By Love Enslaved (45 page)

One glance convinced Brendan that Haakon could easily outfit a small army, and thoroughly disgusted, he turned and walked away. Before he had gone ten paces, Dana overtook him.

“We’ve far finer swords than the ones you and Erik have been using for practice. Don’t you want to choose one?” she asked.

“Your father’s interest is in commerce—is that what you still expect me to believe when it’s plain a man who collects so many weapons must use them!”

Dana had not expected Brendan to get down on his knees to thank her for winning his freedom for him when she had merely kept her promise, but she had expected him to at least be civil. “I doubt my father has more weapons than any other wealthy Dane. Our men enjoy battle and take great pride in their prowess as warriors. I’ll not deny that, but I’ve already given you my word your people will not be harmed for helping mine. What more assurance do you need?”

Brendan stared down at her, captivated anew by her violet glance, but her exotic beauty no longer clouded his thinking as completely as it once had. She was a woman, not a goddess, and she was mortal like any other. “If your promises prove to be clever lies, Dana, I’ll make you pay for them with your life. This is the only warning I’ll give, so if you had planned to trick me, you’d be wise to remain here with your mother.”

“You arrogant swine!” Dana screamed, her temper igniting instantly and flaring out of control. “You have made this the worst summer of my life, and I can’t wait for the day when I finally bid you good-bye. You’ll be on your own soil, surrounded by your own selfish kind, and if any are lost rescuing my father and brother it will be due to their own stupidity! Don’t bother to take a sword if you don’t want one, but I’ll always have one at my side, and I’ll welcome the chance to use it on you!”

Dana turned and walked back to the storehouse, her glorious red hair streaming out around her shoulders like golden wings. Brendan debated with himself. Then, knowing he would need a fine sword to kill Trom, he followed her. He relished the thought of again standing on his own soil and being surrounded by his own kind, but he had no intention of ever telling Dana good-bye.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Erik waved until Berit was no longer in sight. She had wept openly as they had said good-bye, but he was too excited about the journey to be affected more than momentarily by her tears. Soren’s decision to stay behind had amazed him, but he knew the boy’s presence would be a comfort to both Freya and Thora. That Soren had been so eager to look after the falcons had convinced him his beautiful birds would have the best of care in his absence.

Grena hadn’t even glanced his way as the
Seahawk
had prepared to depart, and Erik had not been surprised. The woman was still fuming over the way he had spoken to her son. Remembering Jørn’s panic-filled gaze, Erik began to laugh, and those around him turned to stare.

“I think you’re lucky Berit can’t hear you,” Brendan said. “It would break her heart to know you’re in such high spirits when she’s miserable.”

“I was just thinking about Jørn. I didn’t realize the prospect of having to fight me would terrify him, but clearly it did.”

Because Erik looked so pleased to have aroused his cousin’s fears, Brendan chuckled along with him. “I’ll be sorry to miss that fight, but I doubt it will ever take place.”

“Not if Jørn has no more courage than he displayed today.”

“Is Svien anything like Jørn?” Brendan inquired in a more serious tone, as usual seizing every opportunity to gather information he could later use to his own advantage.

“The three of us grew up together, and have many things in common, but no, Svien is nothing like Jørn. He’s more like Dana than anyone.”

Brendan winced at that thought, for a man with her temperament would surely be not only bold but tough as well. “I’ll look forward to meeting him then.”

The wind was brisk, so the warship’s sixteen pairs of oars were stored in their frames at the rail. Relaxing in the sun, the crew were seated on their sea chests, while the carved chests upon which Erik and Brendan sat were filled with silver. Two other chests containing the remainder of the ransom had been placed across from them, so the weight of the coins was evenly distributed in the center of the ship, where it could be most easily borne.

Dana would have preferred to be near Erik, but when Brendan stayed close to him, she chose to take a place in the stern instead. She had had enough of the Celt’s ridiculous suspicions for one day. He always saw the worst and was quick to accuse her of a seemingly endless list of imagined crimes. Perhaps when he returned to his own people he would find it easier to see the truth, but she feared his distrust ran too deep. At least she would have the opportunity to see something of his homeland, maybe even meet some of his people. If they were all as suspicious of Danes as Brendan, it would confirm her opinion that they could never have found happiness together, but the sadness of the thought weighed heavily on her heart.

The day was a fine one to begin a voyage, and that it had an exceedingly dangerous purpose only made it all the more worthwhile in Jarald’s view. Even in garments borrowed from Soren, Dana was still the most fascinating of women, and he gave another man the tiller so he could concentrate his full attention on her. They would find a safe harbor each night and sleep in tents, and as he watched the wind whip through her fiery curls and impart a rosy blush to her cheeks, he tried to devise some compelling way to convince her to share his tent.

On several occasions recently, Dana had mistakenly believed she had misjudged Jarald. Now she knew her first impression of him as a conceited braggart had been extremely complimentary. She thought him capable of the worst sort of treachery, but she doubted he would stoop to any underhanded tricks while they were on board his ship.

Because she did not want him to suspect she knew about him and Grena, Dana tried to treat Jarald as politely as she always had, but it was difficult. At least his size was an asset, for she could lean back against his broad chest and escape the constant buffeting of the wind. The warmth of the sun was so soothing, Dana was soon dozing lightly in the comfort of Jarald’s arms, never suspecting where such carelessness would lead.

Perplexed, Brendan wondered if Dana was trying to make him jealous again, and he swiftly decided that she must be. What other explanation could there be for her to plot Jarald’s demise with him that morning and now sleep in the villain’s arms that afternoon? She was either trying to drive him mad with desire or she was attempting to lull Jarald into a complacency that would make him easier to kill. Because neither alternative held a shred of honor, he tried to look only at the way the
Seahawk’s
gracefully carved prow sliced through the water, rather than at Dana’s antics in the ship’s stern.

