By Love Enslaved (10 page)

“Sky Dancer too?” Brendan asked as he swaggered along behind him.

“Of course!” Erik shouted over his shoulder. “Just don’t ride him again, ever.”

Brendan knew Erik was too angry to strike any bargains now, but the thrall thought that after a day to consider how best to better his situation, he would have a most intriguing deal to offer by nightfall.

Had Brendan scanned the hall before leaving, he would have seen Dana peering around from behind a loom, her mouth again agape with wonder at the absurdity of his behavior. What idiotic scheme was the man up to now? she asked herself as she rose and went to join her mother. Had he given up on seducing her in favor of ingratiating himself with Freya? Had the man no sense of honor at all?

Freya picked up the scrap of leather to continue sewing, then had to lay the half-finished hood aside and wipe her palms on her tunic to remove the last traces of moisture from Brendan’s fevered kisses. “I don’t understand why Soren has taken such a dislike to that man. He seems agreeable enough to me. More than agreeable really, if we disregard his reluctance to confide anything about his past.”

“I thought you would like him once you met him,” Thora exclaimed happily.

“Let’s not form our opinions until after we have seen a sample of his work,” Dana offered wisely as she slid into the place at her mother’s side. “He may only be trying to fool us into thinking he’s a willing worker when all the while he may try and sleep away his days in the hay.”

“He is not built like a man who shirks his share of the work,” Freya mused thoughtfully. “I doubt he will prove to be lazy.”

Dana doubted that too, although she suspected Brendan would be likely to devote himself to plotting ridiculous schemes calculated to embarrass them all rather than to doing any useful work. Soren had left early that morning, and she suddenly found remaining in the house as impossible as he had.

“I think I’ll go for a ride. Do you want to come with me, Thora?”

“Shouldn’t we wait until Brendan has had time to eat so he can saddle the horses for us?” the little girl inquired as she joined her mother and sister on the long bench.

Dana had forgotten that Erik planned to assign the stable boys work to do elsewhere. “Of course, we’ll wait a while longer.” She sank back into the cushions, disgusted she would have to rely upon the very man she wanted to avoid to provide the mount she required.

After Brendan had eaten a breakfast Erik considered sufficient for three men, he had him saddle Sleipner and his horse, Shadow, and leading the black gelding, he started out for Grena’s. He enjoyed riding the spirited bay for a change, but the lively animal demanded his full attention and he had no chance to think of anything witty or charming to say to Berit before he arrived at her home.

Erik turned over Jørn’s horse to the stable boys, but then remained by the low structure to tighten his gelding’s cinch in preparation for the trip back home. That provided him with the opportunity to surreptitiously observe the yard and gardens, but there was no sign of Berit anywhere about, and he had to face the unfortunate fact she would have no way of knowing he was there if he did not announce himself.

While he was not truly worried Grena would set dogs on him, he was certain she would not make him feel welcome. He felt he owed Berit an apology, though, and wanting to speak with her more than he wanted to avoid Grena’s indifference, he led his horse over to her house. Ulla, an elderly servant, soon answered his knock, but he declined her invitation to enter and instead asked her to convey the message to Grena that he had returned Jørn’s stallion from Freya’s.

When the old woman had closed the door, Erik wondered if Berit would even care that he was there. Fearing that she wouldn’t, he felt increasingly foolish waiting around in hopes she would appear. When the wait grew uncomfortably long, he finally gave up the effort as useless. He turned away, but just as he raised his foot to the stirrup, the door opened again.

Berit looked out, but she didn’t smile when she saw Erik about to mount his horse. “Thank you for returning Sleipner. I never ride him, but I’m sure our mares would soon miss him.”

Despite the teasing nature of her comment, there was a wariness in her glance that he had not seen before, and Erik, knowing he was to blame, felt a sharp stab of guilt. Rather than swing himself up into the saddle, he took a step toward the house. He had come to apologize, and now that he had the chance, he blurted it out.

