By Love Enslaved (28 page)

“Don’t be angry with me, because I do want to see you again. It’s imperative, in fact, but not tonight. Meet me at the edge of the woods tomorrow night, and come early enough so that we’ll have plenty of time to talk. We’ve something of great importance to discuss.”

The request struck Brendan as every bit as absurd as her reason for being late, but the red-haired beauty’s manner was so insistent she stirred his curiosity rather than the streak of defiance that was so much a part of his character. His temper now under control, he finally noticed how tired she looked and accepted her suggestion, but with an important stipulation.

“Tomorrow night it is, but no matter what you wish to talk about, we’ll make love first. Is that understood?”

Because that was the last thing Dana wanted to do, she countered with the subject she thought he would be unable to resist. “No. You will have to keep your passions under control, for we will need all our wits about us to decide how best to arrange your freedom.”

Brendan’s eyes narrowed slightly, for he thought she was merely toying with him, and that was something he could not abide. “Must I remind you again that you do not own me?”

Glancing past him, Dana saw Soren coming up the path. “I will explain tomorrow night.” Then, in a louder voice, she continued, “Your breeches are still damp. Go to Erik’s house and look for others before you grow chilled.”

Brendan heard the sound of approaching footsteps and understood her sudden change in tone, but as always, to be dismissed like a servant disgusted him clear through. He stepped out of Soren’s way and started for Erik’s, but he doubted the man would lend him any of his clothes now and thought he better just build a fire and dry the ones he wore.

Rather than follow his sister inside, Soren called out to the Celt. “You’re a better man than I thought, Brendan.”

That unexpected compliment brought a smile to his lips, and Brendan turned back to face the boy. “I think the same of you,” he replied sincerely, for what he had seen of the young man lately had impressed him very favorably.

Pleased that the Celt could see he was fast becoming a man, even if no one else did, Soren dismissed him with a wide grin and a wave and went on into the house.

When Grena was invited to stay the night, Erik quickly seized the opportunity to spend time with Berit and decided to sleep in his old house rather than make the trip through the woods to the new one. While he had not told Brendan he could stay there again, he wasn’t surprised to find him there, since the man had always been able to think for himself. He saw by the scraps remaining on the slave’s tray that, despite a trying day, Dana had not forgotten to send him a hearty meal. Her consideration for the thrall still amazed him, and as he tossed him the kirtle that had been found in the stable, he made his feelings clear.

“The next time you meet Dana, don’t leave your kirtle behind. Freya mistook it for mine, and while Dana came up with a story her mother believed, it won’t work more than once. Why Dana loves you I’ll never understand, but—”

Springing to his feet, Brendan clutched the freshly laundered garment to his chest. “She loves me? She actually said that to you?”

The unabashed joy with which Brendan had greeted that remark not only startled Erik, it made it obvious Dana had never spoken those words to him. But if she did not love him, why had she met with him secretly? More confused than ever, he stared at the well-built Celt for a long moment and then rephrased his statement. “No, she did not. It was merely something I assumed when she asked that I continue to treat you well. I’ll admit I neither understand nor approve of her behavior where you’re concerned, but she knows her own mind and I’ll not try and influence her.”

His hopes that he had won at least a tiny portion of Dana’s heart dashed, Brendan tried not to let his disappointment show, but failed. “You are her half brother, not her father, so it is not your place to tell her what to do anyway. Besides, she is the mistress while I’m but a thrall. I’m only doing her bidding.” That was a long way from the truth, but when passion overruled her reason, he knew Dana wanted him as badly as he wanted her. What did it matter who was master and who was slave then? Nothing mattered then but the intense pleasure they gave each other.

Erik was certain Brendan was lying, for he simply could not imagine Dana amusing herself at a thrall’s expense, and most especially not this thrall. She would never stoop to that. Recalling that he had been interrupted before issuing a warning, he provided it now. “What happens between you and Dana must remain a secret, for your well-being as well as hers. Don’t ever repeat your mistake and leave your clothes lying about so carelessly again. Now, it’s been too long a day to stay up and talk, no matter what the subject. I’m going to sleep. Be ready to leave at first light.”