Erik noted Brendan’s frequent glances in his half sister’s direction, as well as Dana’s pose. “You once accused me of meekly accepting my situation,” he leaned close to confide. “I could now say the same of you. You have your freedom. Why don’t you challenge Jarald for Dana? Are you afraid you’d lose?”

Brendan eyed Erik with a darkly determined glance, “No, but I’ll choose a far better time and place to face him than this.”

Erik nodded, content to let the matter drop for the moment, but he was not averse to turning his own sword on Brendan if the man didn’t adopt a more respectful attitude where his sister was concerned, and soon. That the Celt had far more skill with the deadly weapon didn’t disturb him. He didn’t want to kill the man, only to give him a good fight in order to settle the matter before Haakon took it upon himself to do so.

That night the voyagers camped in a secluded inlet on the western side of the Jutland peninsula where neither their presence nor their precious cargo would be discovered. Despite Jarald’s gregarious manner, he was strict with his crew, and they responded as a well-disciplined unit to each of his commands. After a hearty supper, the men chosen to serve the first watch took up their positions near the ship, while the rest set up the tents and went to sleep.

Alone in the small tent placed beside the one Erik, Brendan, and several other men occupied, Dana found it impossible to rest. She had too much on her mind, and without the gentle roll of the ship and the relaxing warmth of the sunshine, sleep eluded her. Distressed by her cramped quarters, she first listened for any sound that would reveal that some of the men were still awake, and hearing none, she felt safe in venturing out despite being clad only in a linen shift.

Keeping to the shadows, she skirted the
Seahawk’s
guards, then continued along the water until she came to a spot where she could rest comfortably. Content to watch the stars’ sparkle on the water until she could no longer remain awake, she was lost in warm memories of her father and brother until her solitude was broken by a man swimming toward shore. She rose, prepared to return to the safety of her tent at a run, but curiosity made her hesitate. Was it merely one of Jarald’s crew, or was it someone else? Uncertain, she waited until he drew close enough to be recognized.

Equally preoccupied, Brendan had also found it impossible to sleep that night. He had walked in the opposite direction from Dana, then had gone for a swim, remaining close to shore as he had moved back toward the ship. He had chosen a spot well past the
Seahawk
to leave the water so as not to alarm the sentries, but he had never expected to find Dana waiting on the shore.

That Dana had once dreamed of just such a moonlight encounter filled her with wonder. She already knew exactly how magnificent Brendan’s muscular form would look as he walked toward her, and she was not disappointed. His body glistened with the stars’ enchanting glow, the heavenly light sculpting each plane and curve to godlike perfection. While it had been his handsome appearance that she had first noted, it would be his stubborn refusal to love her that she would never forget. A single tear escaped her lashes and rolled down her cheek as he reached her. She did not touch him, for she was certain that, just as in her dream, his skin would be as cold as his glance.

Brendan’s first impulse was to issue a vicious taunt about Jarald, but Dana’s sorrow-filled gaze forced that thought from his mind. Instead, he reached out to encircle her waist and pulled her close. He pressed her cheek to the damp hollow of his shoulder and simply held her for a long moment, thinking, as he always had, that words simply got in the way when they were together.

Dana was surprised, and quite pleasantly so, by how swiftly Brendan’s warmth dispelled the chill of the seawater that dripped from his curls. He had been swimming nude, and her thin shift provided little in the way of a barrier between them. She could feel the slow, steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips, and found it not only soothing, but also wonderfully romantic.

They had had the most tempestuous of affairs, and yet she did not want it to ever end. She reached up to nuzzle his throat with playful kisses, and almost immediately he gave her shift a tug, then drew it off over her head. He flung it on the sand, then carefully lowered her to the discarded garment. It was not as soft as the bed of grass they had enjoyed in the forest, but she shared his eagerness to again make love and felt no discomfort.

Not one to waste such a splendid, if completely unexpected, opportunity, Brendan wound his fingers in Dana’s curls to hold her still but he soon realized by the intensity of her kiss that she had no wish to escape him. He relaxed then, cradling her more gently in his arms, and his demanding kisses became openly adoring.

Dana felt the change in Brendan, and welcomed it. She did not want to make love with fevered haste that night either. Instead, she longed to explore the limits of the love neither had ever admitted. The droplets of seawater clinging to Brendan soon made her skin as slippery as his. The light film of moisture heightened her awareness of his masculine strength, making the pleasure of being in his arms all the more intense.

She licked a salty drop from his earlobe, and he responded by rolling over to bring her up on top of him. His lips were warm, inviting, and his kiss so delicious she would have been content had there been no more to making love than that luscious exchange.

Brendan could recall each time they had been together, and Dana’s mood had never been so delightfully relaxed as it was this night. That was his fault, he knew, and he still cursed the pride that had kept him from meeting her the night of Jarald’s arrival. He still mourned the lost chance to be with her just as he would the death of a dear friend, for the opportunities he had not wasted had been all too few. He knew love should not be what they had made of it, not so painfully hurried when it deserved to be savored at leisure, and he vowed to make this night an especially memorable one.

He could not even imagine bedding another woman now, when his mind and heart were too full of Dana to ever forget her. His choice was made for him. Either with her consent or without it, he was determined to keep her for his own. That he would have to kill the most despicable of pirates to free her father and brother before he spoke of his dreams seemed only a minor hindrance to his goal. For the moment he longed simply to enjoy Dana’s affection and bestow all that he could of his own.

Dana’s fingers combed through the damp curls covering Brendan’s chest, then traced their path as they narrowed over the smooth flatness of his belly. “You’re a very handsome man,” she purred softly, “very, very handsome.”

“I didn’t think you had noticed.”