Fires of Winter (33 page)

T
he feast progressed, and with it, the usual outrageous antics. In the Viking manner, tempers flared and brawls ensued continuously. Garrick had a bout with Hugh; fortunately Anselm interceded, and soon the argument was forgotten. Hugh and Fairfax also had words, but again it was Anselm who eased the tension between his sons before a challenge was met.

Still, not all disagreements were interrupted, and many ended in bloodshed. One man, whom Brenna was grateful she did not know, lost his life in what had started as a friendly test of strength. It was deplorable that such things were allowed to happen, and even more so that the winner was cheered for his victory.

Brenna was learning well the importance of strength among these people. It was considered the highest virtue. Without strength, a man was a failure; he brought shame upon his family. Brenna supposed a Viking
would
rather die than lose a test of strength.

Tall tales were bandied about by one and all, and jests and chiding followed. Brenna became subdued as she heard Anselm repeating the tale of her capture. He had embellished it greatly, yet her courage could not be denied. Brenna watched Morna listen to the tale with obvious disbelief. She would dearly love to get that blonde viper alone and teach her a thing or two.

Her wish was nearly granted a while later, when the hour grew late and most were sodden with drink. Morna persuaded her brother to escort her home, and waited at the door while he went for her cloak. Brenna quickly intercepted Perrin when he was alone.

“You have not enjoyed the feast, Perrin?”

He looked utterly embarrassed. “Nay. I know my sister was not welcome here, yet she insisted I bring her.”

“Tell me, Perrin, is it true she has designs on Garrick again?”

“Yea, she has said as much,” he admitted. “Does this displease you?”

“Only if Garrick would be fool enough to jump into a fire that has already burned him.”

“Let us hope he never becomes such a fool.”

Brenna grinned. “You do not favor an alliance between them?”

“Morna is my sister, an unfortunate truth I cannot undo. What she did to Garrick, my closest friend, I have never forgiven.”

Brenna looked thoughtful. “You have not bid your host farewell. Do so, Perrin. I will take your sister’s cloak to her.”

He held back, alarm crossing his face. “Nay, wench. My sister begrudges you Garrick’s attention. She would be more than pleased to remind you of your status.”

“Do you fear for me?”

He shook his head and grinned. “I know you. ’Tis my sister who would be in danger.”

Brenna laughed. “Then may I walk you to the door? With you there, surely no problems will arise.”

He appeared reluctant, but finally Brenna’s winsome smile won him over and he agreed. They met an impatient Morna at the door. By now she was thoroughly vexed, and turned on her brother heatedly.

“I cannot believe that you would keep me waiting here while you talk with this slave!” Morna hissed through clenched teeth, her face livid with anger. “How could you embarrass me this way, Perrin?”

“You did not wait long, Morna,” he answered tiredly.

“If you had spoken with anyone else I would not have minded,” Morna continued indignantly. “But that you should keep me waiting—because of
her!
Do you not consort enough with her when you visit Garrick?”

Perrin reddened. “That is not the way of it, Morna. Garrick will not share this girl with anyone. He keeps her only for himself.” He said this truth with relish.

His words angered the blonde widow even more, and Brenna was hard pressed to contain her mirth.

Morna looked at Brenna with cold contempt. “Put my wrap on me, slave!” When Brenna stared blankly at her, she turned back to Perrin. “You speak her tongue. Tell her what I demand.”

Perrin’s eyes narrowed. “You go too far, sister. Brenna is not yours to order about.”

Morna glared at him, her blue eyes smoldering. “She is a slave; now tell her!”

“What is your sister shouting about?” Brenna asked innocently.

Perrin sighed. “Odin help me. She demands you put her cloak on. She merely wishes to take her anger out on you, Brenna.”

Brenna smiled. “There is no problem, Perrin. Simply tell her I refuse. Then hand her the cloak and leave. ’Tis an easy enough solution.”

Perrin shook his head in doubt, but handed the cloak to his sister. “Brenna will not do your bidding, Morna. Now come along,” he said and left the hall.

