Beyond a Darkened Shore(84)
It ignited something within me. All that we had been through together, all the times he had helped me and challenged me—the feel of his lips on mine, the comfort he gave me just lying chastely beside me each night. All of these things rushed through my mind, and I realized, I wanted more. I wanted him.
But as much as I felt the stirrings of desire within my own body, I wouldn’t give in to them—not here. Not covered in sweat and salt, surrounded by men and separated by a mere piece of cloth.
“Leif,” I said quietly, “thank you for jumping into the water to save me.”
“There’s no need to thank me,” he said, his gaze intent on mine. “I think I’ve made it clear I would do anything for you.”
His words made my stomach flutter more than the most romantic poem ever could. I didn’t think there was anyone who would say that about me—that they’d do anything for me. Not even my parents. It made me realize how much Leif meant to me, how terrifying it was to think I might one day lose him.
I couldn’t bear to think about it.
“You have no idea how much that means to me,” I said, and I felt my throat tighten.
“It makes it difficult not to come over there when you look at me like that,” Leif said, heat flaring in his eyes.
“I want more of you—all of you,” I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop myself. “But not on this ship, not . . . without a bath.”
He laughed, and he leaned down to kiss my lips gently. “Then we will wait, for I have wanted you all this time, and I will wait as long as it takes.” His gaze swept over my form hidden beneath the leather and fur. “Even if it brings me physical pain to know you’re naked right now.”
I smiled as a blush again warmed my body. As he lay back down to sleep, I made a promise to myself and to him: we would find a way to save him.
I couldn’t lose him.
23
The days at sea that followed the storm were uneventful. The sun shone in abundance as we sailed closer to Leif’s homeland, and after a fortnight had passed, I was desperate for rain, if only to wash the salt from my body. My hair no longer flowed freely, but instead was a tangled mess of waves. Every inch of my skin and armor had a coating of gritty salt, both from the sea and my own sweat. Despite such deterrents, Leif and I shared the same bed of furs each night, though we did nothing but sleep. I appreciated his respectful restraint, but it was torturous all the same.
And just when I thought I couldn’t take another day at sea, Leif called for a raven to be released.
“If I’m right,” he told me as I watched the bird soar away hopefully, “we aren’t far from land.”
“How will the raven tell us?” I asked.
“If it returns, then it couldn’t find land.”
I watched the sky that day like I had once watched it for storm clouds, but the bird never returned. I paced even more rapidly in the little space I had. The thought of land made the ship now seem desperately small. A light breeze teased at my hair, sending stray pieces into my eyes, and I pushed them away irritably.
“Land ahead,” Leif said, and as though he had conjured it with his words alone, mountains rose in the distance.
The V of ships headed for a small spot in between the mountains like geese flying toward a pond. But as we drew closer, I realized the spot was a fjord.
The men rowed, and a hush fell over us all as the ships sailed into the narrow inlet. A mist rose from the clear, cold water as verdant mountains rose on either side. Sunlight filtered in from the clouds, dancing upon the glittering water.
I felt eyes upon me and turned to find Leif watching me intently. “What is it?” I asked.
He smiled. “I am only enjoying the sight of you seeing my fjord for the first time.”
“It’s far more beautiful than I could have imagined,” I said. “The mountains are so green here.”
“You expected snow and ice?”
What had I expected? Whenever I thought of the land where the Northmen came from, it was always bleak and dark in my mind. A cold, barren wasteland. Certainly not the awe-inspiring beauty of the soaring cliffs and glassy waters. “Yes, but this . . . this is almost as beautiful as éirinn. Why, then, do Northmen plague our lands?”
“The fjords are impressive to look at, but we lack the fertile farmlands of the south.”
“So you take ours,” I said with a nod of understanding.
Leif grinned, his mood much too buoyant at the sight of land to be brought down by even my provocative questions. “We take them after defeating their owners; they are the spoils of war.”
“Yes, I’m sure it’s a hard battle against farmers.”
His gaze shifted to the fjord. “Most of us are farmers. You’ll see.”
Warrior farmers, I thought, but didn’t say. Up ahead, a quay jutted out into the water, its planks covered by at least one hundred people. They must’ve caught sight of the red skeletal dragon when we entered the fjord. Cheers of excitement carried back to us on the wind. So different from the screams of terror they would be greeted with in éirinn.
Behind them stood rows of wooden, thatched houses—not unlike the ones in Dubhlinn, only larger. The crowd was mostly made up of women and children, though there were also a few older men, and men who must have stayed behind to watch over the village.