Fires of Winter (28 page)

“I saw none of that, only the concern in her eyes for you. And how do you greet her? With naught but anger. You have much to learn of women, son. ’Tis no wonder she ran away from you.”

Garrick stiffened at his father’s words. “You act as if you care more for the girl than you do me. Is this so?”

“Nay, but I understand her better than you.”

“I have no doubt of that, for I understand her not at all.”

Anselm chuckled. “I will help you find her.”

“Nay, this I will do myself,” Garrick replied adamantly.

“She needs a lesson taught that she will not soon forget.”

“Garrick!”

“Do not interfere, father. You washed your hands of Brenna when you gave her to me.”

Anselm sighed, staring after Garrick’s retreating back. He had been amused this morn when Garrick had taken exception to Bayard’s jesting remark about Brenna, saying she had changed too quickly from a wildcat to a purring kitten and that it could only be a ruse. ’Twas obvious Garrick did not like that possibility, even though it was said in jest.

Garrick’s reaction gave Anselm reason to think Garrick really did care for the girl. Only yesterday he had said to all that he would not share her. Now this. Ah, would the two young people forever be at odds with each other?

B
renna stirred her small fire and added more sticks before she lay down for a few hours’ sleep. She was pleasantly sated after sharing a plump, roasted hare with Dog. Willow was covered and settled for the night, and Dog lay at her feet on a pallet of old furs.

She had encountered no difficulties thus far. Game was plentiful in the wooded areas, and she had found a few flowing springs where she could replenish her water supply. The only discomfort she suffered was the icy north wind that whisked through her camp. Even next to the fire she could not get thoroughly warm. At least no snow had fallen to add to that still on the ground from the last storm. Here in the forest, there were many areas free of snow like the place where she was camped.

Four days had passed since she left Garrick. After three days of riding, she had come upon another fjord which blocked her way. So she was forced to turn east after all, but she didn’t think it would matter now. She had covered Willow’s tracks for two days. Garrick would never find her.

Another two days’ distance should be enough. Then Brenna would look for a comparatively sheltered area—dense woods perhaps, or a deep glen. There she would build a hut where she could wait out the winter.

It all seems so easy, Brenna thought, as sleep drew near. She should have left Garrick months sooner.

Garrick came upon the camp in the middle of night, but he was too exhausted to feel anything but mild satisfaction that his search was over. His stallion was near collapse, for Garrick had rested only twice since starting out, and had wasted a day searching through the eastern hills.

He had expected to find Brenna near death; starving and frozen. He was relieved to find her well enough, but that she glowed with contentment while she slept did not sit well with him.

Garrick dismounted and secured his horse beside the gray mare, then moved over to the fire. He lay down beside Brenna without waking her. Tomorrow would be soon enough to have it out with her. He slept.

Brenna stirred when the weight on her chest hampered her movements. As consciousness came she realized that the heavy weight she felt was not a dream, and her eyes flew open to see an arm slung across her chest, pinning her to the ground.

She fought the urge to cry out and slowly, fearfully, turned to see the rest of the long body beside her. She nearly screamed with exasperation. This was too much, too much to bear!

“You!” she stormed, throwing his arm off her and scrambling to her feet.

Garrick woke in surprise, and reached instinctively for the hilt of his sword. Upon taking in his surroundings he relaxed, then frowned when his eyes fell on Brenna, standing with legs astride, hands on her hips, her dark eyes smoldering with rage and fury.

“So you are awake?”

“How did you find me?” she demanded, her body nearly shaking with outrage. “How?”

He ignored her for a moment as he threw off his heavy cloak and dusted his clothing. Then he did not answer her question, but said contemptuously, “You have effectively confirmed my opinion of the female sex. There is not one of you who can be trusted.”

“You form judgments too soon. I did not say I would stay with you. If I had, I would not have run away. Now how did you find me?”

“You forget that I am a hunter, Brenna,” he said in a surprisingly even-tempered voice. “I am good at what I do. Neither beast,” he paused, his eyes darkening, “nor runaway slave can escape me.”

“But I covered my trail! You should be south of here. What brought you north?”

“I admit I lost a day riding towards the mountains, but with no sign of you there, I turned around.” He shot a murderous glance at Dog, who hung his head guiltily. “Since I could not find that traitorous mongrel anywhere, I knew he had gone with you. You covered the mare’s trail well enough, but you forgot about the dog.”

It was too late to cry over her mistake. Brenna could see that Garrick was furious with Dog, however, and she did not want the animal to suffer because of her.

“Do not blame him for coming with me. I coaxed him to come,” she lied, “so you could not use him to find me.”

Garrick laughed shortly. “Yet ’twas Dog who led me to you after all.”

She faced him squarely, her bearing defiant. “And now, Viking?”

“Now I will take you home.”

“To be punished?”

“You were warned what would happen if you chose this course. Did you think that because you warmed my bed on occasion, I would be lenient with you?”

She felt that painful lump in her throat again. “Nay, I did not expect that of you,” she said softly, her lower lip nearly trembling. “I thought you would not find me. Are all your neighbors out searching too?”

“I came alone,” he replied in a gentler tone, almost a whisper.

“Well, I will not return to face your punishment, Viking,” she replied, her voice deceptively quiet.

He shrugged and picked up his cloak, ready to leave. “You have little choice.”

“You are wrong.”

The words came out slowly, for it made her heart ache to say them, but he left her with no other course. She threw off the heavy fur cape that had concealed her weapons and placed her hand on the hilt of her sword.

“I have a choice, Garrick.”

