She had not thought it would be possible to eat; the yearning ache in her body and a strange nervousness seemed enough to rob her of any appetite for food. But the walk had changed that. Eyvind stirred up the fire while Nessa shaped the dough she had prepared in the morning, adding a pinch or two of this and that from the depths of her pack. Once the flatcakes were cooking in the iron pan, and Eyvind had set a warm cup of herbal brew between her cold hands, she found she was able to sit quietly, enjoying the savory scent of the mushrooms and the sizzling of hot butter, and look across at him with a smile that banished any awkwardness.

“We have a little longer, this time,” she said. “A luxury, to be alone. We must make the most of it.”

Eyvind did not smile, but there was a warmth in his eyes, a steadiness that did not quite conceal the shadow of desire. “So, you intend to take me on many walks?”

“I keep my promises,” Nessa told him, lifting flatcakes onto a platter. “Visiting the beach at dawn is one of them. I want you to see the colors. And we must go to the Whaleback, later. I need to stand by the Kin Stone and tell my uncle about you; explain to him, and to the ancestors, what we will do here. I could not do that at the time of the burial rites. It is something for just the two of us.”

Eyvind bowed his head. “You honor me in this,” he said quietly.

“Yes. But you should understand, it is usual for the royal women of our people to take husbands outside the Folk. Men of Saxony and Dalriada have fathered our kings. Thus the line is kept strong, and kinsmen away from each other’s throats.”

“Your uncle would not have wished such a husband for you, surely.”

“My uncle was a man like your chieftain, Ulf, and like yourself, Eyvi. He judged people by their own worth before he considered their lineage. I must hope our sons grow to be leaders of equal wisdom.”

“Sons?”

“If the ancestors will it. A daughter first, though.” She laid a hand on her flat belly; as yet there was no sign at all.

“You will keep me very busy, then, with one pastime or another,” Eyvind said.

“With one pastime or another,” Nessa agreed gravely. They were silent a moment, and then, suddenly, both broke into laughter. He put his food down and moved across to wrap his arms around her; she laid her brow against his shoulder, still chuckling at how foolishly solemn they had become, and felt his hands on her hair, stroking, and his mouth against her temple, not laughing now.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer, my dove,” he breathed. “But if you are not ready, then—”