Morna was beside herself with rage, and turned fiery blue eyes on Brenna. “I will have you whipped for this!”

“I think not,” Brenna replied, shocking Morna with words she could understand. “For one thing, Garrick would not allow it. But more important, and I pray you heed me well, Morna, I would cut your throat gladly before you call for a whip. You were an unwelcome guest at this feast. There is no one here who would seek out your killer.”

“You would not dare to touch me!”

Brenna smiled wickedly. “Test the truth of my words. Call for a whipping.”

Morna hesitated a moment too long. “You will rue the day you dared to threaten me when I become Garrick’s wife!”

“’Tis a day you will never see.”

“Do not be too sure, slave!” Morna snapped and stalked from the hall.

Brenna bit her lip. She should never have revealed her secret to Morna… But what if Morna’s prediction came true? To Garrick’s way of thinking, he could have them both, Morna as his wife to give him legitimate heirs, and Brenna as his concubine. Brenna actually shivered at the thought. Nay, it would not happen, she resolved. If she could not hope to become his wife herself, then she had no hope at all. Yet she had every reason to believe he cared for her.

She turned and found Garrick’s back was to her. She prayed he had not seen her talking to Morna, for then he would question her, and she would not lie to him. This might bring on his anger, which was the last thing she wanted.

She joined Garrick at the table and waited nervously for him to notice her. When he finally turned her way, she held her breath in anticipation of his questions.

“I missed you,” he said pointedly, leaning closer. “What were you about?”

“I bid Perrin farewell,” she said after a moment’s pause. When he grunted in response, she quickly changed the subject. “Will we leave soon?”

“Are you tired?”

She nodded. “It has been a long day, and I have had much too much to drink.”

He grinned devilishly. “I remember fondly another time you had too much to drink. You were most agreeable then. Are you now?”

She lowered her eyes. “Nay, Garrick.”

He ignored her answer and stood up. “Come. I have found us a place to pass the night.”

Brenna remained seated. “Are we not to go home? ’Tis only a short distance.”

“’Twould only waste time, Brenna. The horse race begins early on the morrow, and I will be here on time for it.” When she frowned, he added, “Mayhaps I will take you home on the morrow’s eve, then we will return on the day following.”

“Return?”

“Yea, this feast will continue for nearly a fortnight. Now come.”

Brenna sighed, took the hand he offered and followed him to get their cloaks. There was still much activity in the hall. Only a few had taken to benches to sleep off their sodden-ness. Heloise had retired to bed earlier, as had Linnet, but not before Brenna was able to apologize to her aunt for her unreasonable sharpness. Anselm and Hugh were still full of vigor and were involved in a serious drinking bout, with many wagering on the outcome.

Garrick bellowed his farewells, but no one paid much attention, and he quickly slipped out the door with Brenna under his arm. The icy fingers of the wind went unnoticed as Brenna snuggled in the warmth of Garrick’s closeness. She felt as if she were floating, gliding smoothly over the cold ground. As her head began to swim dizzily, she rested it on his chest and felt total contentment.

When he led her into the stable and to an empty stall where many blankets were piled on top of a bed of straw, Brenna drew away from him with slight annoyance. She watched him close them in with a large wood panel, making the stall a tiny private room.

“This is the place you spoke of?”

“’Tis the warmest I could find,” he said without looking at her, and shrugged off his cloak.

“And you expect me to sleep here?”

He ignored her indignation and grinned at her. “You will not be alone.”

“But—”

“Be quiet, wench,” he interrupted softly and came to stand before her. “This is indeed better than a hard bench in the hall. Will you not agree?”

She looked down at the improvised bed and grudgingly nodded. “I suppose.”

His warm fingers grazed her cheek. “And we will not be disturbed here.”

Brenna felt something akin to pain take root in her chest. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, yet she would not gain her ultimate goal that way. She would indeed find pleasure, but for how long? He would not make her his wife if she became his devoted slave.

Reluctantly she stepped away from him and sought a topic that would delay what she knew would soon come. “The race that is planned for the morrow—can anyone enter?”

“Yea.”

“Can I?”