“You have always been as dear as a sister to me, Berit. I’m sorry if what I said to you yesterday seemed needlessly cruel. I didn’t mean it to be.”

Sufficiently intrigued to risk speaking with him again, Berit stepped out the door and pulled it closed behind her. “Brendan means nothing to me. How could you have even imagined that he did?”

His accusation had been motivated by a searing flash of jealousy, not reason, but Erik couldn’t admit that. “He’s a handsome man,” he pointed out instead.

“We had so much trouble with him I really didn’t notice.” Berit moved another step closer to her violet-eyed visitor. Wayward strands of his shiny, dark brown hair dipped down low over his right brow, and she longed to reach up and push them back into place but restrained that impulse as doubtlessly unwanted. He had forced her to realize they were no longer children who could touch without causing comment, and that was a loss that saddened her.

“You may have been like a brother to me once,” she began softly, “but not anymore.”

Berit was regarding him with a level gaze, her manner sincere rather than flirtatious, and Erik realized he was dangerously close to getting himself in trouble again. He noted the wisps of honey-blonde hair that framed her face and provided a delicate accent to the sparkling blue of her eyes. Her nose had a slight upward tilt that fit the vivaciousness of her personality perfectly. Her lower lip had an inviting fullness that promised her kisses would be delicious, but forbidding himself to dwell on such a tantalizing sight, he lowered his glance only to find that the pert upward thrust of her breasts showed clearly through her lightweight wool tunic. There seemed to be no place he could focus his gaze without becoming far too aware of the abundance of her charms, and he feared he was becoming so distracted that their conversation would go no better than it had the previous day.

“Berit,” he begged hoarsely. “Don’t do this to me.”

“Do what?” the pretty blonde inquired innocently. “Ask you to think of me as a woman instead of a sister?”

“Yes.” Erik took a step backward, but when Berit took another step forward he bumped into Shadow and had to stand his ground. “Brother and sister is all we can ever be.” Yet the thoughts that filled his mind as he looked at her were anything but chaste. He wanted to reach out and gather her into his arms, to cover the silken smoothness of her pale golden skin with more kisses than she could count. Not to do so took all the self-control he possessed.

While Berit assumed Erik had meant his words to sound convincing, he had failed to sway her. A delighted smile lit her face with happiness and she shook her head emphatically. “You are no brother to me, and I don’t believe that’s what you truly want either. I seldom ride, but if you’ll tell me where it is you’ll be taking your falcons tomorrow, I’ll meet you there.”

Unable to think clearly with her standing so close and the subtle fragrance of her perfume clouding his mind, Erik tore his eyes away from hers. Her request was a bold one, but he couldn’t deny it was enormously appealing. He couldn’t bring himself to scold her again for putting her desires into words simply because he dared not do the same. She was only sixteen, but he was twenty-two, and concentrating on that fact, he forced himself to act like a man who was totally in control of his emotions even though that was a long way from the truth.

“The falcons will be molting soon and won’t be training, so what you suggest is doubly impossible.”

When Berit frowned slightly, Erik knew she was about to argue and he refused to provide her that chance. Giving in to the love he had always felt for her, if only for a second, he bent down to place a feather-soft kiss on her lips, then he abruptly turned away. In an instant he was seated astride his sleek black horse, and from that lofty perch he could speak with far more confidence than he felt. “I’ve asked you not to tease me before, Berit. Please don’t do it again. We can’t meet tomorrow or any other morning. The risk is simply too great.”

Berit reached out to grab Shadow’s bridle before Erik could turn away. “What risk? I’d never tell.”

“The risk is that we would fall in love, but be forbidden to marry. I could never bear that pain, and I won’t inflict it on you. Now good day.”

Erik wrenched his mount free of her grasp and urged him into a brisk canter that swiftly carried him across the yard and out onto the path that led home. He didn’t look back, but Berit remained where she stood until he was no longer in sight.

