelic and then repeated it in Norn, asking him to do the same. He smiled and tried to imitate her pronunciation, but with comical results. The good thing was that he had tried and she had no doubt he would improve with practice.
Once Elspeth joined them, Donald led them down a path to the edge of the river, though now not much more than a stream, and gave them a measure of privacy as they washed and took care of other needs. Margriet only dared loosen the strap of the wimple a bit to dab water on her neck and face.
Watching as Elspeth did the same, she realized the sacrifices that the young woman was making on her behalf. Although Elspeth had excitedly agreed to her plan, for it gave her a chance to leave the convent and a future of prayer behind, it had not so far produced anything promised to her in return. When they arrived at her father's house and had straightened out all of the misunderstandings and mistakes, Margriet would make it worthwhile for the girl. A call from the camp drew them back for a hasty meal of porridge and weak ale and then they were riding north.
This day, the sun decided to hide behind the clouds and the air took a cold turn, with the winds picking up steadily as they traveled toward the coast. Time moved faster, or so 'twould seem, but Margriet knew it was just that speaking to the three Scots and teaching them words and phrases in Norn helped it pass by more quickly. They stopped two or three times for comfort, but Rurik pushed them a bit harder, as he'd promised the night before.
As the sun dropped down lower into the sky, they met up with the man Rurik always sent ahead to secure their nighttime camp. Word spread through the column of riders that they would sleep indoors this night. Margriet smiled at the very thought of a bed beneath her. Even a thin pallet would be a gluttony of comfort after so many nights on the hard ground with only a blanket or two between them.
Leaning over, she whispered words of warning to Elspeth about their behavior in this village. They'd become lax in their pretenses and they needed to have a care lest they be exposed for their lies. After years of living in the convent, they would simply need to imitate the nuns' prayerful ways a bit more while being watched.
The men seemed just as excited as she was to approach a village, but they gathered closer to her and Elspeth as though danger was near. Finally, just before the sun set, they arrived at the village.
Built up in the place where the river they'd been following north met up with another that headed west and deeper into Caithness and then onto Scotland, it was a rambling gathering of wooden houses and a few shops and an inn that could not be confused with the bustling Kirkvaw or even the smaller Thurso or Wick. She spied no church and no convent as they rode up to a squat, two-story inn on the outer edge of the rest of the village.
The innkeeper, a man nearly as wide as he was tall and who must have smelled the coin to be had from a group of travelers such as theirs, rolled out of the doorway and approached them. A few other men and two young women peeked out of windows to watch the goings-on. The women loosened their bodices in a display that was as vulgar as it was unnecessary, for after days on a journey with only two nuns and the limitations that their calling meant, the men in the group did not miss those of the fairer sex. Even whorish ones, who nearly tumbled out the windows while offering their wares without shame.
At Rurik's signal, no one dismounted. Donald and Leathen even took hold of the reins of her horse and Elspeth's as though readying themselves for flight. The tension had grown steadily, filling the air around them as Rurik negotiated their accommodations, food and other items they needed for their journey.
Only when he nodded and grasped the innkeeper's arm in agreement did the men climb from their horses and release their hold of their weapons. When the two women sauntered out into the yard, both barefoot with their hair hanging uncovered and loose down their backs and their bosoms falling out of their bodices with the same abandon, Margriet found herself forgotten atop her horse. Watching the lustful expressions on the men and seeing them jostle to get a better view of what was being offered for sale, she knew that coin was not the only thing that would be spread this night in the village.