Raging Sea by Terri Brisbin Page A

aunt’s face and the shock on Ran’s, he knew exactly what had been said.
    Aslaug.
    Aslaug’s death. And her babe. There was nothing he could say. Not then and not now.
    He noticed Ran clutching a wooden box and nodded at her.
    â€œAre those Einar’s letters?” he asked.
    She blinked several times and seemed to realize she was holding the box. Ran looked at it and then at him and nodded her head. Ingeborg released her hands and sat back on her heels.
    â€œAye. I think you should see them,” Ran said, holding out the box to him. Did she know that her hands shook? Or that she would not meet his gaze?
    â€œMy thanks,” Soren said, taking it from her. “I will return them as quickly as possible.” He understood she was giving him a precious gift, made even more so because she did not and could not trust him.
    The color that shimmered around her pulsed brighter when she did look at him. There he saw disappointment and anger and hurt, but mostly he read sorrow in her gaze. When he began to say something, she shook her head and walked past him. Soren reached out and touched her arm to make her stop.
    â€œRan, wait. I would speak with you before you go,” he said.
    She pulled free and walked out. He nodded to his aunt and followed her. Ran was almost to her horse when he caught up to her. He wanted to tell her what had happened but could not. When she stopped and turned to face him, the sorrow was ebbing away from her eyes, but the aura around her did not lessen.
    â€œWhy did you not tell me? Why did I have to learn this from your aunt?” she asked in a furious whisper. “Even Einar kept it from me.”
    â€œTell you when, Ran?” he answered, crossing his arms over his chest. “When you’d just learned of Einar’s death and were distraught over it? Or should I have come to your father’s house to tell you and risk seeing him or Erik?”
    â€œErik will never return here. He is betrothed to the daughter of one of my father’s . . .” Ran stopped then. Erik was another uncomfortable topic between them. Her brother, his best friend. All in the past.
    â€œJust so,” he said.
    Ran crossed her arms, mirroring his stance, and lifted her chin. She was about to ask an impossible question. He recognized it in the way she stood and held her head. And the way she worried her lower lip. He tried to prepare himself for anything.
    â€œDid she fall or did she . . . jump?”
    Nothing could have prepared him for that. Ran was smart. She was one for details. She’d listened the way Ingeborg must have said it and heard what had not been said. And only a very few people knew or had guessed at the truth.
    â€œShe was buried in hallowed ground, Ran,” he replied with the only words he would allow himself to utter.
    He would not lie to her again. He might not be able to tell her the truth, but he would not lie. Aslaug’s death was another mark against his soul but he would not damn hers for eternity by exposing her own sin.
    â€œI am sorry for her death. I would never have wanted that, Soren,” Ran said, her arms dropping to her sides. “I did not want that.”
    He nodded and stepped out of her way, changing their discussion to something less damaging. “I will see this is returned to you.”
    She mounted without help, as she always did, and gathered the reins in her hands. Urging the horse to turn, she paused.
    â€œOnce you read those, I have questions for you. Will you meet me at the broch the day after next?”
    Ran knew there was more to this than a man and his death. Did she see the same things Soren did? Did she bear the same mark? Was something pulsing through her blood as it did in his even now? He nodded.
    â€œAt midday?”
    â€œAt midday,” she agreed, and then she turned the horse and rode away.
    Soren should not have agreed, for it broke the bargain he had with her father. But