‘No Danes here,’ he said and the words were as clear as she had ever heard him speak.
Suddenly she felt a bit lighter, understanding that he had needed this moment whether it had left her uncomfortable or not. It was his last chance to prove to the Jarl that he would not bend to the wishes of the Danes. Although Wilfrid had come to a sort of truce with them, and an uneasy friendship with Jarl Eirik, he delighted in being his own man. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder, hoping that it conveyed the affection she felt for him.
‘So you made clear on my last visit,’ the Jarl said, his tone dry. ‘I never thought you would allow a Norse into your home after Sigurd.’
Wilfrid sobered instantly and his gaze unfocused slightly, his head turning as if searching for someone among those in the room.
Afraid that he was going to fall into a panic again at the mention of Sigurd when he had been doing so well, Annis said, ‘And as you can see, Lord Wilfrid needs his rest. Let us return to the hall. We have refreshments before you rest from your trip.’
Jarl Eirik’s keen gaze never left Wilfrid as he sized up the situation. She had no doubt that she was not fooling the Jarl in regards to his condition. ‘It was good to see you, Lord Wilfrid. We will leave you to your rest.’ The Jarl left them there to return to the hall and she let out a breath that he had not insulted Wilfrid on his way out.
They all followed and as soon as the doors to his chamber had closed behind them, Jarl Eirik said, ‘How long has he been out of his senses?’ Anger was evident in his voice.
Before she could reply, Rurik intervened. ‘He is not out of his senses.’
Jarl Eirik glanced at him in warning, but did not utter another word until they were in the hall. Annis gestured to the table and that they should sit, but the Jarl shook his head, still obviously upset.
Withholding a sigh, she said, ‘Since the last time you visited, he’s had roughly one to two brain attacks a year. The last one was the worst and resulted in what you see. He cannot easily move one side of his body.’
‘And yet no one informed me of what had happened to him, so I could appoint someone to manage in his stead?’
Annis forced a calmness to her voice that she did not feel. When would she stop being forced to defend herself for running Glannoventa confidently? ‘As you can see, Glannoventa has been well managed. Wilfrid has been competent enough to offer opinions and guidance, but in the times when his illness proved him incapable, I was glad to take over.’
‘You? You took over?’ He glanced to Cedric as if for reassurance and, at the man’s nod, he looked back at her.
‘I took over,’ she said. ‘After your meal, I will show you the records we have kept. Glannoventa is profitable and has not struggled since Wilfrid’s decline. You’ve received your taxes as promised.’
He still seemed unconvinced. Rurik took her hand in his. ‘You will see that you were very lucky to have Lady Annis here. She has managed with a level head and an even hand.’
Her heart swelled in her chest at the fine words.
‘And you.’ The Jarl addressed Rurik. ‘We have heard of your father’s death in Maerr. Is that why you are here?’
‘Initially, yes. I came because I thought Wilfrid had a hand in my father’s murder.’
‘But you do not believe that now?’
‘I believe that Wilfrid hired assassins in a failed attempt to right a wrong.’
Guilt made her stomach roil again and she tightened her fingers around his hand. He spared her a fond glance, but it only made the guilt expand, nearly forcing all the air from her lungs. She had to tell him the truth. He should know that his wife was as much a part of that failed attempt as Wilfrid. He should know that the woman he had taken to bed was beyond redemption.
Cedric caught her gaze, his eyes rather severe as he gave her a barely imperceptible shake of his head. Not while Jarl Eirik was here, he seemed to say. Glannoventa needed Rurik. She knew that if he cried off, then the Jarl might very well find some way to end their marriage and appoint a Dane to take over.
Taking Rurik’s hand with both of hers, she stared down at the fingers that had given her so much pleasure, that had continued to touch her with nothing but gentleness. He had claimed he wanted a true marriage, one built on trust and respect. She vowed to give him that as soon as the Jarl left.
Chapter Nineteen
The day had been long and tedious. Jarl Eirik had insisted on laying his eyes on every record that Cedric and Annis had created since Grim’s death. Once he had been partially satisfied that taxes were still being collected—he’d do a more thorough audit of the records later—and the farmers, fishermen and villagers had not staged some sort of revolt, the conversation had progressed to Rurik and their marriage.
Rurik had been picked apart by the man. From his childhood with a slave mother to his dubious claim to land in Killcobar with his Uncle Feann to his plans for Glannoventa and Annis, he had spent the better part of the afternoon and evening humouring the Jarl’s questions. In the end, he felt that they had come to a sort of understanding. Rurik would not be cowed by the man, nor would he give up his claim to Annis or Glannoventa. Jarl Eirik had seemed to come to an acceptance of the new arrangement.
Tomorrow would be soon enough to tell. The plan was
