“Frans isn’t the man you need.” Gunnar spoke with a confidence that only made my muscles tense.
“Why are you here?” I let my irritation edge each word. “Go away.”
Chapter
3
Gunnar
Mikaela had every right to hate me.
I was a scoundrel, blackguard, knave, ruffian, weasel, glutton, idiot, fool . . . if there was any other derogatory term I’d missed, I was that as well.
Sitting in the hot spring, her spine was as rigid as a brick wall. “I have no wish to speak with a miscreant.”
Miscreant. Of course. One more name to add to my lengthy list of faults—a list I took responsibility for in the fullest.
I sat back on my boot heels, unable to tear my gaze from her.
Her hair was loose and longer than I remembered, hanging almost to her waist. Even wet, it was a luxurious brown the color of the fox fur that trimmed my cloak. And though I couldn’t see her eyes, they rivaled her hair in richness, except the brown was an ever-changing hue, sometimes light and playful and at others deep and dark.
I imagined right now the color resembled a dangerous rocky valley—one I had no right to cross, but one I wanted to bridge, nonetheless.
“Frans will never make you happy.” The words were out before I could stop them. And why should I stop them? All it had taken was a few discreet inquiries by my squire, and I’d learned Mikaela wasn’t yet married, not even betrothed, but that she and Frans had been making plans for a future together.
“Frans already makes me happy.” Her tone was as sassy as always, one of the many qualities that had drawn me to her the last summer I’d been home.
“Frans is much too serious and steady for you.”
“And who crowned you the expert matchmaker?”
“I did.”
“You need to lose your crown. Better yet, lose your head.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. This was what I’d missed. Her sharp wit, her unbridled tongue, her ability to speak her mind. Even when we were playmates as children, she’d regarded me as an ordinary and normal friend, never deferring to me or bowing to my wishes.
I’d grown too accustomed to women telling me what they thought I wanted to hear. And Mikaela’s refusal to impress me was like a refreshing spring breeze blowing through the clutter in my heart and mind.
She’d always drawn me like no other. Even though I’d tried to resist for her sake.
If only Torvald and I had discovered the sacred chalice by now, then I wouldn’t be here putting her at risk.
But no amount of searching for the relic last autumn and winter throughout the abbeys and Stavekirches of the Richlande Lowlands had produced any leads. This spring we’d broadened our investigation to the Moors of Many Lakes, working our way steadily north.
Even though I’d vowed I would never return, I’d had no choice but to direct my steed toward home when Maxim and Princess Elinor, the wisest advisors in the land, uncovered clues that pointed to the chalice’s location in the vicinity of Romsdal.
Not only had I made the vow in order to keep Mikaela safe, but I’d made it because I despised being around my brother and didn’t want to see him ever again.
Almost ten years my senior, Bernhard had taken over the earldom after our parents died when their ship sank. I’d been a lad of six at the time, old enough to understand how much Father bullied, mocked, belittled, and shamed Bernhard. Old enough to avoid Father and his cruelty. Old enough to feel relief instead of remorse at his passing.
The problem was, Bernhard had turned into our father. Before he sent me away for my knight’s training, he’d become quite adept at bullying, mocking, belittling, and shaming me. I, in turn, had become proficient at deflecting him and masking my truest feelings, hiding them where he wouldn’t be able to see and use them against me.
Now here I was, back in Romsdal. And here Torvald and I would stay until we discovered if the rumors of the chalice being in the area were true or false.
During the past day of riding, not only had I steeled myself for seeing Bernhard, but I’d also fortified my heart against Mikaela. I reminded myself of the grave trouble I’d nearly brought upon her during my last visit home. I told myself this time I would stay as far away from her as the eastern horizon was from the western. I even promised myself I wouldn’t look at her or speak to her.
For part of the journey, I’d prayed she was happily married to save me from any temptation. But then the rest of the time, I’d stewed with resentment at the prospect of her being with any other man.
Not that I could ever have her for myself. The idea was as unfathomable now as it had been five years ago. Nevertheless, as we drew closer to Romsdal, my longing for her crested the barriers I’d erected.
As I’d ridden with Torvald across the open expanse of the high plateau, I’d easily spotted her in the crowd beside Frans. Even in her cloak and with hood drawn, she stood out to me. It was as if she was the shore and I the wave, drawn to her regardless of how much I tried to stay out to sea.
Of course, the moment I’d noticed a bound woman tottering on the edge of the cliff, all other thoughts had fled except that of saving her. I’d rapidly formulated an excuse for Bernhard, a request for the woman to become my servant for the duration of my stay in Romsdal. But before I could offer greetings and make my suggestion, the woman had slipped to her death.
So much for fortifying my heart against Mikaela. All it had taken was one look at the despair on her face as she’d turned away from looking down into the fjord for my walls to crumble completely and my vows about staying away from her to turn to dust.
“Begone, Gunnar.” This time Mikaela’s tone contained a bitter edge, one I’d put there. “You’ll find I’m not so gullible anymore.”
Gullible? Is that what she thought? Of course, she wouldn’t know the truth. I’d never made an effort to share it with her, and I never would. “Methinks you came here to the spring hoping I’d follow you.”
Before I could prepare myself, she spun and sent a spray of water my way. It splashed against my face with such force, I could only splutter.
In the same instant, she stood and grabbed her cloak from the stack of her garments on the edge of the pool. Even with the water dribbling in my eyes and blinding me, I pivoted so that my back was facing her, giving her the privacy that she needed to get dressed. I may have gained a reputation as a ladies’ man, but I still retained a shred of decency. Nanna’s influence over the first ten years of my life hadn’t been for naught.
“The truth is,” she said through chattering teeth, “I wouldn’t come here with you, not even if someone bound and forced me to comply.”
“And I am the opposite. No one could keep me away from meeting here with you, even if they bound me and forced me to stay away.” Though I spoke flippantly, trying to keep the moment from weighing too deeply, my declaration held more truth than she’d ever know.
For several long seconds, she didn’t respond, and the air around us was quiet save for her labored efforts to don her garments over her wet shift.
Did I dare put aside my glibness and speak forthrightly with her? This might be my only chance to repair what I’d purposefully broken. But what good could come of it? She would remain safer during my time in Romsdal if I kept far from her, where I wouldn’t draw undue attention or rumors her way.