He walked toward her in the way he always carried himself, like a wildcat, poised to lunge at any moment and overpower his prey. He smiled, his eyes catching the lights of the many candles that lit the chamber and his mouth curving into an attractive bow, as he stopped before her. Bowing to the countess first, Rurik then turned to her.
"You look well, Margriet," he said.
She lost her ability to speak then. If she'd thought him pleasing in looks as a warrior, screaming out his name at the convent gates or as a protector when he dove into the water to save her, his appearance now as the nobleman's son was even more so. The tunic was tailored to fit closely and it gave a hint to anyone noticing of the powerful chest beneath it. She knew the look and the feel of that chest.
"Lord Rurik, how goes it?" her father asked.
Giving herself a moment to recover from her surprise at seeing him this soon and from her shallow appraisal of his form, Margriet sipped the wine in the cup and listened to her father question Rurik about his arrival here and his reception so far.
"My father has given me many tasks in this last day, Gunnar, and I confess I have been waiting for your arrival." He turned his gaze on her and added, "I fear I will have need of your father's counsel in these next days and weeks, Margriet."
No longer did he address her as "lady." She noticed the difference now as a recognition of their differences in standing-he, though bastard-born, now stood above her as daughter of a counselor and landowner. Publicly granted status by his father as one of his heirs, Rurik would be called "lord" by all beneath him.
"He is eager to serve you, Lord Rurik, and has spoken of nothing else to me on our journey here."
She tried, she truly tried not to let sarcasm into her voice, but when he lifted his left eyebrow at her answer, Margriet feared she was not successful. Apparently both her father and the countess sensed that they needed to speak and both fled with excuses of other necessary conversations.
"We should talk, Margriet," he said once they were alone.
"As you wish, Lord Rurik," she answered.
"Margriet, I can explain this … " he began and then stopped when he saw others coming closer to them. Apparently her connection to Lord Rurik and the knowledge that they traveled together from Caithness was now fodder for the gossip that flowed like life's blood through any household.
"Of course, Lord Rurik," she said. She knew he was uncomfortable, but, damn him! he deserved it for lying to her.
He clenched his teeth together and whispered, "Not here. Not now." Then his father approached and she nodded.
"Rurik has told us how you saved his men with your knowledge, Margriet."
"He should be thanking the holy sisters at the convent, my lord. They taught me their healing ways."
"And their modesty as well, 'twould seem." The earl offered the compliment seamlessly and she smiled at his easy manner.
"You honor me, my lord," she answered.
Unfortunately, with the earl's approach and continued questions about her journey and her life at the convent, Rurik found the opportunity to escape. As the evening progressed, they seemed to circle each other, but never did the opportunity to speak come again. When she saw him excuse himself to his father and the countess, Margriet knew it was the chance she needed.
Begging leave from her father and receiving permission from the countess to retire for the night, she left the earl's chambers and ran down the stairs to the main floor. She caught sight of him just as he entered the other tower, where his rooms must be. Following quietly, Margriet reached the stairs when he stepped out in front of her.
"Why are you following me?" he asked, taking her arm and pulling her into the shadows of the stairway.
"You said we should speak, Lord Rurik. I but obeyed your command."
"Come," he said, shaking his head as though not certain he should.
He looked over her head and raised a finger to his lips, cautioning her to quiet. The sound of footsteps somewhere behind her trailed off and then there was silence. Rurik took her hand and led her up to the second landing. Once there, he guided her to his chambers. When the door closed, he faced her.
"So, Rurik, Erengisl's son, 'twould appear that you kept secrets, too."
His gaze went to her belly and she put her hand there on the growing swell of it. Instead of reacting in anger at her challenge, he sighed and walked to the window. Staring out, the stark wanting in his voice when he spoke startled her.
"Have you ever wanted something so much that it was like a hunger in your belly, Margriet?" He paused, but she knew he did not want an answer. "And you were willing to give up everything you had and pay any price for that which you craved?"
He could not have known that he described her seemingly starving need for love and the consequences of being so needy. Yet, his words confirmed every emotion in her during those last years at the convent-wanting to belong and be wanted and be needed … and be loved.
"I lived here before. Here and at the earl's castles in Sweden and his estates in Norway. Wealth was never a question when I was a child. Bastard-born or not, Lord Erengisl provided for my mother and me. Any request was granted. Any possession bought or given us." He glanced at her then, for a moment and then away again. "But what I wanted more than any of the things was his acceptance and his name," Rurik said.
And his love, she added silently, knowing now that they both wanted and needed the very same thing.
"When my father banished us," he continued, "I lost it all and, even though the MacLeries welcomed me, the longing never went away."
"And now you have a chance to claim all that you have ever wanted?" she asked, already knowing his answer.
His eyes were bleak when he faced her now and as he walked toward her, she could feel the terrible choice he needed to make.
"He's been watching me all this time. Watching and waiting to see if I am the kind of man he can leave in his stead, Margriet. His summons, even if at your father's urging, meant he believes in me. The answer is aye, I am worthy."
"Rurik, you were always worthy," she began to argue.
"Your words cannot change my past, my beginning," he said, a sad smile flitting across his features, softening them for a moment and revealing a vulnerability she'd not seen before in him. "In many ways, I think you were the last test for me."
"How so? Do you think I am in league with your father? That I was sent to tempt you from all you desire?" She was offended by his words, but then realized he did not mean that she intentionally tested him.
"Oh, I think you are temptation in its purest form, lady, and I think the Fates sent you to me. They gave me one last reason to turn from my destiny, and gave me the best one last."
Pain shot through her as she came to understand that they were not the same after all-love meant all to her and nothing to him. She needed to leave before she embarrassed herself and begged him for his love as she'd begged Finn. No matter his answer, it could not give her what she sought much as he sought his fortune and future here. Neither outcome would be the right one. Margriet grasped the latch on the door and lifted it, her hands unsteady as she opened it.
"And I thought we were the same, Rurik, but now I see how very different we are after all." She leaned her forehead against the door and whispered the rest. "You have love in your grasp and would sacrifice it for everything you desire and I sacrificed everything for the love I thought within mine. I just know not which of us was the bigger fool."
"Margriet, I am sorry," he said from behind her. "I cannot … I cannot … "
She held her hand up to stop him. The excuse mattered not, only his answer to her unspoken question. And now she had it. The rest of her journey would be alone, she knew that now. Finn was like some figment of her imagination, making her face her weakness and leaving her with the consequences.
"You should speak to your father soon," he said. "Before anyone tells him. Gunnar is an honorable man and will help you."
That moment was not one when he should be offering advice, especially when it was about how she would live without him. Margriet ran out of his chambers and down the steps, turning into the great hall … and slamming right into someone. The man grabbed hold of her shoulders and kept her from stumbling to the floor.