Page 51 of Claimed By the Viking

Viggo cupped her nape, stroking her hair gently. “I’m sorry for… all of this. If she hadn’t brought me here…”

Signy took a deeper breath. “You’ve naught to be sorry for. ‘Tis not your fault. She was… not in her right mind.” She didn’t want to think ill of her mother, but the look in her eyes had surpassed frustration—as if she blamed Signy for more than her thwarted hopes. As if she hated her.

“I didn’t know her intent; not at first.” Viggo brought his hands to frame Signy’s face. “When I realized, I was almost glad. You know the turn of my thoughts these past weeks, but then I saw I could never willingly leave you.”

Signy’s pulse jolted.

What was Viggo saying? That he’d changed his mind? That he no longer wanted to die?

She searched his expression.

There was something different. The creases that habituated his forehead and around his mouth had softened. His eyes had a new tenderness.

He was no longer staring blindly but meeting her gaze.

A look of wonderment was upon Viggo’s face.

“I don’t know how it happened. The wind was raging, I fell and hit my head, and the darkness lifted. Not entirely, but enough! The gods saved me so that I might act. I didn’t want to harm your mother, but I couldn’t let her…”

Signy touched his lips. She didn’t want to talk anymore about Ulva.

Whatever had happened, it wasn’t Viggo’s doing, nor hers. The swarming, leaden skies had been no more natural than the ferocity of the wind, both of which had fled as soon as their work was done.

There was no doubt in her mind that the divine had intervened, for her sake and Viggo’s—for her mother’s too, perhaps. Such things were not to be understood, only accepted.Moreover, the gods had bestowed a gift in exchange for what they’d taken.

“What do you see?” She hardly dared to hear his answer.

“Much remains in shadow, but I see you, Signy. You’re beautiful. Though I never needed my eyes to know that.” He rubbed his thumb at her temple. “I was broken, but you did all in your power to make me whole. I was too stubborn to perceive what I needed was already in my arms, but I see it now. I see all that matters. You asked for little, but you deserve so much more. You deserve?—”

She cut him off. “You keep saying that, but you know ‘tis only you I want. Let me decide what makes you worthy.”

“You see how it is.” Viggo gave a small smile. “You make no demand upon me, asking merely for what I give freely, but I say you do deserve more, and I shall be the one to give you all. I swear to bring the same peace to your heart you’ve given to mine, to nurture and cherish you. Never more shall I withhold myself. ”

The joy within her bubbled over, despite the sadness and terror they’d endured. Was it always thus—two people could not know their strength of feeling until they’d passed through a tempest, as she and Viggo had?

“I love you… as much as any man has ever loved a woman.” His eyes blazed with ardor. “I swear to prove each day how brightly my love burns.”

He claimed her mouth then, and her love swept her up. She’d lived long enough with haunting memories. There were new ones to make—with Viggo and the family they’d raise. Not only the babe she carried but other children. She knew there would be many, for they’d marry, as Bothild had sanctioned. She had faith in Viggo—to love her with his body, his heart, and all that he was for all the years granted them.

‘Twas the gods who’d sent her to him at the moment of danger, and they who’d given him his sight once more. With the gods watching over them, nothing more could come between her and Viggo. Whatever troubles lay ahead, they would face them side by side.

EPILOGUE

Signy’s motherhad come to rest at the base of the cliffs on the eastern side of the bay. A group of women, not far off, had seen her fall. They’d rushed to her, but there had never been any hope.

Viggo prayed she hadn’t suffered in those final moments.

Signy had led him down, for his vision was far from fully returned. He trusted now in the gods to aid his recovery as much as he trusted Signy’s devotion, and he would be patient.

His protestations, she’d set aside, presenting to the women of the island a story more palatable to Ulva’s memory—a tragic accident.

‘Twas a reminder to them all, Bothild said, not to wander in high places where the capriciousness of the wind was known.

All had seen the storm blow in, darkening the skies, and depart just as quickly, with not a drop of rain shed. A strange occurrence, though not unprecedented.

Perhaps some of the women did not believe all Signy professed, but their fondness for her appeared to outweigh any conflicted conscience.

A pyre of branches dragged from the hillside had been raised on the beach, each able woman, child, and man carrying whatthey were able—a labor undertaken more for Signy’s sake, to Viggo’s mind, than for her mother.

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