"Here now, Sister," Thora said as she brought the cup to her mouth again. "A wee small drink to help ye feel better."
"Thora, I would speak to Sister alone," he said in a growl.
"When she is feeling stronger," Thora began. "And when she is dressed suitably … "
Her words made Margriet reach up to check her wimple and veil and she found them both missing. Only a kerchief covered her hair.
"Now!" Rurik roared in a voice loud enough to make the roof rattle above them.
Thora was not a stupid woman, so she gathered her bowls and picked up her rags and scooted for the door. "I will be back," she whispered, not bothering to say it low enough so Rurik did not hear.
Margriet watched as Rurik closed the door and dropped the latch down to secure it. His expression softened as he turned to face her, filling with concern and even a measure of relief, if she read it correctly. He walked to the bedside, pulled over a bench and sat next to her.
"Another thing for me to beg your pardon for," he said softly. "I did not realize how hard you were working until it was too late."
"Rurik, please do not … " she began as she tried to sit up once more. This time, he slid his arm behind her to aid her and it made all the difference. And, with a pillow pushed behind her back, she could remain upright. The spinning inside her head slowed with each passing minute and that eased the stomach distress she felt growing. "I did what anyone would have done."
"But most would not have done so at the cost of their own health."
Uncomfortable with the personal nature of the topic, she changed it. "Is Sister Elspeth well?"
"She is and so are the rest of the men. All recovered due to your efforts," he said.
"And you and Sven? You did not become ill?"
"Nay. Thora said that others who ate the venison took ill, so you were correct in thinking that the cause. We were the only three who did not eat it that night."
So, she'd been right. No plague or contagion. Simply bad food.
"All recovered?" she asked again, just to be reassured. "No one lost to it?"
"Aye, Sister, all are well. Though as you mentioned, several did wish for death just before they improved." He smiled then and it tugged at her heart. "They will never admit this to you, but some also thought this was God's punishment for their sins."
This time, he winked ever so slightly, the merriment lightening his expression and making her smile as well. When she realized which sins they felt guilty of, Margriet looked away from his gaze.
"So, I have been here since yesterday?" She drummed her fingers on the covers.
"Aye. You have slept an entire day, a night and another entire day. 'Tis nigh to moonrise now." He stood and walked to one of the small windows, which he unlatched, allowing the shutters to open. "Though with the rain, 'tis most difficult to tell."
Margriet nodded, listening to the rain as it landed on the roof above and poured off, hitting the trees and ground below. The smell of it, fresh and clean, filled the room with each breeze. She breathed it in deeply, enjoying the calm that always followed for her.
"I ask your pardon, for slowing down your journey," she said.
"Since you are the reason we journey," he replied as he fastened the shutters closed again, "it seemed ill-advised to continue without you." Again, he tried levity.
"How long will we stay here?"
"As long as need be for you to feel strong enough to travel again."
"I will be ready on the morrow, Rurik."
He laughed then and the sound pierced her soul. His green eyes shone and his face looked lighter of many years and concerns. "Do not rush it, Sister. I will not put you in danger to save a day here or there in our journey."
Margriet smiled, feeling better not only because she was awake and sitting up, but also because he now talked to her and not at her. "Still … "
Her words were stopped when he reached out and took her hand in his. He closed his fingers around hers and raised them to his lips, pressing a gentle, almost reverent kiss on the top of her hand. She could not breathe in that moment. Sparkles of light danced before her eyes at the heated contact between them.
A forbidden contact.
Margriet tried to remember her feelings for Finn, the man she knew she loved, the man who fathered her child, but when Rurik gazed at her in this way, she could not. Every word or promise she brought to mind rang false now as she stared at him. In a twist of luck, she spied the nun's habit on the nearby chair and it broke the spell between them.
"Nothing can happen between us, Rurik," she said, drawing her hand, however reluctantly, from his.
"Because of your vows?" he asked, leaning back away from her. "Do you think they will stand in defiance of your father's choice?"
"It matters not, I fear." Margriet shifted up in the bed to face him. "If these vows do not stand," Margriet said, referring to those she'd made with Finn and not anything to do with religious ones, "would my father choose you for me?" The expression gave her the answer before he could say any words. But she needed to know, since he likely knew more about her father and his bent in this than she did. "Would you be his choice?"
Rurik wanted to deny it and to admit that Gunnar would be proud to unite their families in a marriage between them, but such a match would be impossible. When Erengisl was counselor to Maolise and rose in power and married the old earl's daughter, he came as almost an equal in wealth and lands and power. Though absolutely faithful to Erengisl, Gunnar held no such place among the powerful families of Norway and Sweden.
And although it would be honor for Gunnar to join his daughter to a son of Erengisl, his father had other plans and would forbid such a match. For his promise to Rurik for coming home and taking his place there was marriage to a woman of the royal house of Denmark. Gunnar's daughter was not high enough for Erengisl's son.
"No, I would not be his choice," he said quietly, allowing her to think all the wrong reasons for Gunnar's refusal. It mattered not why; it only mattered that the answer was no.
She seemed to need to push the point, for she asked it again. "So, if my vows dissolved on the morrow, there could be no match between us?"
He met her gaze then and made the declaration that would keep them apart, not only for the rest of this journey, but for the rest of their lives. "No match is possible between us, Margriet."
"So, it is clear then between us?"
It was a dismissal and Rurik wished with everything in him that giving her up and forgetting his desire and feelings for her were that simple. If he could only think it is wrong so it does not exist, he could walk away and worry not about her safety or her well-being or her future, married off in a bargain to a man she'd never met. But, for only the second time in his life, his heart did not believe it.
He stood then and walked to the window, opening it and listening to the storm outside. Why did this happen now and why in this manner?
His love for Nara had grown slowly, day by day, from physical attraction to something deeper and less explosive. Oh, there was passion between them and lovemaking to fill their nights and many of their days, too.
But this-this was completely different. Was it only passion then? Lust and not love? He glanced over at her and knew she'd done nothing to entice him. If he liked her, it was because of what he saw in the woman beneath the habit.
She was kind to his men, not just when they were ill, but also as she spoke to them and taught them a new tongue. She was intelligent. From her use of strategy along the journey to her command of the situation when the sickness overtook them, she could organize and plan and implement as well as any man he'd known. She had backbone, for she'd stood up to him countless times during their short acquaintance and did not accept things simply because he said so.
And she had courage.
Courage enough to defend a convent against a party of warriors with only an aging shepherd and a few arrows as weapons.
Courage enough to admit the truth between them and confront it when he would rather ignore it.
He inhaled the smell of the storm and closed the shutters once more. Facing her, he nodded.
"Aye, 'tis clear between us, Sister," he said.
He saw the tear drop from the corner of one eye and run down her cheek, and wanted desperately to go to her. But, her courage demanded at least the same from him. So, without saying another word, he nodded and left the room.