Following their former routine, Brendan helped Erik prepare his bed and then made up his own. He had expected a fight, and a good one. That Erik hadn’t thrown a single punch, nor demanded he leave his house, left the perplexed Celt wondering how Dana had justified her request that he be well-treated. He was just as mystified by the man’s remarks about the kirtle he had loaned her, since he had thought she had sense enough to hide it.

Brendan had no sister, but he knew, if he did, he would have torn a slave apart with his bare hands rather than allow her to sleep with him. Erik, however, seemed to have accepted the news that he and Dana were lovers with surprising calm. It was plain the man wasn’t pleased about it, but he had accepted it. Strange. That was the only word that came to Brendan’s mind. Everything these Danes did was strange.

It wasn’t until much later, when he heard Erik leave the house, that he understood why he hadn’t wanted to defend his sister’s honor with his fists. Erik was undoubtedly meeting Berit, and he hadn’t wanted to be bruised and bloody when he went to her. That thought brought a wide grin to Brendan’s lips. Perhaps Dana had used the same threat he had, and had persuaded Erik to keep her secret as a condition for keeping his. With a low chuckle he rolled over to get more comfortable, but he couldn’t help but wish Dana had been as eager to see him as Berit must be to see Erik.

Chapter Fourteen

As they retired for the night, Freya took Thora into her own bed. Berit again shared Dana’s bedchamber, while as usual Grena had a room to herself. The bed was as comfortable as her own at home, but Grena slept fretfully, waking often, for she was still anxious about the fate of her twins. She knew they needed a father’s guidance, and she lay awake mentally listing the wealthy widowers and older bachelors whom she might hope to entice to her bed. Confident she was more attractive than most women her age, she hoped to remarry soon now that she had made the decision to do so. Only the lingering warmth of her husband’s memory had kept her from seeking a new mate sooner, but clearly her sons needed a father too badly for her to continue to mourn him.

Preoccupied by her plans, she rose, went into the hall, and sat down by the hearth, where the coals of the fire that had burned earlier still radiated a pleasant warmth and soft golden glow. Surely Haakon would help her, she thought with a smile. When he and his friends returned from their voyages, she would tell him of her hopes, and he would entertain his unmarried friends as often as it took for her dream to come true.

“Yes,” she purred softly. Haakon was the key. He had always liked her, and he would do this favor for her.

With the subject of marriage weighing so heavily on her mind, Grena quite naturally began to think of her daughter. Berit would pose no competition for her because the charming girl would be seeking a younger man. Still, Grena feared Berit’s remarkable prettiness might prove to be a distraction to the men she hoped to attract.

To avoid that possibility, Grena decided it was not too soon to find a husband for Berit. While she had never voiced her dreams aloud, she had always hoped her nephew Svien might have strong feelings for her daughter. As Haakon’s son, he would inherit not only a large and prosperous farm, but substantial wealth as well. Yes, she mused boldly, a marriage between Svien and Berit was the best of all possible matches, and she would endeavor to win Freya’s support for that plan before Haakon and Svien returned home.

That matter settled in her mind, Grena rose and stretched with a lazy satisfaction. A conscientious mother, before returning to bed she stopped by Svien’s sleeping chamber to check on Olaf and Hrolf. The boys were sleeping soundly, their dreams, unlike hers, undisturbed by the perils of the day. Then, on an impulse, Grena looked in on her daughter. An oil lamp burned dimly in the corner, but even in the semidarkness she could easily discern that Dana was alone in her wide bed.

Grena pulled the door closed and waited for a long moment beside it. Could Berit have gone to the privy? While that was unlikely, she waited a while longer for her daughter to return to bed, and when she did not the obvious struck Grena with the force of a staggering blow. “No!” she whispered hoarsely. “No, it can’t be!”

