“I would. If you decide you can’t come, I hope you will at least come for a Yule visit, Magni. We might have special treats for the holiday season.”
His eyes grew big. “What kind of special treats?”
“I’m not sure yet. You’ll have to come and see.”
He got up from the log and stared at Thane. Then he said, “Nay, we can’t come.”
And he ran off toward the nunnery.
Chapter Six
Hagen
Hagen paced in the great hall of Duart Castle after the morning meal was finished three days later. “Why, Mama? Why would the lass be so foolish as to not want my help? You’re Norse. Are they different?”
“Hagen, I’m not sure if you know this or not,” his mother, Sela Grant, said with the odd sense of patience she often had. “But you’re also Norse.”
“I know, but you know what I meant.” He’d tried to figure out how to convince the lass to come to Duart Castle, but after the way she’d stormed off, calling him spoiled, he’d had to tamp down his own temptation to argue with her.
But deep in his belly, he knew she was right. He’d had a much easier life than she’d had, and he wished to fix that, if he could.
His father, Connor Grant, youngest son of Alexander and Maddie Grant, came down the stairs and asked, “Who’s Norse?”
His mother said, “Hagen is…intrigued by a lass at the nunnery who is Norse. She’s refusing his help.”
His father arched a brow before taking a seat by the hearth after speaking with a serving lass about some porridge. “You’re interested in a nun, Hagen? Truly?”
“Nay, she’s not a nun.” He gave his father a look of derision.
“Not yet. It could be she plans to become one if she’s at the nunnery,” his mother said.
“Fill me in, please,” his father said, his gaze locking on Hagen’s.
Hagen took a seat and explained, “She’s not a nun but living at the nunnery. I’m not sure why, but I’m guessing she and her friend are orphans. Like Beatris and Geva’s place with all theorphans, but she’s older. Do you recall when Clyde and another tried to attack Sheona Rankin?”
“Aye.”
“This lass knew they were coming for her, so she hit both men with a dagger, one in the leg and Clyde in the shoulder. Scared them off. There’s a boat that’s been circling Iona every day, and Brynja thinks it’s the other man coming after her for revenge.”
“Brynja. That is a fine Norse name. Especially for one who can hit two men with near deadly aim.” His father leaned back in his chair and grinned.
“Da, be serious. Tell me what to do. The man is coming for her. Simone noticed the boat also, though he has a new partner with him. They come around twice a day, are not fishing, and Brynja thinks it could be that man coming for revenge.”
“So what do you need? More men to go after him?”
Sela smirked and said quietly, “Brynja is refusing his help, Connor.”
His father broke into a wide grin. “A Norsewoman refusing help from a Scot with good intentions? Where have I heard that before?” He tipped his chair back and balanced on two legs with a large guffaw. Then he set back down and stared at his wife before leaning over and kissing her cheek.
“You know he’s part Norse, not just a Scot.”
“Aye,” his sire replied. “Sela, you have to answer him. I can’t explain why women can be so stubborn. Why would she refuse him?”
Sela twirled a lock of hair that escaped her plait. “A few reasons pop into my mind. First, she might not like being around you, but since you just met, I doubt that would be it. Second, she doesn’t wish to bother you. Women have a hard time asking for help, especially from strangers. Third, she’s stubborn and thinks she doesn’t need your help. That’s my guess. If she’s that goodwith a dagger, she’s fairly accomplished for a young lass. How old is she, Hagen?”
“She’s eight and ten. Her friend Hildi is two years younger.”
“Is Hildi her sister?”