He looked at her in genuine surprise, his eyes covering her body from head to foot, coming at last to rest on the weapons. “Where did you get those?”

“I stole them.”

“Who aided you?”

“No one,” she lied. “I took Erin’s keys to the storehouse when he slept, then returned them afterward.”

“And those clothes, they are yours? But of course they are,” he sneered. “They fit so well. Not a seductive gown, but tempting just the same.”

“Stop it!” she cried, seeing desire mix with the anger in his eyes.

“So you wish to play the man’s role again, Brenna,” he speculated, amusement in his voice. “You want to fight for your freedom?”

“Leave me, and we need not fight.”

“Nay,” he grinned, and drew his sword. “The challenge is met.”

Brenna groaned and brought her sword to hand as Garrick came at her. Her heart was not in the fight to come. There was no anger in her now, only regret that it had come to this.

He attacked quickly, trying to knock the sword from her hand, but Brenna moved aside. His side was open for her thrust, but she could not do it. He attacked again. He was skilled with the sword, and he had strength behind his blows, but he did not have her expertise, nor her cunning. Yet she could not take advantage of him. She could not bring herself to draw his blood though he gave her many opportunities to do so as he tried to disarm her.

To kill him, to see Garrick dead—the thought sickened her. She would only disarm him, as he was intent upon doing to her, and then she would move on.

Brenna was not given the chance, for at that moment a huge bear, the likes of which she had never been before, stood up directly behind Garrick. She cried out, but she was too late. The bear had taken them so unawares that he was only inches from Garrick when he turned to see what had so frightened Brenna. With a powerful swipe of his paw, the bear knocked Garrick sideways. He fell against a tree trunk, striking his head.

Garrick did not move. Brenna stared in disbelief as the bear approached him, roaring victoriously. Brenna screamed and attacked the bear in blind fury. She held her sword in both hands and raised it over her head, then thrust it into the bear’s back with all her might. But the beast didn’t fall over or even stagger. He roared in bloody rage and swung round to Brenna, who turned ashen with the worst fear she had ever experienced.

Her dagger was useless, so she ran in a panic to Willow and got the crossbow from the sack. The bear was nearing her too quickly. She ran to the left, away from the horses, and readied the crossbow as she moved. Finally she crouched and took aim. The arrow pierced the bear’s throat and after several agonizing moments, he fell at last.

Her relief was so great that Brenna fell on her knees to give silent thanks. Though her whole body was trembling, she made her way on shaky legs to Garrick’s side and held her breath till she made sure he was alive. His shoulder was bleeding where the bear had swiped him, leaving deep grooves in the skin. But the blow to his head had not broken the skin, though it had begun to swell.

Brenna went to the horses and tore a strip from Willow’s blanket, soaked it in water and returned to Garrick. She wet his face and began to clean away the blood from his shoulder.

He groaned and felt the back of his head, then eyed Brenna warily. “Do you always minister to your enemies?”

She ignored his question and inspected his cuts. “Does it hurt?”

“Nay, ’tis numb. Did the bear run off?”

Brenna shook her head. “I had to kill him.”

Garrick’s eyes widened. “The beast attacked you?”

“Nay, ’twas you he wanted,” Brenna said calmly, avoiding his eyes.

Garrick took this news with displeasure. “First you try to kill me, then you save my life. Why?”

“If I had tried to kill you, Garrick, you would be dead now. I could not do it.”

“Why not?” he asked harshly even as she bandaged his shoulder. “You would have gained your freedom.”

Brenna looked at Garrick with eyes that were a soft gray. “I do not know why. I just could not find it in me to cause your death.”

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, then quickly lifted the dagger from her belt. “In case you have second thoughts on the matter, I will keep this.”

She said nothing as he came to his feet and shook the dizziness from his head. With his hand still around her wrist, he pulled her with him over to the bear. He recognized the animal as the one he had disturbed from slumber a few days past.

“’Twould seem I did underestimate you, Brenna,” he said grudgingly, surveying the dead carcass. “You are as capable as you declared.” He looked at her sternly. “’Tis a pity I cannot trust you from my sight.”

“If I were loyal to you, then you could trust me, Viking,” she said almost bitterly.

He cocked a questioning brow at her. “Would you give loyalty?” Then he pulled her to him, gripping her shoulders painfully. “What do you want of me, Brenna?”

“Freedom!”

He shook his head angrily. “A free woman has many rights, among them the right to refuse a lover.”

“’Tis unlawful to rape a freewoman?”

“Aye.”

Brenna stiffened. “That is all you care about—raping me! Why is it so important that you have me and not another? You do not care for me as a woman. You have no thought for my feelings. You have proved that many times. So why must it be me?”

“Your body is most pleasurable, Brenna. ’Tis enough that I enjoy having you when I want you.”

“Mayhaps if you were a kindhearted man, ’twould be enough, Garrick,” she said quietly. “But you are harsh, and cruel in many ways.”

The look that came over Garrick’s countenance was frightening. He crushed her to him, the pressure of his powerful arms excruciating.

“’Tis me you have, mistress. I will have your word that you will not escape me again.”

“You cannot force my word from me, Garrick, for if you do, ’twill not be given freely, and I will not honor it.”

“Then you have set your own fate,” he said.

He pulled her over to the horses and set her atop Willow. There she waited obediently while he gathered their cloaks and weapons.

When Garrick mounted, he took her reins, not even trusting her to follow him. What fate had she set for herself with her stubborn pride? Brenna shivered, staring at Garrick’s still back. She would know soon enough.