Page 44 of Claimed By the Viking

“No more.”

The bleakness in his eyes caused her breath to catch.

“Viggo. Please.” ‘Twas an empty pleading, for he made no reply.

At last, she understood.

He loved her, but it wasn’t enough.

Her love wasn’t enough.

CHAPTER 16

The forty-first day of the men’s sojourn on the island

Approaching Bothild’s door,Signy hesitated in knocking.

What did she plan to say?

And what comfort or advice could Bothild give?

Signy had no notion… only that she knew she must speak with someone who’d offer a patient ear. The alternative was to run mad.

She’d need to speak with her mother later, for there was still the matter of the bees to mull over. As to talking about Viggo, she doubted she’d receive much sympathy on that subject. Certainly, Ulva was the last person with whom Signy wanted to discuss her feelings.

She’d never felt more desolate.

With no choice but to go along with Viggo’s plan, she clung to the hope he’d relent at last. However, he’d slept upon the floor last night and had barely uttered a word that day. Who knew what was going through his mind? Her thoughts were so scattered, she hardly knew her own.

Finally, Signy rapped upon the door, but there was no reply from inside. Shifting the honey she carried to her other side, she pressed her good ear to the wood.

Could Bothild be sleeping? ‘Twas too early in the day for her to have entirely retired, but Signy knew how it was with the older women. Her mother oft napped at this time.

There was no sound from within, and Signy wondered if Bothild might be unwell. Signy considered simply pushing open the door, but courtesy forbade her.

Bothild was generous with her time, but she also valued her privacy.

With a sigh, Signy bent to leave the pot of honey at the threshold, and as she straightened again, she gave a start of surprise. Bothild was right behind her, pink in the cheeks and out of breath, as if she’d hurried back from somewhere.

“Goodness, Bothild! Are you alright?” Signy couldn’t help feeling alarmed.

“Me? Of course.” Bothild looked flustered, nonetheless. “I was with Elin and walked back a bit quicker than usual, that’s all. Spying you waiting here, I didn’t want you to leave.” Bothild was already entering her hut. “‘Tis a while since I’ve seen you.”

Signy felt her cheeks redden. ‘Twas true she’d neglected calling upon her of late.

“And you’re sure you’re not unwell?” Signy asked again.

“I’m as fit as one of Grethe’s goats, though less sprightly in the leg. It’s rather… Elin who’s a little poorly. I’ve left her tucked in bed.”

“Really?” Signy was taken aback. “When I saw her yesterday, she seemed in good health.”

“A slight head cold.” Bothild waved a hand dismissively. “Best to leave her be. I never catch these things, so I might attend her without worry. Tell the others, if you see them, to giveher some peace. Elin has been working too hard with all these men to keep an eye on.”

She directed Signy to sit, and took the honey from her with a wink, then bustled between the table and cauldron.

“We’ll have a spoonful of this with my special brew and a glug of mead, and you can tell me how you’ve been getting along with that man of yours.” Bothild looked astutely over the jug, whose contents she was swirling.

It was tempting to assert that all was well, but Signy knew that would be senseless. Bothild had an uncanny way of reading a person, as Frida did. In any case, it would hardly serve her to continue in the pretense, and Bothild needed to know all Signy had learnt.

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