The disheartened blonde let out a mournful sigh as she turned around, but when she found her mother standing in the doorway observing her with a darkly menacing scowl, she did her best to display her most dazzling smile. She was certain Grena couldn’t have seen Erik kiss her, so she didn’t understand why she looked so troubled.

“Just what did you and Erik have to discuss for so long?” Grena asked without responding to her daughter’s friendly smile.

“We were talking about horses.” Why that subject had come to her mind she didn’t know, but it had sounded plausible enough to her, so she elaborated on it. “He thought we might want to breed Sleipner to some of their mares, but I told him that’s something for Jørn and Haakon to decide.”

“Why would Erik be talking to you about such things?” Grena asked suspiciously.

“Well, I suppose the thought occurred to him when they had Sleipner at their farm last night. Sky Dancer is a better stallion than Sleipner, though, isn’t he?” Berit was sorry now she had not said they were talking about falcons, since she knew her mother had little interest in the elegant birds of prey.

“Yes, he is a splendid animal, while Sleipner seldom lives up to Jørn’s boasts. Is that all Erik said to you?”

“He wished me a good day. Did you want to speak with him? I wish you had said so. I would have told him to wait a moment.”

“No, I’ve nothing to say to Erik.” Grena’s frown had failed to lift, however. “See that you don’t either, as it will only encourage him and we don’t want that.”

Berit wanted to argue that she would never want any man’s attentions more, but knowing that declaration would only serve to make her mother even more suspicious than she appeared to be already, she shrugged as though Erik meant nothing at all to her. “I seldom see him anymore, Mother, and he treats me as though I were still a child, so you needn’t worry about him.”

Grena continued to regard her lovely daughter with a thoughtful stare. Erik was quite handsome, and with all the wealthy traders gone, Berit would have no young men calling on her until the fall. “I intend a fine marriage for you, Berit, and your reputation must be above reproach. You are not to speak with Erik again unless Freya sends him here with a message.”

“Yes, Mother,” Berit replied, but she had no intention of honoring that promise. She had never enjoyed riding as much as Dana did, but she decided instantly that was an interest she ought to cultivate since it would provide an excuse to visit Freya’s farm often, and with luck she would see Erik every time she was there. Surely, in time he would want to meet with her alone. That possibility was so exciting she couldn’t look her mother in the eye as she stepped by her. Fortunately, Grena was so preoccupied she didn’t notice Berit’s delighted smile.

When Dana called his name, Brendan was so startled he nearly drove the tines of the pitchfork he was using through the toe of his boot. He wheeled around and found her standing at the stable door. She was silhouetted by the morning sun so he could make out nothing but her shapely form. That she had come looking for him pleased him enormously, until she spoke.

“Thora and I are going riding, and we need you to saddle our mounts. You know which horse is mine, and the sorrel pony in the next stall is hers.”

As the redhead turned to go, Brendan stilled his anger long enough to call out to her, “Wait!”

Dana paused, still holding the front of her tunic as she prepared to take another step. “Is there something you don’t understand?” Having come to the regrettable conclusion she would have to deal with Brendan on a daily basis, Dana had decided she would speak with him only when she had a specific task for him to perform. Otherwise she would pretend he did not exist.

After leaning the pitchfork against the wall so he would not be tempted to spear her with it, Brendan walked to the end of the stable. While he worked, he had again been telling himself that Dana was a pagan beauty with the blackest of hearts, but once he could see her delicate features clearly his resolve to despise her wavered dangerously. He could think of only one thing when he looked at her: how glorious it would be to feel her naked body pressed close to his.

“Do you ride without an escort?” he asked incredulously.

“Neither of us is in any danger of being thrown,” Dana assured him.

The sunlight had again given her glossy red hair a halo’s bright gleam, and dazzled by that splendor, Brendan had to take a moment to explain his concern. “I’ve seen you ride, so it’s not your skill which I’m questioning, but the wisdom of riding alone. Are there never any travelers on the roads, strangers who might wish you harm?”