He'd arrived after everyone else was readied for the voyage and, other than a brief word to the captain of the ship and another to Sven, he spoke to no one. Once they'd left the harbor, he'd walked to the front of the ship and stood alone, facing north. Now, about three hours later, he was still there. As she was at the back of the ship, letting the winds swirl around her and soothe her frayed disposition.
If she lived one hundred years more, she would never forget the look of betrayal in his eyes when he discovered that she was breeding. And worse yet, Margriet would always know that that sin now lay on her shoulders along with so many others. It mattered not why she did it, good intentions lay intertwined with sins along the path to Hell as Mother Ingrid would say, it only mattered that she'd brought him to a time when he offered her all that he had, and she rejected it.
No man's pride could suffer that blow and allow him to forgive her. Not even Rurik's intrinsic honor, as she'd come to know him, would allow that. The pain that tore her own heart apart told her she needed to tell him her truth and to release him of any responsibility in what had happened between them, but the distance between them now, greater and deeper than the ocean they traveled on, prevented her from doing that.
As they passed the red sandstone cliffs of Hoy, she knew her time was limited. Soon, they would head east between the islands and towards Orphir. Turning to face the front of the ship, she looked past the censuring expressions of the men to where Rurik was. The wind tore her hair free of Elspeth's attempts to braid it for the voyage, so she gathered it and wrapped it around her fist as she took the first step toward him.
Their disapproval became vocal as she passed and she heard bits and pieces of the explanation given out about why she now dressed not as a nun, but as a noblewoman. It could be worse.
Instead of thinking of them as two silly women, who did not know better than to believe they needed disguises to protect themselves, they could know of her dishonor. Rurik could have told the whole truth and her shame would now be spreading among them and like a fire amidst the tinderbox when they set foot on land.
He protected her even now.
She'd gone only a few paces, balancing against the rise and pitch of the ship and the winds now at her back, when Sven discerned her target and blocked her path.
"Lady, I would caution against approaching him." He kept his voice lowered so no others would hear his warning. "He wishes not to speak to anyone."
"I am certain of that, Sven, but it will not stop me."
"Sister … lady," Sven said as he shook his head at her. "I cannot vouch for … " His words drifted off, but the fierce frown gave his meaning.
"Sven," she said, laying her hand on his arm, "he will not hurt me."
"I worry not for you, lady," he answered, concern for his friend clear now.
"What do you know of this?" she asked. "What has he said?"
"You know him well enough to know that he would never say anything," Sven whispered furiously. "But even you, with your short-lived acquaintance of him, would only need to look at him to see the damage wrought by your lies."
His furor surprised her, for his demeanor had always been pleasant during the journey, even playing the role of jester among the men. That he should hold deep emotions should not be a surprise to her after his chivalric carrying off and marrying Elspeth, but this was.
"'Tis that damage I wish to ease, Sven. Let me pass."
He paused and in that moment, she knew not if he would let her go or not. Then, with a sharp bob of his head, he stepped aside. Margriet's stomach churned now as she walked the short distance to the bow of the ship. Finally, she stood a few paces from him and she tried to think of how to start.
"Sven!" his voice rang out.
Sven pushed around her and leaned in to hear what Rurik said. Some fierce whispering between the two men went on for some minutes before Sven turned and walked away. "I am not your servant, Rurik," he said over his shoulder. "If you want her gone, then make it so."
And still he did not turn to her or say anything. Knowing he would not, she took a step closer and then another until she could have reached out and touched his back … if she dared.
"Rurik," she said, "I … "
"Go away, Lady Margriet," he said without looking back.
"No."
"If you have any sense … " he began.
"Apparently I do not have the sense God gave an ox, according to Donald, that is. Donald has been very clear in his opinion of where women stood in that regard."
"Please, Margriet. Go away," he repeated.
So she said the only thing she could. "No." She did touch him then, placing her hand on the back of his cloak. "I need to tell you the truth, Rurik."
He shrugged her hand off as he would some irritating insect. "I felt the truth last evening, lady. What more is there to say about it?" Now he gripped the edge of the ship.
"If you would listen, I would tell you that I was a foolish girl who believed the first words of love and affection spoken to her in so many years," she said to his back, for he would not face her. "I would tell you that I sinned grievously and knew no way out of it but to lie." Margriet felt the tears flow as she tried to put the words together. "And I would tell you that if I had met a man such as you first, I would have known the difference between love and lust when the challenge came."
The winds whipped around her now as the ship changed directions, but the tears came not from that. The tears came when she realized how stupid she had been to fall for pretty words and attractive promises. She'd given up her body and honor to a man who said the right things, and now she'd bear the price of that failure. And she'd hurt someone deeply who should never have been involved.
"I beg your forgiveness for not trusting you, Rurik, for if I had … " Margriet thought of how this journey could have been, all the consequences of her mistrust and dishonesty and how she had lured Rurik into something beyond their control. "I beg you … "
The sobs welled from deep within and made it impossible to say anything more. She pressed her fist against her mouth, trying to control her despair, and grasped the side of the ship to keep from falling. When she felt she could speak again, she asked, "What will you do now?"
He faced her then, turning toward her but never meeting her gaze as he answered. Instead he stared over her head at the sea. "Complete my duty to Gunnar and then go to my father."
Margriet had forgotten that they were both called back by their fathers. "The prodigal son," he'd called himself.
"What will you do now, Margriet?"
What would she do? She'd thought of nothing else since everything had fallen apart and even more so since she'd fallen in love with him. There was only one thing to do.
"I will tell my father the truth and throw myself on his mercy," she said. "Mayhap he will find Finn to be a suitable husband for me."
Rurik tilted his head and frowned at her. "Finn?" Then his glance dropped toward her belly and he nodded in understanding. "The man … "
But still the frown did not leave his face. They stood looking at each other and she knew this might be the last time she could tell him anything private.
"I pray that you can find it in your heart to forgive me, Rurik. If not now when the thoughts of what I did and how I deceived you are fresh, then mayhap when they fade a bit in your memory."
When he said nothing in reply, she turned and walked to the back of the ship, where Elspeth stood watching her. She could face no one now, so she pulled the hood of her cloak up on her head and bowed her head. Any joy that she should feel upon returning home after so long was dimmed by the pain that tore her apart.
'Twas her penance for all of her sins and she prayed she could accept it as that.
Rurik tried to turn from her and not watch her progress along the deck of the ship, but he failed again, as he did anytime self-control and Margriet were in the same situation. Telling himself it was still his duty to oversee her comfort and safety, he made certain she reached Elspeth's side before turning back to let the sea winds pummel into him. Her words had affected him more than he wanted to admit, but it was the name that bothered him more.