Warrior's Last Gift by Melissa Mayhue Page B

steel her heart. She no longer had any need for secrets.
    “Before,” she answered, meeting Eric’s gaze. “It was the reason he offered himself in marriage. To give our son a name. To give our son a father who wanted him.”
    “And the two of you kept this from me.”
    Jeanne shrugged, sighing deeply. “Eymer counseled for yer being told the truth, but I would not agree to it.”
    “Why?” A suspicious shine filled Eric’s eyes and he dipped his head, blinking rapidly. “Why would you withhold knowledge of my own son from me?”
    “If you had wanted me and a family, you would have said so when I asked ye that we wed. You said no. I’d never hold a child over yer head to force you into what you did not want. My mother did that, and my father resented her till his dying day. He resented me, too. I’d no have a child of mine spend his days believing himself to be the cause of his parents’ misery.”
    Again he met her gaze. “And you feared I would turn into yer father.”
    Jeanne nodded her agreement.
    He scrubbed his free hand over his face and stared out over the water. “So this is the debt you feel you owe Eymer. To repay him for his being willing to raise our son as his own.”
    “Yes,” she whispered, turning toward the water with the little craft clutched to her breast. “Because he willingly offered up his freedom to raise my child. Because he was unendingly kind and courteous toward me. Because this was the only thing he ever asked of me in return.”
    “Here.” Eric handed over the bundle of weeds, taking the boat with his other hand. “Use that to set fire to the ship’s sail. I’ll place him into the water for his journey.”
    She lowered the weeds to the flames. They crackled as they caught fire and she touched them to the sail. Flames licked up the fabric while Eric bent to set the little craft on its way.
    In a loud, clear voice, Jeanne said, “May the mighty Thor grant you strength and courage. May he guide you on yer way. And may he open the doors to Valhalla to welcome you inside.”
    “Godspeed, Eymer Horvesson,” Eric called from her side as the little craft wobbled away from the shore.
    In the distance, thunder echoed, sending a shiver down Jeanne’s neck. The last thing they needed on this cold night would be rain.
    Dusk surrounded them as the sun seemed to float in the water on the distant horizon, casting a path of gold across the breaking waves. Together they waited, watching the fiery little vessel pitching bravely away from the shoreline, straight down the golden path as if it were being steered in that direction.
    “Do you suppose his Viking gods listened to our pleas?” Eric asked.
    “Eymer claimed that Thor would always come to yer aid if yer prayer was sincere.” She hoped he was right. No one deserved to be where they wanted in the afterlife more than Eymer.
    They continued to watch as the sun sank below the horizon, watched until the tiny, fiery dot disappeared into the dark.
    “Yer repair certainly did the job. I never thought that wee boat would sail on so long.” Even before the accident, she’d feared it would sink right away.
    “Nor did I. Come on.” Eric captured her hand and pulled her from the water’s edge. “We’ll camp just beyond the rocks, where the grasses have taken root. We should be safe enough there.”
    Safe from the tide, perhaps, but the barren landscape gave no protection at all from the icy winds sweeping in from the sea.
    Again they worked through building a small fire, aided only by the light of the rising moon.
    When their task was finished, Jeanne sat beside the fire and wrapped her blanket around her shoulders. Eric dropped down close beside her, spreading his blanket and fur around both of them.
    She snuggled gratefully under his arm, feeling as if she could easily believe herself to have been transported back to a time and place before her life had taken such a drastic turn. Back to a time and place where she still believed