Page 39 of The Gathering Storm

“Sigrid Glyvynsdatter?”

Why was he surprised? They’d been seen dancing together. His truck had been parked outside her house until well past midnight last night. Gossip was bound to reach his grandmother eventually, and through her, his mother.

Anya sighed and tightened her grip on his knee. “You care for her.”

How could he deny it? “I do.”

“Will, darling.” Anya sighed again and withdrew her hand, and her expression was more one of regret than disappointment. “She’s asked for you, you know.”

Surprise huffed out of him on a short laugh. “What?”

“Sigrid approached me this afternoon and asked permission to court you. I told her the same thing I told Chana, that it was up to you.”

“You did?”

“My first instinct was to reject her.”

Panic shoved him off the couch onto his feet. “No, you can’t.”

Anya arched a single, gray eyebrow. “I can’t?”

“No, I mean, wait.”

He shook his head and paced away from her. Sigrid had actually offered for him? Why hadn’t she asked him about it first? He nearly smacked his forehead. Of course, she wouldn’t ask him. A Daughter of her age and arrogance would never consider asking a mere, mortal man such a thing, but to approach his grandmother with this, to enter into a formal courtship…

Maybe Sigrid did care for him, just a little.

He whirled around and faced Anya. “I love you.”

“Ok,” she said, her voice even and just a little curious.

“But I want you to butt out.”

“Ah. I knew there was a catch.” She shifted on the sofa, placed both feet on the floor, and folded her hands in her lap, ever the calm matriarch. “You have feelings for her.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Strong feelings?”

He didn’t even have to think it over. “Yes.”

Her head tilted to the side and her cornflower blue eyes narrowed on him. “Chana Wolfbane is an excellent match. She would bring a considerable fortune to our family, and would protect you to her dying breath. Her mother would make a powerful ally. Having a refuge in Turkey would strengthen our families ties in that region.”

“Forget it, Amma,” Will said flatly. “I’m not marrying a woman for political gain.”

“But you would for love?”

“If I had the chance.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.” She stood slowly, as graceful now as he ever remembered her being. “I can’t give you my blessings for a match with Sigrid, not at the moment. I know her too well and have no desire to see you hurt.”

Will regarded her for a long moment. “Will you stand in our way?”

“Sigrid asked me that very same question.” Anya shook her head, sending her long, nearly white braids shifting across the red peasant blouse she wore. “I won’t come between you. For now.”

Relief sighed out of Will and the tension tightening his shoulders bled away. It was more than he’d hoped for, though in all honesty, he’d never envisioned being faced with this decision, not when Sigrid was the Daughter in question. The fact that she’d thought to formally court him boggled his mind, and left him hanging somewhere between wonder and uncertainty.

Which, come to think on it, was exactly where he’d been since that first kiss.

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