Berit’s thoughts were still so childish when it came to men. Grena feared that despite her teachings a handsome appearance meant more to her daughter than the far more important consideration of wealth. Only that evening at supper she had noticed how often Erik had caught her daughter’s eye. While she had never liked him, Grena could not deny that he had the dashing good looks that could easily melt a foolish young girl’s heart.

Recalling that he had called at her farm twice recently, she grew increasingly suspicious and began to wonder if Berit hadn’t spent some or all of the time she had gone riding lately with Erik rather than with Dana. Since Dana and the young man were so close, the possibility seemed a likely one.

“How could I have been so blind?” Grena moaned.

Bent on finding her daughter and ripping her from Erik’s arms, if that was indeed where she was, Grena tore open the door and rushed outside. Before she could summon the breath to scream, the horrified woman slammed right into the amorous couple as they returned to the house, and it was only Erik’s quick action in restoring her balance that kept them all from landing in the dirt.

When her worst fears were confirmed by Berit’s kiss-swollen lips and wrinkled gown, Grena took her daughter’s hand and yanked her from her lover’s arms. Furious as much with her own stupidity in allowing such a thing to happen as with Erik, she began to rebuke him in a hysterical shriek. “My daughter is a silly child who’ll not go unpunished for this, but when Jørn returns he’ll kill you. Do you hear me? I’ll see you dead for this. You had no right to touch my daughter. No right at all, and you’ll die for it.”

“But, Mother, I love him,” Berit began to wail, and when Grena attempted to pull her back inside, she reached out for Erik, desperately wanting to stay with him.

“Grena, please, this is not the tragedy you’re making of it,” Erik calmly beseeched the hysterical woman. He took her daughter’s hand and stepped close to her side before continuing. “I want to marry Berit. She means everything to me.”

“You’re nothing but the bastard son of a slave,” Grena replied venomously. “You’re no fit husband for any woman, least of all my daughter.”

Awakened by the sound of angry voices, Freya came rushing to the door. The cause of the heated argument was immediately obvious to her, but despite her shock, she refused to allow her sister to create a scene that would awaken every last person on the farm.

“Come inside at once,” she ordered firmly, and when Grena did not immediately obey, she tried another approach. “If it is truly Berit’s reputation that concerns you, then this matter must be discussed in private.”

Grena shook her head, fearing there was nothing left of her daughter’s reputation to salvage. “Did you know Berit was the one Erik planned to marry? Did you know?”

“No, I didn’t,” Freya assured her, and with a calm born of years of experience in managing a large farm, she continued to encourage her sister to come with her to the hall, and finally succeeded in getting her there. She had hoped that, once seated, they could talk in a more reasonable manner, but that proved impossible when Grena continued to bemoan the terrible tragedy that had befallen her family.

“Yesterday my twins nearly drowned, and today I learn my daughter is ruined. Don’t you understand what has happened? You have shown Haakon’s bastard a true mother’s love, and this is how he repays you. He has seduced your niece in your own home.”

Dana came into the hall then, Grena’s piercing shrieks having finally penetrated the depth of her slumber. She hung back, listening to her aunt sob and wail as her mother tried in vain to silence her bitter complaints. Berit was wrapped in Erik’s embrace and weeping as pathetically as her mother. Dana easily guessed what had happened. When Erik shot her a pleading glance, she came forward and stood by his side.

“Grena,” Dana began with a soothing sweetness. “There’s no need for you to carry on so. Berit and Erik love each other deeply, and will be very happy together.”

“You knew about this?” Freya asked in dismay.

“I know they’re in love,” Dana replied, refusing to admit more.

“Love?” Grena cried. “How can you speak of love? If Erik loved Berit, he would never have touched her. He would have realized she was raised to be the bride of a man who would make her proud, and not for the likes of a slave’s son.”

Erik straightened his shoulders proudly, but he knew Berit had never thought of him in such humiliating terms, even if her mother always had. “I am my father’s son as well,” he pointed out shrewdly, although he knew Haakon would never help him win Berit for his wife. Displaying his usual confidence, he made a solemn demand. “Name what you want for Berit’s bride-price, and you shall have it.”