Garrick started to laugh, but thought better of it. “Nay. Any man may enter, but no woman.”

“And I imagine no slaves either?” she asked, rather piqued.

Would this woman ever let pass a day without showing her temper? he wondered. “’Tis true.”

“But I could conceal my appearance, Garrick. At home I was oft mistaken for a boy by those who knew me not. And ’twould give me great pleasure to best your brother.”

“How did you know my brother will race?” he asked her pointedly.

Brenna blanched and quickly turned away. How could she admit she overheard them talking of the race without admitting she understood their tongue quite well? “Will he not?”

Fortunately, Garrick let her question suffice for an answer. “He will, but then, so will I. Do you wish to best me also, mistress?”

Brenna glanced at him sideways. “I suppose it would not do to beat you where all could see.” Then she added with an impish grin, “As long as you know that I could do it, that is enough.”

Garrick burst into laughter. “I will accept that challenge one day soon, wench. But for now, I have a much more interesting sport in mind.”

He reached for her, but Brenna ducked beneath his arm and moved to the entrance of the stall, ready to push aside the panel and flee. She faced him and put up a hand to try and halt his pursuit.

“You know I will not lay down with you willingly, Garrick. I will sleep outside if I must.”

Garrick moved one step closer, but that was all. “I have enjoyed your presence beside me this day, Brenna,” he said in a level tone. “I had hoped for even greater pleasure this night. But I will not chase you for it.” He lay down on the straw and motioned for her to join him. “Come. You had best sleep while you can. The morrow will be a long day.”

Brenna had not expected Garrick to give up, certainly not so easily. She let down her guard and almost sighed in regret. She doubted she would get much sleep being so near him, but she was determined at least to try. However, Garrick was on top of her before she was even fully prone, his weight pinning her securely beneath him.

She glared up at his look of triumph, her eyes darkening quickly. “You tricked me!”

“Nay, wench,” he chuckled. “I only said I would not chase you, and I have not.”

His lips came down on hers to silence any further arguments. She tried to turn her head aside, but he cupped her face between his large hands as his tongue plundered her mouth. The very pressure of his body, his strength, his desire—these were intoxicants that helped melt away her objections. And then even these were quickly forgotten as he moved to her side and slipped one hand into her bodice.

Her belt was opened and her long skirt raised, and before she even had time to think of the folly of it, they both lay devoid of clothing. His hands moved gently over her body, caressing, molding with skillful fingers that set fires where they touched and brought moans to her lips. She did not care. Her love for him was all that mattered, her desire, her intense need to feel his hard, throbbing shaft inside her.

And when at last he drove deep into her, Brenna cried out with the ecstasy of it. It was as natural as if they were made only for one another. She drained him of his strength, and her will was his. Even the after-glow was beautiful as they lay pressed together in exhaustion, breathing heavily, contentment flowing through them.

Several minutes passed, but Garrick did not move from her. Brenna finally opened her eyes to find him staring down at her, a soft yet strange expression on his face. She wondered about that expression only briefly before the words she had cried out in passion came back to her.

Her first reaction was panic, and she pushed at Garrick. She wanted to flee, to hide. She had not planned to declare her feelings this way, and certainly not this soon. She was not sure of him yet.

Her hands could not budge him, and at last he bound them at her sides to still her. “Did you speak the truth? Do you love me, Brenna?”

She closed her eyes against his penetrating stare. She could lie, but that would not gain her his trust. And she needed that above all else if they were ever to be truly happy.

“Yea, I love you.” She whispered the same words she had cried earlier.

There, it was done, and now she felt good about it. She opened her eyes and found he was smiling tenderly at her. She took heart from this.

“Are you sure, Brenna?”

“I know what I feel, Garrick. I am most sure.”

“Then you will give me your word that you will never run away from me again?”

His question surprised her somewhat, but she answered readily, “You have my word.”

“Good. This has been a remarkable day that I will not soon forget.”

He rolled to her side, and Brenna lay with her eyes open wide in disbelief. When no further words from him were forthcoming, she propped herself up on an elbow and faced him.

“Is that all you have to say to me, Garrick?”